Point of Divergence V 5.0 : It's Alive! (IC)

[Wasi State]

Winter of Deceit
"A brilliant man would find a way to not fight a war." - Isoroku Yamamoto

Several Days before the Strait Incident
Tokyo, Reichskommissariat Japan

As Kerberos Panzerpolizist patrolled the streets of Japanese cities, and enforced a nationwide curfew to help stave off riots and insurgent attacks. It is clear that the Reichskommissariat remains in a very precarious situation however, one that couldn't be handled overnight as multiple civilian groups continue to protest day and night despite near endless attempts to suppress them, with terrorist cells becoming more active again as well. Bombings and targeted assassinations have increasingly become the norm again by the day, as it once was during the first initial years of German occupation.

The Panzerpolizist under the collaborator, Nobusuke Kishi, with his vast control over Kerberos and large facets of the Zaibatsu however, a effort of due diligence was conceived as it became clear that their suppression efforts must increase dramatically as per the 'threat level' imposed on the country. It is clear to anyone with even the faintest knowledge of the man would know, that something very bad was likely to transpire in the coming weeks.

With the worrying signs first being a massive stockpile of weapons, ammunition, and troops being moved to 'secure' Tokyo in full.

The clock was ticking, and Rolf Carls was aware that he was in no position to stop Kishi in what he plans to do. If it helped them secure the Reichskommissariat then surely it would be worth it, right?

Tick tok... tick tok...

---

"The more we do to you, the less you seem to believe we are doing it." - Josef Mengele

Kamakura Facility

The Angel of Death, Josef Mengele, arrived shortly at the facility to conduct his monthly review, having been completely unfettered by the transdimensional and political stemmed instability plaguing the Reichskommissariat as of late. He wasn't much a man of governance, rather one of politicized 'science.'

His reacquaintance with the head researchers was both brief and worrying from at least their point of view, as Mengele himself has been quite displeased with the considerable delayed in recent efforts into finding more breakthroughs into the Lebensborn Projekt. Which at this particular facility was for the "Enrichment of Aryan Genealogy and Reproduction," which translated into layman's terms, was the "Aryan Gene Warrior Cloning Project."

Which many would've assumed would be something out of mad science fiction, or complete Nazi pseudoscience. However in Mengele's own words, "If the German could harness the atom and conquer half the planet in half a decade, gene-splicing and reproducing cells ought to be trivial." Of course it was anything but.

However even with this facility inherited from the infamous Unit 731, Mengele still needed both more time, and more importantly money, in order to achieve his years long project of cloning armies en masse of "Atomic Aryan Supermen." However with what was inherited from Unit 731, he might've found at the very least, a stopgap solution to their problem.

Deep in the wretched pit of the facility was a young woman of possibly Chinese or Korean decent, age at around 20 years. Name: Gegenstand Neun (or Subject 9). Though researchers have gotten to naming her either "Lucy" or "Lucille," as more of a pet name to this supposed side project in their Lebensborn research. All that is known of her background was that she was recovered somewhere close to Nanking during the Sino-Japanese War at a very young age, her rather unique features in terms of phenotypes and alleged "disturbing presence," having spared her from subsequent execution, and her being therefore brought to a 'research' facility run by Unit 731 in Manchukuo.

She was then reportedly moved to this particular facility at sometime during the early 1940s, after an incident that involved the deaths of 37 personnel and other inmates through means of "weaponized transcendent attacks." Personnel were then ordered to abuse her relentlessly and force her to perform rigorous tests by constant demand afterwards in order to 'break her resolve,' as the documents claimed. Mengele after acquiring her in 1946 upon the capitulation of Imperial Japan has ordered that she be instead "instilled" with Führer approved propaganda that was fit for Hitler Youth. So far progress has been... Questionable at best to anyone with commonsense at least.

As Mengele then walked into the holding cell containing her, all he would see was a still, caged and featureless masked figure in restraints that was bounded to a rigged table in the middle of the room. Warning markers of equal and spaced out distance surrounded her containment on the ground, seemingly warning anywhere that's assigned to this room in particular to keep a certain distance.

"She sedated?" He then asked.

"Yes, just before you came actually, she was having her usual night terrors and thrashing in her restraints. We had to shut her up as punishment for malcompliance to commands to stop." A researcher then explained.

"Hmm, good." Was all Mengele then uttered in response. "God thing I plan to be here for the time being, we'll resume study on her in full once she awakes."

"Sir you don't mean?"

"Yes, I think we're ready for her now..."

[Speyland]

Events
January, Year 0

Investigation Officially Ended, As a Waste of Time
The Chinese administration officially announced that they would no longer be investigated for any sign of mysterious evidence under certain circumstances. According to the High Eunuchs, they saw it as a waste of time and energy for them, and that they chose to move on to other things, forgetting it as the investigation was not going anywhere for them. Also, Empress Tianzi agreed to the decision, considering it as "a new beginning for our loyal citizens and the country itself." More updates are to follow regarding this one.

Chinese Federation-Soviet Union Meeting Successful, Relations Improved
This month, Gao Hai, one of the High Eunuchs, went on a diplomatic visit to the Soviet city of Vladivostok to meet with Vyacheslav Molotov, a Soviet diplomat, and penguin. They discussed topics regarding Nazi Japan, humanitarian aid to the Soviet Union, and a minor border dispute with the Soviet Union which was resolved immediately. It was a success, and relations between the two improved drastically. The Chinese Federation's future with befriending a communist country might be beneficial yet risky.

Communist-like Protocol Established, Empress and Citizens Unhappy
To connect closely with the Chinese Federation's northern neighbor, the Soviet Union, the High Eunuchs decided to pass a reform law to explain the importance of the peasantry, small-scale industry, and agricultural collectivization. Thus representing a communist-like agenda. However, Empress Tianzi wasn't informed about it, and the Chinese populace became unhappy with the change, siding with the monarch rather than communism. Yet, the High Eunuchs ignored their complaints. As of current, Empress Tianzi isn't supportive of the change, and the Chinese Federation might no longer be a monarchy state, foreshadowing a peril.

Australia Discovered
Recently, the Chinese Federation discovered Australia via satellite transmitters. However, Australia is located far away from where China is. Contact between the Chinese Federation and Australia is feasible.

[Acharybdis]

January 1st 1:00
Kyiv, Kievan Rus

A sharp sound rings throughout the entire court as its members attempt to recover from the bright light. Viktor shakes his head to focus his blurry vision. He picks himself up with the help of his podium to survey the state of the room. It was chaos as some people lay unconscious while others waddle around the room, holding either their ears or face. Someone was shaking his body and calling his name, but they felt so far away. The person lets go of him to call someone, and he lets himself slump down on his podium. Eventually, another person arrives, and Viktor feels healing magic restore his mental facilities. After a minute, he stands up by himself and leans against the chair.

"Haha, Director. Did you get so used to the office that you can't handle a little flash?" Ada laughs and claps Viktor's back.

"Unlike some people, we don't constantly flash ourselves with bright lights to, and I quote 'make us stronger,'" Masamune groans. He rubs his head as he joins the trio, letting Viktor notice the healer that helped him. A glance around the room shows Mokosh's healers assisting other officers. Panya was on the far right side of the room helping one of the Venraii.

"What is our status?" Viktor inquires.

"Well, besides a bit of fainting and some migraines, everyone is a-okay." Ada answers after a heavy pause.

"So, what's the bad news?" Viktor continues.

"Haha. I can't hide anything from you, boss. However, I think you should see it for yourself. Otho and Luka went into the situation room to assess the situation."

"May I join you two?" Borys asks as he and his assistants come up to the podium.

"Ah, we allow this guy into the court, and now he thinks he is on equal footing with the higher-ups," Masamune says with frustration. Masamune holds his face in one hand and waves for the healer with the other.

"If the situation is what we think it is, it doesn't really matter if he comes or not." Ada shrugs. Viktor sighs before leading the group to the situation room, which was accessible by a door behind Viktor's podium. They enter a crowded hallway caged in by two walls of offices. Soldiers and officers bustle in and out the rooms carrying stacks of papers. Viktor's group had to do some maneuvering to avoid bumping into one of the many officers. They reach the end of the hallway, which opens up to a large situation room. In the center of the room was a large oval table with a gigantic map of Europe on it. The map was big enough to hold figurines representing Kievan Rus' forces. It also attempted to depict where Kievan Rus thought demon hives were.

Numerous radio and telegram stations were set up around the table. Operators were shouting orders to the soldiers who would update the battle map as the reports came in. Over all of this was a balcony overlooking the whole operation. Luka and Otho were already at the balcony listening to the reports coming in. A desk on the balcony's right side held a telegraph directly connected to Moscow. A single operator was currently manning the station, but his face seems to be full of confusion. On the opposite side was another desk, where a woman furiously jots down the report as they come in. The desk was a mess, with several pieces of paper scattered over the top. Viktor's group walk up to join Luka and Otho.

"This is truly amazing. In all of Venraii's history, we never encounter a phenomenon like this. What could be the cause of this phenomenon? Maybe it's the demons? No, they aren't advanced enough for that. Neither are their masters. An unknown third party?" Luka murmurs to himself as he fiddles with his personal computer.

"What is the situation?" Viktor asks.

"Director, it is most likely that we have an unprecedented situation on our hands. We can't reach Moscow, and we are getting reports of the bright light all across the nation. For the most part, everything is the same, with the exception that the demons vanish. Our southern front reports that they were fighting demons one second, and the next, the demons are gone." Otho explains.

"I have been trying to reach Moscow for the past hour, but I am not getting any replies. This situation isn't normal as Moscow usually always keeps their communication line open." The attendant at the telegraph adds and turns his attention back to the telegraph. "The only reason why we couldn't contact them was if..."

"Russia was completely gone. What is the status of the eastern front?" Viktor asks.

"The Eastern Front is ready for any orders, sir!" The attendant on the other side of the balcony says. She pauses from her constant writing to look at Viktor.

"Mobilize the entire Eastern Front and tell them to be on standby," Viktor barks the woman before turning to another soldier. "Go get Panya and tell her that she is being deployed to the Eastern Front. Our eastern farmlands are our highest priority. Under no circumstances are we to lose them. Copy that, soldier." The soldier salutes the director before running up the stairs. Viktor sighs as he leans on the railing, looking down at the operators bustle about the room.

"Luka, any theories about what that bright light was about?" Viktor asks.

"If my calculations and information are correct, I believe we are in a new world. It would be the only explanation why none of us can contact the Rymes Triarch's headquarters. We even lost contact with our tombs, which should be impossible unless we are out of range." Luka pauses, "All hope is not lost as the reports on the fronts make it seems like this world is very similar to our own."

"How long do you think we can last?"

"With our current society? It depends if we utilize the full force of our military, we will probably last until the end of the year. We can easily last for a decade if we were to divert supplies from the fortresses and reduce our military numbers. Frankly, reducing our military numbers seems to be the only way for us to survive. Overall, our poor food production is a major problem. We aren't producing nearly enough food to feed our populace," Luka concludes. Viktor drags his hand across his face as he contemplates this new information.

"Any suggestions?" Viktor inquires. Masamune raises his hand as he finishes jotting something down on a notepad.

"I believe I have a plan that might alleviate most of our problems. It seems like our problems stem from lacking natural resources, right?" Masamune pauses before continuing, "I was looking through old maps of Eastern Europe, and I came across some interesting information. I noticed that the Balkans is sitting rich with resources that we all desperately need right now. We could expand our land southwards to claim the resources. It will take some time, so I came up with another plan to help us right now. The plan involves us reducing each Army Front by 90% and retiring our current reserves. The military reduction would allow 10% to be active personnel, while the other 90% would be the new reserves. Based on my calculations, 10% should be the optimal number for us right now. Retiring our current reserves would allow us to have a civilian workforce and assist us with transitioning our nation from a war economy. After all, staying with a war economy with all the new changes would not be beneficial to us."

"A new world and the first thing we are doing is demilitarizing. Isn't that funny?" Viktor says dryly. "Go ahead with the plan."

"Director, could I stay in Kyiv for a while? I want to draft up some new plans for our situation." Masamune asks. Viktor nods his head, only to see that Masamune already left the group and talking to some radio operators. He chuckles as he turns his attention back to the remaining members.

"Ada and Otho, I need to go back to your respective borders and make sure they are secured. I want to be 100% sure that the demons didn't follow us to this world. Also, Otho, prepare five thousand of your best soldiers and engineers. I'm leaving you in charge of expanding our borders into Romania and the Balkans. Send small expeditions first and have your engineers focus on assembling railways and infrastructure. You two are dismissed," Viktor commands. "Luka, I don't want to take away from reorganizing, but I think it is time we activate the project." Luka gives Viktor a look before subtly glancing at Borys, who was still with them.

"Is it wise to talk about that subject when there are others here?" Luka ponders.

"His research would help us. Furthermore, this is the best opportunity to do it before anything drastic occurs." Viktor tells Luka, then turns to Borys. "You should be happy, Borys. You are getting to see Kievan Rus's most secret project." Viktor smiles as he leads the group away from the situation room.

January 2nd

It has only been a day since the Kievan Rus Union came to a new world, and they were already attempting to adapt to the new world. Radical reforms rattle out of the radios as Masamune engineers new plans for Kievan Rus's future. The first few reforms would be focusing on building a new society. First, Masamune announces the retiring of the current reserves and reorganization of active forces. Citizens would get the option of staying in the military or get a new job assignment. They would be assigned jobs by field experts who would travel from city to city. The current assignments were farmer, fisher, engineer, artisans, government official, and factory worker. The next reform announces a new official currency that the citizens would use to exchange for rations or luxurious goods. The third reform outlines new infrastructure plans and tearing down old defense structures.

These new reforms sounded good on paper, but already people were exploiting the new system. Some citizens use rations to get into jobs that they weren't qualified for. Despite the new changes, it was obvious to anyone that the government will still have a tight grip on society. The job assignment tried to allow some citizens to run their own businesses without government intervention. These citizens faced discrimination from assignors and other civilians who felt like they were betraying their nation.

Another problem that the job assignment faced is the lack of interest in creating nonnecessities. They felt like luxurious goods would be the first step in the degradation of Kievan Rus's traditions. This same problem carries over to the third reform, where people didn't want to tear up old structures for new recreation areas. Masamune expected most of this as he knew that even "Rome wasn't built in a day." Besides civilian backlash and unrest, Masamune avoided most corruption by using people fervently loyal to the government.

After the military demilitarization, the remaining Kievan Rus forces were put on standby. The Eastern Front was the only front to escape demilitarization by Viktor's orders. Each front, except the southern front, would send a platoon of soldiers across the border to assess the Kievan Rus's surrounding areas. They would carry no weapons except the corruption in their blood. Each soldier was equipped with a flare and a radio to alert the border forces if they find a hostile threat. If the threat were hostile, they could counterattack as they turn into demons. Their sacrifice would allow the border forces to get ready for an enemy attack. Preferably, Kievan Rus would like its soldiers back unharmed, but if push comes to shove.

The Southern Front would send an expedition of five thousand of its best soldiers and engineers into Moldova. Only two thousand of them were soldiers, and the rest of them were engineers. Half of the engineers would begin assembling a railway into Moldova, while the other half prepare the infrastructure for the first wave of farmers. One thousand soldiers would protect each group.

Kievan Rus's expansion into Moldova doesn't come without reason. The first reason is so that Kievan Rus can later expand into Romania and the Balkans. The other reason is Kievan Rus's current land situation. It would not be an understatement to say that all of Kievan Rus's land is one frontline. Kievan Rus had to deal with frequent demonic incursions across its entire nation. The worst part with each incursion was that the incursion would corrupt the land. Corrupted land made it impossible to farm and interact with nature as the corruption choked the life from the land. Demonic corruption from the raids isn't the only reason why Kievan Rus's current agricultural future looks grim. Its populace is the main reason as their mere existence spread corruption to the nearby land.

Furthermore, each use of magic would spread corruption to their surroundings. Naturally, most of Kievan Rus's inhospitable land is near its borders, except the Eastern Front. All hope is not lost as Hors's followers can counteract this spread. Hors's followers are the only reason why the Kievan Rus has arable land on the Eastern Front. However, there are only so many Hors's followers as they are Kievan Rus's smallest religious group. This is Kievan Rus's most guarded secret that only Viktor, Luka, and the Tzarina know about.

[Remnants of Exilvania]

2nd January 2004
Czechoslovakia
Mikulov
On the highway to Vienna

It had taken Count Orlok only about an hour to go from the Brno Command Center to the small town of Mikulov, right on the border with what had once been Austria. The army formations stationed in the area likely needed even less time, given that they had already been placed on alert since the event just a day before.

As it stood he, and a small military-diplomatic delegation, had taken up residence in the local town hall for the duration of this hopefully very short meeting, while the army had taken up defensive positions in and around the town in case the strangers were to attempt to penetrate deeply into the land.

Fighter jets soared through the sky high above the esteemed Count’s head as he made his way towards the highway, Czechoslovak soldiers already having set up tank obstacles as well as defenses on the side of the road in case someone got any ideas. The Count paid them little mind of course as he placed himself square on the road, right in front of the tank traps and whatnot to expect whatever was now coming his way.

Captain Artura Jo Kiraly “Cipher”
January 2, Year 0 // Ustio Border // Overcast // 7:00 AM

It was a short distance from the new location of Directus, short enough that it made Cipher a little nervous. One good long-range missile could reach it, or particularly long-range rocket artillery. Whatever happened here, Ustio would have to make allies with the nation to the north, or at best hope they hadn’t invented breech-loading cannons.

The racetrack course Galm and Amarok were taking was pretty small, too, only 140 km or so east-west and maybe half that north-south. Clearly Directus was even more nervous than she was.

Down below, the MOWAG Eagle II - a Belkan-designed vehicle, ironically - trundled along the highway. Back on Earth, it would lead to Recta, and Recta would be far to the north. Here, it lead to… some other country.

The MOWAGs were bearing both the Ustio flag and the white flag of parley on their fender flags, along with a larger white flag flying from the machine gun turret on the roof on the first one. The machine gun itself was inside the turret, well away from its mount, the second one lacked a turret entirely. The tanks and BTRs escorting the MOWAG were likewise displaying their lack of intent to do harm - all with their turrets facing backwards and hatches open.

Cipher couldn’t see it, but she imagined at least a few of them were smoking. She almost wished she could smoke up here, too.

A few minutes after 7, the flight path took her directly over where the diplomatic team would reach the border - a tiny little town that wouldn’t have looked out of place in Recta, though the flag was strange. It was a white-red-blue horizontal tricolor, with an encircled symbol on the pole side. On the Ustio side of the border, there was only a two-lane highway surrounded by the rolling hills of the Tyrann foothills. The mountains themselves, further east, came to an abrupt stop at the border.

Like someone had cut a cake with the world’s sharpest knife, one pilot had said.

<<They’re here,>> Eagle Eye said. <<Remember. Stay on our side of the border, radars off, and do not, under any circumstances, fire unless fired upon>>

Mariana Weinheber

The first MOWAG rolled to a stop maybe fifty meters south of the border sign that cheerfully welcomed visitors to Ustio in High Belkan, and a few of Ustio’s regional languages. The BTRs rolled to either side in a protective chevron, while the tanks rolled off the highway onto the grassy areas either side, forming an additional chevron. The second one pulled in behind and perpendicular to it, in an upside-down T.

Two people stepped out of the rear doors of the rear MOWAG. One, in a crisp military uniform, was Major General Stefan Bertalan, commanding officer of the 11th. Cipher’s eyes widened - she hadn’t expected anything more than a colonel being assigned to a mission like this. The other was a slightly chubby-looking woman in a suit, with circular glasses, brown hair, and an aura of “target-for-bullying” about her.

Mariana Weinheber, former diplomat to Recta and fluent in nearly every language of what was once eastern Belka, was more than she appeared at a glance, which is to say she was very good at her job. She was not, however, used to unexpected situations, certainly nothing like this.

She put a hand to the black, very visible, earpiece. It was the latest hands-free technology, which meant it enabled her to use both hands and not much else. It was big, bulky, and the coiled cord seemed hellbent on getting in the way of her arm every time she moved. The only comfort was that General Bertalan’s got in the way of his arm as well.

She slipped her clipboard onto a sleeve on the side of her briefcase and strode up to the border, pressing it to her ear.

<<I’m a little nervous,>> she confessed as they started to get within earshot.

<<We have the liberators of Directus on our sides and in the air,>> Bertalan replied, <<plus the Demon Lord of the Round Table herself in the air. And we’re coming in peace. We will be fine, Your Excellency.>>

<<I heard that,>> Cipher called out over the comms. <<and I still don’t like that nickname.>>

The general merely harrumph’d as they reached proper earshot of the border. Two aides had followed behind them, carrying potential necessities on a dolly - laptops, additional documents, a large folding table, and extender cables. Seeing the tank traps, Mariana swallowed a bit. Using the table might prove difficult, and using the other thing in her hand - an electric megaphone - more practical.

She held it up to her mouth.”Greetings!” she called out. “I am Mariana Weinheber, chargé d'affaires of the Republic of Ustio to the nation to our north, one of several until formal diplomatic relations are established! With whom do I have the honor of speaking to?”

The man waiting for them as they kept their distance raised an amused eyebrow at their antics, his glowing eyes never leaving them, sizing them up much like a predator his prey. He was, by all means, good looking with a certain aristocratic flair to him, his hair well kept and tied together behind his head. His beard was also in perfect condition, its dark colour contrasting sharply with the pallid, waxen tone of his skin.

If her words had surprised the man in any way, or even her language did, then he didn’t show it, instead relaxing a little, his shoulders sinking down a little more. With but a small wave of his hand, one of the blue-clad soldiers standing over on his side of the border walked over and they exchanged a few words before the soldier scurried off again.

It didn’t take long for him to return, carrying a much more primitive megaphone with him which he handed to the Aristocrat on the road before retreating again, the man inspected it for a short moment before raising it to his lips and shouting over to Mariana with a voice straight out of an audiobook:

“Greetings, Lady Weinheber! Please, I bid thee welcome in my country, the Czechoslovak Republic, so do feel free to approach instead of relying on these unwieldy instruments! As for my name, I am honoured to be asked for such by one as fetching as you, Lady Weinheber! It is Orlok! Count Vladislaus Orlok. Pleased to make your acquaintance!”

<<Well, at least they’re friendly,>> Pixy said over the comms. Cipher rolled her eyes in her cockpit, not even deigning to tell him to cut the chatter. Eagle Eye took care of that for her, anyway.

Down below, Weinheber visibly blushed. She turned and handed the megaphone off to an aide, then strode forward, still a little nervous. General Bertalan followed her a few steps behind, present but not immediately relevant to their pending conversation.

She walked up to Count Orlok, whom she was clearly at minimum a head shorter than - she was very much not a physically imposing woman. Still, she had a confident face as she held out her hand.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance as well, Count Orlok.”

The Count did not move from his position, merely standing where he was, his cape moving lightly in the breeze as he held his arm out to the side, dropping the megaphone in the hands of another soldier in blue.

