A/N: This is a Star Trek: TOS oneshot AU that I wrote up for alternatehistory dot com and just transferred over. I hope it's enjoyable!

The Watraii are based off of the Romulan offshoot culture from the Vulcan's Soul novels, though they have a different origin and somewhat different government in this story. Now, on with the story!


Galae s'Shiar Rihan warbird Eyiv s'Rea. Uncharted system, near the Andorian Empire border.

"It's monstrous," whispered enarrain tr'Haldas. "How could these animals be so cruel to their own?"

Riov Arrhae ir'Mirrhasa ei'Satali t'Sathe had no answer as she watched the footage of the pre-warp aliens that warbird Eyiv s'Rea had discovered on this planet herding starving members of their own kind into...

She could not go further along that thought. Arrhae was no stranger to horror; she spaced Orion pirates whenever she could catch them, and she had seen combat in twelve systems across three sectors, but the sheer mindless brutality that these creatures committed against their own people...this was something that the Rihannsu had never seen, not even when the Sundering Wars had burned ch'Rihan with nuclear weapons and the Unforgiven had fled with their hypocrite mentor to unknown lands.

"Get me Raenasa. The khre'Enriov must hear of this." And if he agrees, we can have twenty warbirds here in a little over two weeks...

"Au'e, rekkhai," the communications officer confirmed. The young Commander watched the video begin again...all of those poor creatures, being systematically, robotically murdered by their own for no reason but hate. Yes, some still stood against the murderers, but they were increasingly beleaguered, and without aid it might be too late for anything good left in the species.

I only hope that the khre'Enriov approves my request for support. These Humans do not deserve this agony.


Berlin, Königreich Preußen, German Empire. April 20th, 2061.

Reichskanzler Mathilde Kraus, leader of the free world (oh God help me), flipped to the next page on her tablet with increasing gloom. "We're in deep shit," she proclaimed. "Even with the Americans finally beating back the ECON enough to send us help, Krasnov the Butcher's forces are still holding most of Poland, and Will-er, seiner Kasierliche und Königliche Majestat-says that his forces are still bogged down thirty miles outside of Gdansk." The thirty-year-old Pirate Party protest candidate-turned-Chancellor passed the tablet over to the other three surviving members of the old Bundestag. "What's more, we'll need to hold elections this year. Alternative for Germany may be discredited thanks to Krasnov, but there's still the peace faction to worry about. We may need to consider the possibility of negotiation." Her life had never been this bleak before she drew the short straw and got to be Chancellor; even the drunken panic session wherein she had accidentally reestablished the German Empire hadn't been in this bad of a military situation.

"We can't make peace with the Russian Butcher," objected Karl Kohl, a Christian Democrat back-bencher who'd been tending to his dying aunt when the Khanate suicide bombing had killed almost all of the Bundestag. "He openly wants us all dead. What was it he said last week-he wants the 'Germano-Polish conspirators of the feminized West' burned down to the bedrock? And we're part of the West."

"The peace voters think that he's bluffing, though," Mathilde pointed out. "Look, we all know that he's a fucking monster, and I think we all believe these reports of death camps, but it happened for a couple of years when we were the murderous fascists, there's a good chance it'll happen now that the Russians are murderous fascists. And we need to do whatever it takes to stop that from happening." She took a swig from the 2-liter energy drink bottle she kept by her side at all times. "Plus, we've taken a credibility hit from holding back the elections under the national emergency justification. And if we lose the elections, if more anti-war candidates win than those who want to see Russia beaten-or worse, if we get a revolt on our hands..."

She didn't need to finish. Ivan Krasnov would march his armies through Berlin, kill every man, woman, and child he could find, and push through Europe's last bulwark. France was a wreck after Jean-Baptiste Moliere's atrocities, and the entire Iberian peninsula had been in civil war for a decade, let alone the vicious fratricidal conflict in Ireland that the Brits were tied down trying to contain. And with America split down the middle by the ECON fascists and the Aspen government trying to destroy the Augment menace while stopping the Chinese behemoth's desperate attempts to pry territory out of the Khanate's splintering grasp in a futile attempt to feed its teeming masses, while Brazil was locked in a duel to the death with fascist Argentina, there was no major power that could take up Germany's place if the Fatherland fell. The heroic last stand of the Poles had bought Germany time, but there were only so many miracles that Mathilde could accomplish-and you could only whip up the nationalists by declaring a general as figurehead Emperor while too drunk to see once.

