Subject: [OTL]: (alt. Betsy/Star Wars) Fanged Butterfly 2: Knightcross 2/? (PG-15) From: Phil Hartman Date: Wed, 5 Mar 2008 07:53:37 +0000 will1@earthling.net Fanged Butterfly Vol. 2: Knightcross Chapter 2 by Phil Hartman DISCLAIMER: Marvel's are Marvel's. LFL's are LFL's. Any original characters are mine. The rest belong to their owners/creators. No money is being made off of this. Please don't sue. NOTE: The SterWars Expanded Universe books measure their Year Zero at the Battle of Yavin - basically, the first first Star Wars movie (Luke meets Obi-Wan, Han, etc., blows up the Death Star, etc.). Thus, anything Rebellion-era on is called After the Battle of Yavin (ABY); anything before the Battle of Yavin is, logically, Before the Battle of Yavin (BBY). The rest will be explained as we proceed ... -------------------------------------------- 40 ABY: Coruscant: -------------------------------------------- Ben had always admired the simplicity of Betsy's ship - a modified, enhanced Lambda-class shuttle from the Imperial era, with a hyperdrive and armaments far beyond the specs from Kuat Drive Yards. Although why she called it the "Angel's Wing" was beyond him ... maybe she *was* from Iego, like the other kids whispered. "Not Iego. I'm not picky on how I ended up here - just grateful. I landed somewhere I wasn't persecuted for my abilities, or hunted," she said as her astromech, N4-EL, checked the navicomp and Ben powered up the sublight engines. Ben, now wearing a plain pilot's coverall, with an environmental helmet nearby just in case, glanced across at his "Aunt" Betsy from the co-pilot's seat. It made him feel tiny; she'd had it engineered for someone with a much bigger back than him - and asked, "Do you *have* to read my thoughts?" The purple-grey-haired woman smiled almost apologetically at her impromptu co-pilot (#co-conspirator,# the Guard-part of Ben drilled into him by his rapid training with the GAG, whispered) and said, "Bad habit, Ben. My apologies. With only an astromech as a companion for most of five standard years, I got lax." "Lax. A Jedi Master," Ben accused - kind of. N4-EL - Fouree, orjust "Neal" as Betsy had nicknamed the red and bronze little droid - tootled a wry-sounding reply, as Betsy replied, "I was ... being mindful of the living Force." "I'm sure K'urod'd agree," Ben said, and he and Betsy *did* laugh at that. The mention of her Zabrak Padawan - now a Knight somewhere out toward the Corporate Sector - always brought Betsy joy, the boy recalled. "Knight K'urod Var-Tasik. Still one of my prouder moments ... young for Knighthood. But he worked so hard ... all of your generation do. As if they didn't push themselves during the War," Betsy recalled, checking the yoke. "*My* generation? I was in diapers for most of the Vong War. And you're avoiding the question," Ben teased - he could afford to do that, Aunt Betsy wasn't one of those Masters who would glare at him for such "disrespect." Actually, the only Master who really DID was Jacen. "Shuttle `Angel's Wing,' you have clearance to launch," the speaker barked in rapid-fire Huttese - Ben had hung out around Rodians long enough to pick up the basics, although why a space-traffic controller would speak in Huttese over Basic was beyond him. "Thanks, Tower," Aunt Betsy replied in perfect Huttese, giving Ben a wink as he looked around. Actually, this part of the city-world *was* rougher than the Temple district ... "Smuggler's starport - small, quiet. Gray. Rather how I like it. I would've been utterly Agri-Corps pre-Purge - or just kicked out of the Order," Betsy chuckled, easing the Wing up on its repulsors as Ben finished strapping in. She eased the sublights, practically glowing with enjoyment as they flew, and Ben reflected on what she'd said ... "You weren't always this ... nice?" Ben asked, letting the inertial compensator help him turn to look at Betsy. She laughed, shaking her head as the sky darkened and became star-spangled. "Nice? My dear twin would split his side laughing ... if he could hear us. I did promise you the truth of my past, after all," Betsy said, letting Neal handle the hyperspace coordinates and