The Red Tsar



The Red Tsar

Chapter I

7:00 PM, March 5th 1953, Kuntsevo residence, Union of Soviet Socialist Republics

The mighty Josef Stalin was lying on his bed and he was dying. He didn’t how it had happened but he was in immense pain from what official sources would claim to be a cerebral haemorrhage although Stalin was certain that he had been poisoned. He passed out once more and Lavrentiy Beria yelled:

“Yes I did it I’ve killed him.”

He had spat hatred against Stalin when he was out and had sucked up to him when he was conscious. Stalin awoke from his sleep and felt immense pain once more.

“My friend, Comrade Josef, do you feel better? Get well soon, our Glorious leader and comrade general-secretary, the nation needs your strong leadership.”

Stalin barely understood what he had said and passed out again only to wake up one last time. He saw a white light and then raised his arm as if he wanted to curse everyone in his room, as his daughter Svetlana recalled. His soul left his body and Stalin, the most bloody leader of Russia died, leaving an empire with atomic weapons and the largest standing army in the world. His soul however did not pass over. A divine being was amused by Stalin’s rule and his great accomplishments and decided he might be of some use. As Stalin’s soul ascended to be judged, he grabbed him and stopped him from entering the underworld and took the shape of a bright light, a reminder of his angelic past.

“Josef Stalin, do you wish to return to rule Russia and restore its glory once more?” The being said.

“What or who are you?” Stalin asked. “And why me? There are so many great names in Russian history.”

“I am many and one at the same time. I have had many names. They sometimes call me Legion. You may refer to me as Lucifer, Satan, Beelzebub, Mammon, Demogorgon or Moloch, take your pick. I am the Prince of Darkness and leader of the Fallen Angels.” The divine being paused.

Stalin was somewhat baffled. He had always been an atheist and now proof of God’s existence stood before him in the black void that he was in. The creature continued.

“As for the why, I found you tenure interesting. You have accomplished a great many things and I’ve decided to mess a little with the creation of the Big Guy upstairs.” The being said. “I don’t think he’ll mind, I’ve owned the twentieth century so far.”

“And now what?” Stalin inquired. He was curious.

“You’re going back if you want to.” The being answered.

“And I don’t suppose there is a catch to all this?” Stalin inquired further, he was still as paranoid as ever, even in death.

“No, now go and amuse me some more.”

The demon disappeared and Stalin was left in the black void but wouldn’t remain there for long.

5:30 PM, January 1st 1894, Gatchina Palace outside of St. Petersburg, Russian Empire

Stalin woke up feeling strange and he did not know where he was. He saw a lavishly decorated room with a portrait of Tsar Alexander II hanging opposite his king sized bed. He was wearing an old style night gown and beside him lay a woman who Stalin recognized as Alix of Hesse. He now knew who he was, he was Tsar Nicholas II but he still didn’t know when he was. For all he knew it could be 1917 and communists could come knocking on his door. He was terribly frustrated because the demon had played a sick joke on him. He hated anything that had to do with the Tsar although he had already decided to make the best of it. The only other option was suicide. He groaned as he reluctantly hoisted himself out of the bed. He noticed how young his body was so he guessed it had to be before 1900. He moved about quietly so as not to disturb his fiancée or wife, depending on the date. He opened the door and stepped out into the hallway which was rather frisky this early in the morning. He noticed how a guard approached him.

“Your Royal Highness, you’re up early today. You could go to bed and sleep some.” He said as he snapped into a salute. “Do you require anything?”

Stalin was used to this subservient attitude from his time as the absolute dictator of the Soviet Union and reacted as if everything was normal, so as not to arouse suspicion.

“What’s today’s date?”

“I’m sorry sir?” The guard asked, seemingly confused.

“January 1st, sir, New Year’s day.” The guard responded.

“What year, you moron.” The Tsarevich suddenly spat.

“1894.” The guard stuttered. He seemed somewhat confused and shocked by the Tsarevich’s sudden response. Prince Nicholas was a soft and kind person. ‘Oh my, he’s grumpy today.’ The guard thought.

“I’m hungry. Wake the cook and tell him I want bacon and eggs.” Nicholas/Stalin said. “I have lots to do.”

“Just bacon and eggs, sir?” the guard asked.

“On second thought, I’d like some orange juice as well and fetch me a newspaper. That’ll be all.” Nicholas said as he motioned the guard to leave.