"General Hohenzollern-I mean, der Kaiser-needs more air support," Sabine Weber (Social Democrat-Königreich Bayern, survived the bombing due to a severe case of influenza keeping her out of work) noted. "If we can deliver a major military victory-such as by securing Gdansk for our Polish brothers with the air support that His Imperial and Royal Majesty is asking for-we can probably get a majority."

"But where do we get the air support? Ever since the President Barack Obama went down neutralizing the Khanate fleet, the Americans haven't got any supercarriers. And we had to torpedo De Gaulle when Moliere threatened to nuke Hamburg. Our own factories are already stretched to the limit, and the F-44 we licensed from the Americans is too clumsy to take on the MIG-47 one to one even if we COULD produce enough to hit that level of numerical parity. How can we get more aircraft rapidly enough to make a difference in Gdansk?"

There was a knock on Mathilde's office door. "Enter!"

Mathilde's secretary, ironically older than the Reichskanzler herself, poked her head in. "Madam Chancellor, there's someone here to see you-I swear that I didn't put her into your appointments but the computer says that she's in..."

"Is she Russian? Augment?"

"I...I don't think so, madam Chancellor. She is wearing a hood, though..."

"Security, keep a bead on our guest, just in case." The two hulking men behind Mathilde raised their weapons and pointed them at the door. "You may let her in, Ingrid."

The woman who entered wore a strange, hooded robe, with a lump on the hip by the right side. A gun? How did she get past... Then the door closed, and the woman threw back her hood.

"Greetings, Imperial Chancellor," said the alien woman, pointed ears and angled eyebrows making her obviously non-human. "My name is Arrhae ir'Mirrhasa ei'Satali t'Sathe, Commander of warbird Rea's Helm of the Grand Fleet of the Empire of the Declared. I am here to give you a proposition, with the permission of the Supreme Admiral of the Grand Fleet."

Mathilde gaped. Magnus Schmidt (Social Democrat-Hannover) choked on his drink. Karl squealed like a little girl and attempted to haul himself over the back of his chair. Sabine fainted dead away.


Motherland-Purification Camp 20. Twenty miles outside Krasnovgrad, Third Empire of All the Russias (formerly Dnipro, Ukraine). May 7th, 2061.

Vladimir Petrovich Kolontayev, third most-powerful man in the Third Empire of All the Russias, Commissar-General of the Office of Racial and Religious Purity, deputy head of the Okhrana, and Royal Prince-Protector of West White Ruthenia (formerly Poland), known to the West as the Butcher of Krakow, stepped out of his gleaming black Lada, pulling on his pristine white gloves as his driver held the door, black longcoat flapping slightly in the brisk spring wind. Twenty men of the Motherland-Purity Brigades snapped to attention on either side of the path towards the camp's gate, each man holding both fists diagonally in the air on stiff arms. "Hail Krasnov! Hail Purity!"

"Hail Krasnov," said Kolontayev absent-mindedly, paying the bare minimum amount of attention to the greasy little Commissar who came to meet him.

"Most noble Commissar-General! Hail Krasnov! We are honored to have you visit, sir." He stuck out his hand to shake. Kolontayev inspected it as if it were a peculiar and mildly disgusting specimen that a scientist had shown him. After three awkward moments, the hand was withdrawn. "Ah, most noble Commissar-General, as you can see we are fully operational-"

"Why aren't the ovens running?"

"Ah, sir, as we were informed that you were to arrive, it was decided to put the feminized degenerates to work in order to ensure that-"

"What does Tsar Krasnov pay you to do, Commissar?"

"The...the Most Holy Tsar, sir?" Kolontayev raised an eyebrow. The Commissar began to sweat. "Er, the Most Holy Tsar gives us state compensation for our enthusiasm in performing our duties to purify the Motherland of feminized Western influences, most noble Commissar-General."

"Correct," Kolonyatev noted, ignoring the propaganda and cutting to the chase. "You are paid to kill Poles. And Ukrainians, Germans, Balts, Romanians, Magyars, and Finns, but primarily Poles. You are paid to kill these Poles, then to incinerate their bodies. Now tell me, Commissar, why I see no smoke from the ovens, no Poles lined up for the gas chambers, and in fact no Poles outside of their prison barracks at all except for the examples on the wall, despite knowing that you received a shipment of Poles to kill just yesterday morning?" Kolontayev's voice was colder than the Bay of Kola in mid-December. The Commissar swallowed in terror.

"I...I understand, sir, I will correct this mistake at once!" He turned to the Motherland-Purity Brigade men. "You heard the great Commissar-General! Get back in there and do your duty! Kill the feminized degenerates, double time!"