waiting to trigger the actuator. "Nice, Ben, is utterly relative. Especially when this galaxy - where I came from - is believed to be utterly fictional." Ben's eyes widened - he HADN'T just heard that - and looked at Betsy with unusual surprise. "You're -" the boy asked. Betsy wasn't smiling anymore, but she wasn't being cruel, either. "There are people who would die happy to meet you in the flesh, where I came from. Your grandfather's 501st is a mark of honor to millions. The very generic term for this reality is a nickname for weapons platforms which you take for granted. And interest in the Republic is, by and large, scorned as ... `geeky,'" Betsy said softly, her words scorching Ben as thoroughly as a training saber. She still wasn't being cruel. That was the problem with truth, Ben recalled. It could HURT. "I'm ... not ..." Ben stammered, until Betsy leaned over and squeezed his hand with her free right one. Her left triggered the hyperdrive, as she said: "You are. Here. Reality is multi-layered, my little Skywalker. And I've come to love you and yours for it. "For helping make me *better.*" --------------------------------------------- She still hadn't told him anything, really. #It would be easier to psi-dump it. But he's 13, and already scared - despite the machismo and the Jedi training and Force knows what else Jacen drummed into him,# Betsy thought, releasing Ben's hand while the stars lengthened into a blue blur. He blinked - his shielding was better, but there were wavelengths not even Luke Skywalker's son could block - and managed to ask, "How ... did you get ... better?" "More patient. I was nicknamed an `action junkie' - you think the stories about Anakin, either Anakin, as teens and young men were bad? They were models of restraint compared to me," Betsy laughed, while Ben's eyes approached the size of Yavin IV. "But - you're brave, but you're not - Kyp," Ben stammered - and Betsy reminded herself, it HAD been almost a year since she'd seen him. Ben, not Kyp ... not that Durron was someone she particularly missed. #The arrogance. The ... no, that's not fair. Jaina needed his help after Myrkr, and if he didn't make a move on her then, Kyp isn't what you imagine him to be. Arrogant, yes ...# Betsy reminded herself. The former leader of the Dozen - a semi-rogue order of X-Wing pilots during the Vong War - had never *quite* outgrown his attraction to the exotic purple-haired woman who'd crashed into the Jedi Order at Sernpidal. Betsy shuddered at THAT planetary name ... and shoved both Durron and her fears aside. Truth could hurt both ways - telling and hearing. It didn't give her the right to evade it. "As far as the physicists and I can tell, my arrival in this - reality - was a freak accident. Caused when I led a planetary espionage and rapid-response force to attack a rogue ... mutant. A boy, arrogant - your age, but MUCH less well-behaved than you," Betsy began, as Ben listened. ******************************* 7/2/2007: SHIELD Helicarrier, over Antarctica: 12:00 hrs local: ----------------------------------------- How in the nine billion names of God *Psylocke* had been picked to fill in for Nick Fury was utterly beyond Betsy Braddock's understanding. #Yes, I'm a former STRIKE agent, a psionic operative for the British government; I'm a member of the X-Men; I'm back in my original Caucasian body after Franklin Richards restored me. And I even helped uncover a Skrull invasion. But to lead SHIELD ... even to Antarctica to deal with Charles Lehnsherr ...# Betsy shook her head; she was 43 going on 33, thanks to Franklin's recorporealizing her at the age she'd been during Kitty Pryde's treatment in Latveria, and she intended to make every minute count. "Collins. Tell me the psi-dampers are unidirectional," Betsy growled as she checked her gear on the teleport platform and the Helicarrier ground to a halt near Mount Erebus - stealth was NOT going to be an option. Not when it was Magneto's crazed son, both an Omega-level magnakinetic and power replicator, backed up by 23 other rebellious young mutant seperatists, Betsy was leading several squads of SHIELD agents after. Saxby