“Yes sir.” The guard responded as he snapped into a salute again and marched off to the cook who would soon scurry around in the kitchen to please the Tsarevich, not doing so could have him end up dead as he would soon learn.

The guard turned away noticing how the Tsarevich seemed subtly different. It wasn’t in his appearance but in his character. He seemed stronger, more charismatic and had a powerful aura as if he was the Tsar already, he was radiant. He wouldn’t be the only one to notice changes in the young princeChapter II

8:00 AM, January 10th 1894, Mariinky Palace, St. Petersburg, Russian Empire

Nicholas/Stalin had travelled to the Mariinsky Palace to witness the plenary seating of Russia’s Imperial Council as he would have to deal with these people when he ascended the throne of Russia. With him was Nicholas’ father and the new Nicholas quickly took a disliking to the man. He was an idiot and he understood why the previous occupant of this body didn’t get along well with Alexander III.

“This meeting is in session.” Someone said. Nicholas/Stalin didn’t see who. Nikolai Bunge was the Chairman of the Committee of Ministers and started to speak.

“Today we discuss the passing of the act on the abolition of inheritance tax.”

A clamour erupted as many of the more traditional people in the Imperial Council opposed it. Nicholas had not been obliged to sit in on these meetings but Nicholas/Stalin decided to learn as much as possible as he knew that his ‘father’ would soon die, not that Nicholas/Stalin cared. He only cared about having power and ruling Russia once more. He was irritated and stood up. Russia would not become democratic under his tenure, that was sure already.

“Silence!” He yelled. “You’re like squabbling children. Either do something or go home.”

They all stared at him, including his father.

“Calm down, Nicholas.” His father said.

“No, I will not. While these idiots are fighting among themselves, Russia is falling behind on the west more and more. We’re at least half a century behind on them and nothing is being done. They are leading us to our doom.” Nicholas/Stalin replied very much angered and he barged out of the room. He couldn’t stand being with those snobs. He vowed he would break their power which strangled Russia.

01:00 PM, March 1st 1894, Gatchina Palace, Russian Empire

Princess Alix of Hesse sat on the side of her bed, crying. Empress-consort Maria Feodorovna entered the room and pitied the young princess, although she was older than a soon to be engaged princess normally. Even when she cried she looked although Maria had to admit that she looked miserable right now.

“What is it, my child?” She asked, genuinely concerned. The wife to be of her son had become increasingly unhappy and she noticed.

“It’s Nicky, he keeps ignoring me, saying that he is too busy. He finds those dull books and plenary sessions more important than me. I do not understand why he’s doing this to me. Is it something I said?” She replied sobbing.

“I know, my dear.” Maria said as she rapped her arms around her. She too had noticed the changes in her son. He had become an increasingly reclusive figure and she had rarely seen him out of his study where he spent his time reading books on the subjects, history, economics, European politics and big literary works. Things such as tactics and strategy came to interest him more as well, even though he was not a military man by nature. He read Sun Tzu’s ‘Art of War’, had read up on Russian history, focusing on Russia’s expansion and military history and had written a short essay on the Napoleonic Wars and how Napoleon’s campaign against Russia had been his downfall. He also studied the politics of the Russian Empire, specifically the period after 1815. Maria was happy that he took up studies to become an educated man but she was very worried about his estrangement from the family. He seemed a totally different person, this was not the soft, easy going son she had raised. As Tsarevich he also started to interfere with politics more and more. Previously he had shown no interest in the matter and the abrupt changes in Nicholas worried Maria. She stood up and marched for his study and decided to do something. She banged on the door.

“Come in.” Nicholas/Stalin said.

“Nicholas, put that book down and look at me when I’m talking to you.” Maria snapped.

“Yes mother.” He said as he reluctantly put down the big book he was currently reading.

“What is wrong with you my son?”

“Nothing, mother, I feel fine.” Nicholas/Stalin replied with as much kindness as he could muster.

“Then why are you ignoring you fiancée? She loves you and cares about you. Have you any idea how distraught she is feeling right now?” She replied angered.

“Well, I have been busy with my studies and-”

“I have reserved for you to go to the opera house tonight and you are going, no discussion.” Maria said and she slammed the door as she left.

Nicholas/Stalin understood that this woman was not to be argued with and decided to do it. He needed her to produce an heir anyway. He put on his hussars uniform and the most charming face he possibly could. ‘Alix will find out just how charming I can be.’ Nicholas/Stalin thought.