When Weinheber reached him and held out her hand, Orlok theatrically brushed his cape aside before taking her hand with his surprisingly cold one and...bowing, planting a light kiss on her hand before retracting again, stating:

“The pleasure is all mine, Lady Weinheber. Who is your lucky companion, if I may be so bold as to inquire about that?”

Weinheber smiled, not reacting too much externally to the bow and kiss. It was old fashioned, very much so even for diplomats, but back when Ustio was part of Belka she had been part of the diplomatic team to Rasheedi Tamudia, and that was the norm there.

“That would be Major General Stefan Bertalan, Count Orlok.” For a moment, she seemed almost apologetic. “I must confess, the diplomatic corps did protest having a military escort, but up until a few days ago, Ustio was in a war for its very existence, and the Ministry of Defense was insistent we take no chances in this… new world.”

She shivered a little in her rather heavy-fabric pantsuit. “It was also summer, then.”

“A war you say? It appears our nations have more in common than one might think for we too were in a war to decide the fate of Europe before this… unfortunate melding of planes. It may perhaps surprise you, Lady Weinheber, but I have more in common with the esteemed Major General for I am the Commander of the Czechoslovak Armed Forces, personally dispatched by the President to investigate the...war situation we were in and what happened to our troops.”

The Count said, similarly apologetically, as though he had to apologize to Weinheber for not being an actual diplomat. However, when she shivered in the heavy suit, Orlok did not hesitate and undid the clasps on his cloak before gallantly draping it over the shivering Weinheber.

“Allow me. I see, that is indeed unfortunate, for for us it was January. The second of January 2004. I take it, your nation is probably struggling at this moment to meet the suddenly shifting demands as well as to save what can be saved of the agricultural industry?”

“Indeed,” Weinheber said as she graciously took the cloak. “Ustio can get cold in winter, so the damage shouldn’t be total, but even the best crop yield predictions are grim. The Reichstag has already authorized colonization efforts in the unclaimed lands to the south and west, pending trade deals with other nations.”

“And it seems you have even more in common with the Major General than even you think,” she said as she stood a little straighter. “One of the reasons the military insisted on such... heavy escort was that while a good portion of our troops have mysteriously reappeared at their home bases, some have not.”

She shook her head with a shrug. “It’s all very strange to me. If you’ve heard anything about strange military units suddenly appearing in Czechoslovakia…”

“I see. To the south and west, yes? I must admit, I have never heard of this...Ustio, especially not in this part of the world. Not to mention that even our own borders are not what they used to be after this event. So we would very much appreciate it if you could provide us with a map of your current territories.”

“And of course if I could trouble you and the Major General, would you be so kind as to keep a lookout for any of our forces, should they still be around? Especially Piedmont and Rome held strong forces of ours but we have so far not been able to establish any form of communications with them. We will do much the same with any Ustioans we can find.”

Orlok’s care for the missing men, albeit hidden behind his aristocratic facade, was still visible. Though whether he cared because they were men or because they were useful was up in the air. Straightening himself a little as well, he asked:

“I can see that we likely still have much to talk about and a highway is likely not the best place to go about it. May I invite you, Lady Weinheber, and you Major General Bertalan, as well as your staff to the town hall? We will have refreshments, heating and seating arrangements there which I am sure will be appreciated by everyone.”

Weinheber nodded, then turned to the general, who finally spoke. “The town hall would be most welcome,” he said. “I admit I’m getting a little old for standing for long hours in winter’s cold like this… perhaps that is why they made me a general,” he said with a chuckle.

“Indeed. Informal as this meeting may be, there’s no sense wasting a perfect opportunity for diplomacy,” Weinheber said. “General? If you could contact the other teams for Czechoslovakia…?”

He nodded, turning away from them as he pulled out a grey brick of a satellite phone, with a greenish LED screen. His phone conversation was surprisingly short.

“All teams, this is Hussar Actual, we’ve made contact with Northmarch, actual name Czechoslovakia. Report status… good, good… all military teams are to hold position and stand by, otherwise orders are as stand… yes, they seem quite friendly.”

The one-sided conversation continued from there as Weinheber and Count Orlok walked out of earshot of the general. It wasn’t long before he jogged to catch up. Weinheber stepped back a little to match him.

“Congratulations, Lady Weinheber,” he said, “it seems we were the only one to actually reach the “Czechoslovakian” border, so you’ll most likely get the ambassador position.”

She beamed, then returned her face to something more business-like. “What of the teams sent to the other nations?”


“Haven’t heard from them yet,” he said. “They’re led by different generals, to begin with, but it seems they haven’t made contact with our new neighbors, either.”

“Looks like we won’t be relying on the Demon Lord today, then?”

The general shrugged. “Perhaps. But we still don’t know about the three other nations nearby, and I almost regret asking for her to be sent here instead of the more distant lands.”

Weinheber shook her head. “Politics are of no interest to her, even if her wingman has the makings of one himself. Personally, I think it’s a good thing we lucked out by having Galm Team escort us to the border of a friendly country.”

The Count had remained silently during their exchange, likely out of politeness though when they finished, his deep baritone rumbled again as he congratulated Weinheber on her new assignment:

“Excellent news indeed, Lady Weinheber. I am certain you will very much appreciate the offices of the former Ottoman Embassy in Prague which are obviously empty now. If you wish you can accompany me, I will need to return anyway to deliver my report to the President.”

He stopped for a moment, their path having taken them deep into the city already, a large building coming up ahead, bearing black, white and red banners, with the same symbol seen on the blue, white and red flag. He scratched his chin for a moment, internally debating something before turning to the two again, his arm gesturing towards the building:

“Well, this is the town hall. My own staff is already accommodated there. However, before we head in, I would be most interested in something I couldn’t help but overhear.

Do you mind explaining what a Demon Lord is?”

Weinheber turned to the general, who nodded.

“It’s… well, it’s a type of ace,” he said. “I’m merely an armored cavalry man, myself, so I don’t know too much of how air forces choose their terminology, but I know that the title dates back to the Osea-Belka Wars, referring to aces who could stay in furballs longer than any opponent, and come out unscathed.”

He shook his head. “Such a thing is nearly impossible with modern technology, yet Ustio has one. She should be overhead again in a few minutes, I believe.”

Almost on cue the Count looked upwards, though considering that they weren’t up for being passed overhead for a few minutes still, the sky was naturally empty. As empty as could be with the Czechoslovak MiG-21s cruising through the skies over there. With his pale cheeks reddening slightly, Orlok turned his gaze back to the ground and towards Bertalan, smiling as he said:

“I see, a fighter ace, a hero amongst mundanes, yes? You must excuse my curiosity, preliminary reports concerning your forces indicated a lack of any daemonic presences so I made the assumption that there were none and was rather surprised at the term Demon Lord then being used.

I would be thrilled to meet them in the future. Heroes have become ever so rare with the advent of modern war and bureaucracy, quite unlike the old days when I would ride against the Turks with my men.”

For the first time, the Count caught Weinheber completely flat-footed. She stopped, and sent a meaningful look to the general, who sent the same look back. Daemonic forces?

Normally she’d file such talk away as pure superstitious drivel, but considering what she’d seen in the past 24 hours, considering what had happened to Ustio, to the world she had known…

“You say “daemonic presences” as if it’s perfectly normal in Czechoslovakia,” she said carefully, at length. “Would it be safe to assume that it is, indeed, the case? Thad demons are a real thing in… whatever world this is, or that Czechoslovakia came from?”

Now it was Orlok’s turn to seem surprised as he turned to towards Weinheber and Bertalan, his eyes widening at the implication they had made:

“Surely you jest? Of course they are real, society as it exists has been based on their existence for millennia at this point! Why let me show you my personal daemonic aide. Baal, you can make yourself visible now.”

As soon as the Count said those words, there was a slight shimmer in the air on the other side of the two Ustioans. Just a moment later, a tall, bald man in a perfect white uniform and with a perfectly white face appeared where there had formerly been nothing but seemingly thin air. He took off his hat and bowed before the two before introducing himself as:

“Baal, currently often referred to as the Ice General, often also as Snowman, trusted servant of the Impaler, first and greatest of the Lords of Hell, Lord of the East, Duke of Hell, the Invisib-”

“That’s enough.”

, Orlok cut him off, waving the man away. Baal let his heels click together before putting his cap back on and...vanishing. As though he had never been there. Meanwhile Orlok said:

“That...was a Daemon. A Marid specifically. Summoned from the Plane of Daemons and bound to my command my contract. He is quite useful as you can no doubt imagine.”

If the Ustians were surprised before, they were shocked now. Even the Ustians in the military vehicles, several meters back and barely within earshot, had gone dead silent. Some had reached for their guns before their commanding officers got them to stop, though none had actually fired on Baal, let alone raised their weapons.

After a few deep breaths with closed eyes, General Bertalan spoke.

“I believe, Count Orlok, we have far more to discuss than either of us thought.”

[Newne Carriebean7]

Waters of the North Sea
January 3, Year Null (0)

The fog was an all round, miserable affair.

That's what was going through the mind of Kapitän Ernsest Müller as he ran his face through the grey stubble that constituted a beard. Gripping his favorite pipe in one hand while also clenching his teeth, the man loomed over the Panther turret that sat idle as another spray of wet real-estate suddenly was foreclosed on my mother nature, spraying another misty shit-show onto the hull of the ship.

The poorly put together ship groaned, causing yet another flurry of heart palpitations to emanate from the Helmsman and almost every other man aboard. Müller had known of the shoddy workmanship, a spur of the moment idea by some unused destroyer hulls and the mountains of Panther turrets that sat idle. Their general seaworthiness was in doubt, but if Grand Admiral Karl Dönitz had commanded the small flotilla to sortie from the harbor, then the captain wasn't about to question it, lest he answer to direlwanger of all people.

People who had to see Direlwanger...generally didn't come back to the office. Their bodies would never be found and it was a fate that Ernest was damned capable of avoiding.

Another spray of ocean water lifted up the bow as he glanced out at the other ships in the small flotilla. The largest ship of the fleet only seemed to be handling the rough slapping of mother nature a hair better than the practical 'tin panzers-at-sea' that constituted the bare sea worthiness of a German Pantherzerstörer.

Müller stuck the pipe back in his mouth while he motioned for the helmsman to go left.

"Port how much? mien Kapitän?"

"Just...let's say elevn to port for now. We can fix our course later."

"Flagship says that course is not recommended."

"Bullshit. The Flagship can go fuck itself. Eleven to port, Mr. Heligoland."

"Yes Kapitän. Eleven degree to port commencing now!"

Following the short argument, the SMS Pantherzerstörer 1 took a lean to the left side as it's rudder shifted and the twin german submarine engines churned rapidly through the choppy and foggy seas and skies.

"Do we know what's out there, or who's out there?"

"It could be an allied patrol. What if it's a Mexican battleship?"

"M-Mexican battleship? You're thinking of Argentina Dreadnoughts you dumkoff! Besides, all we're meant to do is to see what in the flying fuckerdoodles is out there, see if they bite, and then prepare for a fight if they turn out to shoot the shit out of us. The plan is so dirt simple even idiots that think MEXICO IS A NAVAL POWER-"

Müller saved his lungs the pain of shouting the last bit before another long drag on his pipe calmed him midsentence.

"-can follow it. I hope for your sakes, mine and the rest of us sorry son of bitches on the boat."

A long period of silence followed on the bridge before an ensign tapped Müller's shoulders, the forty-nine year old veteran flinched momentarily before sighing.

"So we hold steady?"

"Aye. Dumkoff. Steady as she goes and signal the Erich to ascertain as to the positions of U-862 and U-1064..." He muttered out loud, taking another much needed drag on his pipe to calm the stress building in his lungs and the tobacco scared tissue that seemed to leak red stuff from it.

"Idiots. I'm surrounded by Idiots."

Miles above the Carpathian Mountain Range
Flugabtrennung-5
January 3, Year Null (0)

A rapid woosh was easily felt outside Obadiah von Hoth's cockpit as the hundreds of various German planes and aircraft continued their aerial goose step south. For as high up as the force was, Hoth readily had to concede that the view was incredible from this height. Mankind for hundreds of millennia had struggled to ascertain what they were now doing effortlessly within the last fifty years.

Everything felt so...insignificant at this height. Well, almost everything. There was still a few more challenges to the squadron. Hoth lurched up on the throttle and turned his head to see the hundreds of German planes (and even a Zeppelin) slowly follow their flight fuher. The Flight Detachment behaved less like a distant and cold sheet of metal and more like a worried mother swan leading her flock over the next mountain range.

"Alright, everyone follow my lead. We're just going over here to scout. But incase some shit goes south I want the bombers to go behind us fighters. In case some American bastard wants to gun for us, then we'll be ready for them."

Hoth's eyes were suddenly blinded by a shimmer in the sky, causing him to inadvertently jerk the plane down in response before gaining leave of his senses and tipping the lever twoards his lightly moustached face to bring the squadron back onto some sort of course. The maneuver left much to be worried by as the collection of hundreds of people with varying reaction times sluggishly got back on course, though there was a couple of more antisocial pilots within their Fockker-wolfes that ignored the signal.

"Ahh. What the hell is that?" Hoth muttered to his co-pilot.

"I don't know, but it's closing in fast ,look!" The man pointed out at the silver dots that seemed to get closer and closer together.

Could it be an enemy patrol?

Could it be german friends?

Had they made contact with the Ottoman Empire's fighters?

The last question would be rather moot since not a person in the squadron could speak much more than a much germanicized and butchured 'allahu ackbar' between them.

"Ah SchiBe. Action stations everyone!"

[Cybernetic Socialist Republics]

---

Collab between The V O I D as the Carthaginian Empire and Cybernetic Socialist Republics as the Levantine People's Republic

---

Abraham al-Amin was sitting in the captain’s quarters of the Lord’s Order, when one of his men burst into the room.

“Sir, an unfamiliar airship of some sorts is floating near our vessel,” the man said, looking troubled, “they appear to be trying to communicate with us, but I do not understand him. Perhaps, you will have better luck?”

Abraham frowned, but nodded, standing from the paperwork on his desk to head into the radio room. The radio broadcast system was not precisely new, but not precisely old, either. Reaching out for the radio, he activated it and began searching frequencies.

“This is Abraham al-Amin of the Carthaginian Imperial Steamship ‘Lord’s Order,’ we are searching for our allies to the east or for any signs as to what has happened to Judea, do you understand me?” Abraham spoke in Arabic.

Chairwoman Farman sat in the conference room with the rest of the cabinet and President. It wasn't something they were used to doing, it was standard, even among those who worked for the government, to work from home whenever possible, but they were in unique and dangerous times having been deposited into a new world, so in person meetings were more common than they'd otherwise be. They were watching a large screen in the front of the room, though all had smaller tablets that allowed them to zoom in greater detail, or cycle through the Manta's sensors.

At the center of the Manta's feed, sitting on the ocean, was a large, clearly coal powered ship, around two thirds the size of a supercarrier, with two massive paddle wheels large enough to move it. A growing consensus was forming in the room that using paddle wheels instead of more efficient screw propels, could indicate a lack of precision metal work, an aversion to practicality, belief that the use of older technology was prestigious, or an effort to conceal their true technological capacity. Whatever the case was, they seemed to finally be responding to Manta's efforts to communicate.

Their satellite feeds, in addition to that which they were able to extract from high altitude fly overs, in combination with other oddities they'd found in reconnaissance mission around that world lead them to believe that these people, too, were very likely fellow strangers to those world, a Carthaginian civilization from an alternate timeline in earth's past. This was only further confirmed when the words that came out of Abraham's mouth were in a very recognizable Arabic.

As for the actual content of the message, it confirmed that they were dealing with some type of imperial form of government and by the name of the ship, a religious one, looking to make contact with allies from their old world in land that the LPR occupied in this one.

The Levantine cabinet hoped that these Carthaginians wouldn't hold it against them when they informed them of this, when they responded. To avoid unnecessarily increasing tension without knowing the full capacity of the state they were dealing with, it was decided beforehand to avoid exposing the ideological nature of their own state by using more neutral terms. Chairwoman Farman gave the final go ahead to the Manta pilot to broadcast the radio response which would use a synthetic, rather than human, voice.

"This is Manta Alpha One of the Levantine Realm, we understand you. We believe you, like others, have recently arrived in this world, a world unlike your own and as such, the allies you are looking for in Judea will not be found there, rather, the area you know as Judea is simply a constituent part of our realm."

“I understand and hear you,” Abraham replied, “and while I am saddened that our friends are not here, I am hopeful that I might entreat you to grant me entry to one of your ports so that we may negotiate good relations between our two nations? It shall be easier to explain in full if we could meet.”

"It'd be preferable for any in person meeting to occur either on neutral territory or your own. We do not wish to offend, but we have no way of knowing if either of us are carrying any pathogens that may be harmful to the other while harmless to ourselves."

“Do you have a more neutral location nearest to your territory? It is just that it would take time for us to prepare Carthage itself, and as you say, we do not wish to accidentally spread disease among either of our peoples,” Abraham replied.

"Considering..." Said Manta Alpha One, as the Levantine cabinet decided upon a reply.

"Crete would be a location we could prepare, given time. However if a sooner meeting is what you prefer, we could send suitably clothed diplomats to ensure that neither side can acquire any disease. Even in the case of a meeting on Crete, we'd arrive similarly dressed." The robotic voice answered.

“We shall make way for Crete, then,” Abraham replied, “as the Honorable Sufetes and Adirim would like to resolve this important matter… urgently. Once again, I shall explain in detail at our meeting.”

--

It was a week later. Preparing a small corner of the island this diplomatic meeting was more like building the set of a movie than anything else and said set wasn't particularly hard to build. For the most part all it took was a simple port, befitting the size of the ship they had made first contact with, along with a network of relatively, minimalist, quasi-brutalist, prefabricated buildings. As far as the Levantine's concerned, there was no need to display any famous riches, their technology would get enough of the message across, besides, this sort of minimalize was in style.

The part that was more complex and even more movie like, was putting together the cast, which was correctly discernable as a cast. Negotiators would be the actors, charismatic individuals picked through a bidding process in which Megacooperatives would vie to pay their way into the group that'd be there for the negotiations, with even small time staff in the background being purchasable, though all closely vetted, roles. The actors would be following a script, decided upon from Jerusalem by the Levantine Cabinet. While certain lines were committed to specific roles, there were others things that'd have to be decided upon in the moment. Some minor improvisation would be fine, but pivotal lines would be created by the Levantine cabinet put up for a live bidding process that'd last seconds at a time, with the winning MegaCoop having their representative be the one instructed to give said line.

Both perhaps most importantly of all, there'd be no actual Levantine's on Crete. Every single 'person' would be an automaton based on Levantine power armour, made to look as if they were being actively piloted in person, while actually being remotely controlled from Jerusalem, with their 'voices' coming from the selected 'actors'. The automatons were a variety of shapes and sizes, though all were within the range of 7 feet tall, in an effort to impress upon their guests an alienness. Lastly, the building and the automatons we filled with cameras, all of which actively streamed different angles. While the 'director's feed' was free, one had to pay to get access to additional camera angles, which no doubt would be used to create a variety of memetic content by individuals and coops large and small.

When the ship arrived, the first wave of automatons prepared to greet the giant, smoke billowing steamship.

As the steamship docked in the port, and the anchor dropped, Abraham al-Amin and his guards prepared themselves. Dressed in his most formal wear, Abraham al-Amin would look to these foreigners as a mix of Ancient Arab and ancient Carthaginian wear -- but with an oddly 19th or 20th century aesthetic. His guards wore light powered armor, which hissed and crackled due to the steam power; though the guns were strapped over their shoulders rather than being held at the ready, their tubes were primed and attached to their steam packs.

Abraham exited the steamship, walking down the stairway ramp as it finished lowering from the side of the ship.

“Greetings, Honorable Envoys,” Abraham said formally, “I am Abraham al-Amin, the envoy appointed and empowered by the Honorable Sufetes and the powerful Adirim of Carthage to represent the Empire’s interests in this region, particularly with regard to Judea. I hope to be able to answer some of your questions, and in turn get some questions answered… and afterwards, perhaps we can discuss trade, yes?”

The First Levantine Remote Envoy, a 7 foot automaton with a feminine form 'spoke', as it stood between two, slightly shorter masculine automatons.

"Welcome, Envoy al-Amin, I am Besna Kardux, the appointed The Head of this Special Diplomatic Team by the Levantine Republic." Said the Kurdish woman through the automaton, her voice utterly recognizable to millions of Levantine viewers watching from home. Her introduction, having been carefully crafted to begin subtly signaling the ideological nature of their government by making it now plain it's status as a republic.

"We welcome you to this newly constructed foothold in this new world. We will certainly be willing to answer your questions as you answer ours and trade will certainly be a topic we'll get to in time. Please, follow me to our conference building." She said. It wasn't a long way to the conference building, the Levantine government having intentionally constructed the complex to be effectively on the port to ensure everything was within walking distance. It was a simple single level grey, circular building with columns running around spaced about twice the width of the average person with darkened glass windows in between. It stood between other, larger multi level, rectangular, but similarly styled, buildings. Upon entering the building, the glass that surrounded it was crystal clear, giving an excellent view out the back to a mountain range, and to the seaside from where they'd come.

Inside were two other Levantine Remote Envoys standing at a round table at the center of the room, one feminine and shorter than Besna's and the other a taller and masculine. 'Besna' walked around the medium sized table and sat between the two, as her ‘guards’ moved behind the table and stood out on opposite ends away from ‘her’.

"Please, take a seat." She said, gesturing to an open chair now directly opposite to her at the table.

Abraham took the offered seat, slightly wary but honestly intrigued by the technology he’d seen so far. Clearing his throat, he smiled slightly.

“Thank you, Envoy Kardux,” Abraham said kindly, “so, where should we begin, do you think?”

"Well, let's start with the basics. The Levantine Republic roughly encompasses what you'd know as an area that roughly consists of what the Assyrian Empire did at its peak, but only with Egypt up to the Sinai." Said Besna, as the table they sat lit up into a touch screen, showed the territory of the Levantine People's Republic, though at the moment only 'she' could control the touch screen.

"However, we are by no means a successor state to it, our history is a lot more complex than that." Besna explained.

“I see,” Abraham replied, nodding slightly to himself, “may I borrow that strange device for a moment? Is it possible to draw a map on it, so I can show the Empire’s territory? Because the Carthaginian Empire’s history is a bit… long. But it is best for me to mark it up first so that I can explain our history, and then, should you have any questions, I can clarify.”


Abraham marked Carthage’s territories on the map once he was given leave to do so.