Kolontayev followed the guards with a long, easy stride. The guards still inside the camp's gates hustled off of the walls and moved for the Poles' prison barracks. The sociopath idly wondered if it would've been easier to exterminate tennis players if Krasnov had wanted that instead. On second thought, no-the Poles were easier. Simpler to find, at least. The benefits of being in charge of the extermination of an entire nationality. Kolontayev's chuckle at his own joke didn't even reach the icy mask that was his face.

Motherland-Purity Brigade men charged into the slave barracks, throwing emaciated Poles out and beating them savagely. Most of the degenerates were too starved and exhausted even to wail. Good. Kolontayev had no time for the tiresome bleating of his victims. He needed to...

Wait. What was that droning sound?

Kolontayev turned just in time to see a strange, blocky aircraft fire violent green pulses of energy, setting fire to the very air not six meters above Kolontayev's head before slamming into the gates, sending concrete, metal, and earth flying thirty meters in the air. Kolontayev hit the ground, cursing. "What the-shoot them! Take them down! Does this place have no anti-aircraft-move, you idiots!"

The aircraft came around again, and Kolontayev snarled in rage as it blew the main watchtower apart in an instant. "What is this?" How have my spies failed me-I'll have the idiot who missed this tortured for ten years of constant pain...

More aircraft materialized out of thin air, dropping heavily-armed paratroopers in some sort of full-body armor. Kolontayev drew his pistol and pulled off two shots, which didn't even slow his target. The man pulled up some kind of rifle...

There was no muzzle flash, but there was a slight crackle of electricity as the Rihan miniature railgun fired. Kolontayev's chest erupted, and the Butcher of Krakow managed one last thought before darkness consumed him forever.

Where the hell did these people come from?


"In our darkest hour, with the forces of fascism poised to destroy all that is good and just about Humanity forever, the Rihannsu heard our prayers. They rescued us from Khan, from Green, from Krasnov, Castillo, and the ECON butchers. They gave us their technology freely and gave us a place among the stars, with the chance to one day be their equals.

Today, my friends, is that day-a day eagerly awaited, a day of glory for our people. Today, we, the Human species, are no longer subjects! We are, now and forever, citizens of the Romulan Star Empire!"

-Federation President Abner Bowman, speech in ShiKahr, ch'Rihan, 2200 AD.


Outmarches of the Shiar ih'Saeihr Rihan. Near the Watraii Neutral Zone. Terran year 2268; Rihan stardate 5027.3.

Riov James Tiberius Kirk, leih, ch'R Aen'rhienn (or, in English, Commander Kirk, CO, IRW Bloodwing), strode onto the Bridge as he buckled his honor blade to his belt. A member of the Shiar ih'Saeihr Rihan's first non-Rihan species to be granted full citizenship rights, Kirk was the poster child for the current administration's attempts to mollify disgruntled Tellarite and Andorian activists by showing that ex-subject citizen species were treated with equal rights to the founding species. "Erei'Riov t'Charvanek, what do we have?"

"Hegemony warbird detected, rekkhai," said Liviana ir'Kevratas t'Charvanek, Aen'rhienn's first officer and Kirk's close friend. A beautiful brunette Rihanha from a remote colony world, she was one of the relatively few common-born Rihan officers in the navy-though, unlike most commoners, she was denied noble status only due to bastardry rather than bloodline. "They're moving into the neutral zone, headed directly for the border."

"Fvadt." Kirk had grown up listening to his father's tales of the last Rihan-Watraii war, and he did not want to see another one start on his watch. "Maintain cloak. Erein Sulu, contact Raenasa for backup. What are these idiots thinking?"

"I don't know, Jim. It doesn't make much sense, especially for the allegedly logical Watraii." Kirk snorted at that.

"Indeed, erei'Riov. Arrain Uhura, keep us close to them as soon as they cross the border. What's their status? Weapons or shields?"

"We can't tell yet, but they'll be within active sensor range in five minutes," t'Charvanek replied.

"I have High Command," reported Sulu. "Khre'Enriov t'Rehu."

"On screen." The Supreme Admiral was a striking middle-aged Rihanha of about a hundred and ten years, her classical ShiKahr features framed by lustrous auburn hair.

"Riov Kirk," the Khre'Enriov said. "You report a Watraii violation of the neutral zone?"

"Au'e, rekkhai. A Watraii warbird, looks like a...Retribution-class, detecting an IFF, heading straight for the border. IFF reading as Watraii Hegemony warbird Surak."

