Silently, Betsy Granger followed her father into his woodshop. For the first time in her life, she no longer felt as though she had entered some secret haven where nothing from the outside could reach her. The lingering aroma of sweet, stale tobacco and sawdust no longer comforted her as they once had. As she ducked to follow him, the magic of the “secret” stone hallway leading to her happy place was diminished. This, above all else, made her heart heavy as she stared steadily at the back of Joel Granger’s head. Even though she’d fallen into his arms and wept just a few minutes before, she’d quickly pulled herself out of his grasp and began raging at him once more. It had brought out her mother, Elena, and her sister, Adelaide, both of whom flanked either side of her father. The sight had sapped the rage right out of her and she collapsed in the grass, gasping with sobs.

Nothing in her world made sense anymore as she followed Joel through the doorway into the workshop. He flicks on the pale ceiling light and motions for her to take her usual chair. She does so quietly, her eyes never leaving him as he walks over to a locked toolbox that she’d never seen him open before. Blowing some of the dust and cobwebs off, he produces a key from a discarded Altoids case and opens up the doors of the toolbox. Running his finger down the drawers, he stops at one, second from the bottom. Opening it up, he begins pulling some things out; Betsy tries to sneak a peek at what they are, but his broad build blocks them from her view. Once he’s finished, he nudges the drawer shut and elbows the doors shut once more. Carefully placing a bugling blanket in one arm, he grabs up a stool and sets it down directly in front of his daughter. Betsy still says nothing as he spreads the items out on the card table beside them.

“These are some of the items that were left with you.” Joel begins awkwardly, desperate to break the silence. “I’ve studied them many times through the years, but little of it makes sense to me.”

Turning in unison, he begins to gingerly unwrap the blanket. As he does, Betsy studies the markings, making a mental note to jot them down for translating at a later time. Reaching out, she pulls out a peculiar-looking key hanging from a silver chain; turning it over in her hand, she mutely remarks on its sleight weight, the smooth, impossibly cool metal against her skin, and the unusual design. Unlike most keys, the end was round with a point jutting out of the center. The ornate top was intricately crafted and encrusted with green gems. It’s then that she notices the slight thrumming sensation coming from the key; holding it up to her eyes, she looks for any evidence, but there isn’t even a quiver. Still, the slight vibration continues beneath her fingers as she squeezes them over the key and closes her eyes.

A gasp escapes her as she’s suddenly rocked with visions at breakneck speeds. Feeling as though she’d be yanked out of her chair, she suddenly back in that secret room, watching her parents hastily putting together her escape pod. This time, though, she can hear them exchanging desperate conversations. As she inches closer to them, an explosion outside makes the room shake violently, dust and rubble falling from the ceiling. Pressing her back against the wall and making her way around the cramped workspace, she positions herself between the two humanoid-looking beings that were her birth parents. She studies their faces, taking in every line and crevice, their alabaster skin that seemed to glitter faintly under the lights. Her mother has hair as flaxen as a fairytale maiden while her father sports blue-black locks. Her mother’s face is kind, with wide yellow eyes glowing with concern; full lips that were usually in a bright smile are pulled tight and trembling. She fusses over Baby Betsy, her slender frame bent over, long arms bunding, unbundling, and bundling the sleeping infant.

Her father, however, was slouched over the tiny desk, scribbling furiously on a thick piece of parchment. Betsy’s heart skipped a beat as she realized it was the letter she’d read over and over since her parents had handed it over. Biting her lip, she finally slides down the wall and sits on the ground, watching helplessly as her parents devoted the last moments of their lives to save her.

“Are you sure this is the right thing, Alc? Is there no way we could go with her?” Tautania’s voice breaks through the sounds of war outside, clear and melodic. It sends a pang of longing through Betsy’s, as she suddenly recalled hearing that voice sing to her lullabies in a foreign tongue.

Her father, Alcanda, looks up from his work with sad eyes. He shakes his head as he replies to his distraught wife. “You know if I could have found a way to keep us together, I would have. Us going with her only puts her in greater danger. If they take us alive, we might just have a chance at finding her someday.”

Betsy’s breath catches in her throat at this revelation. Sliding up to her knees and leaning forward, the conversation now has Betsy completely alert.

“You know the Grand Admiral doesn’t make it a habit to take prisoners; even ones of our value.” Her voice begins to shake to match her lips. “Even if we were spared at the start, there’s no guarantee we’ll survive. They may just do away with us as soon as we’ve served our purpose.”

Setting down his quill, Alcanda approaches his weeping wife and sleeping child. He wraps his arms around both and plants kisses on both their foreheads. His bright yellow eyes are dimmed with his sadness, the usual smile wrinkles around his eyes, and his lips are absent. "I know it’s a long shot Tani, but we have to try. If we’re spared to work as prisoners of the Empire, it gives us another chance to work out a way to escape.” He holds his girls a little tighter still as the sound of blaster fire begins down the end of their hallway. “There are those within the Empire who secretly work for the Rebellion. If we could pinpoint those contacts, we could work among them.”