“The Carthaginian Empire had humble beginnings as a trade-based empire. That is, until the Subjugation of the Romans. Once Rome was brought to heel under the Empire, and eventually fully integrated after a few unsuccessful rebellions, Carthage reigned supreme over the western Mediterranean. It was through our efforts that the Kingdom of Judea and the peoples living there were free for nearly two centuries. However, a combination of political, economic, and religious strife within Judea struck at an inopportune moment, and greedy empires from the north and the east conquered Judea - forcing its people into a Great Exodus, wherein Carthage took in their brothers and sisters from Old Phoenicia with open arms,” Abraham paused for a breath, “and afterwards, most of Carthage converted to Messianic Judaism, just as the King of Judea had, following the teachings of their Messiah - or Prophet, to Muslims - named Yeshua, who the Lord sent to complete some prophecies in the Old Torah. Orthodox Jews also exist. After a few centuries of trying and failing to liberate Judea, it was the Prophet Muhammad and the early leaders of Islam that finally did it - uniting Arabia and bringing Judea its partial freedom under their protection. Carthage’s leaders at the time made many deals with Muhammad, and from then on, all of those who followed the Lord, whether they knew Him as Allah or as only the Lord, were at peace and under the aegis of friendship. Since then, Jews have gone on pilgrimage to Judea to visit Jerusalem, just as we Muslims must commit to our pilgrimage in Mecca.”


Another brief pause.


“And that is part of why I am here. I am hoping to not only negotiate good relations between the Empire and your Republic, but also to negotiate the allowance of our Jewish citizens to commit to their pilgrimage this year to Judea, to Jerusalem, as they have for nearly a thousand years now,” Abraham finished.

“That brings us directly to the issue of trade. We do not wish to obstruct this yearly pilgrimage. However, pilgrimages are expensive affairs for those that host them. Security costs go up, infrastructure is utilized in ways it otherwise wouldn't have been, food and energy, everything needed to sustain the many thousands, or even millions, who make the trip, needs to be provided." Besra responded.

“We understand that this is a costly endeavor, and so are amenable to offering favorable trade deals in order to partially cover the costs,” Abraham reassured, “besides which, the Pilgrimage is usually set for throughout a month. Each week, pilgrims go and then return at the end of the week; this is to spread out the cost such that it is not overwhelming. Aside from this, not everyone is able to go on the Pilgrimage for one reason or another, and so may go on a later date independently of the assigned time using their own resources. I believe that the strain would be minimal.”

Abraham scratched his chin slightly.

“What would you seek for in a trade? I can tell you if we can offer it as tribute and payment in return for the Pilgrimage,” Abraham offered after a moment.

Besra's automaton turned to the masculine automaton beside her and nodded, before turning back to Abraham.

My colleague, Falah Meer, has something to say, in regards to the question of trade."

"Envoy al-Amin, I think you misunderstand our concerns. It's unlikely that it'd be feasible for your people to take a trip to Judea that involved carrying sufficient food and water for even a week's time and that still doesn't address security and infrastructure costs." The Syrian began.

"I assume that your intention would be for your citizens to carry gold, or some other currency to pay for themselves, which would be converted into our currency. This isn't feasible, at least not yet, in this new world. Gold has value in as much as it can be used as a part of trade that eventually leads to the acquisition of goods and services that can be consumed, which means without international trade, gold is only as useful as raw material, which is, valuable, but not proportional to what you'd likely consider a fair value in gold. So we need a way for your people to acquire our currency in a way that's worth our while, which is to say, that provides energy, labour or resources we can use, that would serve as a satisfactory way for us to deliver you currency based on what our economy finds valuable. It appears, at the moment, based on our relative technological capacities and what we know of from our world when it comes to the resource wealth of the region, there is nothing specific that we see attracts us on an energy and resource front. So it comes down to labour. "

"Elang Angkasa will explain further." Said Falah, his own automaton turning to the smaller feminine automaton.

"Right, so here is our offer, it's simple." began the vibrant Indonesian immigrant and nation famous engineer and MegaCooperative leader."

"We ask for two things. One, we ask that you open up your markets to levantine investment, in doing so, that obviously means that we will be exchanging some of your currency, for our currency, so that we can buy property within your country, already that's an exchange that brings LevCreds into your economy, nevermind that employment opportunities it'd bring. Two, We intend to develop this island of Crete into a zone in which Carthagians, among others, can live and work, earning LevCreds, which of course then can then make their way into the hands of those wishing to enter Judea, or otherwise visit our Republic." finished the upbeat Elang.

“What you propose is interesting, to be sure,” Abraham admitted, “but while I am authorized to commit the Empire towards trade endeavors, you would need to send an envoy directly to Carthage to speak to the Honorable Sufetes and the Adirim… at the least, in order for the Empire to sell actual land grants and the like within Imperial borders. It may even require the approval of a massive Popular Assembly in whichever province you were to petition for such a land grant. On the other hand, I can at least assure you an audience with the Honorable Sufetes and the Adirim, where they might consider the matter in more detail and more firm agreements could be made. For the time being, however, I believe I could at the very least establish a general agreement on mutually beneficial trade, the details of which are to be negotiated more directly between the Honorable Sufetes and Adirim as well as your higher authorities? Where ‘mutually beneficial trade’ would be defined as being a form of trade that both parties find agreeable at the time of final negotiations and specificities being established.”

Abraham paused for a moment, frowning in concentration.

“I would also feel obligated to establish where your territorial waters lie in comparison to our own; the Empire holds sovereignty over essentially the entirety of the western Mediterranean and preferential sovereignty over this sea on your map called the Adriatic, and while you are the first power to our east that we have met, this does not imply you are the only one,” Abraham continued, “I hope this does not conflict with your traditional water territories?”

‘Elang’ tapped on the table a bit, before responding.

“I think you might slightly misunderstand our request regarding the right to invest within Carthiginian territory. We’re not asking to hold land as a nation, we simply ask you to allow our businesses to purchase property and engage in commerce just as your own do. Perhaps it’s a bit presumptuous, but we doubt that your popular assembly has to approve every instant of commerce that occurs within your nation and you rely instead on rules, regulations,private contracts and courts.” She said.

Besna then spoke again.

“However, we are willing to speak with whom we must to make such an agreement possible. As for the question of mutually beneficial trade, your people are welcome to bring products here, to crete, for us to purchase with our currency, but be forewarned, it is improbable that we’d be willing to purchase your manufactured goods beyond their value to us as exotic goods and natural resources you ship to us will be measured relative to their cost domestically minus the cost of transportation.” Besna added.

“As for the question of territorial waters, we come from a world in which freedom of navigation at sea was the default, without explicit agreements between all affected parties. However, we understand that this is a new world, with new dynamics. While we have no immediate in interest opposing this ‘sovereignty’ over the western mediterrean, as you claim it, we wish to register that we do not see it as a satisfactory circumstance, particularly since we are aware that there exists an independent people in what you know as gaul and another in illyria, nevermind the presence of nations beyond what you know as carteia that we may very well want to trade with in the future. But for now, we are willing to accept an equivalent ‘sovereignty’ over the eastern mediterrean, east of this line, including this split in the adriatic.” Besna concluded, pointing to a line she drew on the map.

“Though we are curious, what does this sovereignty entail, exclusive shipping rights, the full rights of search and seizure, the right to levy duties?” Besna asked, herself curious, but knowing full well that both the viewers (and the Levantine Cabinet, that told her to ask the question) wanted to hear this.

“To address your first points, I believe that your businesses would still need to register with the Honorable Sufetes and the Adirim - whether of Carthage for general business in Imperial borders, or of Rome for the Roman Province, or of Carteia of the Iberian Province, and make agreements with individual landlords within the various business and shopping districts within a given city or large trading center within said provinces or within the Empire,” Abraham said, nodding to himself as he thought about it, “but generally, I believe that is something for your businesses to work out. I could, at least, assist your businesses in registering a petition to be heard by the Honorable Sufetes and the Adirim of the Empire in Carthage? In this way, all they need to do is bring forth the general business proposal, what products they might be selling in the business and shopping districts, and so forth; and, upon approval, find an agreeable landlord to buy or rent land from within said districts.”

Abraham paused, clearing his throat again, even as one of his guards offered him some water from a canteen. Taking a sip, Abraham sighed slightly.

“As for the matter of water territories and the definition of sovereignty, I believe the line you have drawn is agreeable to the Empire,” Abraham noted, before going on, “and as to the matter of sovereignty, the Empire defines it as the right to have total rights over the waters -- from fishing to governing trade and movement of ships, and from taxing travel to trying sea-based crimes such as piracy, smuggling and the like by the standards of Imperial Law. I am not sure how my fellow’s talk with the new Gallic nation goes, but in all likelihood we will surrender some amount of sovereignty for the seas off of their coasts - predominantly to do with fishing rights and sea-criminal law and the like; perhaps even negotiating the granting of total sovereignty in return for free trade at their ports. I do not know, as I am not there, but I will likely know by the time I return to Carthage.”

The three Levantine Remote Envoys turned to each other when they got the reply of the extent of rights that the Carthagians claimed over their waters. Besna then spoke, first addressing the question of business.

"We don't believe that our businesses are interested in manufacturing anything truly foreign to sell to your markets at the moment. We 'd simply be interested in producing domestic equivalents for local sale, we hope that makes the process easier. There is the possibility that we'd be interested in goods other than what is consumed locally, but that'd only be for markets outside of Carthage and we'd be willing to cede doing that if necessary for making a deal. As for local negotiations, we can figure that out on our own, again, we'd be looking for us to have your rules apply to us as they would your domestic businesses" Besa reiterated.


"As for the territorial waters question, given the extent of the rights you reserve and the fact that you are claiming sovereignty over the larger chunk of the medditerean, we ask that you accept our future trade ships' duty free movement through your territorial claim" Besna requested on behalf of the Levantine Cabinet, who hoped for a positive response.

“In answer to your businesses and their dealings, that sounds agreeable, and so I could see it being rather expediently passed by the Honorable Sufetes and the Adirim; as for business law and the like, and your dealings with future landlords for business and shopping districts in various cities, I shall leave them to you to conduct at a future date when your people are able to come conduct such business,” Abraham replied, “and as for the matter of duties, I believe we can agree to that much for similar treatment in your waters in return. However, I hope you understand that I must reiterate and insist upon Imperial Law being the law of Imperial waters, with regard to how pirates, smugglers, and other sea-based criminals are dealt with… just as I expect that you will apply your equivalence of such laws to any smugglers or pirates and the like who try their hand at fleeing Imperial waters to create trouble in yours.”


"Our request for duty free passage was made in the context of the sovereign area you claim being larger than what you're willing to accept as a claim for us. As such, we were not offering similar treatment. However we are willing to accept that you are not accepting our duty free movement through this territorial claim. We reiterate our preference for freedom of navigation but for the sake of this understanding, we'll table that for now." The sentences Besa spoke were only hers in sound, for it was crafted word for word by the Levantine Cabinet, so as to concisely make their point, should future reference be necessary.

“Very well, I understand,” Abraham nodded, before pausing, “is there anything else for us to discuss, then? Besides, perhaps, an agreement to settle disputes regarding water trades and the like in a neutral setting.”

“Yes, that’s all for now, we do not anticipate there will be much reason to concern ourselves with such disputes. The width of the line we’ve outlined here can be considered to be a neutral zone and beyond that we make decisions within what we’ve previously outlined here, with the right to ask for an injunction that lasts until another meeting to discuss it.” Besna relayed from Jerusalem’s lines.

“Very well, then,” Abraham nodded, “it was a pleasure to meet you. I hope this is the beginning of a fruitful relationship, and that our nations become close friends. And may the Lord - whether you know Him as Allah, or by another name - watch over you, and bless your family.”

With that, Abraham stood.

“Shall we sign a parchment of this agreement?” Abraham asked, one of his guards placing down a paper they had been writing on. “You may, of course, keep a copy of this agreement. A more binding set of treaties can be negotiated at a future date, once our mutual superiors have talked things over.”

"1. We acknowledge that Carthage claims complete sovereignty over the Mediterrean west of an even split between opposite landmasses in the Adriatic sea. Though we iterate a preference for Freedom of Navigation of the seas and through natural waterways, we accept that you acknowledge an equivalent claim to us east of the Adriatic line.


2. We accept the allowance of mutually beneficial trade between our two nations through the island of Crete which both sides agree to accept as sovereign Levantine territory.'' Said Besna.

“That is, what we are willing to agree to and sign along with, word for word.” Besa finished.

“Agreed, then,” Abraham said with a nod, looking over the paper his guard had been writing down on and who had written a summary of agreed points at the bottom of the page. Abraham took the pen and signed the bottom of the page, before sliding it over to Besna.

Besna’s LRE signed the document after it was slid over, at which point she slid it back.

With the agreement signed, Abraham nodded once again and said his regards, before shaking hands with Besna and heading out.

[Artorran]

Somewhere in the North Sea.

On the poop deck of the patrol ship 'ANS Blue Osprey', Captain Green commanding.

"Captain, bow and masthead lookouts report engine noises some way ahead and to our starboard: Multiple vessels, apparently, and on more-or-less a converging course with us."

"Indeed? Then maybeso we will not need to reach the continent's coasts to make contact with people from there, whether their nations arrived only at around the same time as our own arrival on this Urrth or are actually natives to it.
"Maintain our current course, but be ready to take evasive action if necessary: Have the engines brought online, in case we need our propellers for quick steering changes.
"Have the ship brought to quarters quietly, by messengers rather than by bell-signal, with all guns manned just in case... but make it clear that those guns are to be aimed skywards rather than at the other ships until either I order otherwise or those other ships themselves visibly target us. Send a Raven to the 'ANS Sea-Falcon' with my orders vocal that they do the same if Captain Hawke has not given such orders there already anyhows; and with a polite reminder that we will take the lead in this contact while his job and his ship's is to hang back and observe, and if combat breaks out then to get at least a report home, rather than to charge in to our assistance.
"Send a messenger below-decks to notify the assigned first contact-team that they might be needed shortly, but telling them to remain below-decks unless sent-for... or unless the ship starts to sink."

"Aye-aye sir!"

(Some hustle & bustle, as quietly as possible in the circumstances, ensues.)

____________________________________________________________________

OOC: I will post more tomorrow morning [BST], whether or not Newne Caribbean has posted again during the intervening hours.
I don't have the stats worked out yet, but my patrol ships are almost certainly at least a bit -- although maybe only a bit -- smaller than the German destroyers. Once they are close enough to be seen through the fog, both Human and Ursine personnel will be visible on their decks.

[Laiakia]

Outside Mosbird, USSR, Jan 6th, 1983

It was but another snowy, miserable day within the capital of the USSR, and everyone remained on edge due to the ever present fear that the Nazis - or some other foreign invader - would be back to strike at the heart of the Soviet Union. Little did the Soviets know that forces from another nation were rapidly approaching their capital. Alas, it was not a military force, rather a diverse group of diplomats and security personnel hailing from the far off nation of France. They were under explicit orders to meet the head of the Soviet Government: be that Ivanov, Marshal Zhukov, Lysenko, Stalin or whoever the hell was in charge of the world’s largest workers’ state. That was the hope anyways.

Rene Imbot, having been to Moscow twice during his reign, considered the Soviets a close friend of the French due to their nations’ many shared struggles and the mutual cooperation which had helped both nations recover throughout the 1970s. He and Soviet General Secretary Ivan Ivanovich Ivanov got along quite well, even if Imbot couldn’t help but think there were others pulling Ivanov’s strings. Nonetheless, the two men respected one another and made sure to maintain strong ties between their countries, even if half of Europe separated them. Ivanov had given Imbot large quantities of resources, machinery, and even military equipment. Imbot returned the favor with French agricultural exports and German technology. It was a mutually beneficial agreement.

This was very much on the mind of one Aaron Doisneau, the French Diplomat to the Soviet Union. He’d been back in France when the event happened, something that inevitably separated him from much of the old embassy staff in Russia. It was now time to return, this time with some friends in tow. Within the somewhat cramped confines of the MiG-120 aerospace transport he’d requisitioned for this event were some 30 individuals: 18 French, 4 UN, and 8 Soviets. The Soviets in particular were an interesting bunch: 2 KGB operators, 2 soldiers, one Special Psychic Division operative, a commissar, and of course the USSR’s ambassador to France.

“We will be descending shortly. ETA to Moscow, 10 minutes,” a voice from the cockpit announced. It was about time. “We will be notifying Soviet authorities of our arrival.”

“Oh great, hopefully the ‘Soviets’ here don’t try shooting us down…” Doisneau was a tad bit worried. Shortly afterwards, a message was sent over various radio frequencies asking for permission to land in the Moscow military region. Whether or not these were actually heard was to be seen.


In the Kremlin and the other various military installations in Mosbird, the radios spurred to life and caused many-a soldier to jump at the unexpected transmission on practically every frequency. As the message repeated for the second time, enough STAVKA members had been alerted and given the green light to the Kremlin Military Radio Apparatus to respond and grant access to landing and redirection towards the Kubinka Airbase 5km outside of the city for landing.

After sending the message, STAVKA was quick in the appointment of a representative, namely Georgy Zhukov, to investigate this odd occurrence. He would be joined by two other elite NKVD troopers, both being polar bears, to guard him. Zhukov was appointed for this mainly because Molotov was still on his way back from the meeting with the Chinese Federation.

The Marshal sighed as he stepped into the GAZ-64 Jeep waiting for him. “At least give me a gun if these guys turn out to be Nazis or something.”, he complained. One of the NKVD guards responded by pulling a PPsH-41 out of the trunk and giving it to the Field Marshal who nodded approvingly. Zhukov then patted the driver on the shoulder, indicating to him that it was time to go.

The MiG-120 rapidly made its descent towards the airfield, its sleek airframe unlike anything the Soviets had likely seen before. Despite being larger than any plane within the Red Army Airforce, the space bomber landed surprisingly softly on the tarmac and rapidly came to a halt. It was clear that this was a foreign aircraft, but upon closer inspection one could see the cyrillic words and Soviet symbols imprinted upon it.

A boarding ramp quickly extended itself to the ground and was followed by a notable amount of commotion and shuffling. The first French diplomats, dressed in standard Soviet-American drab-green military trench coats, made their way out of the transport. They were followed by a few guards bearing assault rifles and the UN officials (all wearing nice dark blue uniforms). The Soviets were last, and it was incredibly clear that they hailed from the USSR, if not this one.

Some meters away from where the shuttle had touched down, stood Zhukov and the two NKVD polar bear guards. In addition to this, much of the airbase’s personnel, consisting of a mixture of penguins and polar bears, stood uneasily to the side amongst each other, eyeing the humans and their vehicle both with confusion and awe. Deciding to be the initiator of conversation, Zhukov stepped forward towards them, flanked by his polar bear guards carrying what humans would count as heavy machine guns.

“Uh, greetings and welcome to the Soviet Union, comrades.”, he said with a slightly confused tone as he glanced over to the shuttle and viewed the well-known symbols of the Soviet Union. “I am, uh, Field Marshal Georgy Zhukov of the Red Army of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. While this magnificent craft of yours is something we have never seen before, I see the many symbols of the Union implanted on it, as well as cyrillic. I assume therefore that you are all fellow comrades. Tell me, where do you come from, what is your name, and what is your purpose here in the Soviet Union?”, asked Zhukov politely while a small breeze made his well-kept mane flutter in the wind.

The French delegation came to an abrupt halt after realizing who they were facing. Penguins and polar bears? Zhukov as a lion? What in the goddamn was this? Doisneau and his colleagues muttered to one another in French before one of the Soviets decided to step forth. She was young, not particularly tall, and her unnatural silver-colored hair distinguished her from the other Soviets. She took a step forward before eyeing Zhukov closely. Zhukov probably felt something was messing with his head for just a brief second.

“As strange as it sounds, that lion over there is Zhukov. Everything checks out,” the Soviet girl told the others. Nobody seemed particularly convinced till one of the Soviet commissars reminded the French about who she was.

Doisneau decided it was probably best to break the silence now. He approached the Soviet Marshal and offered a handshake, as strange as shaking hands with a lion sounded.

“Aaron Doisneau, Ambassador to the Soviet Union from the French Democratic Republic. We were here to reaffirm our relations with the Soviet Government… though we didn’t expect things to be so different. Nonetheless it is reassuring to see that the revolution endures here, even if things aren’t quite the same.”

A few of the other personnel also stepped up to introduce themselves, including the Soviets.

“Istomin Yermoleyvich, Soviet Ambassador to the French Democratic Republic,” an older Soviet man in his forties saluted the Lion Marshal. “And these are my compatriots,” he gestured towards a masked commissar and the earlier-mentioned soviet girl.

“Commissar Igor Stanislav,” the commissar nodded. “Communist Party of the Soviet Union.”

“You can call me… Yulia,” the girl from earlier shrugged, “Special Operations Division ESP-01.”

Zhukov himself seemed slightly taken aback at the presence of other Soviets not of the Union. None-the-less, Zhukov reached forth and grasped Doisneau’s hand, careful not to squeeze too hard, and gave an approving smile, revealing his very sharp and well-kept teeth.

“Ambassadors, huh. Well, these are strange times. It is a pleasure to meet all you fellow comrades, and I’m sure Comrade Stalin will think the same after he has been briefed. Your arrival came as quite the surprise, how can your radios even work for such a long distance? No matter the answer, you are all welcome in the Union despite it probably being a bit different than what you might be used to. We are still in the process of re-organizing and preparing in case the Nazis show up again.”

Zhukov had not heard of a ‘Special Operations Division ESP-01’ before, but he thought it likely that the NKVD had some secret divisions that only the higher-ups knew of, yet the thought of a totally unknown branch of the NKVD unsettled him anyways.

“Well that is certainly good to hear!” The French ambassador smiled, slightly wary of just how strong Zhukov was. It seemed some things never changed. “I was seriously wondering if the USSR in any form made it through to this new world, and this really was one of the better outcomes considering some of the other states we believe exist on this Earth. Actually that is a good question: do you know of any other nations on this planet? So far we’ve only met people claiming to be representatives of the Carthaginian Empire!”

“Carthage? Thought that civilization was destroyed by the Romans?! And, yes, we have made contact with another state and have been informed of another one which we’ve yet to start diplomatic dealings with. The first state we’ve encountered is the Chinese Federation, a monarchy based out of, well, China. According to Foreign Minister Molotov, they’ve reportedly had dealings with a.. ‘Nazi Reichskommissariat Japan’. It is troubling, to say the least. We are very happy to have found someone of our own ideology to stand together against the fascist, nazi menace of this freak-abomination assailing the people and workers of Japan.” Zhukov seemed to lace his words with venom when speaking about the Nazis, something to be expected by a person that witnessed the horrid months of the starvation of Leningrad.

“The Carthaginians are very much around, albeit not in the form we’re familiar with. Also, wait a second… Nazis, you mean the Hitlerite bastards?!” Doisneau raised his voice. “Now it’s surprising to see that they’ve somehow subdued the Japanese imperialists… but that doesn’t change the situation on the ground. To think such a vile ideology still persists, it disgusts me. It was just 10 years ago that we overthrew their rule, and NONE of us in France will ever suffer to see the likes of them again! If those barbarians even dare touch us or any of our comrades, we will smite them off the face of the world with atomic fire!”