"We are dispatching three warbirds to assist. Hold the Watraii vessel if it crosses the border, destroy it if necessary. Warbirds Eyhon Eludet'eri and Maens will arrive in thirty minutes, warbird Haakona in an hour." Two light cruisers and a superheavy battleship. More than enough to deal with a single Watraii battleship, but that depended on Kirk holding out that long in his T'liss-class medium cruiser. Not good odds.

"Understood, Khre'Enriov."

"Stay strong, Riov. Raenasa out."

The screen went dark, then switched back to the open stars. Kirk turned to t'Charvanek with a raised eyebrow. "Well, we have our orders. Red alert! All hands to battle stations."

T'Charvanek grimaced. "Ie, rekkhai."

"Erein Sulu, open a shipwide channel."

"Open, rekkhai.

"All hands, this is the Riov. A Watraii battleship has violated the neutral zone. We are moving to engage. Reinforcements are half an hour away, we will need to hold the border until they arrive. Kirk out."


Watraii Hegemony battleship Surak. Watraii-Rihan neutral zone.

Captain Spock, of kh'Watraii, gripped his chair's armrest, ornate mask hiding his face. Tall and strong, with an implacable attitude of calm and a deep, masculine voice, he was the epitome of a Watraii officer. "Operations, do you detect any Imperial vessels?"

"Nothing, sir," the masked woman replied, "but certainty is impossible given the thieves' cloaking technology."

Spock nodded. "Acknowledged. Maintain course. Bring us to a halt once we have crossed the border."

"Yes, sir."

"Sound battle readiness. It is imperative that we succeed in our mission." Without cloaks, the Betrayed were at a significant disadvantage against the expansionist Shiar ih'Saeihr Rihan and its various vassals and subjects. A cloaking attack would destroy most unaware vessels, even ships as powerful as those of the Watraii, before they could inflict significant retaliation. Battle readiness would help, but still...

"We have crossed the border. Dropping out of warp," the helm officer reported.

"Begin active long-range scans," Spock ordered. "Maintain battle readiness."

It took less than ten seconds for a T'liss-class Rihan warbird to drop out of cloak two kellicams behind Surak-contact alerts blared automatically as the round-hulled vessel materialized out of nothing in the rear arc of Spock's spearhead-shaped battleship.

"Declared warbird reading as IRW Bloodwing, Captain. Medium cruiser-spec, we outgun them approximately two to one. Their weapons are readied but they are not firing."

"Maintain position and shields, do not power weapons."

"We are being hailed," the communications officer reported.

"On screen."

The unmasked biped on the viewscreen stood from his chair, Declared-style sienov omienai at his hip. "Watraii vessel, this is ch'R Aen'rhienn. You are in violation of the Treaty of Tellar Prime; power down your vessel and surrender immediately or you will be fired upon."

Spock forced himself to relax. "Rihan warbird, this is Captain Spock aboard the Watraii battleship Surak. I wish to defect to the Shiar ih'Saeihr Rihan."


Spock materialized to see five Declared disruptor rifles pointed at his face. An understandable precaution.

"Captain Spock," said the Declared commander, stepping forwards with his right hand held out. "I'm Commander Kirk. This is Centurion Montgomery Scott, my chief of security, and Janice Rand, ship's doctor. I'm going to have to request that you submit to a medical examination and accompany my security team to the guest quarters."

"Commendable discipline," Spock noted. "I will comply, Commander Kirk." He stepped down off of the transporter pad and inclined his head at Kirk's outstretched hand.

"You shake it," the man explained. "It's a greeting custom among my species."

"Ah." Spock grasped the hand with his own right and gingerly shook it forwards and backwards. Kirk raised an eyebrow but didn't comment.

"Rand."

A pale-haired Declared-another round-eared biped, one of the vassal species, probably a Human-stepped forwards. "Ie, rekkhai. Please hold still, sir." She passed a scanner of some sort up Spock's chest and along the side of his head. "He's clean, sir. A healthy male Rihanha, young adult-"

"I am not a Declared," hissed Spock. "I am of the Watraii. I may have defected to save lives and worlds, but I will not be treated like a thief."

"Lives?" Kirk interjected sharply. "What led to your defection, Captain Spock?"

"My father is General Sarek, of Kanamar," the Watraii began. Kirk frowned slightly, but smoothed his features to a polite mask. Spock approved. "He plans to use a planet-destroying superweapon in a war of conquest against the Empire of the Declared. This weapon uses a powerful antiproton weapon to destroy entire planets. Logically, I could not allow this weapon to be used; it would render rightful Watraii soil uninhabitable after its reclamation from the Declared, and the loss off life would be...regrettable."