Tautania turns her mournful gaze up to her husband. “That’s a big ‘if’, my darling; we’re betting our lives on this. And we’re betting Orianna’s life on the mercy of strangers.”

“Not as much as you might think.” Taking his wife by the hand, Alcanda leads her over to his computer. On the screen, a picture of Joel and Elena Granger with baby Adelaide is blown up on the screen. “I looked through the universe for the right person to leave our girl with; that man there, Joel Granger, he is the one who can give our Ori the love and care she needs. The mother… Well, she’s going to be a problem, but the father is the brightest beacon of light I could find for her.” He turns his head to study his wife's profile. Her eyes turn hard as she glares at the human couple on the screen.

“If she’s a terrible human, should we not find a pair that is equally kind-hearted?”

Alcanda shakes his head as he sits back down to his note. “We haven’t any time; besides, the computer calculated every individual soul in the known universe. Of them all, this man stands out the most. He will nurture, protect, and love our Ori as if she were his own; perhaps he’ll even get the mother to come around eventually.”

Tautania still looks uncertain, but she nods her head and turns back to the pod. Setting the child inside, she smooths out the little bit of flaxen hair that had just started growing in. “I don’t like it.” she finally says, turning back to her husband, who had resumed his frantic scribbling. “Is it possible for the goodness of one man to overcome the negativity of his partner?”

Alcanda hesitates for a moment over his parchment. “Who can say? You and I know better than anyone that people are capable of change. He chose that woman for a reason, so whatever is happening with her, perhaps it can be resolved.”

Tautania nibbles on her lower lip as the blaster fire reaches their door. Alcanda rises from the desk and walks swiftly over to where his wife stands, looking frightened. Together, they quickly tuck the note, several data cards, and the strange key on the silver chain that she still had grasped tightly in her hand. Getting to her feet, she creeps up between them and looks over their shoulders down at the infant version of herself. At that moment, the baby wakes up and opens emerald eyes that stare directly into Betsy’s. The gaze is exchanged for an unknown number of minutes as her parents hold each other and begin to cry. This tears both their gazes away, as Betsy looks in between them and they stare down at the baby. Reaching out with both hands, she takes theirs into her own, but they don’t feel it. Of course, they wouldn’t, they were merely a memory trapped in a moment. Tears of her own begin to slide down her face as she squeezes both their hands, desperate for them to feel her there.

“WE KNOW YOU ARE IN THERE: OPEN UP IN THE NAME OF THE GALACTIC EMPIRE!” The tinny voice of the Storm Trooper made all three of them jump as something heavy started to get rammed against the door.

Eyes wide with fear, Alcanda, and Tautania forget their sorrow and begin to work in haste. Wrapping the deep green blanket with strange markings around the baby, Tautania leans in and gives the child a lingering kiss on the forehead. She inhales deeply, taking in for the last time the sweet baby smell of her only child. Tears spill down her cheeks, landing on the child’s face as she forces herself to back away. Alcanda reaches over now and repeats the act, barely holding himself together. Once he backs away, he pushes the button to the escape pod; the door closes with a hiss as leftover air escapes. By now, the battering ram has started to pull at the thick, metal hinges. The flight sequence warms up as Betsy’s parents back away from the ship, both of them arming themselves with blasters. Another few shots from the battering ram and the Storm Troopers would be through. Without realizing it, Betsy holds her breath with anticipation as she watches the launch countdown hit zero. As the pod releases from its hatch, the Storm Troopers break through the doors. Spinning to look back at her parents, she watches as they lift their blasters and begin to fire upon the intruding enemy. Before she can pick up a blaster of her own to help them, the yanking sensation grabs at her again. Shrieking out in protest, she struggles as she watches both her parents get stunned by the blasters. They were being taken alive, but that was the last thing she was permitted to see.

“Betsy!”

Her eyes fly open as she realizes she’s being shaken by her father. She finally releases the breath she’d been holding in for the last minute and a half as she slumps against him. Joel holds his trembling daughter tightly as tears begin to fall once more from her eyes.

“I was there… I saw them, they were right in front of me, close enough to touch. My birth parents…” she pulls away from her father, though she still clutches his arms tightly. Her eyes are wide and frantic as the words spill from her mouth. “They were taken alive by Grand Admiral Thrawn; they could still be out there.” In her excitement, she jumps to her feet, missing the flash of hurt in Joel's eyes. She begins to pace as excitement fills her voice.“If I could get a track of them through any bit of DNA left behind on these items, I might be able to pinpoint just where they were taken and begin the trail from there.”

“If that’s what you feel you have to do, Boop, you know you have our full support.” The hurt in his voice was impossible to miss. Spinning on her heel, Betsy faces him, her face dropping.

“Papa…” The Impossible Traveler stares at the man before her, seeing him in an entirely new light. The fact that her father had picked this man above any other to care for her… Approaching him, she takes his hand and lifts him to his feet. Without a word, she wraps her arms around his waist and hugs him tightly, pressing her cheek against his chest. “I’m sorry for lashing out at you so much. Of course, I can understand why you and Mama didn’t tell me; it doesn't make it right, but I get it. You only ever wanted to protect me, which means you only ever did what you thought was best for me. I love you for that.”