“Likewise, we Soviets share such sentiments,” Commissar Stanislav added. “The Nazis in our world… they prevailed over the Soviet Union during the First Great Patriotic War. We tried our hardest but ultimately we had to fall back. Our people west of the Urals were subject to horrible atrocities during the passing decades, starved and enslaved in the tens of millions by those fascist monsters. You, errr, our Marshal Zhukov rallied the Soviet people during that time and we struck back during the 1960s with a vengeance. The fascists were driven back to their borders and we expelled every last damned German settler… but unfortunately we could not finish our job. They threatened to wipe the Union off the face of the Earth with nuclear weaponry and Zhukov was not willing to take that risk. I guess in the long run it worked out... alright. Germany nowadays is an impoverished wartorn hell hole, and we in the Union are actually making progress. Of course, many Soviets such as myself still long for complete retribution against the Germans. They got off too easily, and I will not rest till I see a Soviet flag over Berlin.”

Zhukov nodded intently, listening to every word. “I.. see. For us, we were just starting to push the Emu scum away from Mosbird. I am quite surprised to learn that an alternate version of.. me.. controlled the USSR instead of someone more capable like Comrade Stalin. While I am slightly saddened by your version of ,err, me, not being able to provide a chance of raising the Hammer and Sickle over Berlin, I am sure that he pulled back for the good of the Soviet people in mind. We haven’t even had a real opportunity to push the Emu horde out of the Motherland, but when or if we are faced with a chance to reclaim our land, we will take it and we will] lead a sacred war against those godless fascist Emu Kraut scum that would dare call themselves ‘socialist’. We will bring the hammer of the people down upon the head of the Hitlerites everywhere, and bring about a new age of prosperity for our Union under Comrade Stalin! Oh, and you mentioned something about... atomic fire. I will apologize if this question seems stupid, but what is atomic fire? The year was 1941 when we left, so we don’t exactly have much knowledge of the future.”, Zhukov finished with a short laugh, while nervously scratching his lion-chin.

While it was surprising to learn that he would, or had, lead the USSR to glory against the Germans, he was now more worried about the implications regarding Stalin, and whether or not the NKVD would take steps to prevent this… timeline from forming, which would most likely involve his ‘disappearance’.

“Well soon enough we'll be raising a flag over Berlin,” Doisneau said, “If there are fascists in Germany, they will not be long for this world. Anyways, the year for us was 1983 CE, so we’re around four decades ahead of the Union it seems. No wonder you aren’t familiar with the concept of atomic weapons, errr, it’s all theoretical at this point in history anyways. I think… Yulia here might be better at explaining. She holds a few university degrees, all of which she got prior to turning 18 after all.”

“It would be my pleasure,” Yulia nodded before approaching the hulking Soviet Marshal, “I assume you aren’t familiar with nuclear theory? Understandable seeing that only a few scientists within the Union happen to be working on such. Two years ago, for all of you that is, German physicist Otto Hahn discovered the process of nuclear fission: that is a reaction which splits apart atoms. The energy released by this process is immense to the point that a single kilogram of uranium capable of undergoing fission has as much energy potential as a quarter million tons of coal. This was of course incredibly interesting to most scientists, who thought that fission could be used as a great source of energy. Naturally… there were other uses too. You see where I’m going with this?”

Zhukov nodded understandingly whilst his NKVD guards attempted to discreetly take some notes, but failing hilariously due to their polar bear paws.

“In our timeline, the major powers of the world all began researching the potential of weaponized nuclear fission around 1940-1941. The Americans in particular spearheaded these efforts, and built a number of large-scale industrial nuclear reactors which gave them a major edge over the competition. Ultimately in around 1945, the American project yielded results… but soon afterwards the Germans too would develop the bomb. It’s easier for me to show than to bother with the specifics,” she said before closing her eyes and concentrating. Zhukov would quickly find that his thoughts went racing before his mind went dark momentarily. He would wake up… but where was he?

If Zhukov looked around him, he would find “himself” along the outskirts of a large Soviet city: Kazan. It was 1948… or so that was what the posters said. The country was in the midst of the Great Patriotic War: the Germans were almost at the Volga and it looked as if the Soviet Union’s defensive lines were on the verge of collapse. Yet life evidently went on in the city: people walked and took the trolleys to work, the stores continued selling bread, and Red Army soldiers reassured civilians that they would be safe.

In the distance, a single flight of Nazi bombers approached the outskirts of Kazan. The Soviet air force had been tied up along other areas of the front and could not cover the city at this time. The results would be devastating.

As the air sirens went off, a single bomb was dropped from the lead German bomber. Zhukov would find “himself” take off and run towards shelter - he wasn’t in control of this body it seemed! As “Zhukov” made his way towards the Volga River, the world turned white. He fell over, grasping his face in pain as a burning heat washed over him. Seconds later, the houses around him exploded into a shower of shrapnel and burned wood. A massive shockwave swept the Marshal off his feet and threw him a hundred yards into the river… then he blacked out.

When “Zhukov” woke up, he saw nothing but darkness. The sky was blocked by thick black clouds coming from the burnt remnants of the city center. It was raining a viscous dark ash, which seemed to be clinging onto everything it touched. Everything around Zhukov was destroyed and there were bodies everywhere. As the Marshal, or the body he was in anyways, got up to inspect his surroundings, all he could find was devastation and the charred remains of buildings and people. Thousands of individuals - most of them horribly burnt and disfigured - could be seen shambling towards the Volga in agony. It was here that Zhukov blacked out again… only to be snapped back to reality.

The Lion Of The USSR, defender of Leningrad and Mosbird, Field Marshal of the Red Army, the lion that had initiated a counter-attack against the unstoppable Emu horde, felt fear. Pure, primal fear. Never before had he felt such a feeling. His eyes went to his hands. They were shaking. He looked back up to Yulia and then back towards his hands several times.

“W… What was that? A memory? Such great fire, devastation and pain. I’ve never dreamt, or felt, something so… evil…” Zhukov remained silent for another minute.

“This weapon is terrifying. If it were to fall into the wrong hands…”, he paused again, thinking of the innocent citizens stumbling towards the Volga. “The Union needs to know how to make these. If the Japanese, or Germans have them.. The consequences would be horrible. I… I do hope you would be willing to share the secrets of the atom with us.”

“It was indeed a memory,” Yulia nodded, “taken from one of our citizens who survived the atomic bombing of Kazan. Even though it was nearly 40 years ago, it’s hard to forget that day. 50,000 people perished instantly, and just as many died during the aftermath. It’s a grim reminder that the workers’ state must constantly remain vigilant and seek what’s necessary to defend itself,” the young psychic girl briefly glanced at the NKVD guards before continuing.

“In regards to nuclear science… I’m unsure about France's stance on this matter, but we Soviets are more than willing to help the USSR, provided some conditions are met. This discussion can wait, as I’m sure comrade Stalin would want to weigh in on things. And if you’re wondering how I managed to show you everything I did? Answers to that will come in due time.”

“Anyways, I think it would be prudent to notify General Secretary Stalin of our arrival?” The French ambassador offered. “I’m sure he’d be quite interested in a few things we have to say.”

Zhukov snapped out of his shocked state and nodded. “Yes, it would indeed be.”

He then nodded to one of the NKVD guards, who then walked away and into a nearby shack, presumably the HQ for coordination at the Airbase. A few minutes would pass until the bear came out again, giving a thumbs up towards Zhukov.

“It would seem The Boss wants to speak with you all. We’re going to take the short trip over to Mosbird by car.”, he then motioned to five GAZ-64s that had rolled up while they had waited. “Shall we?”

“Of course,” Doisneau told the others to follow him.

“Mosbird ehh? I guess its fitting, considering this is a country of birds…” Yulia whistled.

-----

“Comrades of France and another Soviet Union, it is a pleasure to finally meet you.”, Stalin said. He was clad in a crisp and unassuming uniform with a pipe in his flipper. The office itself was quite decorated, flags of the USSR hang on walls and busts of both Lenin, Stalin, and Pingu were in place in all corners of the room.

“I assume you all know who I am, and I have been informed of your identities over the telephone. Tell me, what is your purpose here in the USSR?”

“Me and my comrades were given orders by our Chairman, Rene Imbot, to reestablish communications with the Soviet Union and reaffirm prior ties. That said, it appears this isn’t the USSR we left, but that doesn’t change too many things about the current situation,” Doisneau began. “In short, France seeks a reliable anti-fascist ally and cooperation with the USSR if at all possible in the foreseeable future, comrade Stalin.”

“As for us,” Commissar Stanislav began, “We Soviet citizens wish to partake in building the socialist project, even if this isn’t quite the USSR we remember. Marshal Zhukov informed us of the presence of numerous hostile nations nearby, and I can say with confidence that my men are willing to aid in the defense of the motherland.”

Notably enough, Yulia didn’t bother saying anything. She simply sat there, seemingly analyzing everyone in the room.

The penguin nodded intently as the french-man spoke, and continued to nod as the Commissar spoke. “You can trust that the Soviet Union will agree to an anti-fascist alliance and report to your Chairman that the USSR wishes to begin drafting plans, trade-deals, and other diplomatic moves as soon as possible. As for you, Commissar Stanislav, you and your comrades would be most welcome to join us here. Even if it is somewhat different from what you left, the Soviet Union will with no doubt benefit tremendously from any advanced knowledge you may wish to share with us. However, I would ask that you be careful around particular members of the various Ministries, particularly Lavrentiy Beria.” Stalin finished with a disgusted tone, thinking about that one time he left his daughter with Beria alone by accident. Never-the-less, he was an effective secret police chief, but he’d have to replace him sooner or later.

“Well that’s wondrous!” The French ambassador flashed a bright smile. “The specifics can be hammered out later, of course, but knowing that the Soviets are willing to cooperate will be a big reassurance to our country. France can offer everything ranging from advanced machine tools, weapons, to food while I’m sure the massive material wealth of the Soviet Nation would help us develop our industries.”

“Provided that we are given special protections and kept away from Beria’s NKVD…” the commissar began, “we would be more than willing to cooperate on certain matters. Me and the others, we’re familiar with people such as Beria.”

“If that old man even tried touching me I’d make him wish he was burning hell…” Yulia muttered.

“That aside, I’ve heard a bit about your nation’s new predicament from Marshal Zhukov. For example, the Nazis in Japan. No clue how they ever got there but I’m honestly not too surprised, considering the Imperial Japanese were no better. Is there anything in particular that the Union could use at the moment?” Stanislav asked.

Stalin nodded and put his pipe to his mouth. “Indeed, the USSR is willing to trade whatever resources might be needed to aid the French socialist cause. Whilst I cannot simply guarantee full protection from the NKVD as some are more loyal to Beria than I, which is something I intend to sort out very soon, I will do my best to protect you from those within the Party that would dislike this new partnership.”, he paused before continuing. “There are various things that the Union would require as of now, yet we would be most interested in acquiring better weapons. Specifically tanks, artillery, and anti-air. Before I continue, however, I’d like to ask a few questions regarding what you told comrade Zhukov at the airbase, about him leading the USSR to glory. What happened to me?”

Yulia looked at Stanislav, who nodded at her. The Soviet Esper would be giving Penguin Stalin the official publicly available Soviet history, not the actual one. There were slight differences between the two but those differences would either make or break the careers of a few people within this current Kremlin. Yulia could tell that Zhukov was mentally gritting his teeth, just as she could see Stalin’s paranoia growing.

“Ahh yes, comrade Stalin himself. You were officially killed in 1945 during the 2nd defense of Moscow after German bombers hit the Kremlin and somehow destroyed your bunker. What followed was chaos as the party started to cannibalize itself and look for someone to shift the blame on. I believe a few individuals such as Malenkov, Abakumov, and specifically Beria used it to take advantage of the situation and attempted to solidify their power in the wake of your death. They were prepared to fully sell out the USSR and ‘reform’ the country along American syndicalist ways, but luckily comrade Zhukov put a stop to that madness and had the traitors executed. He would go on to lead the USSR throughout the 50-60s, and drove back the German invaders during the 2nd Great Patriotic War,” she said rather nonchalantly. “We have the documents from our world about everything that went down, if you’re interested.”

Stalin nodded camly, but in his mind he was absolutely furious at the prospect of his own NKVD chief betraying him the moment he passed. Ideas, and other possible traitors filled his mind. He then proceeded to walk over to his desk, open up a drawer and take out two very large folders filled to the brim with files on many high-ranking members of the Communist Party and within other institutions of the Soviet Union. One file was labeled as ‘Possible’, and the other was labeled as ‘Objectives’. The penguin proceeded to pull three files out of the ‘Possible’ folder, one of which was larger than the rest, and then put them into the ‘Objectives’ folder. He then put the two folders back into the drawer he took them from.

“I thank you for informing me of this, and of those vultures who would seek to undermine the Union at any rate. While they have not actually done anything yet, they will be dealt with, I assure you. And yes, we would be awfully interested in copies of your historical events. I’m sure our scientists, engineers and historians will learn much from it that will benefit the people.”

Zhukov, who had been standing in the back of the room, decided this was a prime opportunity to tell Stalin about the power of atoms. He stepped forward. “Comrade Stalin, I am unsure if the two gentlemen mentioned it, but we also spoke of a certain weapon that was used in their timeline. An… atom bomb.” Zhukov’s hands were shaking again.

Stalin’s eyebrow raised at the lion’s shaking hands, but attributed it to him being cold. He then turned his attention back to the others. “Is this true? Whatever is an… atom bomb? I believe I’ve heard tidbits about something Germany researching atoms, but never heard of a bomb made out of them.”

“The atom bomb,” Yulia began, “a weapon of terrible power but massive potential.” She took out a video recorder and showed it to stalin. It was a brief documentary about the history of the nuclear bomb, but Yulia skipped to the parts where the weapon was actively deployed. Seeing that the other Soviets were unwilling to give Stalin as large a shock as they had given Zhukov, there would be no first hand experience, but the footage itself would be telling enough. It was the same series of events: a single bomb dropped on Kazan, the massive devastation it inflicted on the city, and of course the multi-km tall mushroom cloud that rose from the ruins of the city center.

“This, comrade Stalin, is what both the capitalists and Nazis ultimately seek to create. A weapon no larger than a conventional bomb, but one that is capable of wiping out entire urban centers at ease if need be. In our world, WW2 ended after a dozen cities were atomic-bombed, killing more than a million people in the process. Following the war, each nation, including our USSR, began building thousands of these weapons. They would be used on multiple occasions throughout the 1960-70s, unfortunately.”

Stalin nodded solemnly at the thought of the millions lost to such a weapon. “I… see. It is imperative that we secure such a weapon for the Union. These bombs have, or will, change the future of warfare as we know it. It will shock the populace, and destroy the balance of military affairs in a way not seen since the invention of the Tank. Our scientists will have to start working on cracking these secrets at once with your help, if you all wouldn’t mind, for I shiver at the thought of enemies of the proletariat having such weapons while we have nothing to combat them with. If the fascist have these weapons, we must have greater versions of them.”

“Indeed,” Yulia nodded, “it is imperative that the workers’ states of the world arm themselves with such devices, for otherwise we only stand at the mercy of the imperialists. That said…” she grabbed a set of documents and placed them on Stalin’s desk, right in front of him. “These papers are old and therefore no longer deemed maximum security, at least in the context of contacting another USSR. It’s a collection of files detailing the establishment of the Soviet Union’s nuclear program and some of the schematics used by the scientists towards obtaining fissile material. I’m unsure if you’re familiar, but there is plenty of uranium within Russia that can be exploited,” she handed Stalin another paper. “Locations of various uranium deposits and their depths. This should come in handy.”

The French ambassador simply shrugged, seeing as this really wasn’t his country’s business. The Soviets did what the Soviets wanted to, after all.

Stalin gave an approving noise that penguins make. He quickly skimmed over the uranium locations and nodded approvingly. “This will definitely come in handy. Thank you, comrades. Now, these revelations have made me at a loss for words and unable to think of anything else. I will pass these documents over to the workers who shall be assigned in retrieval of this uranium. Is there anything else I can do for you all?”

“There shouldn’t be too much else for now. We would like to request permission to set up a temporary embassy in your capital before permanent arrangements can be made later, and invite you to do the same in France. I do happen to need a place to stay, after all. For the moment France can provide transport if necessary, given that our MiG-120 space plane is capable of traversing the distance between Mosbird and Paris in less than 30 minutes. It likewise flies too high for interception to be a real possibility, so the onboard security is worthwhile,” Doisneau nodded.

“Now before we head out and make housing arrangements, you might want to see this collection of pictures we took while flying across Europe,” Doisneau passed Stalin a folder. Inside were a variety of high-altitude photos of different hotspots. One region just right across the Leningrad border was particularly concerning: parts of it were obscured by dark black swarms of objects while a few closer in photos seemed to indicate groups of unknown creatures.

The penguin internally sighed at more things to worry about. Looking over the pictures of the black swarms and the unknown creatures, Stalin narrowed his eyes. “This is most concerning. It would also happen that we’ve had some trouble contacting Leningrad on radio… They must be alerted. Defenses must be raised, civilians evacuated and threats destroyed. Marshal Zhukov, take these pictures to STAVKA and order them to reinforce the Leningrad front with our heaviest forces.”

Zhukov nodded promptly, grabbing the folder from Stalin and moving towards the door whilst giving a nod to the French and Soviets. He then exited the room.

“Whatever these creatures are, they will not be allowed to take Leningrad, they will not be allowed to threaten the Soviet Union, and they will not destroy our workers’ paradise!” Stalin curled his flipper into something resembling a fist and slammed it into his desk. If one looked closely, one could see that his beak was slowly grinding against each other, a sign indicative of uncertainness. Stalin then took a deep breath to calm himself down.

“Ahem, I apologize. Regarding housing, you are most welcome to take residence in the abandoned French embassy. It has remained empty ever since France capitulated to the Emus, or Germans if you’d call them that, in 1940. I’ll also make sure to dispatch an ambassador to accompany you on your flight back to France as our own transports are far more primitive than your… ‘space’ plane.”

“Very well, then I guess we’re at an agreement? If so, I shall prepare to depart shortly and get myself settled in this old French embassy of yours. I look forward to future meetings between the leaderships of our two nations.”

“We should probably get to work,” Commissar Stanislav addressed Stalin. “Me and my men have a number of documents and some example weapons we’d like to demonstrate and show the rest of the military as soon as possible.”

“Very well.”, Stalin said. “I myself seem to have quite a lot to do too. This meeting has been quite revealing. You may go, and I hope you enjoy your stay here in the USSR too. Dismissed.”

Stalin gave them a courteous nod before taking a seat behind his desk, examining, reading, and signing reports. His flippers shuffled files and reports, but his mind went to all the things this meeting had revealed. The revelation of a French republic under a communist regime was a surprise to be sure, but a welcome one. Yet, the people he was most concerned about were the Soviets. Sure, their knowledge was far beyond anything the USSR currently possessed, but that made them dangerous. Thinking back to their revelation that a number of people currently embedded high in Soviet society wouldn’t hesitate to sell out the people, Stalin again grumbled. While he long had plans to conduct a new purge and have Beria replaced, the implication that there were people even closer to him like Malenkov would put a serious dent in his support. Still, there were even more influential people that could be counted on. The purge would have to be sped up, to cleanse the filth from the ranks of the people before anything drastic happens.

Taking a deep drag from his pipe, Stalin closed his eyes and rubbed them. In addition to being transported here, he’d now also have to deal with a Nazi Japan, a French communist republic, fifth columnists in the government, whatever or whoever else existed in the west, and god-only-knows-what creatures were lurking near the Leningrad Front.

“This’ll be a long week…”, Stalin said to himself.

---

A collab post with Democratic East-Asia

[Speyland]

A Collaboration Post Between Speyland And Wasi State

---

Several Miles off the Korean Coast
January, Year 0

---

A Flotilla, consisting of a dozen warships of similar German and Japanese construction, with a dozen more support vessels in tow had perused around the southern tip of the Korean Peninsula within the first week of the New Year and on this new planet. Much like other collections of ships that just left R.K. Japanese ports under orders of the Reichskommissar back in Tokyo, this particular Flotilla was tasked with securing the Peninsula at all costs.

With contact since lost with all of the other Reichskommissariats and Greater Germany itself, the worst was feared to have taken place. And as Kriegsmarine Personnel landed onto empty shores devoid of human life, as though humans have never even existed on this piece of landmass to begin with, their fears were confirmed. Something very terribly wrong has transpired.

Regardless, a flag pole was hoisted up by a team of a dozen men by the shore, its symbol bearing the German Swastika, a symbol of a once bygone era of violence and hate for many. Now a symbol of a continued Triumph of the Will for a wicked regime that had reached from coast to coast in its old world.

However this show of imperialism against nature was interrupted as miles across the Korean Strait was the sighting of over a hundred ships of foregin design, those belonging to the Chinese Federation with a bearing of heading towards the R.K. 's Flotilla. This couldn't have been good.

The Flotilla’s General Admiral, Otto Ciliax was scrambling in the bridge of his flagship along with his command. There was no way they were going to be able to beat back the Chinese physically, so they would need to get creative.

“Someone radio to Tokyo that we got a problem, STAT! I’ll see if I can communicate with the Chinese here, someone get that interpreter too!” Ciliax ordered.

The Chinese fleet was sailing swiftly, trying to reach the Japanese fleet as soon as possible. A man from one of the Chinese ships fired with a flare gun, demanding foreigners stop what they were doing. They waited for them to make their first move unless they chose to remain still.

Looking through his binoculars from the bridge, Ciliax spotted the flare from miles away.
“The hell are they doing?” He muttered to himself.


“Sir, I think they’re attempting to hail us?” One of his bridge officers then relayed to him.

“Well that won’t do. Maneuver us into spitting range if you have to, I want naval bombers at the ready in case shit hits the fan!” He then ordered.

“Aye aye, Sir!”


The Flotilla then proceeded to sail towards the Chinese ships instead in an attempt to intercept them out on the water, which by naval standards would be the equivalent of “getting up in their faces.”

A flare from the lead flagship then fired off from the Japanese Heavy Cruiser as they approached, demanding that it’s the Chinese who should stop what they’re doing right now.

“This is a Flotilla from the Reichskommissariat of Japan. State your business immediately, you are violating territorial waters.” Ciliax, through the use of a Chinese Interpreter, then said over the radio to the Chinese Fleet.

The Chinese fleet stopped moving, preferring not to confront the Japanese fleet in the means to avoid declaring war. As Japanese is also the official language of the Chinese Federation, they had no difficulty understanding them without the use of interpreters.

A man wearing a red military uniform filled with medals appeared, speaking directly to the Japanese in their language. "There's no need for an interpreter as we can understand Japanese perfectly fine. Korea is rightfully part of the Chinese Federation, and we demand the Japanese government to stay away from it immediately!"

Ciliax began to look more displeased than he usually was at their response, which is saying something. Who were they to claim uninhabited land that has already started to be claimed by them? The General Admiral was fully prepared to die on this hill if he had to.