Collins, one of the SHIELD wunderkind, a tech "geek" with crewcut blond hair and a disturbingly puppy-dog look at his new Director - the kind of follower who gave Betsy her unwanted reputation as being interested in MUCH younger men - nodded. "We're able to project out, ma'am," the 20-year-old squeaked - OK, maybe Betsy was being dramatic ... Part of her reminded the rest to hide from Doug and Rahne the next time she visited Muir. "Do it," Betsy told the teleport tech, and in an instant, she and her 11 troopers were the first to materialize near the rim of Mount Erebus. "Bortel! ENGAGE!" Betsy called, triggering her jet-pack - with her telepathy restored, her telekinesis was "offline," but she preferred her first power - as her troops started laying cover fire toward the reinforced metal walls of the base inside the volcano's caldera. "Yes ma'am," the native New Zealander and SHIELD sergeant grunted, firing neutralizer grenades at the base and taking over the main interdiction effort. Most of the Genarchs were only 13, or younger, like Charles, and the grenades' temporary power-dampening effect should shock them into unconsciousness. That, of course, left Betsy facing - "YOU!?" She lanced out behind her - "Cynosure" was not exactly subtle, but neither could she afford to be, not this close to the South Magnetic Pole - and spun, looking into the shocked eyes of Magneto's youngest. "Betsy - WHY!? We're trying to save - AGHK -" Charles Xavier Lehnsherr pleaded; Betsy jabbed into his mind - there was NO time for kindness. The boy who'd called her "Aunty Betsy" was gone. After Genosha, after incinerating the Presidential Palace - after the attacks on dozens of mutant supervillains, some of which had been lethal - the Genarchs had to be stopped, or mutants would be blamed for the chaos the teens had unleashed. Charles, on the other hand, wasn't going down that easily - Betsy had feared the boy's telepathy wasn't borrowed, and he was regaining access to those powers he HAD replicated - "You're condemning us, Charles. Even your father left the path of violence - the time for words has passed," Betsy said, biting her lip - No human jury would be merciful. Teen or not, a rogue son of Magneto (and that turn of phrase stung Betsy's heart, given that Charles WAS Rogue's son) wouldn't be imprisoned. And Betsy feared the Eighth Amendment would be conveniently suspended - first for Charles, then for any other mutant who crossed the line. Confinement might follow for all mutants... unless there *was* no trial ... ~How very ... Sith ...~ Charles' eyes had turned - yellow-orange - #Oh, that is QUITE enough,# Betsy thought - the boy was just being theatrically absurd, and she ... She wasn't going to be an executioner. This wasn't that monster Brah-dok from Sat-Yr-9's timeline, after all. Betsy grabbed Charles' forebrain in a ring of psionic scalpels - his namesake could fix the damage - and carved axons and dendrites - It'd be much easier if he wasn't channeling several million volts - that annoying Lehnsherr affinity for the Earth's magnetic field was reinforcing Charles' mental shields - Fine. To hell with the surgical strike. Betsy grabbed her reserves and launched her most powerful psycho-blast at Charles, wincing in empathy as his mind shut down and he fell face-first onto the snow. His power aura died - all but a teleportational flicker, which flew at HER. "Bloody hell -" Betsy growled, as the teleportal cracked open and started to pull at the surrounding air - "Helicarrier, Braddock, EMERGENCY EXTRACTION -" The wavefront of the teleportal hit her dematerialization, and space impacted - folded - ------------------------------------------------- - and she was stretched - ------------------------------------------------- The volcano smelled stronger, Betsy realized as she awoke - "Oh, bloody HELL," she gasped - her jumpsuit was all right, but her jetpack was missing. And the ground was decidedly NOT Antarctica. It was brown, with a few plants and rocks - temperate. If the biggest moon Betsy had EVER seen hadn't been falling from a red sky, as asteroids flew above horizontally, she might have liked the