Iris Halloraan (the purple light represents the Force, kinda)

Aaand Daremi Parper! I actually imagine her rather differently (in terms of clothes), but the creator didn't have that, so . . .

Unfortunately, I couldn't do Auiq because it was only one gender. But I think his appearance was specified pretty well by Hacker anyway.

When the Enterprise landed, Ivalji Valjean was ready for them.

They had been doing their best to hide themselves. Their advanced Federation technology came pretty close . . . but Valjean's was better, and she knew it. As soon as the starship went into orbit around Tatooine, she locked it there-- they couldn't leave, no matter how hard they tried, as long as she was alive.

Is this really the right thing to do? said a tiny voice as she watched a Vulcan and six humans beam down. Is this really where you want to go? Is this really, truly what you want?

Yes.

This silenced all other tugs from the Light Side.

Ivalji Valjean examined the new arrivals. Two were security-- easy to dispose of. One was a scavenger-- more difficult, but still simple. The Vulcan was a First Officer and the human next to him his captain-- she had no intake on them, and could not rule how easily they could be killed. One was a doctor-- they could cure other people, but not themselves. And the last was a Jedi-- no, a Padawan. She would be the most difficult, but perhaps she could be persuaded to join the Sith's side . . .

The captain proved more formidable when he crawled into a vent, displaying some insight. Valjean allowed him to do so-- they would not be able to escape, and would be easier to destroy as a pack. Why stop him?

She waited, metally following the invaders' prowess. The two security guards "mysteriously" disappeared. Valjean would not tolerate the idea of a Federation soldier's stupidity.

The captain and co. came across Valjean's four prisoners. A quick mental tap in the weakest of their minds-- the doctor's, incidentally-- made them go through the main corridors on their way out, contrary to the fairly smart ventilation. And then, finding the doors and thinking they were the exit, the escapers burst into the room where Valjean was waiting.

"We have to leave." It was Saint. "We have to leave now."

"That would be wise," said the Vulcan. They commenced persuading the others to leave. That involved a lot of shoving and fireman carries.

"You can't leave," said Valjean calmly. "Even if you could get out of those doors, your ship is locked in orbit."

"Well, surprise, because we can get out of this room!" said Saint proudly. "I have a backup Sonic Screw--"

She rummaged around in her pocket, looking confused. Ivalji Valjean held up two Sonic Screwdrivers. "Are these what you're looking for?"

Saint swore.

"Hey, that's my job," said the scavenger.

"In any case, you have no reason to leave," continued the Sith lord. "You see, a large portion of you-- specifically all except maybe three or four-- will soon be on my side."

"I find that hard to believe," remarked the captain.

"You'd be surprised. I have sent a message to the Federation offering an alliance and explaining exactly what my aims are. We got a message back. They are considering."

"They're not going to listen to you," said the doctor suddenly. "We're better than you-- you're lying. You're trying to scare us, but it's not working." 

"You'll find that I am not lying. And-- ah-- here comes their answer now."

Ivalji Valjean turned on the transmission to audio. This could either be the best moment of her career-- or the worst defeat.

"Ivalji Valjean, we decline your offer of an alliance."

"They're not going to get very far with that," the Sith lord muttered. "Take them away! All of them! They are prisoners of war. Except-- leave the Padawan here."

The guards hastened to comply.

Ivalji Valjean radioed her base on Naboo. "We have declared war on the Federation. Send an attack fleet at once."

She had been planning for months. They had minutes. 

What could possibly go wrong?

IVALJI VALJEAN'S RADIO TO THE FEDERATION

My name is Ivalji Valjean, an accomplished Jedi. I have a very large system at my control, and I intend to use this to spread control to the farthest regions of the Universe, having complete discipline in every area visited. In this mission I request the Federation's hand-- having so many cultures united under you already, our alliance would make this mission much more convenient.

If you accept, your Federation will be the most widespread in the history of the world.

If you decline, you are accepting a war between our two parties, a war that I will win.