“Well I don’t understand a lick of Japanese either.” The very German Ciliax then told his multilingual interpreter to say back.

“To reiterate, no, Korea doesn't belong to you, in fact it doesn’t belong to anyone but the wilds currently. Have you forgotten you’re not in your same world right now, or are you so blazen as to just assume the “responsibility” of people whose homes and lives don’t even exist anymore?” Ciliax then said over the loudspeakers from the top of his bridge… Which his interpreter then repeated back, with little difference to his words.

“As far as we are concerned, our boots on these shores will have far more weight than your meaningless words ever will. In fact we already planted our flag on this shoreline, we got to this free for all first!” Ciliax then said, pointing out the flag of Nazi Germany that has already been hoisted up to claim the Korean Southern Coast.
The Chinese man growled in anger, hearing the Japanese refusing their demands. Perhaps he had no choice but to go with plan B, threatening them with the use of violence.

The man says, "I'll give you a warning! If you do not comply with our demands, then we will start attacking without mercy! The Japanese government must stay away from Korea as it is rightfully part of the Chinese Federation! This is your last warning!"

General Admiral Ciliax thankfully had at least a cooler head in this situation. “Do that and you violate your Nonaggression Pact with us, I suggest you calm down first before you have to awkwardly answer to your Empress as to why there was a violent incident off the Korean Strait. None of us are in any position to die over some wilderness, not yet at least…”

“Sir…” An officer then turned to him.

“What is it?”

“The ships the Chinese have, they’re looking at the very least several decades ahead of our own, I think we should buy time from this before things get violent, Sir.” His officer then relayed to him.

“Hmmm, damn…” Ciliax bit his pride down to a degree, his officer was correct it would seem.

He then returned to communicate to his Chinese counterpart once more. “Look, this whole Peninsula is wilderness at the moment, it’s of no real value to any of us currently, and certainly not worth killing over. I don’t see why we can’t just split in half right now, just arbitrarily down the 48th Parallel if need be. Would that compromise work for now?” He then offered to the Chinese.

The Chinese man sweats heavily, deciding whether or not his fleet should respond with an attack. However, he chose not to if it wasn't for his outburst and agreed with Ciliax's offer.

He sighed before proceeding to speak any further. "You're right. How foolish I was. Fine. The Chinese Federation will take the northern half while the Japanese government will take the southern half. I don't see why we're fighting over this, which is pointless. However, the Chinese government still has claims over the entirety of Korea, so we're very wary when it comes to it. But anyway, are you willing to accept our proposal before we can compromise on this mess?"

Ciliax started to light a cigar from the security of his bridge, war was averted, for now. “We accept, we cede North Korea to you, and you let us have South Korea, that’s a fair trade I think.” He puffed in satisfaction, the Reichskommissar would surely like this.

And with that being said, the Chinese man, along with his fleet, decided to retreat to the Chinese Federation, marking their gunboat diplomacy as somewhat a success, barely. In summary, the Chinese Federation will take North Korea while R.K. Japan will take South Korea. If they were to go to war at this moment, things would've gone badly for them, but they didn't. Unfortunately, the struggle between dominating the rest of the Korean Peninsula is yet to be resolved, albeit going the hard way.

[Newne Carriebean7]

Waters of the North Sea
January 3, Year Null (0)

The atmosphere on the bridge was tense. Tense enough for a damaging round of sass, sprinkled with enough angst flak and accompanied by a few more sarcastic projectiles to impact and make light of a serious situation.

Kapitän Ernsest Müller scruffily ran his hands through the stubble constituting his facial hair (or lack thereof), nails scratching at his skin to reveal faint red marks that bled down his face, as if he had been half-assed shaving the soot like hairs off of him.

"Unknown shapes to our Starboard bow!" exclaimed a lookout in the crow's nest of the Pantherzerstörer 1 exclaimed to the rest of the crew, whomever had heard the declaration. Müller jolted tightly in his chair, taking another tense puff of his favorite tobacco laden pipe to ease his already strained nerves.

"What?! Who the hell are they? What the hell are they doing all the way out here? D-do something!"

"You're the Kapitän, dumbass! Tell us what to do!" The helmsman exclaimed, almost as nervous as the captain.

Müller panic puffed another large quantity of tobacco, almost inadvertedly swallowing his entire wooden pipe in the stress of command. Gagging on the sharp tip of the Pipe that had pierced his uvula, he threw up a small collection of spit and blood on the floor.

"I..I don't know."

"How the hell do you not know? You're jobs easy. I have to steer the fucking ship. You just tell us what to do."

"I SAID I DON'T KNOW! Fuck! Uh...um... how-"

"We need orders! Tell us what to do you dumb, miserable excuse for a Captain!"

"L..like what? Shoot them?"

"That's an idea, but I don't know if they're aliens that will beam us up and chew out our hearts. I'd rather not take that risk. How about we signal them instead of shooting them. If they shoot back at us, we'll return fire."

With a faint murmur to himself, the Captain reached down for a tube where orders were shouted.

"Engine room I need full knots immediately, just get on it right away!" Before he spun around on his heels and looked out at the shapes coming closer and closer.

"Are they british? Norweigan?"

"We can't tell that from this far away. But, they don't seem to be leaving smoke."

"Not leaving smoke trails? That is something goddamit. This shit keeps getting weirder.. Send them a message instructing them to heave to and prepare for a boarding party. Get some dumb bastard on the signal flags and lights and get to it!"

The bridge was quiet for a moment until Müller slammed his fist on the instrument panel, making everyone else scramble into action.

"Fucking dumbasses..dumbassi? Son of a bitch."

The following message was sent to the unknown vessels.

STOP-THIS-STOP-IS-STOP-THE-VOLKSMARINE Pantherzerstörer 1-STOP-HEAVE TO AND PREPARE TO BE BOARDED-STOP-FURTHER COMMUNICATION WILL FOLLOW-STOP-UPON COMPLIANCE-FULL STOP

[Remnants of Exilvania]

3rd January 2004
Czechoslovakia
Carpathians
Air Defense Sector IV

The command center of the Air Defense Sector IV, Western Slovakia, was in absolute chaos. Granted, most Czechoslovak institutions were in absolute chaos currently but the Czechoslovaks had something more immediate than the sudden relaction of a tiny rump of their nation to worry about.

Radar stations from Czechia, Poland and Slovakia had all picked up what appeared to be a massive air fleet approaching from the former Czechoslovak province of Silesia, flying in what could only be described a military formation. Air raid sirens started blaring almost immediately, their eerie noise echoing across the countryside as the Czechoslovak population sought shelter in their basements, metro stations and tunnels.

In Bratislava accusations and speculations flew around. Ideas of a Silesian coup, of an attack by the British Empire, of malfunctioning radar dishes, of a daemonic ruse of a million different possibilities. In the end alarms were raised and AA batteries readied. With the speed and height the enemy aircraft were going at, gunnery crews estimated high losses should a firing order be given. However, the command in Bratislava was hesitating. Information had been trickling through from above, slowly but surely, about a potential plane melding, about being translocated into a new world, together with many others. A simple mistake could cause a major war entirely on accident.

As such, a radio message was sent out in multiple languages, among others Czech, Slovak, Polish, German, old Prussian, Silesian, Swedish and Danish.

ATTENTION UNIDENTIFIED AIRCRAFT! YOU ARE IN VIOLATION OF CZECHOSLOVAK AIRSPACE! CHANGE YOUR COURSE BY 180 DEGREES AND RETURN TO YOUR HOME AIRPORTS! THIS IS YOUR FIRST AND FINAL WARNING! REFUSE AND YOU WILL BE ENGAGED WITH LETHAL FORCE!

3rd January 2004
Czechoslovak-Poland
Przemyśl
VIIIth Army Preparation Area

Fortress Przemyśl, one of the Czechoslovak core's most militarized areas, the home and mobilisation area of the VIIIth Czechoslovak Army. Ever since the event transpired, it had become a hub of hectic activity, with general mobilisation orders for the troops there being issued, especcially with the communications with nearby Lviv severed. However, in the past hours this specific area's activity had gone through the roof, with trains arriving from the west and from across the Carpathians, ferrying additional troops and ammunition. The VIIIth army was being reinforced by units from the IVth Army stationed in Slovakia, with general plans being drawn up for operations in the Lviv area.

All of that on the order of one influential person bullying herself through the Czechoslovak Army's High Command.

General Hermína Majerová had arrived only hours ago and yet she had already unleashed hell on earth on the local commanders and begun drawing up potential offensive plans in the event of a threat escalation. Lviv had to be secured at all costs and she did not care how harshly fuel was rationed or what was on that land. The fuel was of critical importance to the Czechoslovak Army and for Czechoslovakia as a whole as without it much of the army's logistics would be thrown back by 50 years...not to speak of commercial logistics.

However brash, stubborn and hotheaded the Black General was however, she wasn't above basic military strategy. Which was to gain information first before committing to any form of attack. As such, much of the past hours had been spent on summoning Daemons and sending them eastward as well as putting together entire reconnaissance companies and sending them there to figure out just what they were dealing with around Lviv. Depending on their findings, the Black General could draw up offensive plans and move the VIIIth army eastwards. Or not.

[Newne Carriebean7]

Miles above the Carpathian Mountain Range
Flugabtrennung-5

Everyone was tense. The atmosphere was as tight nicked as it was cliched. Although the Flugkommandant had been to his fair share of 'talkies' during the peaceful, Volks and Free Love years of Germany, the amount of tension was seeming like it was artificially generated by someone miles away. Could it be that it was all a dream?

Obadiah von Hoth got out a pencil from his pocket and jabbed the led through his wrist. Immediately he winced in pain at the insertion of lead through the skin, with a small dribble of blood pouring down upon the instrument panels in his Fighter plane.

"Scheiße.. Well, I ain't dreaming. Course lieutenant."

"Maintaining 24,000 feet at heading 0543 mien Flugkommandant!"

"A-alright then, let's-"

"Transmission incoming! It's on an open channel. Via Radio."

Without so much as a light nod of Hoth's head, his lieutenant turned on the radio communication to see, or rather hear what was being said that was so urgent. Could it be a message from Wilhelmshaven? From Bismark? His mind raced for a moment until several weird voices were heard. But he knew that it was from somewhere..

"Ceskoslovenskeh? Czecheslovakia?" That word tripped him up. What the hell's a Czecheslovakia? He had no idea who in the hell these people were, but they didn't seem pleased at the display of around fifty or a hundred German aircraft appearing over their boarders. But, von Hoth shared some understanding. He knew damn well that Flugkapitän der Leute Elmo Direlwanger would panic and launch all sorts of chemical wunderwaffen without so much as bating an eye. He was eternally grateful that mad man was institutionalized, or at least that's what he remembered that he was doing.

"What do we do now?"

"Look, it's very, very simple, I get on the horn and explain this whole situation to them. In German of course. If the damn bastard's can't translate that shit then It's all their fault that we're going to launch chemical wunderwaffen at the Czechoslovaks."

"But...we don't have chemical wunderwaffen in this squadron, we just have regular boring waffen."

"They don't know that. So let's keep up a façade, shall we. Follow my lead."

With that, the lieutenant sat back in his seat while Obadiah von Hoth sent out a radio message to these "czechoslovaks".

Hallo, mien friends.

We-we're a little lost right now. We could have SWORN that this was rightful Volksrepublik Airspace. I mean we launched from an airfield a few clicks north of here. Terribly sorry mien friends. We'll turn around in a little while, we're just going to keep flying south until possibly we get to Austria-Hungary or Yugoslavia. We're not sure yet. Oh, and if you touch us with some aircraft or some flak, we'll have to assume y'all are a bunch-a redneck bastards with three cousins that y'all married, meaning that we'll have to get chemical wunderwaffen ready to purify you "Czechoslovaks".

uwu.

[Remnants of Exilvania]

3rd January 2004
Czechoslovakia
Carpathians
Air Defense Sector IV

There was stunned silence in the Slovak command center in Bratislava at the radio reply received by the unidentified air fleet. Or perhaps not fully unidentified as their reply made it rather clear that they were some type of Germans. But what truly stunned the Czechoslovak staff was the brazenness with which the answer had been delivered, with which their threat had been ignored and how they had been quite literally insulted.

However, the silence didn't last long, with the regional air defense commander sighing once before nodding to one of his underlings, who took up his radio and sent an encrypted message out to all air defense installations in Sector IV:

"Attention, attention, the unidentified aircraft have been identified as a threat carrying potential chemical weapons. They are to be eliminated at once before reaching any densely populated areas. Usage of S-25 Surface-to-Air-Missiles alongside shell-based anti air authorized."

Almost immediately after the orders had been given, the German Aerial Fleet would come under fire by anti air batteries, primarily made up of PL Kanon vz. 49/2 and PL Kanon vz. 54, well guided by the more advanced Czechoslovak radar assisted guidance and targetting systems. Things would only get worse however as shortly after the first AA shells exploded within the german formations, creating the ever so recognizable black blooms in the skies and sending shrapnel in all directions, missiles came in. Radar guided S-25 missiles with comparatively uncanny precision were launched in excess by the Czechoslovaks on the ground as they focused on bringing the German Aircraft down or get them to turn back. None were to get anywhere with their assumed deadly chemical payload.

Closer to the Czechoslovak towns and military installations, the Czech troopers had begun to pull out smaller calibres to deal with the smaller and more nimble targets at closer range, primarily the Focke-Wulfs if they were to get that far in the first place. VKPL vz. 50 were hastily set up on roads and in fields by Czech conscripts and synced to the radars to increase their effective range and accuracy.

The Germans were in for hell and while the Czechs did their duty without thinking twice about it, the heads of the Vlajka were soon going to have a mental breakdown over the situation this entire incident would cause. For it would mean war, war when they had lost so much and could not be certain of how long they could continue to field their tanks, their aircraft or much of their logistics system.

[Newne Carriebean7]

Miles above the Carpathian Mountain Range
Flugabtrennung-5

"MIEN GOTT! Their peppering us, salting us and frying us in butter, all craft take evasive action immediately!" Obadiah von Hoth exclaimed as they narrowly avoided colliding with a frantic Fokker-Wolfe fighter that dodged and weaved in between puffs of black flak that literally filled the skies above.

Any real semblance of a formation was thrown apart and cast into the skies. Shrapnel would howl through the skies, sometimes followed by the screams of wounded when bits of flaming metal screamed into the cockpits of german level bombers and their escorting fighters.

"Signal the bombers to drop their fucking payloads, we'll need to take something out verdamnit!"

"Alright, alright, To: Gustav ze Ramoskovitz, bombs away From: Lieutenant Colonel Gitzeleadout Skquadzka."

After another moment passed, with more flak guns being fired and another Fockker-wolfe fighter falling out of the sky, Von Hoth shouted into the telegraph frantically.

"FOR FUCK'S SAKES HIENKELS DROP YOUR VERDAMNT PAYLOADS OR I WILL COURT MARTIAL YOU AND HAND YOUR ASSES OVER TO DIRELWANGER!"

The threat of being handed over to the Genocidal maniac Direlwanger for 'human experimentation' and all sorts of things that were against the Hauge Conventions was more than enough for the Hinkels to hastily drop their payloads below, with dozens of high explosive bombs falling out from the bomb bay doors, along with a handful of bombs with yellow stripes on the side marked "Chemical wunderwaffen".

It was certainly unknown where the three thousand individual bombs would find their marks, but there was some certain sick satisfaction that the mustard gas bombs and xyklon B would find some areas of possibly densely populated areas to find homes. It was desired that the gas would end Czech families swiftly and painlessly. That was the desire, and reality is far, far more messy than the humanitarian overtures of chemical weapons makers, as much of an oxymoron as those two were put together.

The aircraft suddenly shuddered violently to the left as the aircraft struggled to keep up, smoke billowing out from the sides of the poor level-bomber before the lieutenant, by some miracle, was able to regain control and prevent it from crashing.

Other german aircraft did not have such skilled pilots or even as fast a reaction time, as the hungry hungry flak that peppered the air claimed more and more victims. One Focker-wolfe Fighter even collided with it's escorting objective Heinkel causing both planes and crews to perish and begin the long, violent, uncontrolled descent down to hell. Or in this case "Czechosolovakia", whatever that was.

"What the hell do we do now?"

"Umm, Push on verdamnit! We need to reach Vienna and rendezvous with our allies! We must do it!"

"The flak's too damn heavy, we're suffering losses. You'd rather get us all killed for Vienna. I mean, it's Vienna. You know, Vienna. You want to risk all our lives for Vienna?"

"YES, WE MUST REACH THE RHINE!"

"The Rhine's the other direction you idiot. Dumpkoff. How about we just turn around-"

"I WOULD RATHER IDE-DIE THAN TURN AROUND! SHUT UP!"

With grit and determination, the German Aircraft pressed on, in spite of ever mounting casualties and increasingly dwindling plane numbers. Another burst shook the command plane, almost causing Von Hoth to vomit out his can of mushy grits and lunch of peas, but he managed to suppress the need to vomit over the instrument panel and calmed his breathing down.

"We can...can..we can make it! Just over these damn hills! VORWARTS!"

[Cybernetic Socialist Republics]

January 3rd, Jerusalem, the office of the Chair of the Levantine People's Republic.

---

The meeting with Carthage was a good 4 days away, so it was a good sign that the pre fabricated pieces for the port and the buildings they were to put up on the island in Crete were already where they needed it to be. Picking a location wasn't just about putting a port anywhere that'd work for a meeting, but specifically in the place they'd be using in the long run. This was because Chairwoman Farman, and by extension, the Cooperative Board that guided the fate of the People's Republic, had more in mind for Crete than a simple place for which they could have a meeting with the Carthaginians, though the anticipation of said meeting reverberated through Levantine society. Rather, Crete would be a fundamental peace of their geopolitical strategy in this new world. The location they picked was suitable for the construction of a planned sea side city, one they hoped would one day, years, decades in the future, would be populated by millions. But not millions of Levantines, though, of course there'd be a health Levantine population, but millions of individuals from other nations all around this new world, particularly Europe. A place they'd work, live and play together, all for the larger economic benefit of the Levantine People's Republic. Sort of 'Hong Kong', to a larger European 'china', though close enough to remain an integral part of the LPR rather than become a lost satellite.

To that end, they had to find ways to attract people to Crete and the city to be, though of course, it'd be months before it became anything more than a construction site and years before it was truly a city. Trade was the way cities like these were meant to grow, but the Levantines had a problem. As far as they were concerned, for the most part, given the technological capacity of most of countries in Europe, there was little in the way of manufacturing goods they could expect would be worth their while at the moment, with the possible exception of that which could be purchased by consumers as exotic prestige goods. When it came to natural resources, the Levantine was more the most part self sufficient, with notable the exception of Rare Earth Elements of which they were forced to aggressively recycle, of which would be primarily found in Russia, China and Australia, rather than Europe proper. But there was one, no, two, indispensable resources that the people's of Europe could offer.

One, was labour, there was always uses for human, or sapient labour in all it's forms, some less savory to those outside of the exchange than others, particularly when one could provide cheap food, shelter and other needs. Such labour could be used to produce goods and services which, if not fit for local consumption, would be worth exporting back into Europe. The other resources Europe could provide, was that which what Karl Marx called dead labour, capital. Already the Cooperative Board was abuzz with opportunities the possibility from up opening up foreign markets to capital investment, the purchasing of and expansion of industry within other nations.

But in pursuing this strategy, the Levantine People's Republic would be careful in it's antagonization of local peoples. They would not be flooding local markets with Levantine goods, or moving om their own workers to out compete domestic workers in productivity with better equipment they knew how to use. No, they'd stick to the local techniques and the hiring of local workers, their advantage would come instead from the deployment of management techniques, planning and assessments made possible by modern information technologies. They'd limit the technology they brought over to communications technologies to reach the Head offices of MegaCooperatives back home, which would advise their foreign subsidiaries about how they should go about the deployment of local resources and techniques. From there, the significant, but subtle advantage held by Levantine firms would produce surplus that'd allow for self funded expansion, in addition to further purchases of Levantine Credits with local currency, driving up the LevCred's value vs. local currencies, which would simply serve to make living and working in Crete even more attractive for locals, while making the purchase of that which was worth buying from foreign countries cheaper. With the passage of enough time, the LevCred would move towards the status of reserve currency in this new world's global financial system.

But doing this would require opening up markets to capital investment and wedge would be useful in that respect. For Carthage, they had their desire for pilgrimages to Judea, for most everyone else, that wedge would be oil, produced already domestically, from what'd soon be produced from exploited from of this new world's Persian gulf oil fields and perhaps, if the meeting with Carthage went well, with oil extracted within their realm. But for that, they needed demand. One way to produce customers, beyond simply offering to export, would be through the promotion of oil consuming development such petrol powered automobiles and oil power plants but another, more violent way, would be feeding the maw of war. Which was precisely what Chairwoman Farman had recently began planning out with the rest of the Levantine Cabinet. It was clear to them, relatively early through radio interceptions, that the nation that existed in Germany was an erratic society. Dealing with reactionaries, fascists and leftist professing states hostile to the People's Republic was one thing, but a irrational government could not be abided.

That irrationality only became more increasingly evident in it's actions in the past day. Satellites first detected a massive air fleet heading towards czechia, seemingly unprovoked, which prompted the deployment further of Manta-Ray fighters for closer investigations. Soon after, a threat was made to use chemical weapons, which alone was cause for concern, but when the chemical weapons were dropped, specifically targeting civilians with all of this clearly unprovoked, that was the end of any discussion of whether or not to 'support' the Bohemians. Though of course, this support would never be charity. the LPR had a dominant position in global trade to achieve, after all, so the decision was made, that should the Bohemians accept it, the Republic to mobilize part of singular squadron of LEV Goliath cargo planes, to deliver 3 million liters of oil a day to the Bohemians for the best price they could squeeze out of them, without significantly harming their war effort. It would be a round trip of around 6 hours for each plane given the distance, which made two trips a day more than feasible.

The LEV Goliath

The LEV Goliath was designed as the world's heaviest lifting EM-JET Cargo Plane. Powered by a nuclear fusion reactor and six EM-JETs, it is has a cruising speed of 500 MPH and can comfortably lift a payload of ~550,000 pounds. with a service ceiling of 36,000 ft. The Levantine People's Aerospace Forces maintains a squadron of the aircraft for heavy duty lifting, particularly for petrol transport on short notice, at ~320,000 to ~355,000 liters depending on density.

The issue, beyond the need to contact them first and getting them to agree to trade, was how these Bohemians would by them back. The answer, of course, based on what the Levantines were willing to offer, would be concessions to ownership of businesses and property within their nation, under a similar same model they were plotting to propose to the Carthaginians, for much the same reasons. In this case, however, they were not simply looking to receive the right Levantine MegaCooperatives have the right to purchase subsidiaries within their country, but for the Levantine People's republic to essentially receive IOUs, or the Bohemian currency to sufficient degree that the state could then sell them to the MegaCooperatives to make their purchases. Of course any such agreement would require assurances that the exchange was worthwhile, compared to how the Levantines assets the value of their oil against the value of Bohemian property. The specifics would have to be negotiated. For now, they needed to establish first contact, to do so, they'd utilize the same means of contact they had employed with the Carthaginians.