"Why defect, though?" Kirk challenged. "You could have stopped this working internally."

"My father publicly accused me of un-Surakian thought," Spock countered. "As a Watraii citizen, I possessed no other options and remained at risk of being permanently blacklisted as an illogical wrongthinker. Logic led me to defection as the only alternative."

Kirk looked into the eye-holes of Spock's mask. The Watraii's implacable gaze stared unblinkingly back.

"Centurion Scott, take Captain Spock to his quarters, then get your prize teams to that ship and take the crew into custody. Be gentle."

"Aye, Commander," the Centurion replied with a peculiar accent. "Right this way, laddie."

Kirk saluted as Spock descended from the transporter pad and headed for the door. "Captain. Welcome to the Romulan Empire."

"Commander. Obtain revenge, and remember." He performed a traditional Watraii split-fingered salute in return. Kirk raised his eyebrow but did not pass comment.


"Do we trust him?" asked t'Charvanek. Kirk turned his PADD's stylus over in his fingers idly, jaw set. There was silence for a few moments. T'Charvanek spoke up again. "Jim?"

"I don't know," Kirk admitted. "If we do this-with only limited long-range scanner data, and if he's lying, or he's been misled...it would mean war. On the other hand, if we don't, and he's right...he described a superweapon of unimaginable power, a neutronium robot starship capable of destroying planets with an antiproton beam powerful enough to strip the mantle from the core. If the Watraii use such a weapon..." He didn't need to finish. After five seconds of tense silence, t'Charvanek spoke up.

"Warbirds Maens and Eyhon Eludet'eri are in the system, riov, and you are in command of the battle group. We could attempt a stealth reconnaissance mission, and destroy this superweapon before it is completed, if it exists?"

"Potentially," Kirk admitted. "But I don't like going into this without better sensor data." He tapped the stylus on the conference-room table. "There is an installation in the Imaga system, though?"

"Ie, rekkhai," Sulu replied. "Along with some sort of large, dense asteroid-like object near the habitable planet."

Kirk nodded. "Would you care to hazard a guess at what that object is, erein Sulu?"

"The readings indicate some sort of object with a very dense surface several times larger than any current spacecraft. Other than that I cannot reach any definitive conclusions, riov."

Kirk slapped his hand and the stylus to the conference table with finality. "That's it, then. Get me raenasa. We're heading into Watraii space."


Spock carefully, reverentially removed his mask. He peeled the thin layers apart, revealing a slim lead sheath, which he further pried apart to reveal a flat plastic circuit and a minute power cell. He switched the circuit on, attached it to a slim black tablet that he pulled from beneath his cloak-a tablet that would appear under most circumstances to be a Watraii PDA-and slid the entire assembly beneath his bed. This done, he reassembled the mask and donned it again, letting out a breath that he hadn't quite realized that he'd been holding.

His first part of the mission completed, the Captain sat with his legs crossed and took a slow, deep breath.

"Hail Surak," he whispered in the dim light, and closed his eyes to begin meditating.


Bridge, ch'R Aen'rhienn. Imaga system.

"Ease us in, Uhura," Kirk said softly, red-alert lights flashing but the sirens off. Technically he could be howling orders and the Watraii battlecruiser a mere three hundred kilometers off the starboard bow wouldn't be any the wiser, but even in the vastness of space old instincts died hard. "Sulu, enemy forces?"

"Enemy forces reading as a Vengeance-class battlecruiser, three T'pol-class heavy cruisers, and two T'mir-class destroyers. We're outgunned about two to one, not including that...thing." The thing was a conical, scaled shape of pure neutronium, with a gaping maw glowing a soft, deep orange.

"Spock was right," mused Kirk. "Erein Sulu, inform Centurion Scott that I want Captain Spock sent up here, standard guard, at once. Uhura, get us in position for a close-range scan of that superweapon."

"Ie, rekkhai."

"Warbird Eyhon Eludet'eri, take our left flank at forty kilometers. Warbird Maens, take our right flank at sixty kilometers." Kirk leaned forwards in his seat, honor blade sheath brushing the deck. "T'Charvanek, readings?"

"Elements," whispered the Rihanha, blanching. "Riov, that thing's armor is effectively impenetrable by our weapons. I'm only getting relatively low power readings, but based on the composition of the particulates around the opening and the scans of the weapons systems...that weapon could destroy the entire Galae s'Shiar Rihan without taking a scratch. The armaments are some sort of energy weapons, several orders of magnitude more powerful than our disruptors if my readings are in any way accurate."