location. Warmer, at least. #Lava vents from a dying planet - oh, PLEASE tell me that prat didn't send me to an alternate Earth near its end of days -# Betsy hoped, dodging a sudden gush of molten rock. Cracks ran everywhere, while highly-advanced buildings collapsed amidst an earthquake. The sky was red with dust. "Braddock, where the hell are you ...?" she worried - it hadn't *felt* like a temporal shift, that might have explained the huge moon, since the leading theory on lunar formation was that the body had spun away from Earth over billions of years after a Mars-sized impactor had hit the mother planet ... She reinforced her shields as mental screams - panic, terror, DEATH - hit her - the language wasn't quite familiar, but she swore it was familiar - #CHUBBA!# ~What the bloody -~ Betsy sent, finally making out the crowds running around her. Her jaw dropped when she saw what - who - looked like a family of green-skinned ... #GREEDO - Rodians, the species are, I can read them -# Betsy realized - There were humans. But they were mixed in with ... horned, red-skinned Devaronians, Betsy sensed. Crook-necked, "hammerheaded" Ithorians. And a hundred other ... species. All sentient. All terrified. Their world - Sernpidal, Betsy realized - was about to be hit by one of its moons. It was the cantina scene, played out at the end of days. #The resonances - this isn't an astral nightmare - those are REAL MINDS - # "Bloody HELL, I'm trapped in bloody STAR WARS ..." she whispered - she was getting the basic of, well, Galactic Basic - A furry hand grabbed hers, and she looked up into compassionate - if frustrated - eyes, so ... human. Surrounded by fur, in a face Betsy knew so shockingly well that - if the mind behind the visage hadn't hit hers with urgency - that she would've asked for an autograph. "Rrow oowll Grrar?" the - being asked - "N-no - my ... ship's not here - you have a ... transport?" Betsy asked - she UNDERSTOOD Shriiywook - and followed the ... Wookie. THE Wookie. Over a short hill - that moon was getting closer - And there it was. Matte white with carbon scoring from God knew how many laser strikes and other close calls, with her captain pushing sentients of all kinds onboard - "The Millennium Falcon," Betsy gasped - Bloody hell. Han Solo - older, but less worn by age than - no, she had to shelve the comparisons, this WAS Han - and that meant her rescuer was really ... Chewbacca. "Hey, sister, this ride's about full - Anakin, keep ready!" Han - HAN - barked into a comlink in his free hand, as the next groundquake shook the landscape - "you coming?" An X-Man would've given their seat on the Falcon to someone else. Betsy Braddock, the bratty little model and STRIKE agent ... squealed in childish glee. (#Jamie, you GIT, THEY'RE REAL!!!# her 12-year-old self shrieked in triumph, slapping her older brother's memory) She felt ashamed, but there were no other ships close, and the line WAS shortening - no elderly or mothers with children were getting left behind - "Thank you ... Captain Solo," Betsy said - she still couldn't quite believe her ... fortune? WAS she utterly mad? She boarded the Falcon - head swimming as much from her psionic overload as from her shock - *Chewbacca, roaring for the Falcon to FLEE, as the world cracked beneath him* Betsy wobbled against a grumbling, olive-skinned Duros, then blinked - her precognition picked the worst times to kick in - and she felt SOMETHING - a wave of teenaged male agony, panic and grief, as the ground shattered - "ANAKIN!? You CAN'T - Chewie -" Han - yelled - as the Falcon started to lift. Betsy concentrated - the body was a vessel. And latent or not, she was still telekinetic. And an X-Man. She grabbed one large, furry body, held it to the Falcon, and mindcalled, ~Captain Solo - the freight-loading doors - NOW-~ Han looked at her in shock over the crowd of panicked sentients, but stopped charging toward the cockpit and hit a control panel. Instants later, an agitated Wookie stormed into the main hold, and Han exchanged words with his co-pilot as the Falcon darted toward space. "- STILL gonna karkin' bawl him out -" Han grumbled, Betsy