[Remnants of Exilvania]

3rd January 2004
Czechoslovakia
Carpathians
Kysucké Nové Mesto

Kysucké Nové Mesto, Kischützneustadt in german, Kiszucaújhely in hungarian, was a beautiful little slovak town of 15.073 people, first recorded in history in 1254 under the name Jesenin. It was situated in the Kysuca River Valley, one of the passes from north to south through the Carpathians. As such it was given toll rights early on and recognized as a town with the privileges of market law in the early 14th century. Despite falling on hard times in the 19th century, including floods and fires as well as large scale depopulation due to the war with the British Empire. At one point only 30 households remained.

However, with the rise of the Vlajka in the 30s, everything seemed to turn around. Especcially when the small town turned into the target of one of the party's propaganda projects, leading to the establishment of a precision engineering plant. The construction of this plant quickly attracted thousands of new residents and together with the new residents, the need for new and more products sprung up, diversifying the industry to meet the needs of its new residents. Little changed over the decades in that regarded, the factory changing owners a few times but never being put out of work. When Karoliná assumed command of the Vlajka and by extension the entire Republic, the factory was in her hands, one of her assets. It would quickly be put to work producing parts for the armaments industry. Primarily artillery shells of all makes and calibers.

When the german air fleet approached, the air raid sirens howled here as well, commanding the factory personnel to evacuate into the bunkers provided for them. The rest of the town had to make do mostly with their basements. By the time the german aircraft were above the town, the people were long in relative safety and the local air defense battery was opening up on the german bombers and fighters, doing its best to protect the factory.

Yet it was all for naught, despite the best efforts of the air defense forces. The Germans released their bombs, their menacing howls screeching through the air as they dropped. The explosions started in the north, seemingly random, without any proper targets, hitting anything and everything in the valley as they slowly moved up and then reached the town itself. The ground shook and houses were turned to rubble by direct hits and still the bombs moved further south. Basements caved, got blocked or otherwise torn open by the bombs. The AA battery under its camouflage nets didn't survive the attack either, likely in particular because of the randomness of the german drop, the Germans likely not even having spotted it in the first place. A single, lucky bomb impacted directly in the midst of an ammo dump, causing it to explode in cascading fire and sending shrapnel all across the battery position, turning crewmen out in the open into mincemeat and damaging the barrels of the cannons sticking out of the holes they were dug into, rendering them useless. Not that the crews were still capable of firing after such a large explosion closeby, their ears ringing and their bodies in complete shock.

Worst of all however was the gas. Only few of the townspeople owned gasmasks, the government not bothering with supplying backwater towns in the safety of the Carpathians with gasmasks. No, only the factory staff as well as the soldiers stationed in the town had received those and as such remained unaffected by the Germans' deployment of mustard gas and Zyklon B...for the civilians actually hit by the few chemical weapons that made it into the town that was another story entirely.

Chemical weapons were a dirty business. To those stuck in their basements, where the gas would often gather, it proved especcially deadly, turning them into literal charnel houses as people seemed to be rather intent of getting rid of their own lungs through any way possible. The screams of torment by those stuck down in those basements and slowly dying to the gas in excrutiating ways would stay with those who remained nearby in safer basements forever.

It would take barely half an hour for additional relief forces to come from nearby Žilina, policemen, firefighters, Vlajka militia, soldiers and volunteers who'd come to find a battered but still standing Kysucké Nové Mesto, with citizens coming back out of their basements when they were able, checking on their property, crying over their belongings. Men and women returned from the factory bunkers, looking for their families in the town which had been forced to seek shelter in the basements instead of the bunkers. Most found their families unharmed...yet many still found their homes gone, their families buried or...the faintest smell of gas and an eerie silence.

The tragedy of Kysucké Nové Mesto would cost the lives of 1029 civilians and about 19 soldiers. Another 2382 civilians and 36 soldiers would suffer injuries of varying degrees. Approximately 21 civilians would never be found. Yet these were facts, facts that would take weeks to properly document. For the Vlajka, only the event itself counted. The Massacre of Kysucké Nové Mesto, the newspapers would soon cry. Thousands dead, a prosperous town reduced to smouldering ruins they would declare. A single, bloody event to unify the nation behind in these trying times. An enemy, an amoral aggressor to focus them on instead of the failing economy and sudden loss of...well...nation to the east. The Supreme Council of the State would act soon and the Germans would pay.

For the moment however, orders continued pouring in from Bratislava, correcting the position of the German Air Fleet as the batteries along the way continued launching missiles and shrapnel shells into the air to eliminate this threat. On their current course, Bratislava would likely come under the german bombers and that was a fate to be avoided at all costs, leading to the deployment of additional army units and the setting up of even more, smaller caliber AA to create a veritable wall of lead in the air should the Germans manage to get past all the missiles and long range anti air.

[Speyland]

Events
January, Year 0

Chinese-Japanese Naval Standoff for Korea, No Fighting Occurred
A Chinese navy engaged in a brief standoff against a Japanese navy over the Korean Peninsula in the Korea Strait. From a Chinese perspective, they used gunboat diplomacy to force the Japanese government to hand over Korea to the Chinese Federation, which barely worked. Fortunately, fighting between the two didn't occur, and they agreed to occupy Korea by halves. China will claim North Korea while R.K. Japan will claim South Korea. However, the Chinese government still technically claims over the Korean Peninsula, becoming a controversial topic from now on.

Imperial Socialist Party of China Established, Government Reforms Still Underway
The High Eunuchs recently announced that the Imperial Socialist Party of China (ISPC) is established under the leadership of Gao Hai, one of the High Eunuchs. The ISPC combines elements of socialism, monarchism, militarism, imperialism, Chinese nationalism, and collectivism. Regarding planned government reforms processing on a communist-like agenda, the High Eunuchs decides not to adopt any communist symbols to affiliate with them. Empress Tianzi will not be deposed because of said change. However, the Chinese Federation is yet to be transitioned from a federal monarchy to a constitutional monarchy. In other words, administrative divisions are vested into one power: Gao Hai, while others will serve as advisors of a newly formed cabinet.

Currently, Gao Hai is officially the de facto head of government of the Chinese Federation. At the same time, Empress Tianzi is the de facto head of state which also serves as a figurehead. From now on, the High Eunuchs are properly disbanded, relying on a single leadership. Gao Hai now goes by the title of prime minister. Chinese citizens considered the reformation as authoritarian and unnecessary, but the government ignores it. The renovation should be completed by next month.

From: Prime Minister Gao Hai
To: Soviet diplomat

Greetings. You might remember me from our last meeting which the country is now undergoing a state of governmental reformation to build a socialist society in the name of our Empress. Also, I'm now the de facto head of government of China, with Empress Tianzi being the de facto head of state as a figurehead. Hopefully, the process should be successful by next month. Anyway, would you be interested in the Chinese Federation sharing their technology with the Soviet Union military-wise? It could bolster our friendship once more. I'll be waiting for your reply, comrade.

[Wasi State]

Incident Off the Sakhalin Coast

Several Days After the Korean Compromise
Sakhalin Island

When Germany originally capitulated Imperial Japan in 1946, Southern Sakhalin was ceded to Reichskommissariat Fernost in order to consolidate control of Japan's oversea territories through a series of piecemeal partitions to other R.Ks established in the immediate aftermath of WWII. Now half of the Island, where the Japanese side would've been, has now returned to wilderness like much of Asia outside of China and Siberia (not that R.K. Japan knew of the Soviets yet). And while around thousand scouts and workers have been transferred to the Southern part of the Island, the North still remained largely a mystery.

However it was one that the Kriegsmarine was determined to find out in quick order, especially after the events that had happened earlier with the Chinese in the Korean Strait. R.K. Japan couldn't afford another such incident like that, even the Reichskommissar knew he got off very lucky for that one.

Massive warships were collected for the flotilla this time around, even a vintage Yamamoto that had been upgraded with modern (by Alt!50s standards) equipment. The 'patrol' then patrolled from South to North through the Strait of Tartary, and to both their astonishment and worries, found clear signs of Soviet settlements on the shorelines, as though in the midst of the previous decade.

Looking through their scopes, they had a very obvious choice in mind this time around that was all the more alluring.

"We have a marine division on standby, we can kick these peasants' teeth in, just as we did 10 years ago! This time it'll be easier I bet." One officer on the bridge of the Yamamoto, practically fuming at the mouth, then suggested.

"We'll fire a warning volley, get their attention, demand they cede the whole island to us." Another suggested. "And then we send in the marines to mop up if they refuse."

"Hmm..." The Admiral, an aging Erich Raeder, thought to himself. "We'll contact them first, demand a capitulation of the island or else."

His officers then nodded.

A simple radio message then transmitted to the Soviets on the island. "Surrender or perish, we have you surrounded."

[The Imperial Warglorian Empire]

Chicago City Hall, Chicago, Commonwealth of America
January, 1965
The city bustled and moved with life as it had always done, with automobiles and busses rolling down the streets and both men and women walking to their places of work. It would've seemed as if nothing was out of the ordinary if not for the minutemen of the Continental Army patrolling down the sidewalks, a heavy atmosphere laid upon the centre of the Syndicalist nation.

Herbert C. Heitke, sixth president of the Commonwealth of America, felt that heaviness all too well as he walked down the hallowed halls of Chicago City Hall, the very heart of the Commonwealth's government. It had only been a few days ago, so soon after he had entered office too, that a great bright light had suddenly engulfed the entire Commonwealth. Soon after, Martial Law was declared and the Continental Army was brought up to maintain order: rumours had already spread that the Commonwealth had been attacked by some secret weapon and the last thing the country needed was chaos and panic.

Of course, then reports began flooding in from various border guards: of how the sporadic gunfire had ceased in the tumultuous Union State territories. Of how the Pacific State defences along the western border had disappeared. Of how all contact had been lost with not just the Quebec Revolutionary State in the north, but with all their allies in the Internationale across the globe.

Now it'd been a few days, and Heitke hoped to finally get the bottom of this damn thing.

"Herbert!" a voice called out behind him, Heitke immediately pausing to turn around, the sight of a well-groomed black man approaching him. Well, he was usually well-groomed: the black bags under his eyes were clear for all to see and his suit was a little ruffled, yet the big bright smile on his face never wavered.

Heitke found the smile contagious as he greeted him, "Reverend, good to see you made it, I imagine you've gotten confirmation from Malcolm?"

Martin Luther King Jr, Vice President of the Commonwealth of America, ever so slightly faltered at the question, simply nodding, "indeed I have Herbert and the same with my other contacts in the movement."

Heitke grimaced, "that's....worrying, but it'd be better if we discussed this with the rest of the cabinet, Reverend."

King politely nodded and joined Heitke at his side as the two continued to walk down the hall. It had been on a certain fiery Irish American's suggestion that Heitke made King his running mate in the elections. And it had become evident that it was among the best decisions of his political career, allowing him and King to easily sweep aside Gus Hull and his Totalists in the elections. So far, the minister had been an enthusiastic and front leading administrator of the nation, making more addresses to the public in a week than Heitke normally did in a month. Heitke was confident that if the civil rights leader ran for president, that he'd win in a landslide.

Heitke further grimaced. Of course, his running mate becoming a potential rival in the next election was currently the least of his worries.

Soon the two highest-ranking politicians in the country approached a door at the end of the hall. Saluted by the two soldiers standing at attention, the double doors opened to see several figures turn towards them and promptly stand up upon the sight of their nation's President and Vice President.

"At ease, ladies and gentlemen," Heitke acknowledged, the various figures doing so, "I am glad to have every one of you here today: with that, let us begin. Reverend, I believe you had something to report?"

King nodded, "I have indeed, Mister President. Several days earlier, when this whole debacle had developed, I had attempted to reach out to my friends in both the American Union State and the Pacific States."

"And?"

King wearily shook his head, "I failed to make contact with even a single one. I asked Mister Little for his resistance cells in the Union State and he was the same, no contact whatsoever."

"Thank you Revered. General Rose? I believe you can confirm these rumours."

General Maurice Rose, Chief of Staff of the People's Liberation Army, looked up at Heitke with his usual dour face, "yes, Mr President, borders report complete wilderness."

"Not even a sign of life?"

"None," Rose promptly replied, taking out a large cigar and taking a drag from it. Being the highest-ranking Jew in the Commonwealth Military, Rose's status as a Jew was not as much a deciding factor for his appointment as PLA Chief of Staff; rather it was moreso his own military expertise of which he became famous for while aggressively leading the Commonwealth's tank forces across Europe during the Second Weltkrieg: despite the fact he had a, frankly, rather cold and unsociable exterior.

"Air patrols have confirmed the same thing, Mister President: all our neighbours appear to have poofed out of goddamn existence and been replaced by wilderness," excitedly interjected General Amelia Earhart. Her appointment as Chief of Staff of the People's Revolutionary Airforce was, admittedly, much more politically motivated than Rose, considering the ace's famous exploits both in her civilian experience and as the commander of the (in)famous Red Witches during the Civil War and Weltkrieg. Yet Heitke was delightfully surprised to see that Earhart still had both the passion and enthusiasm for flying as she did in her youth, which had frankly been an absolute blessing for the development of the PRA.

“So there’s nothing out there?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say nothing Mister President: plenty of trees and wildlife, streams and wild beasts crawling about….” Earhart rattled on, though a questioning gaze from Heitke had Earhart stop her rambling.

“….of course, that’s not what you meant,” Earhart coughed, embarrassed, “we have encountered some signs of civilisation: there appear to be some primitive settlements in Texas for example and we’ve intercepted some communications from Newfoundland and across the lake too. But besides that, nothing. It’s almost as if we’d been transported to an entirely new world.”

“Like Alice in Wonderland?” abruptly interrupted Robert F. Kennedy, Attorney General of the People’s Ministry of Justice. Though, the Irish-American quickly quieted down, looking a bit abashed at his sudden outburst, mumbling a quiet apology.

“Yes exactly! Someone gets me….” Earhart chuckled.

“Yes well, it’s all rather exciting ain’t it? Except for the fact that we’ve lost contact with the rest of our allies in the Internationale and are now stuck in an unknown, potentially hostile, world,” warned Admiral Arleigh Burke, Chairman of the Joint-Chiefs and leader of the General Defence Committee, and one of, if not the most, prestigious member of the Commonwealth Military behind Smedley Butler himself, “wanderlust is no excuse for complacency.”

“No matter how fascinating our current situation is, Admiral Burke is in the right, we must keep alert,” Heitke agreed, drumming his fingers on the table, “though at the same time this is no excuse to be pessimistic or aggressive: let us see who exactly is out there before we come to any unsavoury decisions.”

“First of all, Mister Attorney General, how’s the situation on the homefront?”

Kennedy sharply looked up from his own musings. A rather controversial addition, Robert had been a rather avid supporter of his conservative brother, the recently elected President of the Pacific States of America John F. Kennedy, until many of his numerous attempts at progressive reform in the PSA were often blocked as too “Syndicalist” by both the Pacific Congress and his brother. These frustrations appeared to have changed something in the man, as next thing anyone knew he’d taken a flight to the Commonwealth of America and had sworn his allegiance to the hammer and torch. Since then he had become an invaluable, if not zealous, executor of the law under Heitke’s cabinet.

“Well, uh, considering the circumstances Mister President, everything is coming along quite nicely,” Kennedy grinned, “public order hasn’t seen any drastic difference and the public seem calm, if anxious. Though frankly, they’d feel a lot more at ease if not for the Minutemen and PLA patrolling the streets.”

“Martial Law was necessary, Mister Attorney General, we’d just come out of what could have been a massive enemy attack and we could not let the situation spiral out of control,” Admiral Burke scoffed, “and it still is now that we further know of our current circumstances, standard law enforcement is insufficient.”

The temperature of the room seemed to rapidly decrease as Kennedy met Burke’s gaze with a cold glare, immediately silencing the veteran naval officer. “Frankly Burke, this military occupation of yours has caused nothing but control issues. Rumours are still circulating and frankly treating our country like Germany isn’t helping. So I suggest you let my department and I do our God-given jobs instead of interfering in them, Admiral.”

“Easy now, easy now, we are all friends here,” King appealed to the two men, “let us all settle down. Mister President, might I suggest we perhaps reach out to the rest of the world? Attempt to re-establish communications globally and see from whom we can begin a major relationship.”

Heitke, eager to avoid any argument, nodded, “indeed, Reverend, that appears to be the best course of action. I’ll trust that you to inform Mister Sinclair.”

Heitke then turned to the rest of officers and officials in the room, “though the world as we know it has changed drastically, there are certain aspects of life that must by all necessity be retained even in this new era. More important than ever we must stay strong, steadfast and united in the face of any potential danger that comes our way: solidarity at all costs. These next few weeks might be the most important in this young nation’s history, and I expect all of you to fulfil your duty to the American people. They, and perhaps many others in this world, are counting on us to uphold their liberties and their freedoms from any Imperialist oppressor.”

“Let us not disappoint them.”

To: The World
From: People's Commissariat for Foreign Affairs, Commonwealth of America
Encryption: Public Announcement

To those who are concerned,
This is the Commonwealth of America, reaching out to the nations and factions of the world.
We extend a hand of greeting and desire to establish official communications between our nation and yours. We do not seek conflict or war, only to attempt to re-establish contact with the world at large and to try and organise a response to this new situation we all find ourselves in.
An olive branch has been extended, and we hope that you in your respective governments take it in full as a sign of potential friendship.

While we offer strong relations to all willing and friendly nations, we especially extend it to those who would follow the words of Marx, Lenin, Debs and Reed. It is of the utmost importance to the Commonwealth that those who adhere to the mission that is the liberation and upholding of the Working Class band together more than ever in order to maintain and continue the work that is the People's Global Revolution.

Whether gear and torch, hand and rose, hammer and sickle or hammer and sword, now is the time to stand up together hand in hand and brace for what this new world has prepared for us. And most importantly for us to endure it together.

BREAK THE CHAINS!

Signed, People's Commissar for Foreign Affairs Upton Sinclair
President Herbert Heitke

[Speyland]

(Image)
To: The World
From: People's Commissariat for Foreign Affairs, Commonwealth of America
Encryption: Public Announcement

To those who are concerned,
This is the Commonwealth of America, reaching out to the nations and factions of the world.
We extend a hand of greeting and desire to establish official communications between our nation and yours. We do not seek conflict or war, only to attempt to re-establish contact with the world at large and to try and organise a response to this new situation we all find ourselves in.
An olive branch has been extended, and we hope that you in your respective governments take it in full as a sign of potential friendship.

While we offer strong relations to all willing and friendly nations, we especially extend it to those who would follow the words of Marx, Lenin, Debs and Reed. It is of the utmost importance to the Commonwealth that those who adhere to the mission that is the liberation and upholding of the Working Class band together more than ever in order to maintain and continue the work that is the People's Global Revolution.

Whether gear and torch, hand and rose, hammer and sickle or hammer and sword, now is the time to stand up together hand in hand and brace for what this new world has prepared for us. And most importantly for us to endure it together.

BREAK THE CHAINS!

Signed, People's Commissar for Foreign Affairs Upton Sinclair
President Herbert Heitke

From: Prime Minister Gao Hai
To: American diplomat

Greetings. We managed to contact you as I, Prime Minister Gao Hai, am interested in your motive vying in forging a friendship across the world. Seeing your technology level, a meeting would be appropriate for us as it'll be done through a phone call via telephone as we also have that. I'm looking forward to meeting you there. Farewell for now.

[Cybernetic Socialist Republics]

(Image)
To: The World
From: People's Commissariat for Foreign Affairs, Commonwealth of America
Encryption: Public Announcement

To those who are concerned,
This is the Commonwealth of America, reaching out to the nations and factions of the world.
We extend a hand of greeting and desire to establish official communications between our nation and yours. We do not seek conflict or war, only to attempt to re-establish contact with the world at large and to try and organise a response to this new situation we all find ourselves in.
An olive branch has been extended, and we hope that you in your respective governments take it in full as a sign of potential friendship.

While we offer strong relations to all willing and friendly nations, we especially extend it to those who would follow the words of Marx, Lenin, Debs and Reed. It is of the utmost importance to the Commonwealth that those who adhere to the mission that is the liberation and upholding of the Working Class band together more than ever in order to maintain and continue the work that is the People's Global Revolution.

Whether gear and torch, hand and rose, hammer and sickle or hammer and sword, now is the time to stand up together hand in hand and brace for what this new world has prepared for us. And most importantly for us to endure it together.

BREAK THE CHAINS!

Signed, People's Commissar for Foreign Affairs Upton Sinclair
President Herbert Heitke

From:
The Cabinet of the Levantine People's Republic
To:
President Herbert Heitke

Greetings, comrades, our network of satellite infrastructure had informed us of your existence from our first few days on the new world. We have reason to believe that you profess the leftist ideology, but given your distance to us in comparison to our immediate problems and the unfortunate reality is that we've learned within this world is that there exist multiple nations that use the clothing of leftism to cover a fascist intent, domestically and abroad. As we speak, such nations are engaged in the use of chemical weaponry on the European continent, in fighting wars well before any of us can truly say we've put our internal issues under control.

We hope that the Commonwealth of America is true to the values it professes in it's actions, though we can say that that optimistic engagement with the rest of the world that your announcement represents suggests to you are to be trusted to be what you say your are.

Signed by:
President Yago Hadar
Chairwoman Masira Farman

[Rupudska]

From: Gunther Achterhof, General Secretary of the Ustio Communist Party
To: President Herbert Heike

Greetings, Comrades! It warms my young heart to learn there are yet more socialist nations in this strange new world.

It pains me that greetings and verbal support are all I can offer at this time. We are but a small party - would that Yuktobania had been transferred with us instead of a few volunteer military units! - and what material support we can provide is needed elsewhere.

Likely you have heard of the fascist threat to our north. I do not speak of the nation of Czechoslovakia, though I wish its people freedom from the chains of their authoritarian masters. I speak of the nation calling itself Germany, which has earned the ire of all mankind - and all life, if rumors of the "Soviet Union" to our east are to be believed - for its reckless use of chemical weapons and an ideology so vile it even dirties the name of fascism.

Thanks to them, instead of offering support, I must ask it of you. It is rare for me to agree with the Conservatives in power in Ustio, but in this our aims are one. The declaration of war is not long now, I have been informed, and Ustio will throw open her doors to volunteers of every nation, welcoming all who desire to raise their flag in the annihilation of tyranny from this world.

[Newne Carriebean7]

Wilhelmshaven, Greater Volksrepublik of Germany
Preußischer Kriegsrat
January 3, Year Null

Another sleepless night.

"Fuck."

Field Marshall and Militärpräsident Fredrich von Paulus again saw little reason in his mind to sleep. Though this time, a more urgent matter had been at his door. He tossed and turns for hours. His mind still filled with the screaming of the damned. The screaming of the condemned and the screaming of the innocent.