"Fvadt," Kirk swore. The doors hissed open at the back of the Bridge, and Kirk turned, nodding to Spock as the Watraii was escorted in. "Captain. It seems your information was correct. Do you have any idea of how to disable that weapon?"

Spock released a controlled breath, almost a hiss. "I knew that my father was capable of un-Surakian wrongthoughts, but this? Commander, I have previously encountered a weapon like this. It was a self-piloting machine from outside the galaxy, which destroyed planets in order to feed on them in some way. If my father believes that he has developed a form of control over this weapon..."

"We need to stop it, yes. How do we destroy it?"

"During my previous encounter with this form of machine, I performed a ramming maneuver, striking the opening with a crippled starship, on which I had set the warp core to detonate."

Kirk grimaced. "That's going to be hard to pull off now. What about antimatter warheads?"

Spock shook his head. "They were of limited effect. The weapon's interior is also extremely durable; a simultaneous strike by several hundred warheads would be necessary to damage the interior."

"Fvadt. T'Charvanek, options?"

"We still have a crate of kemocite that we confiscated from that Yridian smuggler last month, Jim. Hypothetically we could use a shuttlecraft, load it with the kemocite and antimatter warheads?"

"And ram it down that thing's throat? Plausible." Kirk turned back to Spock. "Would that be enough force to disable the weapon?"

"Possibly," Spock allowed.

"Do it," ordered Kirk. T'Charvanek saluted and strode for the turbolift.

Commander Kirk turned back to the viewscreen...and the slumbering abomination hanging silent in space over a Watraii world.


"Ready?" Kirk asked, thirty minutes of tense floating in space later.

"The payload is loaded and the shuttle is responding to remote control," t'Charvanek confirmed. "On your order, riov." Fva

"Here we go. Drop cloak and deploy the shuttle!"

Red alert sirens blared. The Watraii warships on the viewscreen flared to life and began to turn. "T'Charvanek, keep the shuttle on target!" Kirk ordered. "I'll try to distract the Watraii."

"We are being hailed," Sulu reported. "Watraii comm signature."

"On screen."

"Declared thieves. I am General Sarek, of Kanamar," a Watraii in an ornate mask announced. "You are in violation of the sovereign soil of the Watraii Hegemony, and I see that you have a wrongthinking defector among you. In the name of Surak and logical correct thoughts I order you to surrender immediately and unconditionally."

"General Sarek, I am riov James T. Kirk, aboard warbird Aen'rhienn. I'm afraid that I can't surrender."

T'Charvanek held up two fingers.

"If you will not surrender, then you will be destroyed," spat the Watraii. "Cut communications and open fire! Activate the weapon!"

"Fvadt," hissed Kirk. "Warbirds Maens and Eyhon Eludet'eri, decloak and attack!"

"You brought multiple warships?" asked Spock in shock.

"Of course, under cloak, in case we needed reinforcements-why?"

Spock bit back an expletive. "I stole a specially modified identify friend-foe transponder from my father's laboratories before my defection. His forces were using it for protection against their weapon. Your other warbirds are in grave danger."

Kirk blanched. "Oh, no. Maens, Eyhon Eludet'eri, cloak and get out of here, now, now, n..."

The unholy form of the planet-killer began to move, its gaping maw glowing orange. Eyhon Eludet'eri tried to turn, cloak buzzing up...

Uhura screamed as a beam of heat and light brighter than a supernova blazed forth from the planet-killer's maw. Eyhon Eludet'eri vaporized instantly. Aen'rhienn's bridge shook, the screen momentarily fizzing as the sheer power of the weapon sent an interference pulse through its systems.

"Fvadt!" shouted Kirk. "All power to engines and weapons, we'll hold the Watraii off as long as we can. Maens, get out of here, get reinforcements!" He turned to t'Charvanek. "Status of the shuttle?"

"I'm trying to ram the maw, but I need to time it properly-if that weapon hits it, it'll have no effect."

"Evasive maneuvers, arrain Uhura," ordered Kirk. "Get us into..."

The bridge jolted, Watraii weapons fire blazing through the shields. A light sparked and exploded. "Shields down to 30% and dropping!" screamed Sulu. "We're too far outgunned!"

"Take us around the weapon!" snapped Spock. Kirk spun in his chair. "It will not target this vessel as long as the IFF is functional!"

"Uhura, take us behind that doomsday machine!"

"Au'e, rekkhai!"

The ship shook again as the Watraii ships slipped closer, sliding mere hundreds of meters over the doomsday weapon's hull as the Rihan warbird slipped under the shadow of the abomination. The doomsday machine began to turn, shifting its maw towards the planet...