OKAY BROOKE, ARE YA HAPPY?

Also, sorry, Elizabeth! I switched POV and tense midway through because I absolutely hate third person present. It's now in third person past.

(by the way, yes, I made up "starship dispatchment and assignments" because I'm really too lazy to do so much Googling. If someone knows a role that would fit that description, TELL ME.)

______

Brookiera Koith was Head of Starship Dispatchment and Assignments. She was a Betazoid. She had white hair and solid teal eyes. She was also famed among officers for her good heart.

In every Starfleet meeting, every time she was part of a jury, anytime there was ANY sort of decision going on, Officer Brooke was the first to vouch for a person. She followed the rules to the letter and did not hesitate to quote them if it saved someone else. This was, in part, influenced by the fact that she was so used to people being truthful around her she saw no need for anyone to lie. She was not in any way naive-- she simply regarded it as basic fact.

That is why Brookiera was not surprised when Ivalji Valjean's first ships approached. Her followers were diverse, Koith noticed. There were humans, Xexto, Twi'lek, and even a few Dathomirians piloting the crafts. They were obviously meant for attack, but also obviously had to fly a bit of a distance-- rather impractical, the head of S.D.A. thought.

As Brooke controlled starship dispatchment, it was partially her job when Starfleet base was attacked. As she sent out a defensive crew, the shields went up. A battle ensued.

Koith noticed that this was not something the Sith lord had been prepared for. The pilots had obviously been ready to zip in, drop some bombs, and zip out. A ready defense was not something considered . . . or so the Betazoid thought.

Federation ship after Federation ship began to blow up. The ammunition of Valjean's was incredible. Brookiera decided this was meant to be for the base itself, and the ships had received alternate orders. When the attackers ran out of ammunition-- and only two Federation ships remained-- they began a retreat.

On Koith's accomplice's command, they began to fire.

Three of Valjean's ships were destroyed in the sudden volley of Federation lasers. As she watched, the other ships began to turn back around, prepared for another assult.

"That was a cheap shot!" Brookiera cried. 

"They're out of ammo, obviously," the head of attack and defense replied. "We can win this battle easily."

"This is two to twenty! What were you thinking?!"

"Two almost completely loaded ships to twenty with none! Relax, Koith. We have this in the bag."

No they didn't, as Brookeira knew.

Ivalji Valjean had two plans. One was simpler: be faced with minimal defenses, destroy the Starfleet base, get out. The other was: Create as much destruction as possible, keep ammo in case of a counterattack, and retreat.

The two Federation ships did well, technically. They lowered Valjean's forces from twenty to eighteen. But with their valiant efforts came certain death: it was now eighteen to zero, with ammunition still intact.

"They're going for the shields." Brookeira knew this easily.

"Right. They're not going to make it." The head of attack and defense activated blasters attached to the command base. They shot down two more ships, but their power was greatly reduced because of the shields. "Should we send out more ships?"

"No. It's a death trap," replied Brookiera. "They still have plenty of ammo-- they just need something to fire it at. They don't have enough to destroy our shields and the base. They can either damage us or retreat."

They decided to damage.

The shields would hold, of course, but afterwards if they were to launch another attack, the Federation wouldn't be ready. The shields would break down easily; they would be doomed.

"We need to send out more ships." He was simply stating.

"We can't. They'd die for sure."

"And they'd make a dent in the process. Koith, it's a couple of lives for millions. It's not a choice."

It was for the pilots.

"Send out four more ships," Brookiera said. "They are to make as much damage as possible."

When all had blown over, ten of Valjean's ships were returning to base. None returned to the Federation.

"Beam us up, Scotty."

It didn't matter that the ship couldn't get out of orbit. Captain James Kirk was not going to sit around in a cell when he could sit around in his ship; that wasn't even a question.

Obviously, Ivalji Valjean had no problem with this, as the landing party and her captives beamed up fairly easily (Iris having been returned to them between five to ten minutes, not remembering a moment of the conversation between her and the Sith). 