Still, for all the screaming, it wouldn't do him any good to ignore it. That and a much..much more urgent matter had garnered the cold, pitiless eyes of the calculating man that was the leader of almost seventy million german folks and their families. A frantic telephone call surprised Fredrich. He knew he couldn't go back to the nice, warm bed that creaked only occassionally, so he gingerly picked up the receiver and spoke a quiet greetings to whoever else was on the other line. Given that this line was only utilized for the most extereme emergencies, this had better be urgent.

"Hallo? Who is there?"

A pale, grey toned voice of a frightened individual spoke on the phone, trying his best to maintain at least an allure or mirage of professionalism in his tone of manner when speaking to the commander in chief. He was also holding in a
"Militärpräsident. There is a situation."

"I'd assume there would be, given you're using the red phone. Please, be brief."

"One of our fighter squadrons got lost and dropped their payloads on the...Czechs. They had chemical weapons and were armed. From our military reports just coming in, there appears to be german aerial losses in the ongoing battle. More updates are sure to follow."

With that, Von Paulus sat in idle thought for a moment, the room being so quiet that the only three things the leader of Germany heard was the dial tone of the reciver, his own heart beat and the tick of the clock that silently chimed along methodically within his humble abode. His features scrunched up before replying following a long period of silence from him.

"I see. Inform the d.g.s.ü and foreign ministry to rendezvous at the Preußischer Kriegsrat immediately. Don't put the military on high alert yet, but instruct Loomis to put out a statement urging "violent pacifism" or something along those lines. Preferably before he gets going for the meeting. We're going to sort this situation out post-haste. Goodbye."

With that, Von Paulus abruptly turned on his heels while in bed, hitting the ceiling before hopping down, cradling his crashed cranium like a crazed communist. Following a mild case of the swearing, the leader of the national volksrepublik free world took leave of his functions as a human being, freshened himself up as he knew he was going to be in the presence of one of the few women smart enough to be on the general staff... and her contemporary that would undoubtedly try to hit on him unprofessionally during the meeting. It was days like today that Von Paulus was ever thankful he was a straight man.

---

The Oak doors were hastily opened by the two flanking guards that held the most important men in the Volksrepublik. Apart from those bumbling idiots that fought for hours in the Seemans and Soldatenskongresses, real power was concentrated nominally in the 7 field marshals. However, two more seats were brought up by two other individuals, which wanted to get the foreign side of things. The abrupt slamming of the doors brought their attention to Von Paulus, who all stood up from their seats to give the traditional german von paulus 'fuck you' salute before sitting back down.


Von Paulus audibly cleared his throat as the meeting got underway.

"Gentlemen." He glanced over at Packard and her husband for a flicker of a second. "And gentlewomen. There is a serious situation I just received word of this morning. I was reading through the documentation recently presented to me. It states that a serious incident occurred several hours ago when German aircraft, low on fuel, opted to get rid of their payloads onto Czechoslovakian towns and fields.

Normally such weapons when dropped from altitudes in which we were flying would not normally cause much damage. But we had chemichal weapons within. I have not received updates from the flight crews involved in the attack, but word of mouth and intercepted radio communication from the german aireal commander indicates that chemichal weapons were indeed utilized in this attack. I seriously doubt these 'Czechs' will be pleased. I would enjoy your comments and concerns over this sensitive issue, please."

"Militärpräsident." Began Field Marshall Hans Krebs. "If I was in the same situation as the czechs, where you had an numerically superior force intrude upon your airspace, I would take the needed precautions to better defend the nation."

"Continue.." Von Paulus encouraged, listening to Kreb's advice on the sensitive issue.

"This would entail mobilizing the population, strengthening already existing boarder fortifications, rallying the populace around a common foe, getting the economy on the war footing and sending out diplomatic serverings once the aforementioned conditions are met to ensure maximum preparedness in a war. We don't want to go off half-mobilized now do we? Even if it is against these...czech untermensh."

"Bullshit!"
The several eyes of the room soon turned their attention to an impassioned looking Herman Vöring who had spoken inbetween bites of Kaiser Fried Chicken while drinking a smoothie with the star of David on it.

"I'm sure for every one hundred soldiers of ours, we can easily eliminate ten to fifty of the Czech inferiors! With those numbers, we have more people mobilized than those damned czechs! It's a simple weight ratio! A 50 kg Czech jewden cannot stand up against a 200 kg German gay super soldier! Those damned, inferior Czechs will meet the jackboot of national socialist liberation. We'll establish the Reich Industrial Area-Czechoslovakia, and we shall send in Eizengrupp-"

The Fat fuck air marshal was interrupted by a piercing scream in the air that robbed every eye that had once been paying attention to the 'walking' heart attack and study in german obesity for a literal skeleton with sunken eyes that had fires brimming in them akin to a furnace in a house.

"NIEN! NIEN NIEN NIEN! YOU DUMB FUCKS! EINSATZGRUPPEN WILL NEVER CODDLE THE CZECH CIVILLIAN INFERIORS! I WILL NOT DEPLOY THEM TO PURIFY YOUR HEARTS! YOU SICK FUCKS! EINSATZGRUPPEN WILL INSTEAD BE USED TO PURIFY THE FRENCH FUCKS!"

"Oskar Direlwanger, what is the meaning of this outburst?!" Shouted a clearly irritated Heinz Guderian.

"It's..." began the man that was great with children, "Just that I object to the utilization of the Einsatzgruppen with respect to the southern front. Those soldiers I will remind the Luftwaffe chief are under the control of Reichsführer SA. You need the approval of Loomis to utilize HIS troops. Loomis, do you grant permission to utilize the Einsatzgruppen for ethnic cleansing of Czechoslovakia?"

Loomis turned to his wife and whispered something before locking eyes with Direlwanger.

"I'm well aware we both share responsibilities for 'quality time' projects of the people of Germany. However, I simply don't see the need to deploy seventy five thousand Einsatzgruppen to cleanse the Czech countryside when you've got your marching death squads already. You've got soldiers in the army. A man can shoot as easily an enemy soldier as he can gun down an unarmed combatant. Some would call those violations of the Hauge. I say, fuck the Hauge convention. You will not get your special genocidal maniacs Direlwanger. That is final. Ooh by george! Ooooh by jimmity! I just spilt some grape juice on my pants. Do we have any towels?"


Direlwanger's face curled into a frown at the news, but he sighed to himself. He did want to maintain a good relationship with the leader of the SA, so his normal death glare in his eyes was replaced with a more 'resting bitch face'. Did Direlwanger have a 'resting bitch face'? Not many within Field Marshalls could definitively say so. Following a period of really heavy breaths (almost as if the skeleton's lungs had iron weights placed on top of them), Direlwanger shakily gripped the table before begining.

"I...I see. No Einsatzgruppen for Direlwanger. Direlwanger disappointed. The Einsatzgruppen will remain under SA control at the moment. Then I shall make do with the regular army when we get prepared. The czech cleaning will be undertaken by the Volksarmee at the earliest convenience. By the way, what is our general plan for attack anyhow? I'm surprised that no-one's brought anything resembling that up."

Field Marshall Wilhelm Burgdoff stood up with some slides in his hand, an eager expression dotting his face as it was his moment to shine. It was his five minutes of fame in the spotlight, and he was happy for it. His hands shook for but a moment before fitting the first slide into the projector and having Direlwanger hit the lights with his Luger. The ceiling light soon tasted the chambered 9mm pistol round that covered the room in darkness until the projector came on with the whine of a small horse.

"The General Plan is three fold. A Three pronged attack into the Czech part of Czechoslovakia. General Wilhelm Mohke will command Army Group Center. General Hugo Krass will take command of Army Group North. Army Group South will be under the direct control of General Julius Schreck."

A small click was heard on the projector as a map was brought up, with the Greater Volksrepublik and Czechoslovakia, along with three main arrows in a movement near one another.

"Army Group north will attack from near the town of Breslau and strike hard and fast across the country, trying to knock out their communications and general equipment as needed to sow chaos in their lines. Army Group Center will strike out from Leipzig and make the march against Prague, punching a line straight through to meet up with North. Army Group South will wheel in from the southeast, following along the Danube river until sweeping in a northeastern motion to meet up with the other armies."

"And of Air support? Wasn't it the brilliant idea of Vöring to have the luftwaffe to conduct such an aerial bombing raid in the first place, getting us in the shit?" Admiral and Field Marshall Karl Dönitz bitterly complained in between puffs of his cherished cigarette.

Vöring choked slightly on his KFC, almost spitting out the thigh that he had been enjoying while half-listening to the naval commander's venomous comments. He slammed the now empty bucket of greasy diabetes as the walking heart attack steadied himself up from his chair and glared at Dönitz with fire in his eyes.

"You ought to stay in your lane, Dönitz! I am the master of the sky, you are the captain of some shitty tugboat that just so happened to have a lil' gold on-ya person that got you this job inna the first place!"

"That's rich, coming from someone who prides himself on hard work. Doing what? Eating?! Someone get this fat fuck a salad!" Dönitz hissed, slamming his fists on the table and laid a full fist near the Luftwaffe commander.

"The only sandwich you're ass is going to need is a knuckle sandwich, let me take this fat fuck out back behind the gym!"

"THAT'S QUITE ENOUGH! You two, stop bickering like fucking children! You are grown ass adults, I expect you both to act like some!"

The Voice was of Loomis, who had clearly had enough of the cat fighting between the navy and air force. His facial expression oozed irritation from the shouting and shoving match of the fat ass and the skinny man.

"Now then, I suggest we move on to diplomacy. We've gotten a whole buncha lotta messages n' mail n' what have all y'all. One from the Commonwealth of America... and that's it. Ok so I lied. We've only got one message."

Everyone else in the conference room did a visible face palm at the sheer incompetence on display, safe for Loomis who didn't understand why everyone was slapping their face.

" It reads: 'To those who are concerned,
This is the Commonwealth of America, reaching out to the nations and factions of the world.

We extend a hand of greeting and desire to establish official communications between our nation and yours. We do not seek conflict or war, only to attempt to re-establish contact with the world at large and to try and organise a response to this new situation we all find ourselves in.

An olive branch has been extended, and we hope that you in your respective governments take it in full as a sign of potential friendship.

While we offer strong relations to all willing and friendly nations, we especially extend it to those who would follow the words of Marx, Lenin, Debs and Reed. It is of the utmost importance to the Commonwealth that those who adhere to the mission that is the liberation and upholding of the Working Class band together more than ever in order to maintain and continue the work that is the People's Global Revolution.

Whether gear and torch, hand and rose, hammer and sickle or hammer and sword, now is the time to stand up together hand in hand and brace for what this new world has prepared for us. And most importantly for us to endure it together.'

That's all."

Loomis took a puff on a cigarette before begining.

"OH BY GEORGE! OH BY JIMMITY! These people seem to be fucking communists! Though who is this, Marx fellow. I..I don't remember hearing about him in school."

"Probably because your school was in the 1750's, old man."

Loomis scanned the room for the offending punk that had said it, briefly making eye contact with Field Marshall Heinz Guderian and giving him a one finger salute.

"Aaanyways, How should we respond, 'hi we're nazis?' That seems like it wouldn't go over too well."

"But we're not nazis." Protested Von Paulus weakly.

"That's up for debate. How about we say, 'hi we're Marxists with Prussian characteristics that also hate the teachings of Vladimir Lenin, care for a coffee?'"

"Goddamn. That sounds kind of gay. If they're leader's a guy they might not be into it."

"And exactly How many girls have you hit on?" Smirked Loomis with a shit eating grin on his face as Direlwanger blushed before his face turned red with anger at the now laughing Loomis.

"Oh fuck off!"

To: People's Commissar for Foreign Affairs Upton Sinclair
From: Minister of Foreign Affairs for the Greater Volksrepublik of Germany Wilhelmina Packard

---

Hiel Hitler! We are all for the revolution of the sailors and soldiers. We are vowing to bring this revolution across multiple countries to radicalize those within their boarders and rip their governing systems from the inside out!

Hey, hey clara can I have another cigarette. Thanks. Oh yes. Ooooh yes much better. Aaah, that's some good tobacco shit. Where was I? Blah, blah blach hitler, blah blah blach revolution, right, national socialism. We belive in the powers of Marx, but not Lenin. He can go to hell. If y'all wanna have some sort of 'socialist shin dig' with our asses, the Greater Volksrepublik of Germany is more than willing to negotiate and meet with friends of our dear old Adolf and Walt Disney.

Wishing you both a quick and painless death and many long years rithing in the pits of hell, Wilhelmina Packard of Germany.

ORBAT FOR OPERATION CHILD KINDLING

ARMY GROUP NORTH
Infantry
72,860 Armed personnell
21,605 support personnell
94,465 total soldiers
Armor
40 Panzerkampfwagen-I tanks
36 Panzerkampfwagen-II tanks
209 Panzerkampfwagen-III
234 Sturmgeschütz III Assault Guns
192 Panzerkampfwagen-IV Tanks
197Panzerkampfwagen Panther Tanks
136 Panzerkampfwagen VI Tiger Ausf. E (Tiger)
199 Panzerkampfwagen Tiger Ausf. B ( King Tiger)

Support

180 Panzerfeldhaubitze 18M auf Geschützwagen III/IV (Sf) Hummel Self Propelled Guns
74 Wurfrahmen 40 Mobile Rocket Artillery
90 Panzerjäger I Tank Destroyers
88 Geschützwagen Tiger Self Propelled Guns
605 7.5 cm Panzerabwehrkanone 40 Artillery Pieces
541 3.7 cm Panzerabwehrkanone 36 Artillery Pieces
18 Sturmpanzer I Bison Self Propelled Guns


ARMY GROUP CENTER
Infantry
61,804 Armed personnell
37,212 support personnell
99,016 total soldiers
Armor
55 Panzerkampfwagen-I tanks
18 Panzerkampfwagen-II tanks
125 Panzerkampfwagen-III
183 Sturmgeschütz III Assault Guns
75 Panzerkampfwagen-IV Tanks
102 Panzerkampfwagen Panther Tanks
59 Panzerkampfwagen VI Tiger Ausf. E (Tiger)
94 Panzerkampfwagen Tiger Ausf. B ( King Tiger)

Support

56 Panzerfeldhaubitze 18M auf Geschützwagen III/IV (Sf) Hummel Self Propelled Guns
25 Wurfrahmen 40 Mobile Rocket Artillery
112 Panzerjäger I Tank Destroyers
45 Geschützwagen Tiger Self Propelled Guns
275 7.5 cm Panzerabwehrkanone 40 Artillery Pieces
306 3.7 cm Panzerabwehrkanone 36 Artillery Pieces
36 Sturmpanzer I Bison Self Propelled Guns

ARMY GROUP SOUTH
Infantry
73,888 Armed personnell
20,014 support personnell
93,902 total soldiers

Armor
22 Panzerkampfwagen-I tanks
25 Panzerkampfwagen-II tanks
80 Panzerkampfwagen-III
127 Sturmgeschütz III Assault Guns
103 Panzerkampfwagen-IV Tanks
114 Panzerkampfwagen Panther Tanks
60 Panzerkampfwagen VI Tiger Ausf. E (Tiger)
95 Panzerkampfwagen Tiger Ausf. B ( King Tiger)

Support

63 Panzerfeldhaubitze 18M auf Geschützwagen III/IV (Sf) Hummel Self Propelled Guns
40 Wurfrahmen 40 Mobile Rocket Artillery
35 Panzerjäger I Tank Destroyers
48 Geschützwagen Tiger Self Propelled Guns
198 7.5 cm Panzerabwehrkanone 40 Artillery Pieces
305 3.7 cm Panzerabwehrkanone 36 Artillery Pieces
48 Sturmpanzer I Bison Self Propelled Guns

[Sudbrazil]

The Sea of Decay
January 1st, Anno Dominum 4000

---

“There is something amiss in the wind…”

Knight-Commandant Bonifácio d’Altavista had ridden the wind for many long years. He had felt it rush through his hair in his homestead’s hills, he had felt it blow past his brow on his first glider, and he felt it now as it beat against his ceramic sallet, like a wave beating on a rocky shore. But this wind was different. It was harsh, yet hollow, a foreign wind against which his aerial corvette struggled.

Beneath, the Sea stretched as far as his eyes could see. It was an alien landscape which he had not grown accustomed to despite his many sorties into it. Bulbous fungal stalks covered in white fungal masses belched pale spores onto a tangled mess of sickly-pastel trunks and greenish blue canopies. In the skies above, a thick cloud chittered incessantly and unnervingly, with charcoal carapaces, clacking mandibles and soulless crimson eyes. This horde of flat-bodied hebiquera and cow-sized yanma bugs enveloped the western sky, seemingly turning and wheeling to flee deeper into the Sea rather than face the corvettes’ cannons. His men were relieved to see no Ohmu was among them.

Three armoured corvettes had been dispatched to retrieve a particularly beautiful insect shell spotted by a group of bandeirantes one month ago and bring it to Orlamar as a New Year’s gift. As they sat in their armoured cockpits and gun turrets, the noise of their jet engines was drowned by the fluttering wings outside. Such a flock had not been seen since the age of Baltazar the Wise, and so many sages thought there was no longer enough nourishment in the Sea to sustain the hosts that had swallowed Pindorama or the Kingdom of Acre. And yet, there it was, an obstacle in their path which not even all of the Empire’s airships could vanquish.

“May the Almighty have mercy on the tribes beyond the Sea,” murmured the Knight-Commandant. His Squire desperately signalled the adjacent ships to hold their fire.

“Hark my lord! Above the beasts!” cried one of the spotters in the aft turret. When the men turned their telescopes and rangefinders to the clouds above, the skies were filled with a colour from beyond time. In an instant of dread and hope, the flying beasts let out one shrill cry before they hastily melted into the clouds above and the canopies below. And lo! In the horizon, beyond a patch of fungal groves, was a sight which made the veterans of the Knight-Commandant cry.

Forests! Fresh, virgin forests! whose smell was carried by the wind, and whose primordial palm fronds and familiar leaves fluttered in the breeze. It was a New Year’s miracle.

[Laiakia]

Leningrad Front, Union of Soviet Socialist Republics
January, 0

The hum of engines sounded loud and clear everywhere in the Leningrad Military District and beyond. Mere hours ago, Leningrad's administrators and military garrison had gotten news from STAVKA regarding great hordes of unidentified creatures approximately 45km away from Leningrad. Along with this warning, an official order to evacuate Leningrad and any nearby town had been issued to prevent civilian casualties. Meanwhile, the vast fortification effort that had been undertaken in Leningrad would be repeated 16km from the ‘border’ with these unknown organisms. Trenches would be dug, mines would be laid, tanks would be prepared and guns of all shapes and sizes would be mobilized into range to rain fire upon those who would threaten the Motherland.

Maxim Popov had looked forward to finally returning home to his family, grateful for being allowed to survive the dreadful months of the war. This, however, would not be the case. Instead, he and his comrades of the 42nd Army had been ordered to set up defenses and dig in by the Oranienbaum area as well as create a continuous set of defences from the Krasnaya Gorka fort to the town of Krasnoye Selo where the 55th Army would continue fortifying the lines towards Krasnogvardeysk. From there, the 67th Army would cover the fortified lines stretching from Krasnogvardeysk towards Oredzh and further towards Veliky Novgorod where the defensive line would be protected by the 23rd Army and would stretch through all kinds of terrain which would make an assault very difficult to pull off without significant casualties, eventually ending up in Kholm, where the line would come under the jurisdiction of the 37th Army. There the line would extend even further and eventually end in the town of Berez’kovo.

Maxim currently sat in the back of a truck en route to his designated area of the line. On the way out of Leningrad, he and the others in the back of the truck watched as more and more trucks poured out of Leningrad filled to the brim with civilians evacuating further east. Out of the original 3,338,500,000 inhabitants of the city, as many as 1,400,000 had already been evacuated during the Great Patriotic War. Contrary to the previous evacuation, the current one would seek to move all non-essential civilians eastwards and leave the city running on a skeleton administration while the military transformed the city into a giant fortress. The same evacuation process would take place in the towns and villages that lay in front, on, and right behind the defensive line.

Maxim brought his flippers up to his tired eyes and rubbed them slightly in an attempt to stay awake. Looking amongst his comrades, a mixture of polar bears and penguins, in the truck, he could see the same uncertainness that plagued his own mind. Deciding to make time go faster, Maxim began talking.

“So, uh, why do you think they’re redeploying us and evacuating?”

A polar bear, Antoy Vladistikovich, responded in a sour tone. “We’ve all been briefed. Unknowns near the Leningrad Front in almost the exact spot the Emus were in September.”

“Yeah, but do you guys think it’s the Emus?”

No one answered, looking down into the floor of the truck. Maxim decided not to raise the question again and only hoped that they’d be able to hold the designated lines. Looking out of the truck again, Maxim and his squadmates watched as they drove past multiple slower-moving trucks towing anti-tank and anti-air guns as well as artillery towards the lines. The longer-range artillery would be placed some kilometers behind the frontline in order to minimize risks. The shorter range artillery would be emplaced further along the line in order to act as impromptu heavy AT guns in case of heavy enemy armor. The same would be done for the AA, being evenly spread out along the entire front to cover the skies and, if the existing AT proved to not be enough, the ground.

---

Mosbird Outskirts, Union of Soviet Socialist Republics
January, 0

Lavrenty Beria, head of the NKVD, lumbered through the streets of Mosbird accompanied by his two personal guards. Being a walrus made it inherently difficult to move on land, yet he made due. He was currently heading towards his personal residence to rest for the day. Whilst walking, or hobbling along the ground, Beria kept a keen eye on passersbys. He more specifically eyed the women and children, who seemed to be half-sprinting past him in an attempt to escape whatever disgusting acts he wished to do to them. Eventually, he had made his way to his residence with no catch. He turned to his guards to speak.

“I’d like no disturbances tonight.”

The guards nodded, taking a position on either side of the grand gate that led into his residence’s garden.

As Beria entered his home, he let out a tired breath. The walk to and from the Kremlin was tiring for the aging NKVD chief, and he had hoped to be able to spend the evening with a lovely woman that he would have picked off the street. Hobbling over to his kitchen, Beria poured himself a glass of vodka. As he was about to take the first sip, the sound of a creaking floorboard from the second floor echoed across the vast residence. Beria put the glass down slowly, careful not to make a sound. He then proceeded to his fridge, pulling out a newly-catched fish and breaking it apart, revealing a silenced pistol. After checking if it was still loaded, Beria hobbled as silently as a walrus out of water could towards the stairs leading to the second floor. Grasping onto the rail mounted into the wall, Beria hauled himself onto the first step with a quiet boomph.

It took the NKVD chief 7 entire minutes to get to the top. By then, he was already quite exhausted and the noises had stopped, replaced only by the very audible breathing of Beria. Being careful, or at least as careful as an exhausted walrus can be, he slowly rubbed against the floor and came up to the door to his office.