heard, before he worked his way over to her and pierced her with his gaze. Her 12-year-old self swooned. The X-Man in her skimmed Han's surface thoughts and replied acidly, "Your - son - wasn't wrong. Had he waited, we'd be dead. I suggest you get to your controls, and *try* to be merciful to the boy who saved our lives?" The most famous smuggler in - well, at least two galaxies - sputtered, until a panicked teenaged boy with tousled sandy hair stuck his head around a bulkhead and called, "DAD! Skips inbound!" "You - if you hadn't just saved Chewie's life, lady - this isn't over!" Han snapped, running for the controls. Betsy wobbled - the exertion was a lot, and her nose was bleeding - She felt furry hands catch her as the boy - Anakin SOLO? - gasped, "Chewie, she's Force-sensitive!" ********************************* 40 ABY: ---------------------------------------------- "... that, of course, was just the beginning. Your father, Chewbacca, the Noghri bodyguards, and Anakin managed to get their shipload of refugees - and myself - out of Sernpidal before the Yuuzhan Vong dropped that moon on it," Betsy concluded, letting Ben catch his breath. "You - thought Uncle Han was - an ACTOR - ?!" Ben stammered, and Betsy tried not to laugh. "Ben, I thought I was utterly INSANE. Psionic backlash from a fight such as I had with the Lehnsherr boy usually resulted in all kinds of psychoses for mutants like myself back on - Earth. And your family's ... saga ... WAS believed to be fiction," Betsy explained; she'd had to try and find a word for her homeworld in Galactic Basic. Almost 15 years, and there was still no sign that the Sol system was anywhere near Betsy. The world would've been Mid-Rim in the Republic's galaxy, and other than diving into the Unknown Regions - a shockingly vast region of unmapped spiral arms on the galaxy's "west" side, difficult to probe because of hyperspace anomalies - Betsy had been all over the Mid-Rim. She'd even risked the wrath of the Chiss, blue-skinned humanoids who ruled part of the Unknown Regions, delving into the vast expanse on long, lonely trips during the past five years. Betsy had found no trace of Earth. It truly was a galaxy far, far away - if it was even the *same* crosstime reality - Ben's tremor of fear shook the elder Jedi from her musing, and she gave the boy a gentle look. "I'm sorry if I upset you," she said. Ben managed a weak smile - not much different from Terran youths, after all, Betsy recalled - and said, "It's just ... you almost died. Thinking you were -" "Well, I didn't. And I wasn't cracked in the head. A friend of mine once gave me very good advice - `what is, is.' Deceptively simple. Not the brightest words to base a religion off of, but they get you through the day. Rather like viewing the world through the Force - cut to the truth," Betsy said, sensing she had to ask a question of her own. She caught Ben's eye and said, "You *do* know this *is* real, right? Whatever someone filmed or wrote in my timeline, this, here, is reality." Ben's Force-aura flickered with confusion, but he finally sighed. "I ... what kinda' life did you live before here, to make you OK with the idea of ... multiple universes?" the boy asked - tall as he was, he was still terribly young and lean. Skywalkers, Betsy figured, tended to get their growth late - at least, if Anakin had been any indication between the start of the Clone Wars and the Battle of Coruscant. "Violent. Very un-Jedi - my compatriots, the `X-Men,' and I, were ... Rebels. Sometimes we had to kill ... we tried not to. Keeping the moral high ground was important, if not always possible," Betsy admitted. She glanced at "Neal" - the astromech was one of the few nods to her old life, her ship's name was another - then smiled at Ben. "But here, telepathy isn't considered a capital offense. And I was finally able to answer a question - why was I telekinetic sometimes, and not others?" she said, glad that the boy was relaxing. The Skywalkers had become like her own siblings - closer than Jamie, Force knew - and Ben was very dear to her. He was probably the closest she'd come to a child of her own, since