7:00 AM, November 3rd 1894, Ukrainian countryside, Russian Empire

His ‘father’ had died and right now Nicholas/Stalin was on his way to Livadiya, on the Crimean peninsula where the Tsar had died of kidney disease exactly as he had predicted and he was underway to be present with his family. He was in his armoured train which he had insisted upon as he did not want to undergo Alexander II’s fate as he had been assassinated. Only the last five miles would be traversed by coach which would be escorted by Cossacks and hussars of the Imperial Guard. Nicholas/Stalin had to say that relations with Alix had improved after he had displayed some of his charm. He had taken her to the opera and the Imperial ballet which she had liked very much. She was still asleep and he was reading a novel by a certain German general. A servant entered the room.

“Your highness, we’ll be arriving soon.”

Nicholas/Stalin looked out the window and saw the train slowing down. “Yes I can see that.” He replied curtly.

“Alix, time to go.”

“Yes my dear.” She responded, still half asleep. “I’ll be joining you shortly.” She said as he put on suitable clothing to meet the mourning Romanov family which had gathered in Crimea. They left the train station in the coach and headed towards the Black Sea residence of Tsar Alexander III, the father of Nicholas who was now the new Tsar of Russia. He stepped out of the carriage with an air of arrogance, he was now Tsar, but he also feigned sadness. His wife was dressed in the appropriate black clothing and he wore a plain uniform. They walked up the stairs and while his wife was sobbing, Nicholas/Stalin was contemplating what he would do first. He entered the room where he found his ‘mother’, Maria Feodorovna, sobbing over the dead body of her husband who was lying on his bed, seemingly asleep. Nicholas hummed to announce his presence and then kissed his father’s hand to show respect and started to speak as he was expected to say something:

“Goodbye our beloved father, husband and Tsar. You shall be missed greatly and if you can hear us, know that we love you. God bless you, we love you.” Nicholas said on a solemn and sad tone.

“Well spoken, my son.” Maria said. “He would have been happy to know that you cared.”

In reality Nicholas/Stalin didn’t care one bit and he wanted to return to St. Petersburg to start his rule. He already had several ideas of what to do.

“Well said.” Alix said. “Let us retreat to our room and leave your mother in peace, one last moment with her husband.”

Nicholas/Stalin said nothing and clutched her hand and turned away, looking to the floor as he contemplated many things, not really listening to the trivialities Alix was talking about. __________________ Chapter III

8:30 AM, December 1st 1894, Gatchina Palace, St. Petersburg, Russian Empire

“Secretary, summon Minister of the Interior Ivan Durnovo. Give him the message that the Tsar needs to see him. Tell him it is a matter of the utmost importance.”

“Yes, Your Imperial Majesty.” The young man said as he turned around, leaving his type writer behind.

He had hired a private secretary to lighten the workload. While waiting Nicholas/Stalin decided to continue with his work. Right now he was busy setting up a Ministry of State Planning which would build up and modernize Russia. He was also writing down a list of people that were to be liquidated immediately and creating drafts of laws to break the power of the landed aristocracy which was systematically trying to block his reforms. He had come into conflict with them already even though he had been Tsar for only one month or so. There was a knock on the door.

“Come in.” Nicholas/Stalin said.

“You requested my presence. Why this audience?” the minister asked.

“I have brought you here because the Okhrana resorts under your authority. I have a list I wanted to show you, Ivan.” He said, emphasizing that last. Ivan took the note that the Tsar had laid down on his desk and started to read what were apparently names of people, some of which he recognized as those people were either in jail or being monitored. The following names had been written down on a piece of paper in a rather difficult to read handwriting:

Vladimir Lenin Leon Trotsky Lev Kamenev Grigory Zinoviev Pyotr Kropotkin Julius Martov Alexandra Kollontai Adolf Joffe Irakli Tsereteli

He stopped reading as the list continued with around another two dozen names or so.

“These are names. What do I have to do with these people?” Durnovo asked.

“They are all to be quietly disposed of as soon as possible.” Nicholas/Stalin replied coldly.

“Excuse me, Your Imperial Majesty?” He inquired.