Kirk wasn't the only one who gasped in shock as the doomsday weapon fired. Imaga IX glowed beneath its cracking surface for a fraction of a second, and...

Chunks of debris blasted out from the remains of the planet at incredible speeds. Kirk shook himself, trying to focus. "Elements...how powerful..." Damn it. "The Watraii are still out there-Sulu, sensor report!"

"What? Oh! Oh, fvadt, they're right behind us!"

"Uhura, take us under this thing's belly!"

"Riov, the shuttle's in position for the attack run!" t'Charvanek cried.

"Change of plans-Uhura, get us out of here, maximum impulse! T'Charvanek, ram the shuttle into that thing's gullet!"

"Au'e, rekkhai!"

Weapons fire scored the rear shields, tearing through to scar Aen'rhienn's hull. More lights blew, and Spock grabbed a wall to steady himself.

"Impact!" shouted t'Charvanek.

"Rear view!" snapped Kirk. The viewscreen shifted...

The doomsday machine erupted in a gout of actinic flame, the invincible neutronium shell splintering from the inside, sending chunks spinning away to impact with the expanding planetary debris. The Watraii battlecruiser took a chunk of neutronium the size of an escort through the midsection, as the escorts and two cruisers were instantly vaporized. The remaining heavy cruiser flipped end over end as one of its nacelles was pulverized by the spinning tail of the doomsday machine on its way past.

Red alert sirens screamed as Aen'rhienn shuddered, the shockwave flipping the unshielded warbird and melting the outer layers of hull armor. The inertial dampeners groaned as the warbird's superstructure buckled under the strain, and Kirk prayed that the dampeners would hold up-otherwise, they were paste.

Finally, the shockwave passed. Kirk forced himself back up in his chair. "Report!"

"I'm getting reports of injuries from all decks," Sulu managed.

"Hull plating is severely damaged, warp drive and shields are offline, and our phaser banks are destroyed," t'Charvanek reported. "But life support is functioning, as is impulse."

"The cloak?"

"Offline, riov, and I don't know if I can get it running again."

"Erein Sulu, get back in contact with warbird Maens. We need them to extend their warp field around us and get us out of here, double time."

"Ie, rekkhai."

Kirk turned to Spock, frowning. "Why the hell didn't you tell me about that IFF earlier?"

"You would have suspected me of duplicity," Spock replied. "It was imperative that the mission be accomplished without delay; suspicion and an investigation would have caused additional delay and reduced the likelihood of an effective mission."

"And now fifty good men on Eyhon Eludet'eri are dead as a result of your haste and lack of trust," snapped Kirk.

Spock opened his mouth, stopped, and closed it. "That is correct." He reached up and carefully removed his mask. "It appears that my fear and mistrust has resulted in those deaths. Seek vengeance as you wish, Commander; I will not resist."

"Riov..." t'Charvanek began, but Kirk cut her off with a sharp wave of his hand.

"I admit that your suspicions had some basis in fact," Kirk said through gritted teeth. "I won't kill you. But justice is necessary. Take him to the Brig and lock him up until I decide what to do with him."

Spock raised an eyebrow as he allowed the Security men to cuff him behind his back. "Intriguing. A Betrayed would have run me through on the spot."

"I'm not Watraii," Kirk replied as Spock was led out. "I'm Rihan."

Spock's only response was a thoughtful hum.


A/N: So these are going to be some pretty long author's notes. Bear with me please.

This is a TOS AU where the Romulans won the Sundering wars on Vulcan, which I originally posted on alternatehistory dot com. Here's some background:

-PoD (point of divergence) is the proto-Romulans winning the Sundering wars.

-The Shiar ih'Saeihr Rihan (Romulan Star Empire) is an imperialistic and militaristic Romanesque republic with several vassal species. Romulan law ensures that vassal species will over the course of about 2 centuries be fully integrated into the Empire; this includes conquered species. Unusual service or loyalty to the Empire speeds up the process. The Romulan Empire is currently #2 in the local power rankings, having absorbed the Andorian Empire and Tellarite Republics about a century ago in the face of Watraii aggression. Andorians and Tellarites aren't hugely please with this but the Humans proved that the Rihannsu are serious when they say that service to the empire equals full voting rights, so they're playing along. Several minor species are part of the Empire as well.