Inside, the tiniest pitter-patter of feet could be heard through the door. Beria held his breath and counted down.

”Three. Two. One.”

Beria burst through his office door, aiming his gun wildly and flicking on the lights. This blinded him quite, forcing him to cover his eyes momentarily. As his eyes adjusted, he quickly glanced inside the office, spotting nothing out of the ordinary except four large rats running wildly in the center of the room, spooked by the sudden light. Beria cursed, for he now had to deal with rat poop in his office and god-knows-where-else. Putting his gun down, he took a last glance around his office. His window was closed, his desk was riddled with papers, nothing seemed out of the ordinary, so he closed the door and went to get the rat poison. Unbeknownst to the NKVD chief, there had been someone in his office.

Under all of the papers on his desk lay a document involving Beria in a plot dedicated to the assassination of high-profile soviets such as Stalin, Kaganovich, Molotov as well as potential targets to shift the blame on, some of which include the recently arrived Otherworlder Soviets, as well as the imprisonment of major female Soviet figures. Along with this, there was attached a list of co-conspirators, namely Malenkov, Abakumov, and some members of both the Communist Party and the NKVD. The trap was set, now it was all a waiting game until the pieces were ready to strike.

---

Mosbird Labratory 2 of The Scientific Acedemy of The USSR, Union of Soviet Socialist Republics
January, 0

Igor Kurchatov and his scientist-comrades were ecstatic. Ever since the German invasion of the summer of ‘41, Kurchatov and his fellow researchers had been looking into atomic research. Even though Stalin himself seemed disinterested, they kept persisting. Now, this persistence would finally pay off. With the arrival of the ‘Otherworlders’, as the Soviets that came with the French delegation had become known as, came also their knowledge. Rumors were circulating amongst the intelligentsia that they had somehow piqued Stalin’s interest in atomics and had been given the authorization to aid the infant Soviet Nuclear Program.

Currently, Kurchatov and a few other ‘famous’ scientists were trying to understand the guide they had been given regarding the creation of the atom bomb.

“So, uhh, what are we supposed to do?” asked one scientist.

“That comrades, is something we are to discuss today!” Yulia, the ESP division girl from earlier, flashed all the penguins (and other assorted animals) in the room a bright smile.
“Comrade Georgy Flyorov was briefed on the materials a bit earlier than the rest of you, so I’ll let him do the explaining,” Yulia stepped aside and let Flyorov - a much shorter penguin mind you - step forth and present his findings.

“Thank you, comrade Yulia,” Flyorov began, “As we know comrades, the invention of the atomic weapon in the other world was an event that forever changed the world, and it is imperative that our Union obtain such a device as soon as possible. The science behind the bomb already exists: we all worked on our theories of such and turns out everything was proven right in the otherworld.”

“This does mean we can skip… most of the initial steps the otherworlders took, correct? Such as bomb design and estimation of which methods work and which don’t?” A junior scientist asked.

“Indeed it does,” Flyorov nodded, “Thanks to the generosity of the otherworlder Soviets, we’ve already obtained the schematics for a few first-generation fission devices and likewise possess the designs for a number of uranium and plutonium refinement facilities,” he said while passing out a number of papers to the assorted scientists.

“Comrade Yulia assures us that the most efficient, if potentially costly method towards uranium refinement in particular will be that of gaseous diffusion. A standard plant operating under the gaseous diffusion principle - one similar to those built by the otherworlder Americans in the mid 1940s - would take upwards of 2 years to complete and likely cost upwards of half a billion dollars to complete. The original building was not particularly efficient: capable of only producing 1 kg of 36% refined U-235 everyday, however with technological assistance we are confident that we can increase this to 5 kg of 90% refined U-235 daily, enough to produce the amount of uranium required for a first generation atomic weapon within 10 days of the facility’s operation. Likewise, with French robots and machinery… we should be able to finish the facility within a year.”

There were multiple murmurs when this was mentioned. An atomic weapon in just 10 days after the facility went into full-scale operation? A proper refinement facility completed within a year? A bomb by 1942? Everyone was excited, but also worried about the potential dangers behind the project. What if something went wrong? What if there was an accident?

“Of course, there are other avenues of approach I would suggest, such as focussing on the production of plutonium, a heavier radioactive element which has a much lower critical mass and is therefore easier to weaponize in bulk. Of course, we estimate the costs associated with pursuing this route to be… higher than what the current Soviet economy can handle, especially with the already high degree of militarization and the other uranium-based bomb project. Nonetheless, I’ll pull a few strings and see what I can do. The French… have plenty of material to spare in regards to nuclear engineering, after all.”

The assorted scientists nodded. Andrei Sakharov raised his hand.

“Excuse me comrade, but there is also the issue of mining. It normally takes years to set up proper mines, and even though we have the necessary infrastructure in place… some of the locations you’ve marked out for us are rather isolated.”

“Then make it work,” Yulia replied, “our nations’ GULAG system exists for a reason. I have submitted a request to comrade Stalin to call for the drafting of 100,000 manual laborers to participate in digging canals, laying tracks, and paving roads towards the necessary locations. The French leader, Rene Imbot, has promised that he’ll send us a few thousand tons of heavy mining machinery in exchange for rights towards rare earth material speculation in the area. It should speed up progress nicely, and we should make substantial progress in 2 years at most. Anyways, shall we continue?”

The room collectively nodded. In the following minutes, a number of design plans would be reviewed while the Soviet scientists debated amongst themselves over which route to take. The atmosphere was quite excited: everyone wanted to take part in this and Yulia didn’t seem as scary as Stalin! Things were about to change, for nobody expected what was about to happen next.

There was a hardy knock on the steel door separating the room from a decontamination area. Shortly after, 7 armed NKVD guards entered. Two took positions on either side of the door, while the remaining four each moved to stand in each corner of the room. The last guard stopped shortly after entering, taking in a hefty breath of air before speaking unnecessarily loud.

“Announcing comrade Stalin’s arrival in this room!”

Right there-after, the penguin that stood at the top of the power structure that was the USSR entered the room. He did not speak, instead he moved to stand beside Yulia, being flanked by a further two NKVD guards. Despite his relatively short stature, his eyes were like fiery cauldrons that could burn holes through even the most fearless men.

The scientists stood still, all silent and speechless at the arrival of Stalin. One standing in the back nearly fainted, being saved from a hard fall into the concrete floor by his colleague.

“Comrades, I have decided to greet you all in this surprise visit. I hope you appreciate it. I’d like you all to know that the Union is counting on you to create a weapon to destroy the enemy of the prolet-”

Before Stalin could finish, he felt something very odd. Almost like something was touching his head. Turning his head towards Yulia, Stalin was quite speechless as the woman held her hand on his head, patting him. The scientists and NKVD guards were wide-eyed and speechless. This time, one of the scientists did faint and hit the floor. Then, a quiet and terribly held-back chuckle filled the room, coming from one of the corners. Stalin turned his head slowly, still receiving the pats on the head. He spoke not, but his eyes were almost sprouting with anger. He grumbled something unheard, and one of the NKVD guards by the door shouted down the hall. Many hastened steps followed, and eight new NKVD stepped into the room.

The scientists half expected that Yulia would be grabbed, but instead, the guards moved to the chuckling NKVD guard in the corner. They quickly herded him out, and right before the door shut, one could hear him burst into full laughter before quickly followed by a loud BONK and the sound of something hitting the floor. Stalin still stood, half-furious and half-confused at the Otherworlder’s action of head patting him. He figured he better finish and get out of there before anything escalated into a wider public humiliation.

“...To destroy the enemy of the proletariat. Uhh, good luck.” Stalin nodded, still having Yulia patting him, and quickly ducked away from the next pat and moved for the door. He cast a glare towards the assembled in the room, except Yulia, and everyone understood the unspoken words. Then, he left, quickly followed by the confused NKVD guards.

“Oh well, that was kind of funny,” Yulia said while smiling, “comrade Stalin works so hard!~”

The others in the room were dead silent. The nerve of this newcomer! They muttered amongst themselves and agreed that not a word would ever be said of this. It was now time to get back to work…

… one wondered what Stalin thought of the whole fiasco.

---

Ural Mountain Range Industrial HQ, Union of Soviet Socialist Republics
January, 0

Zlatrovinich Ginnidya was, for all intents and purposes, a regular statistics worker before the war. Coming from the metropolitan Pingugrad area, she had come to the mainland to support the Motherland directly, rather than from the ‘safety' of the Antarctic enclave. She’d hoped to return home eventually, but that hope was washed away when she learned of the Union’s current dilemma. Instead, she devoted all her time and energy to making sure the statistics were correct. What statistics was she working on, you ask? Vehicles, bullets, and kinds of weapons. Just because the USSR had been transported to another world did not mean that weapon production would stop and civilian goods would take the spotlight again. In reality, this new world full of strangers and dangers fueled the Soviet industrial machine even more, motivating most of the workers not in Gulags to construct more weapons to defend the Motherland with.

Zlatrovinich shuffled papers at her desk. The relocation of industry to the Urals had certainly made statistic-keeping much easier. Noting down quota numbers on the newest batch of PPsH-41s, she added them to the ever-increasing list of equipment that would be finished by the end of the week. This list included 2976 PPsH-41s, 146 T-34s, 27 KV-1s, 4 203mm Artillery, along with some other minor military equipment.

Zlatronicih was satisfied for a moment, yet more work needed to be done. Such was the life of a statistics-person.

---

Ural Mountain Range Underground Laboratory/Sharashka, Union of Soviet Socialist Republics
January, 0

Aksel Ivanovich Berg was quite the odd person. To many, he was simply the minister of electronic technology. But to those with well-connected contacts within the scientific fields, he was a firm believer in the use of cybernetics. He had originally petitioned the USSR Academy of Sciences in 1936 to start a program looking into cybernetics and its possible uses in Soviet society. He was, quite simply, rejected. He asked again in 1937, only to be imprisoned in a Gulag as part of Stalin’s Great Purge. Luckily for him, he was released and ‘rehabilitated’. Now, he was walking towards a new chapter of Soviet science. Ever since the public became aware of the advanced nation of China, and amplified by the French and Otherworlder Soviets seeming technological superiority, Stalin himself had requested that cybernetics be taken a solid look at, both for application in civilian life and military uses.

Aksel arrived at a steel door. A sign had been bolted to it, saying: ‘AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY’. Taking a breath, a knocked on the door once, waited 3 seconds, and knocked twice more in a rhythm. On the other side of the door, locks were removed and Aksel was allowed in. He greeted the door guard with a nod and a smile and proceeded further into the bowels of the underground facility. Excavation had begun in early 1936 when Soviet oil prospectors had been searching for oil in the Urals. None was found here, yet excavation continued in order to construct a secret laboratory for classified and delicate research. Whilst nuclear research was spearheaded in Mosbird, the more… odd and seemingly insane research programs were done here. Officially, it had no name, but Aksel and some of his colleagues liked to call it ‘The Pit’.

--

After walking, or waddling, for a solid ten minutes, Aksel finally came upon his desired location. Another door stood in front of him, labeled ‘Cybernetic Research Division’. Entering, he was met with all kinds of machines and welding equipment along with the occasional research politely nodding as he walked past. Picking up a note-pad that he had left behind yesterday, Aksel browsed the research leading up to this moment. The current project was the creation of a military external skeleton, a so-called ‘exo-suit’ or ‘exo-skeleton, to give soldiers the extra strength needed to lift heavier weapons. Checking in his watch, his eyes widened. He was late for the first test! Picking up the pace, he half-walked and half-ran further, soon coming upon a large gathering of research all impatiently waiting on him.

“Sorry, I’m late. This place is really big.”, Aksel said.

The other scientists couldn’t help but agree. “You are right in that. Come on, they’ve just strapped Subject 11 into the suit.”, said a polar bear researcher whilst motioning to a large window into a different room. Inside the said room stood a polar bear. He was clad in the usual Gulag prisoner outfit. He was also wearing what could be described as a metal cell. His torso was covered by a large armored plate that stretched around to his back where the primary power conduit had been replaced by a wire running into a generator located next to him. The ‘arms’ of the suit were neatly tightened around his polar bear arms. The same could be said for his legs.

One researched spoke into a microphone fed with speakers into the test room. “Alright Subject 11, how are you feeling?”

“Uhh, I feel fine? W-What’s this contraption that you made me put on?”

“That, my comrade, is the newest gear that will help disabled veterans with walking again! All of this is possible with your help. Now, please walk around the room.”

The polar bear did as told. Hydraulics in the primitive exo-suits legs moved along, making a ‘thwump’ with each step.

“Excellent, Subject 11. Now, if you look by the generator, you will see a DShK machine gun. that has been modified with extra weight. Try to pick it up and move around.”

As the subject hesitantly picked up the gun, everyone was astonished. The concept worked, now all that was nee-

FIZZILEACK-CRUNCH

“AAAAAAH! MY ARMS!?! IT HURTS!”

The modified machine gun hit the floor with a heavy bonk. Aksel and his colleagues were wide-eyed, some even chose to look away. The hydraulics on Subject 11’s arms had imploded, breaking his bones in his arms. The polar bear wailed in agony which Aksel had never thought he would see.

“We still need to make a few calibrations.”, Aksel said.

One scientist scoffed. “You can say that again..”

“Just send in the clean-up crew. Put him out of his misery.”

The scientist by the microphone pressed a button, causing a door in the test room to open. The polar bear smiled briefly, happy that help would come, but that smile was quickly replaced by a realization. Then, he was shot in the head by an entering NKVD agent followed by a few engineers who turned off the generator.

Cybernetics had a long way to go, but Aksel was determined to make it work.

---

Mosbird Red Square, Union of Soviet Socialist Republics
January, 0

Red Square was bustling with people of all shapes and sizes. Most carried nothing but the clothes they had on their back, while some carried photographic equipment and note-pads. Stalin had called for a press conference to address the state of the Union. Most had seen this coming, but none could say for sure what the ‘Penguin of Steel’ would say.

After everyone that wanted to be there had settled in and quieted down, Stalin, who stood atop a vast podium next to Lenin’s mausoleum, spoke directly into a microphone which amplified his voice and broadcasted the speech to all radios in the USSR.

“Comrades of the Soviet Union. Soldiers, fishermen, factory workers, farmers, ministers, and officials.. This is the first proper address of the nation that I have done since our arrival here. That is also the reason why I am speaking to you all now, to tell you about ‘here’. This Earth, this planet, is not our original Earth. Things may look the same in our Union, but things are most definitely not the same outside of our territories. As far as we know, the Oerel SSR, the Byelobear SFR, the Central Asian SSRs, and the Transcaucasian SRs have not come along with us. We do not know why. We have had contact with other nations one would typically expect in their own locations, such as France and China, yet these two states have nothing in common with France and China from our world. Instead, this France has joined in our socialist revolution, while this China has an Empress, yet we have heard news that reforms are underway in their country. Sadly, through China, we have been made aware of Japan. It would seem like this world could not remain immune to the ideology of the Nazi.”

The crowd murmured. A Nazi Japan? Who could ever think of such a thing?

“There are likely many other states yet undiscovered, but if they threaten the Motherland and our sacred Union, they will be met by a wall of unwavering bullets, fired by us. Yet still, we shall attempt to put our differences aside, we shall attempt to thrive in this new world, and we shall continue on the path of friendships to all workers, whoever they may be. These will be trying times with even greater challenges both foreign and internal, and thus I must ask of you all to report any suspicious activities to your local military garrison. We will prevail over those who would see us enslaved, we will overcome the current food crisis, and we will reclaim our lost land be it from the Emu or whoever controls them. This I, Joseph Stalin, promise to you, the Soviet people. Za Rodina, comrades.”

The crowd applauded loudly. Smiles were spread, and many ‘urraa’ shouts were heard. This would be a new era of the USSR, and they would either triumph over the challenges that awaited them or die trying.

---

North Sakhalin, Alexandrovsk-Sakhalinsky, Union of Soviet Socialist Republics
January, 0

The inhabitants Alexandrovsk-Sakhalinsky were in full panic. Those with radio apparatus had intercepted the message from the obvious Japanese ships and had already started loading as much of their belongings as possible in their trucks or had already left towards the mainland. The ships were also visible from the major port of the town. Luckily, being the administrative center of Russian-controlled North Sakhalin, a naval fort had been recently installed and armed in an attempt to ward off a potential attack. Yet the designers of the fort most likely did not anticipate the massive scale of the Japanese ‘patrol’ which could very easily decimate the Soviet Pacific Fleet. Being close to the previous border with Japan also proved to be beneficial in this situation, as the 35th Rifle Divison was headquartered in the administrative town along with its Light Artillery and Howitzer Regiments.

The commander of the 35th, Vyachaslov Mikropelichisvicha, had been immediately called to the military garrison headquarters to discuss with the city’s, and in extension the entirety of North Sakhalin, administrators on what to do.

“They want us to do what now?”, asked Vyachaslov

“They… They want us to surrender or else we’ll perish. Apparently we are surrounded, according to them.”, answered Mikhail Torugrob, the administrator of North Sakhalin.

“...What is your take on this, Mikhail?”

“Have you seen those ships? They’re massive! I say we surrender.”

Vyachaslov scoffed and grabbed Mikhail by the collar. “Surrendering is for cowards who are afraid to die for the Motherland! I have an entire division of men and artillery ready to fight with tooth and nail for this island! You cannot seriously think that we should surrender and put our lives into the hands of these… these… these land-stealing thugs!”

“I-I’m just concerned about the lives of the citizens! You must understand! Please, l-let me take those willing to go!”

Vyachaslov thought for a moment, grunted, and then released Mikhail. “Damnit, fine. Get those unwilling to fight out of here, but instruct any brave son-of-a-gun that wants to defend their home to meet up here ASAP.”

Vyachaslov then pointed to an aide. “You, send a telegram to Vladivostok. ‘Japanese-like ships outside Alexandrovsk-Sakhalinsky demanding our surrender. Citizens being evacuated. 35th Rifle Division will fight to the last.’ You got that?”

The aide nodded and ran back towards the telegram room as fast as possible. Vyachaslav then pointed towards a military clerk whom had followed him in.

“You, I want that naval fort’s guns manned and armed, pointed towards those god-forsaken ships. Alert the 177th Howitzer Regiment and the 119th Light Artillery Regiment to ready up. Set the 152mm Howitzers at the foot of the mountain and prepare them to fire on anything hostile. Get the 76mm Light Artillery set up here in the town to help cover the infantry. Speaking of those fish-eating lazy punks, get them on their feet, have some of them man the concrete bunkers around the town while the rest dig trenches here for their lives. No alerts, nothing that may seem out of the ordinary! We have to play for time here. I will respond to their despicable message personally in an attempt to stall.”

Vyachaslov thus moved over to the radio responder, setting it to the presumed frequency of the Japanese ships, and answered. “Attention unidentified ships, you are currently trespassing in Soviet waters. Our port is always open to sailors, but we require that you inform us of your nation of origin and your intentions in sailing unannounced into Soviet waters.”

Vyachaslov could only hope that they would bite onto his bluff and that Vladivostok would send reinforcements in the form of air support, tanks, more men, and artillery.

---

Far Eastern STAVKA HQ Vladivostok, Union of Soviet Socialist Republics
January, 0

Vladivostok was abuzz with soldiers. Sirens were blaring and the Pacific Fleet was being mobilized. Planes were being fueled.

Minutes ago, a hasty comuniqúe was received hailing from Alexandrovsk-Sakhalinsky telling of major Japanese ships off the coast, threatening with surrender or death. These news had quickly worked itself up the ranks, eventually reaching Iosef Apanasenko.

He was currently in a meeting with other high-ranking military commanders to discuss this threat.

“Gentlemen, as you may now realize, we have had first contact with Nazi Japan. This has come in the form of an ultimatum to our administrative center on North Sakhalin, which also means that we would be forfeiting the entirety of our control over the island. As of this moment, the 35th Rifle Division are trying to set up a hasty defense using their available artillery and howitzers. They have requested reinforcements.”

“Do we have the available men?”, asked a divisional commander.

“We can not risk sending another division to North Sakhalin in fear of putting Vladivostok in danger. However, one day ago the Western Military District relayed that they were sending back 8 divisions that we sent in August to aid in the defense of Moscow. These 8 divisions are the 58th Tank Division, 60th Tank Division, 112th Tank Division, 26th Rifle Division, 21st Rifle Division, 2nd Guards Motor Rifle Division, 32nd Rifle Division, and the 78th Rifle Division. We believe this is more than enough to project our power in the region.”

When can we expect these divisions to arrive?”

“They are being rushed with the Trans-Siberian Railway and, if everything goes smoothly, should be here in Vladivostok by tomorrow morning, from there they’ll take the local railway to Sakhalin. In preparation for a possible counter-offensive and recapture of Alexandrovsk-Sakhalinsky, or as reinforcements, I suggest we prepare the Uglovoye Airfield to send fighters and bombers armed with anti-ship weapons. Comrades, we might stand at the precipice of war. With the spirit of Lenin willing, we will overcome this Japanese-started border incident through peace, or the Motherland may yet again be plunged into war. Good luck comrades. We will need it.”

---

Mosbird Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Union of Soviet Socialist Republics
January, 0

Molotov was stressed. That could be said about all high-ranking officials in the Soviet government, especially those who were in the military or dealt with foreign nations. Mere minutes ago, they had received word from STAVKA, and in extension Stalin, that a Japanese fleet currently threatened North Sakhalin.

Molotov had been ordered to respond to the Chinese message recently received. A message to the Commonwealth of America would also be drafted to notify them of the existence of the USSR.

To: Prime Minister Gao Hai of The Chinese Federation
From: Foreign Minister of The USSR Vyacheslav Molotov

Greetings Comrade Gao. It highly pleases us that the Chinese Federation is taking steps to empower the working class through non-violent means. The Soviet government and people would be most grateful for the chance to exchange military technology. We would also like to ask you to be wary of Nazi Japan. The reason for this is because a naval force presumed to be from the Reichskommissariat Japan has recently crossed over into Soviet waters in the Strait of Tartay and is currently threatening our main administrative center, and thus in extension the entirety of our rightful control over North Sakhalin. It is often the case that where-ever Nazis wage border-wars for land, true wars often follow and consume neighboring countries. We hope you would be willing to aid us in any way you see fit in exchange for raw materials should this incident with Japan escalate. We would also be willing to pay for whatever tech you may wish to exchange. Be safe.
This message has been approved by the NKVD and Iosef D. Stalin

To: President Herbet Heitke
From: Minister of Foreign Affairs of The USSR Vyacheslav Molotov

Greetings Comrades of America! We are most happy to see yet another state under the universal flag of socialism, and we are even more ecstatic to know that a socialistic America has joined us in this new world. This message is being sent to alert you to our presence, the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, guided by comrade Joseph Stalin. We sincerely hope good relations will blossom between our two states and that the workers of this new world can finally unite.

This message has been approved by the NKVD and Iosef D. Stalin

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Thanks to Democratic East-Asia for assistance regarding the nuclear part of this post.

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