“They are to be killed.” Nicholas/Stalin spat. He made no attempt to hide it or soften it words like ‘terminate’, ‘eliminate’ or ‘liquidate’. Nicholas/Stalin was a tough guy and knew what he wanted and what needed to be done. These people had been comrades in the revolution but were now enemies and he had decided to pre-emptively decapitate the revolution by killing all prominent Bolshevik and Menshevik leaders of the present and the future. Only his own self was not on the list. Nicholas/Stalin knew he was existing in parallel to himself and he was still pondering about what to do with his younger self.

“Uhm, yes Your Imperial Majesty.” Durnovo said and he turned around to get to work. The Tsar seemed different from what he once was. He used to be a gentle person. Durnovo would be tempted to call him weak if he wasn’t a friend of the Tsar. He would soon find out that the Tsar did not have friends.

10:00 PM, March 5th 1895, Gatchina Palace, Russian Empire

In the afternoon Nicholas/Stalin had played nice to Alix. He had taken her out for a walk across the palace grounds which proved to be quite extensive with gardens everywhere. The palace grounds even encompassed a small forests which was home to a herd of deer. In the evening they had gone to the opera house. All of this was intent to get Alix in the mood. He had been paying more attention to her as he didn’t want her to commit suicide. Tonight he would produce an heir. He watched her undress and approached her.

“Nicky, I am not dressed.” She said, slightly uncomfortable.

“I know.” He replied with his gruff voice. “I love you”. He said nothing else and kissed her and she, she let herself be carried away by the spur of the moment. He would produce a strong heir to the throne.

9 months later

Nicholas/Stalin had been in a meeting when a servant told him the news. Nicholas/Stalin rushed for his armoured coach and ordered the horse driver to head for the Winter Palace immediately. His child had been born, he had an heir to the throne. ‘My dynasty is secure and will rule forever.’ Nicholas/Stalin thought. He rushed up the stairs and into the room where birth attendants were attending to his exhausted wife.

“Show me my son.” He said.

“Yes Your Imperial Majesty.” One of the nurses said. His mother was there too as was traditional while he had not attended the birth of his son.

“How do you know it’s a boy?” She inquired, curiously. Her son never really had a strong intuition for this sort of thing.

“I just know, mama.” He replied curtly.

“Here you go Your Majesty, a wonderful baby boy.”

“There he is.” He said as one of the birth attendants came in with the baby. He took the boy into his arms and looked at him. The baby looked back at him curiously and pulled his beard. Nicholas/Stalin smiled and was happy for the first time since he had been here.

“Excuse me Your Majesty?” One of the servants said. “Do you have a name for the boy?”

“His name will be Josef.”

9:00 AM, March 5th 1899, Mariinsky Palace, St. Petersburg, Russian Empire

This was the first meeting of the new Ministers Council of which Sergei Witte had been appointed as chairman. He had also been appointed to the newly created positions of Prime Minister and Minister of Economy. Today they would debate the passing of a new law which His Imperial Majesty had set up among other things and it was controversial to say the least. Later he wanted to see Sergei in private with the State Planning Committee which resorted under him as Minister of Economy. Sergei had noticed how Tsar Nicholas II as he was now know had clashed with several of his ministers and government officials. They were all nobles and Nicholas/Stalin had sacked all of them. Only a few months ago an act had been passed to triple the budget for the Okhrana. Nicholas/Stalin intended for it to reach NKVD levels soon. Already his agents were embedded everywhere, even in the government. Sergei noticed how people were becoming paranoid and stopped trusting each other. One by one ministers entered. All of them were new faces and total unknowns to Sergei. Nicholas/Stalin had sacked almost his entire cabinet two years ago. By now he had married Alix which had been the last time that the ‘old guard’ had been assembled in one room, a church that is. The Tsar entered the room and everyone stood up out of respect for Tsar Nicholas II, Emperor and Autocrat of all the Russias. Tsar Josef I would probably have been more correct though. “Welcome, all, today” Sergei said, “to this plenary session of the Imperial Council. He paused and the new assembled ministers didn’t ask any question.

“Today we are here to discuss the passing of the new Agriculture Law, the Rights of the People Bill and the Tax Law that our beloved Tsar has created.”

Immediately a clamour erupted from the few old aristocrats that Nicholas/Stalin had tolerated.