-The Watraii are the totalitarian descendants of Surak's followers, under the violent and expansionist Watraii Hegemony. Worshiping Surak in a perverse personality cult, they believe that it is logical that they, an allegedly superior race, rule the galaxy and reclaim the territory that the Rihannsu stole from them. They are militaristic and ruthless, and suffered a humiliating and severe defeat in a major war against the Rihannsu several decades ago. Watraii do not have cloaks; Rihannsu do. This is part of why the Rihannsu won despite the Watraii having more ships; without cloaks, the Watraii would have had a slight edge.

-The tlhIngan wo' (TTL's High Rihan: Lloann'mhrahel (lit. "them, from there"); Watraii: Klevomshu; English: Klingon Empire) is number one with a bullet. A powerful and militaristic empire with vast fleet assets, a technological edge, and cloaking tech based on last-gen Rihan designs that they got in exchange for five battleships and some military tech during the last Rihan-Watraii war, they are hobbled by a byzantine political system of feuding Great Houses and a fleet that mostly consists of Great House assets. The previous Klingon Emperor, the conservative Warvan III, was recently killed in an honor duel by his reformist son, Grabthar I "Hammer-bearer", a modestly competent general and skilled politician and warrior, who is currently involved in kicking massive amounts of Orion ass because they had the temerity to enslave some Klingon citizens. The new Emperor is (along with successfully screwing his ambitious brothers with cunning political maneuvers) trying to integrate the always-restive vassal species in the Romulan model, and is talking to the Gorn about joining up; the Gorn, being offered a sweet equal-rights-instantly deal and nervous of Watraii chest-beating, are considering joining up. Ironically, Grabthar's reforms are quickly making the Klingon Empire more democratic and egalitarian than even the Romulans, and soon it will likely resemble OTL's Federation with more Klingon culture. The Klingons recently reasserted their power with their new flagship, the IKS Grabthar's Hammer, to be the first of a new class of battleships called the D7.

-Humans are enthusiastic Romulan citizens, and have sought to mimic Rihan culture, first out of gratitude for being saved from the absolute nightmare of the Third World War, then to show that they were ready to be given full citizenship, then out of sheer habit. Human science and engineering brilliance has made the Shiar ih'Saeihr Rihan stronger when used to complement Rihan superiority in tactical and strategic thinking. They also breed faster than Rihannsu, which makes them useful support for more physically powerful Rihannsu in certain ground-combat situations, and they can help populate and maintain planets more easily. All in all, both sides are happy with the deal.

-Kirk is a loyal Romulan citizen but otherwise still himself. His speeches tend to emphasize Humanity's loyalty, courage, and pride in their adopted Rihan-influenced culture.
-t'Charvanek (the Romulan commander from TOS: The Enterprise Incident) fills Spock's role as his close friend and XO. She's a Human-Romulan hybrid, a bastard of patrician birth (thus legally a commoner) and not terribly happy about it.
-McCoy is chief engineer, and regularly complains "Damn it, Commander, I do engines and electronics, not ancient history!" and such.
-Scotty is security chief and a total badass. He once rammed a Klingon's teeth straight down his throat in a barfight for insulting his security team's professionalism, and has a propensity for daring commando rescues.
-Janice Rand is CMO
-Sulu is communications officer
-Uhura is pilot

High Rihan dialogue:
Shiar ih'Saeihr Rihan: Romulan Star Empire. The Watraii use "Empire of the Declared" instead.
Galae s'Shiar Rihan: Romulan Grand Fleet
Eyiv s'Rea: Rea's Helm, a historical starship name (similar to the USS Enterprise)
ch'R: IRW/Imperial Romulan Warbird, a ship prefix
Aen'rhienn: Bloodwing, another historical starship
Riov: Commander, Rihan equivalent of Watraii Captain (commander of a starship)
Enarrain: senior Lieutenant (equivalent of a Federation Lieutenant Commander)
Arrain: Lieutenant
Erei'Riov: Subcommander, immediate subordinate of Riov
Khre'Enriov
: Supreme Admiral
Raenasa: High Command
Rekkhai: Sir/Ma'am
Au'e: At once/emphatic affirmative
Ie: "Yes, [superior]"
leih: CO
Erein: Centurion, a rank below Arrain
ch'Rihan
: "Place of the Declared", in this case Vulcan.
Rihan: Declared. Rihannsu ("The Declared") is the term that Romulans use for a group of themselves; the singular is rihanha and the term for the species rihanh.
Eyhon eludet'eri: "Lost Road", a historical starship name.
Maens: "Gauntlet", a historical starship name.
Fvadt: An expletive.

Watraii dialogue:
kh'Watraii: Watraii capital
Watraii: "Betrayed", derived from Old High Vulcan