she'd dated, but refused all serious suitors, since arriving. If she could land in THIS universe, as impossible as it should be, she might see the X-Men - (Warren) again. She HAD unlearned what she had learned, after all. "After we escaped Sernpidal, your uncle and cousin brought me to your parents and Aunt Leia," Betsy recalled ... ********************************** 25 ABY: ------------------------------------------------ " ... never seen an adult manifestation like this before - it's as if her midichlorians were shielding her ..." The voice was ... rubbery. Feminine, but very like - Ackbar ... ? Betsy sat up - her shields were a bit worn, but not violated - and - (the room SWAM, a rainbow riot, somehow she knew she was seeing life-energy - life-force) "Oh, bloody hell - the FORCE -" she breathed - And she had to blink back against a roomful of Force-auras, before she resolved ... It was impossible. Han, Betsy could've imagined encountering during her death-knell - her schoolgirl fantasies had been horribly silly, and she'd never told even Ororo or Brian who her first crush had been. But a room full of the ... 40-something ... Original Trilogy cast? "I've died. If I'm not insane ... OW!" Betsy griped - she was dressed in a warm robe, at least, and the 2-1B medical droid taking her blood was - #Blood. This ...# Betsy realized, blinking as the droid put a bandage on her thumb, and a - female - Mon Calamarian, in Jedi robes, met her gaze. Sort of. Mon Cals' eyes *were* on the sides of their heads, so ... "Hello. I am Master Cilghal, of the Jedi Council. Chewbacca told us how you saved him, apparently at risk - we're grateful," the - medic, Betsy sensed - said. "It was my honor ..." Betsy trailed off, as she decided to accept that Luke Skywalker - a 40-something Luke, in black Jedi robes, that famous glove on his right hand, still-sandy-blond hair and a kind smile - was standing at the other side of her bed. He really WAS a little short to be a stormtrooper. "... Master ... Skywalker. Forgive me if I think this is ... I'm DEFINITELY not from around here," Betsy joked - the black humor was about the only thing keeping her from looking at the knot of ... Solos? at the foot of her bed. Anakin - God, he looked terrified AND terrifyingly like Han, with Luke's hair thrown in - looked back at her with a kind smile. To his left, a bit taller, with a very Leia-esque face and darker hair, was a doubt-riddled older teenage boy, wearing a brown coverall similar to Anakin's. The older Solo brother was flanked by a girl with a similar face but wearing an X-Wing flight suit, who gave Betsy a friendly nod - twins, then. And between them and Anakin ... "Your Highness," Betsy addressed the white-jumpsuit-clad, black-grey haired, Princess of Alderaan, who smiled back tentatively. Leia Organa-Solo had aged very well, Betsy realized - at least, by how closely Han (HAN!) was leaning toward her and whispering, the couple had had a very successful few years since Endor. Betsy forced down her irrational spike of jealousy and recalled the image of Leia choking Jabba ... Some schoolgirl fantasies needed to stay fantasies. In the back of the ... medical ... bay, Chewbacca roared a greeting - and a prissy British voice called, "REALLY, Chewbacca! Our guest is barely awake, and -" "It's all right ... Threepio?" Betsy said, not daring - no, there the droids were. R2-D2 and C-3P0 made their way through the crowd, as Luke said, "We're glad to see you're all right, Ms ...?" "Elizabeth - Betsy - Braddock, Master Skywalker - and thank you. I ... I should explain ..." Betsy trailed off. How in the WORLD was she going to convince them that she wasn't insane? "I apologize. It's just ... I have information, Master Skywalker, Your Highness - about your mother," Betsy began - "You should ask on Naboo -" Luke looked like he'd been hit with Force lightning, and Leia stiffened; clearly, they'd been down this road before - R2, on the other hand, gave a low, mournful trill, and the Skywalkers and Solos turned when Threepio blurted, "WHAT!? What in the Maker's name - what do you mean, `She's right?' You just met the poor woman!" Luke and