"Right," said Saint instantly. "I think we need introductions. Right? I'm horrible with names anyway, but at least I'd stop thinking of you as the guy with the pointy ears." She nodded towards Spock, whose expression did not change. "I'm Saint. I'm a Time Lord."

Kirk, McCoy, and Scott all stared at her like she was from an alternate dimension. "Long story."

"Captain Kirk of the Enterprise. This is my first officer, Spock, my head surgeon, McCoy, and my head engineer, Spock."

"Captain Auiq Hickok of the Endeavor. These is my first officer, Ariel K'Tosh, and my Communications Officer, R'Mria."

"Iris Halloraan. I'm a Jedi apprentice."

Cleo Hartsworth stayed stony and silent. "Since you obviously don't need me on Tatooine, can't you bring me home?"

"No," said Spock, with what Saint thought was considerable patience. "We cannot break out of orbit. We would need a Jedi at least as strong as Ivalji Valjean to break through her hold."

"Fantastic."

They lapsed into silence.

"HOLD IT!"

Saint suddenly looked very excited. It was not exactly a pleasant expression: her eyes were sparkling, her mouth stretched a little too wide, her eyebrows a little too high. "Did you guys get my TARDIS?"

"Indeed," Spock replied. "I looked through its files, if you will pardon it."

"Absolutely no problem! This is brilliant! I can get every single one of you out of here without a hitch! Pile you into the TARDIS and away we go . . . "

"You can't do that."

Saint turned to Captain Kirk, surprise etched on her face.

"I can't just leave my ship behind. You should understand that, seeing as you're a captain yourself. Hickok's already lost his ship. Do you want me to lose mine too?"

Saint exhaled. "Well . . . I might be able to do one thing. I'd need my TARDIS, and it almost surely won't work, but we could try."

___

"Agent Nexus-Six! Do you have the girl?"
"Yes," replied the android, "But I can't compute why you would want her, Lady Valjean."

"Don't question. Do you have the weapon?"

"No. Has the smuggler been sent?"

"Of course. We've hired her once before. She's quite reliable."

"My lady, I have a query."
"State it."

"I need a different assistant."

"That's no query, and you're not getting a new one."

"Why do you need the girl?"

"The girl is disposable, Nexus-Six. What we need is her brother."

top

I'm really sorry for not updating sooner, guys! I don't really have an excuse.

___

Tristan Jaxon-- better known as Trix-- was sitting at his desk, filling out papers when the phone rang.

Trix was fifteen years old. He had alabaster skin, badly sunburned, messy brown hair, and dark grey-blue eyes. He was skinny and average, wearing secretarial clothes (in this case, a white button-down shirt with a black tie and jeans). He had been moving around the galaxy for a very long time, and was almost certain he couldn't be found. Tristan Jaxon had been just a baby when he disappeared, after all. 

The phone was very old-style: it was one of those old handheld recievers that had one large speaker for the ear and another for the mouth. Trix thought it was silly; almost everyone communicated with face-to-face over-screen contact now, and nobody was going to tolerate a twentieth century model.

He reached over with his right hand, the left still scribbling. On the first try, he wasn't able to grip the handle. Trix's right arm had recently been updated and he hated it when that happened; it was always so hard to get used to. But he, for one, liked to keep up with the new technological advances. He could pay for it at least.

"This is the Department of Special Dispatch, Trix speaking. Are you looking to reach Harold Barnaby?"

"Jaxon, I have news."

Trix almost dropped the phone.

"I'm sorry. Who am I speaking to?"

"Jaxon, stop playing games. I don't have a lot of time. Elina is still alive."

This time Trix really did drop the phone. He picked it up, then said, "What? I dropped a building on her!"

"And may I say that was very tactless. It caused way too much attention; your contacts on Earth spent months clearing it all up."

"And of course you'd know that."

"Of course."

"Well tell him I'm sorry. How did Enny survive?"

"Your mother payed for cyborg parts. Excuse me, your late mother."

Tristan sighed. It was long and slow. "When?"