“Silence!” Nicholas/Stalin shouted at the few dissenters which he would soon eliminate. ‘Clearly these old fools do not learn quickly. They will learn that I do not tolerate dissent the hard way.’ He thought. The Agriculture Law encompassed a land redistribution which favoured the poorer peasants over the landowning aristocracy and lower taxes for peasants. In the stead of those taxes came a new tax for large landowners. Everyone who owned more than 375 acres or about 150 hectares was charged with a tax based off the productivity and annual earnings of the products of that land per hectare for the owner. To further stimulate productivity of the peasants and medium sized farm companies, farming subsidies were given to conduct research into and introducing more efficient farming methods such as the use of machines. The landowning elite, mostly the nobility, vehemently resisted and Nicholas/Stalin knew. They however dared not act in the face of the now almighty Okhrana, the Tsar’s secret police and personal assassination squad. Several dissenters had already disappeared, they were either dead or in a Siberian labour camp. Over the past few years Nicholas/Stalin had filled the ranks of the Okhrana with his own people, slowly to not raise suspicion from the nobility which controlled it. Very slowly the government and the Okhrana had been filled up with people loyal to him in a slow and steady five year process and now he was almighty and the nobility powerless. The Tax Law was Nicholas/Stalin’s attempt to even out the disproportionate taxes in Russia which kept the poor poor and the rich rich. The aristocracy again was very much against the reform. The Bill of Rights was simply a summary of the rights such as a minimum wage. This would later be part of the constitution. Of course the Okhrana got extrajudicial powers and the Tsar himself would frequently violate what was theoretically the most democratic constitution in the world. As Nicholas/Stalin expected, there was no dissent and the laws were all unanimously passed. Nicholas waited and watched as the other ministers left the room. He beckoned Sergei to follow him as they went into a different room.

“Take a look at this, Sergei.” The Tsar said and a small smile played around his lips.

“What is this?” Sergei asked as he looked at the document he had been handed.

“That is our economic plan to make Russia strong again.” Nicholas/Stalin said proudly.

Sergei put on his reading glasses to take a closer look.

“If I’m seeing this correctly, this plan calls for nationalization of key industries and creating the circumstances to attract foreign capital such as lower taxes for the industrial bourgeoisie and fourteen to eighteen hour work days.” Sergei said.

So far it all seemed logical and Sergei although eighteen hour work days were long. Sergey would have settled for eleven or twelve. He scanned the document further downward.

“But these production rates are impossible to achieve without deaths or exhaustion of our means. By God. This Five Year Plan calls for a doubling of the production of pig iron, coal and steel and the tripling of the production of iron ore, not to mention the increases in production of weapons and heavy machinery. I can’t do this in five years.” Sergei retorted.

“Yes you can. You have my full trust in this matter and you may use whatever means necessary, no permission needed. Make it work.” Nicholas/Stalin said with a small smile.

“We are half a century behind on the west. Either we do it or we will be crushed.” Nicholas/Stalin finished as he turned around. And so a gruelling five years of expansion of the military-industrial complex began. __________________ Chapter IV

5:30 AM, January 1st 1900, labour camp in North Eastern Siberia, Russian Empire

Grigory Gershuni woke up after a mere four or five hours of sleep after the guard outside had banged on his door. He had spent six years in this miserable hellhole, waiting for his execution which by now, he felt, would be a liberation. He had been arrested almost immediately after the ascension of Tsar Nicholas II for alleged acts of terrorism and revolutionary activities and had been sentenced to death in a quick trail. Then he had been transferred here by train in a cattle wagon. The rails that had brought him here, he reflected, were built on the bones of the Tsar’s opponents. Upon his arrival he had been beaten and abused and had been forced to mine gold and build roads and railroads for the Tsar in the cold plains of Siberia. But the female prisoners were worse of as the guards weren’t much more than thugs. ‘They are worse than some of the offenders locked away in this place and here they can let their lusts go free.’ Grigory thought. Only the prison ward seemed to be a fair man and Grigory pitied him that he had been ‘promoted’ to lead this desolate god forsaken place. Six years here had done Gershuni no good. He was a lice infested fleabag who was a shadow of his former self. He had lost half of his weight. A small hatch in the door opened and breakfast was shoved in on a metal plate.

“Breakfast.” The guard shouted and Grigory could hear through the thin walls how the other prisoners woke up, terribly stiff from a night on the floor or a wooden bunk with only a thin blanket. Grigory picked up the plate.

‘The same shit again. Stew.’ Grigory thought. ‘Oh well, after a time you don’t notice the taste.’

