Written for the prompt Akatsuki Trekon the AU round at the naruto_meme community on LJ, except that it's not exactly what the prompt was asking for. That's because it's really part of a huge Naru-Trek AU that lives inside my head, and the prompt was a semi-relevant excuse to get a little piece of it actually written. I guess it qualifies as a crossover-it's set in the Star Trek universe, drawing heavily on canon established by DS9, maybe a generation or two after the end of the Dominion war. It's unlikely that any known Trek characters will ever show up (assuming I ever write any other pieces of this).

Started: 5/2/12
Drafted: 5/10/12

"You're Alpha-Quadrant, right?"

Itachi Uchiha didn't bother glancing at his companion, kept his attention trained on the small ship's instrument panel spread out in front of him as he answered.

"Yes."

"And you're from...?"

The exaggerated pause invited him to fill it; Itachi played along despite his certainty that his new partner - Kisame, he reminded himself idly - had already been given full intel on him by this mysterious 'Leader' of Akatsuki. "Cardassia." He brought up the navigation interface and smoothly guided the little craft to its set course out of the system.

"Yes, right, Cardassia. Your people place high importance on the value of family bonds, I've heard." Kisame grinned; with his sharp teeth and the deep hue of his skin and the mis-directive gill-markings over his cheekbones, he vaguely resembled a Terran shark. "We're rather opposite that way, your culture and mine."

"Mmh." Itachi made a non-committal sound of reply, feigning disinterest even as his brain paged through the intel that the Order had given him on Kisame. He was a mid-level elite member of the Gamma-Quadrant-based criminal organization Akatsuki, had been with them for several years and earned an underground reputation quite in keeping with his planet of origin. He was Kiri, a Gamma-Quadrant race that had proven itself reasonably formidable in the wake of the Dominion's fall from power. Itachi flipped mental files, reviewing what the Order had learned of this race: Generally ruthless, ambitious on a small scale, content for the most part to conquer their closest neighbors and dominate their own system. Known to pit young children against one another in mortal contests meant to ensure that only the strongest survived. Amphibious. Rumored to be hermaphroditic, though Kisame had been introduced as 'he'. Largely native to cool wet climates, as evidenced by current environmental control settings.

Itachi was uncomfortably chilled, and his scales felt unnaturally damp, but he expressed none of it outwardly. A lifetime of training and instinct kept him from displaying any potential weaknesses to someone he'd only known for barely more than a day. Obsidian Order operatives gave nothing away unless they were meant to.

Kisame leaned back in the adjacent seat, making a show of his relaxed demeanor - which, of course, meant he was keyed up and highly alert, as he should be when venturing out on a first run with an untested and potentially dangerous partner. Apparently undeterred by Itachi's seeming disinterest in the conversation, he continued his too-casual probing.

"So the story is, you killed your family. Slaughtered them all, parents, cousins, elders, kin - every last one. Except your younger brother."

"Is that what they say about me." Itachi had known that rumors would spread. Had counted on it, even, to facilitate his membership in Akatsuki.

"If you were Kiri it would be nothing unusual, but you're not. Is it true?"

"Yes."

Kisame's grey-blue features were all but unreadable. "Why?"

Itachi pondered the question, silent and somber. It didn't matter if his new partner was asking why he'd spared his brother or why he'd massacred the family in the first place; the answers were all snarled up together in the same web of reasoning.

He'd killed them because the Obsidian Order told him to.

The plan had originated with the Federation's Section 31, he knew, but Section 31 and the New Obsidian Order were very much in bed together these days. Section 31 had deemed the Uchiha family a substantial hindrance to the fledgling formal alliance between the United Federation of Planets and the reconstructed Cardassian Republic. The Order had agreed. Itachi, easily the most skilled agent of the Order, had been tasked with 'handling' the problem.

He knew that Section 31's Danzou had protested the assignment, had expressed concern over the logic of sending a son of the Uchiha to exterminate the troublesome family. Itachi's superiors had assured the old Vulcan that there was no conflict of interest, that Itachi was a loyal Cardassian and would do whatever was required of him in furtherance of Cardassia's well-being.

The Cardassian regard for the importance of family was widely known; Danzou's concerns were not unfounded. Family loyalty, however, did not occupy the topmost tier in the hierarchy of Cardassian values; it was superseded by loyalty to the State.

The irony of this truth in Itachi's situation was staggering.

But that was the way of things for his people. All the greats of Cardassian literature were full of patriotic heroes making great personal sacrifice for the good of the State, in the name of a better and stronger Cardassia.