"Four years ago."

"Why didn't I hear?"

"We were preoccupied."

"With what?"

"Hunting for Zaphod Beeblebrox."

There was a pause.

"Clever," Tristan admitted.

"Thank you."
"So Enny is still alive."

"We have her in custody. You may kill her if you would like."

"Let me guess: in exchange for my services."
"Of course."

"Fine. I'll do it. But keep this in mind: I'm not your servant."

The phone buzzed busy, and one dark copper hand laid down the reciever. Ivalji Valjean dialed another number.

"Nexus-6? He's coming."

___

That's all I can do tonight! I'll try for another tomorrow.

I'm liking Trix already! As promised:

___

"At full power," Saint was explaining to an interested Mr. Spock, "A TARDIS can tow planets."
Saint had invited Spock and Scotty into her ship, thinking that as scientists and engineers they would be able to help with repairs-- if any-- to her prized TARDIS. Scotty had almost gone into shock when he saw the inside and was currently looking over one of the lower levels.

"And it can teleport through time and space."

"Yep!"

"Facinating," the Vulcan muttered, running his hands over the control panel. Saint got up from where she had been kneeling.

"Looks like you didn't wreck her too badly. I should be able to pull the Enterprise easy. Do you have any idea where we should be heading?"

Mr. Spock paused for a moment. "The logical assumption would be to track down someone associated with Ivalji Valjean."

"Yeah, well, that doesn't really narrow it down much."

"I believe Valjean is currently assembling a weapon of some sort, stored on Naboo--"

"How do you know that?" Saint was now looking over the control panel.

"Your Caitian Communications Officer-- R'Mria, I believe-- was forced to work the communications panel. Using an old Vulcan mind connection, I was able to help her recall this session."

"Oh. So, we're going to Naboo?"

"That would be the logical choice."

Right on cue, Scotty poked his head out from underneath the control panel. "She's a dandy ship you've got here, and in perfect working order!"

"Oh, good," Saint sighed. "I haven't been flying it for very long. I didn't know what the program would do."

"Say, lassie, would you mind if I took her for a spin?"

Saint had not been expecting this, but the Scot's eyes were so full of longing she consented. "Sure. Once we're in deep space I don't see any reason why you couldn't."

Scotty grinned and left the TARDIS. Spock left too.

Saint reached out and pulled a lever. Then she typed in the coordinates for Earth.

___

"Oh hello," moaned Marvin.

Tristan was not expecting this android as a welcoming committee-- he'd never even heard of it before. However, he said "Hello" quite graciously and stepped through the door.

"Nexus is upstairs," said the depressed android. "You want to see him, I suppose?"

"Um, yes."

"Nobody ever wants to see me. Not even Zaphod. I'm just some android and it's not fair!"

Tristan wasn't sure how to respond to this, so he just went upstairs.

"You're looking young."

At the sound of his voice, Flynn model nexus-6 turned around. He looked just like the average adult, with black hair, green eyes, and a trenchcoat. But Tristan had come in contact with him once before, and it was not a fond meeting.

"You are not," said Nexus-6. "It has been 10.78456342 years, correct?"

"Um--"

"Of course I am correct. You are here for your sister."

"Yes, of course. Where is Enny?"

Nexus-6 shook his head. "You must hold up your side of the deal first."

"It's lifelong, Flynn. I want her now."

"We need to find the Destroyer first. Once we find the Destroyer, she is yours."

Tristan bit his lip. He hated lying, even if he was good at it. "Haven't a clue. You're sure it's on Earth?"

"I am absolutely positive, Jaxon. Where is the proper question."

"Okay. Where is it?"

"That is what we are trying to find out."

Trix grinned. He loved messing with androids. "Where do we start?"

"I have already started. You will be searching Europe."

"That'll take lifetimes! D'you know how much is there?"

"I expect you to perform to the best of your ability."

Tristan groaned. It was no fun when the androids messed with him. 

In the other room, Elina Jaxon's ear was glued to the door, thoughts going a hundred miles an hour.