She can feel the slight sag in his posture as his arms wrap themselves tightly around her. Now he’s trembling with emotion as he attempts to keep his own tears at bay. “I’m sorry for not being honest honey, but you have my word that I’ll never keep anything from you again. No matter what, from here on out, our relationship is crystal clear.”

She nods against him, suddenly exhausted. Looking up into his face, her expression is strained, but determined.

“I need to have a heart-to-heart with Mom.”

______



The scene opens with Betsy Granger dressed up as Lady Liberty. Her skin is painted green, her hair fluffed out around her. The gown hangs loosely from her body as she carries the book under her arm and lifts the torch into the air as the camera focuses on her.

“It almost seems a shame to hold a wrestling match in such a historical landmark. Would it tarnish the sentiment of the symbolism to have Ariel Dixon and myself running around trying to incapacitate one another to reach the top? Or is that kind of mindless entertainment and the freedom to enjoy it all part in parcel with what Lady Liberty stands sentinel to represent?”

Betsy lowers the torch now and sets it, as well as the book, aside. She leans casually against a railing; the camera pans back revealing the Hudson River behind her.

“All the same, booking and management, through some sly tricks, managed to book this sweet gal as a makeshift venue. A race to the top, with no incentive other than a killer thigh blasting session and a win over… Ariel Dixon? I mean, I was looking forward to the chance to punk out Marf again, but someone seems to have it out for him in the worst kind of way. Really guys, acetaminophen poisoning? For all the wild ideas and death matches booking throws us in, I think whoever is responsible could come up with a more creative form of sabotage. Oh well… I guess I’ll just have to wait for round two another day.

Oh well, I guess that means I can give Rel over here my undivided attention. Too bad, I’m always open for a ménage à trois, I’ve got plenty of ass-kickings to go around? No, your tummy still hurts from the overdose? Fair enough; in all seriousness Marfalicious, get better soon. That’s some crazy shit, I hope you get to the bottom of it soon enough.

Sup Rel?

You know, I have to admit, every time I see your name, I want to sing. I loved the Little Mermaid growing up; I see you did too. Do you remember the scene in the kitchen with the chef and Sebastian? He sings a happy little tune about all the ways he’s going to destroy the poor crabs he plans to serve up for dinner. It got me thinking of all the ways I could trip you up in our little race up the stairs of Lady Liberty, and I ended up writing this little diddy in the middle of the night.”

Betsy walks slightly to the left; as the camera follows her, a keyboard connected to a speaker comes into view. Adjusting the gown beneath her, she takes a seat and flips on the instrument. Letting her fingers glide across the keys, she taps out a few notes and goes through a few quick vocal warm-up exercises. Finally, she stares into the camera with a beam and begins picking out the tune to “Part of This World”.

“Look at this match, isn’t it weird?
Never thought I’d see this in my career,
Then again, look where we work,
This fed, it has, everything

For example, this match,
The potential untold,
Can’t wait to see how much madness unfolds,
Written on paper, you’d think
Yup, this is bat shit insane.

First, they’ll ferry us across the river,
And drop us at Lady’s front door,
You know how many steps to the top?
Three fifty-four!
I don’t care,
No big deal,
I’ll climb them aaaaallllll

Ariel girl, I think you should know,
With Marf indisposed, it’s become girls night,
You probably believe some, what do you call ‘em?
Oh, delusions.

Running your trap won’t get you far,
Grasping at straws won’t work around heeeeere,
Rambling incoherently about, what’s that word again?
Bullllshiiiiiiiiiitttttttt.

Upwards we’ll run, once the match has begun,
Won’t stop ‘til we reach that torch up above,
Quite recklessly, attempting to be,
The victorious ooooone.

What if I said that I wanna yeet Rel off the tower?
Watch her body bounce off-pavement, or crash into the waters,
Always she spews, irrelevant views,
Forever looking like a dumbass,
Maybe one day, she’ll heed what we say,
And shut her cockholster insteeeeeeaaaaaad.

I’m ready to give the peeps what they want,
I’ve seen all your tweets, and I’ve read your fan mail,
What is an Ariel Dixon and how do we make her,
Buuuuurrn?

Well, it’s my turn,
Gonna be a blast, when I shove my boot up her aaaaaassssssssss,
To victory,
Obviously,
Cuz you can't fuckin' touch meeeeeeee.”

During her song, a crowd had gathered around. Some of them seemed to recognize her and had their phones out recording excitedly. Others, mainly foreign tourists, seemed to think she was an intention sidewalk attraction. As she finished, the entire crowd burst out into a mix of applause and laughter. Several people offered money to her, which she waved off with a laugh. Turning towards the fans with their cameras trained on her, she winks playfully before flipping them all off.

“I’m next level Relly; try to get there before our match, will you?”

With a smug grin, Betsy flips off the camera, then smiles and begins to interact with the crowd that had gathered around her. The cameraman for XWF records a few minutes of this for stock footage before allowing the camera to fade out.

FORMER