The Uchiha family, an influential and prestigious military line, had held too much bitterness, too much blind nostalgia for the Old Ways. They spoke out in covert circles, voicing organized opposition to the idea of formal alliance with the Federation and the other major powers of the Quadrant; they encouraged a return to the 'glory days' of the Union, when they had conquered all they could, had been a power regarded with fear, with trepidation.

The Old Ways had not served Cardassia well in this new era. The Old Ways were not in Cardassia's best interest. Moving away from old ideas and ways of doing things was a simple matter of adapting and evolving to ensure continuation of the Cardassian people and civilization. In refusing to adapt, in resisting the inevitable change, the Uchiha family had sealed its own fate.

Itachi had been sent to exterminate them all. "They are so enamoured of the Old Ways," the Order had said, "then we shall deal with them in the Old Way." Such ruthless, efficient, and practical brutality had been a common practice of the former Obsidian Order.

Itachi had obeyed without question, with a heavy heart but no second thoughts; the good of the State was forever paramount.

The Order had allowed him to spare Sasuke because the youngest Uchiha was far from home and his family's influence, was destined for some degree of fame and political renown as the first Cardassian to attend Starfleet Academy.

He'd been allowed to spare Sasuke, because Sasuke strengthened Cardassia's aims of alliance with the Federation, because Sasuke had significant potential value to the State, symbolically if nothing else.

He had been glad to spare Sasuke because he loved his little brother, dearly.

He had been grateful to spare Sasuke, because someone would need to seek vengeance upon Itachi for his slaughter and redeem the family name.

He mourned, privately, the unavoidable loss of the deep fraternal bond he and Sasuke had shared growing up; he lamented the hatred he must foster in the other, the need to mold his little brother into his executioner.

A painful necessity, he reminded himself, and locked such mourning and lamentation deep inside, far from his thoughts.

He would tell Sasuke the lies that would keep the family name untainted. He could give his brother that much.

He would be the villain, the murderer, the man who ruthlessly slaughtered all his kin in their beds without reason, the criminal who fled the Quadrant to escape retribution for his crimes.

He would become Akatsuki, learn their secrets, quietly feed inside intel on the organization back to the Order; would be the serpent in their midst, ready to strike against any or all of them should he be ordered to do so.

And when Sasuke finally came to exact vengeance, he would die at peace, secure in the knowledge that he had salvaged the best life he could for his dear little brother despite their stubborn and short-sighted bloodline, that he had done his duty to the fullest; that above all, he had been a proud and loyal son of Cardassia to the end.

Kisame's deep voice intruded on his somber thoughts, reverberating in the quiet cabin. "Not going to tell me why, mmh? And to think I'd heard that your people thrive on engaging conversation the way Klingons thrive on battle."

Itachi tilted his head away, let his lips quirk slightly in a very Cardassian smirk of superiority. "We would seem to have different ideas about what makes a conversation...'engaging'. I keep my own counsel on personal matters, regardless."

Kisame was unphased. "Fine, fine - your affairs are your own. I can respect that. But Leader says I'm to keep an eye on you all the same."

Itachi smiled, but there was nothing resembling mirth in it. "I would be disappointed to hear otherwise. Prepare to go to warp."

He was cold, and his eye ridges ached. His family was dead by his own hand, his brother would soon despise him, and he could never return home.

But this was his duty.

He would gladly sacrifice all for the good of the State.

His fingers flew delicately over the controls, engaging the warp drive; he barely felt the inertial shift as they made the jump.

"Well, then, I'll leave you to your thoughts, Itachi Uchiha of Cardassia." Kisame unwound from his deliberately-careless slouch and rose from his seat, the red-and-black robes of Akatsuki resettling silently around him as he stood. "I need to make some...arrangements, for our little excursion. My contact is extremely paranoid; I'll use the communications array in the back. Keep us at warp 3 until I return."

Itachi dipped his chin in a brief nod of acknowledgement.

When Kisame had shut himself in the aft compartment, Itachi swiveled his seat to face the adjoining console, tapping the commands for auto-pilot on the conn station as he did so. Their course was set, and their journey would be several hours yet.

There were...arrangements that he needed to make, as well.

He knew Kisame was monitoring him closely by one means or another, that any expectation of privacy on his part would be quite foolish for a long time to come.

It didn't matter.

"Computer. Record message."

He closed his eyes, waiting; when the flat chirp indicated that the computer was ready to comply, he opened them again, fixing an imperious and haughty gaze on the screen.

"Dear foolish little brother, hello..."