I HAVE MINIONS.

Minions.

Minions.  

Of course you have minions! What's a good antagonist without minions?

Owlgirl: PLOT TWISTS ARE LIFE. Hehehe.

____

Elina Jaxon was leaning against a wall, thinking about everything she'd heard an hour ago, and trying to stay awake when the door creaked open.

Tristan crept into the room, glancing around. Zaphod Beeblebrox was asleep-- both of his heads. Marvin was shut off in a corner. He didn't know of any other people that would be in the house, so he made his way over to Elina.

"Enny," he whispered.

"Get away from me," she said, none too quietly.

"I'm here to help."

"No you aren't. Ten point something years ago-- that's when that building fell on top of me."

"You have a good memory," Tristan remarked. "I'm surprised you have so little visible cyborg parts, considering the largeness of the building--"
Enny ignored that. "So you did it."

"Enny, let me explain."
"No!" She was on her feet now. "You doomed me! Whatever you were supposed to do-- kill me or injure me or whatever-- it ruined us! Mother spent all her money saving me. Then she died of yellow fever because we couldn't buy medication! I was twelve!"

"Enny, I--"
"No! You left me alone on the streets at twelve years old and left me thinking I was alone, with no family! And then you were off doing who knows what--"
"Actually, I think that was the year I--"
"Shut up! Shut up! I don't care about what you have to say! You tried to kill me, that's quite enough to make me want to bash your stupid face in!"

The brunette was on her feet now, panting a little, fists balled. Tristan took a deep breath. "Enny. You have to understand. You're incredibly dangerous to yourself, to Earth-- no, to the Universe. I didn't want to kill you-- No, let me speak, I let you talk, I DIDN'T-- but I had to. I watched you grow up. I've felt like your big brother all my life, and that means I have to take care of you, even if it means you die."

"So what are you here for?" Elina said sarcastically. "To give me an apology so you have a unblemished conscience when you do kill me?"

"No! Actually, I'm here to help. I've changed my mind. I can take you to Europe, train you so you're safe for everyone." Liar. Liar. Liar. "All you have to do is come with me."

"I don't believe you."

"Enny, I've spent twelve years undercover. Only--" he paused for a minute, counting on his fingers-- "Five people know I am Tristan Jaxon, including me. Five. In the whole universe. We could fake your death. I could bring you back to where I work-- I'm a secretary in the Department for Special Dispatchment, I'm sure my boss could find a job for you! You could be . . . Alex. Alex and Trix. Trix and Alex." As he said it, Tristan actually found himself believing it . . . nullifying her powers . . . bringing her back . . . Trix and Alex. Alex and Trix.

No, he said to himself firmly. No. You can't and you know that.

Enny paused.

Tristan waited.

The silence stretched into minutes. Finally, she opened her mouth. "You can get me away from that android?"

"Yes."

"Put me undercover?"

"Yes."

She fell silent again.

"Okay. Yes."

Elina turned away from her brother. She wasn't sure about her decision, but she knew she could never be put on the spot like that. Did he know that? Is that why he did it?

Tristan turned into the shadows.

"I know you're there," he whispered.

The man coming out looked like an average cyborg dealer. His eye had been replaced, and was zooming in and out.

"You--" he said. "You're lying. You're going to kill her. I'll tell her-- I'll save her--"
"You put her parts in, didn't you?"

He nodded mutely.

"So you know who she is."

He nodded again.

"What she can do."

He was trembling now.

"So you understand why I have to."

"I'll warn her-- I'll--"

The dealer was stuttering. A pit of dread settled into Tristan's stumach. "I'm so, so sorry," he whispered.

He reached his cybernetic right hand out towards the dealer. Before the cyborg could make a move, the hand was clasped around his throat.

"Wait-- what are you--"

Trix watched in silence as the dealer's face turned pale, then purple. Then he went limp. Tristan felt his pulse.

He sighed and let the cyborg fall to the floor.

Tristan hadn't killed anyone in a long, long time.