Leia looked back at Betsy, who sighed - in for a pence, in for a pound, to turn an American phrase ... "My ... power - my specialty - is telepathy. I'd be happy to show you what I mean ..." she offered, lowering her shields - "Uncle Luke. She could be another Akanah," the older Solo boy warned, giving Betsy a ... not exactly mistrustful, but wary, look. "With Artoo responding like that? She saved Chewie, Jacen. Ms. - Braddock? - deserves the benefit of the doubt," Anakin insisted, and the boys - late teens, Betsy figured - glared at each other until their sister crossed her arms. "Stop posing, you poodoo-heads. The Master of the Jedi Order can't take one untrained Force-sensitive laying in a medical bed? Sithspawn," the girl - OH, she was Han's, all right, Betsy sensed - snapped. "JAINA!" Jacen gasped, but Luke and Han stifled chuckles as Leia's best "senatorial stare" silenced her brood. "Well, Skywalker, I could always just shoot her," a female voice - oddly accented, something like Leia's but with traces of roguishness - called from the doorway. Luke smiled over his shoulder as a woman with red hair, green eyes and a lethal grace walked to his side - definitely belonging there, even dressed as she was in a black catsuit and blaster belt with a lightsaber on it. #Please, PLEASE tell me she's not a Grey ...# The newcomer arched an eyebrow and asked, "You look like you've seen a Force-ghost - Betsy?" "Mara ... Ms. Braddock claims she knows something about my mother. She offered to let Leia and I view her memories - she claims to be a powerful telepath," Luke said, as - Mara, his wife - looked Betsy over. "If you still don't trust me, *you* can shoot me," Betsy offered - this looked like a woman who could do a clean job of it, at least. Mara chuckled drily. "Very to the point. Have to admire that in a person. Fine ... Leia?" she asked. "Anything that might direct us to the real identity of our birth mother is ... most welcome. But why Naboo?" Leia asked, as she moved to Betsy's right side and Luke stepped to Betsy's left. "You'll understand more clearly once you see my memories - assuming I'm not utterly mad," Betsy said, reaching out - She opened to them - Luke's mind was something like a warm blanket, offered to a homeless stranger, while Leia's was sharp yet sheltering, precise - - and the Prequel Trilogy flickered through Betsy - She opened her eyes, as Leia leaned on Han, tearful eyes narrowing, and Luke turned to Artoo and Threepio in shock. "Artoo ... WERE you ... my mother's ...?" Luke - pleaded ... The astromech burbled sorrowfully, and Threepio managed to affect horror as he exclaimed, Lord Vader was my WHAT!? And you claim - oh, oh dear ... the Queen ..." Betsy closed her eyes - she hadn't meant to do this - but she felt someone squeeze her hand, and she opened her eyes to find a tearful, smiling Anakin looking at her. "You ... thank you. Not just for Chewie, but for - our past," the boy said, and Leia managed a kind nod before Han walked her from the room. Jacen and Jaina looked at her with a measure of warmth, and left with Anakin, Mara, Chewie and the droids. "I'm sorry for the ... shock. It's just all - we'll call the Naberries at once, of course. And we owe you a debt twice over, now," Luke said, gently. Betsy just shrugged and smiled back. "Believe me, Master -" but Luke held up a hand. "Luke, please. You've earned my trust - Betsy. If we can do anything ... " he offered. The answer was absurdist, on the surface, but it was all Betsy could think of. "Then I ask - please, teach me the ways of the Jedi," she said. And Elizabeth Braddock accepted being ... A Padawan. *********************************** 40 ABY: ------------------------------------------------- Ben smiled faintly and said, "Wow." "'Wow' indeed. At least your mother didn't shoot me," Betsy agreed - she got a bowl of green thakitillo from the mini-fridge, then another, and gave one to Ben. "Instead, your family took a risk, and ended up practically adopting me," Betsy reflected. "And thank the Force they did, because the Vong War got worse, quickly ..." -------------------------------------------------- tbc ...