He had been fed the same three times a day for the last six years and it was a miracle that he had lived for so long on such a meagre diet. Many people died of malnutrition or diseases such as dysentery, cholera and typhus because their immune systems were weakened so disease can ravage their body.

One of the other prisoners was crying. ‘Must be a new guy. The food is indeed crappy enough to cry about.’ Grigory though with a wry smile. He had heard the train arrive yesterday evening. It would be his last breakfast and he thanked God even though he wasn’t religious.

“Alright, time to go.” The guard shouted. “Any last wishes?”

“Yes, don’t speak to me.” Grigory said. He hated this particular guard. The guard pushed him with his truncheon.

“Hey, that hurt.”

Grigory was marched toward the gallows on the square where the executioner was waiting.

“Grigory Gershuni, you have been judged for treason, revolutionary acts against the state and acts of terrorism. For this you shall be sentenced to death. May God have mercy upon your soul.” The prison ward announced.

‘God has long since left this country.’ Gershuni thought although the Tsar had left the churches alone. Even so, they were now his instrument. It would be his last thought as he fell to his death and was whisked out of existence.

5:00 PM, January 5th 1900, gardens of Gatchina Palace, Russian Empire

It was the middle of winter and Nicholas/Stalin and his wife were dressed in long fur coats and were on an inspection of their domain by sleigh while the children were playing in the snow. He had last seen Josef building a snow fortress where he was playing soldier, inspired by the stories that his father had told him of Napoleon’s invasion of Russia. In the meantime the twins and their youngest daughter where inside, learning to become ladies. Nicholas/Stalin had to say that being a woman on court was much more difficult than being a man as women had to live up to many more expectations. He had seen first hand the stress that his wife, the Tsarina, suffered from.

His son was taking after his father and grandfather. He was already large for his age, he had only just turned four in December. He was also intelligent and had the same aptitude for learning his father had. Nicholas/Stalin was somewhat worried about the mean streak he had over him although it reminded him of his own childhood. It would make him a good ruler as he grew older, more adult and able to control himself. Nicholas/Stalin had been relieved to know that the boy was healthy. He knew that had history been allowed to take its course, he would have had a haemophiliac for a son.

The girls were intelligent as well although they were much more sensitive. If they had been more ruthless they would have made good rulers but they weren’t and the thought of changing the succession laws had never even crossed his mind once. They stayed in during the winter cold and watched as Josef played outside with other boys and Nicholas/Stalin had a somewhat troubled relationship with them as they found him boring which irritated him. They got along well with their mother and the servants though whereas Josef was more authoritarian. Nicholas/Stalin recalled how he had demanded that someone played with him and chuckled. The twins had been appropriately named Catharina and Anna, the eldest after his wife from his past life and Tsarina Catharina the Great and the second-born after another Tsarina, a niece of Peter II. The twins were three years old and the youngest girl, Tatyana, was doing well too and would soon turn two. He looked at his wife who had dozed off and she was pregnant again. They arrived back at the palace after a visit to the village of the palace’s personnel which Alix had grown fond of as it was so idyllic and the Imperial Guard barracks.

“Papa, papa, look what I made.” Josef shouted as he grabbed his father’s hand.

“Well done my boy. What battle did you play today? What general were you?” Nicholas/Stalin asked with a genuine smile.

“Today I was Mikhail Kutuzov and I fought the French at Berezina.” Josef smiled.

“I see the friend you brought is crying.”

“Yes, I made him play Napoleon and I accidentally hit him with a snowball in his face.” Josef said without emotion. “ What a whiner.” He added.

“Now, now.” Alix said as she attended to Josef’s classmate. “Snowballs can be hard. They can turn into ice.”

Josef’s mean streak unsettled her but Nicholas/Stalin was not worried. His line was secure and the boy seemed to take after his more positive traits and would be a good ruler. All was well and the Tsar smiled.

1:00 PM, June 18th 1900, workshop in St. Petersburg, Russian Empire

Vladimir Fedorov had only barely graduated from the Mikhailovskaya Artillery Academy and he already had a commission from the Ministry of Defence. He had an aptitude for engineering and he was ordered to design an ‘assault rifle’. The combat of the future would be combat in close quarters, about 200-400 metres. They had requested a rather awkward rifle. The result was a semi-automatic rifle with 7.69x39 mm rounds and no bolt. The rifle was indeed less accurate at long ranges but it had little in terms of recoil and could do much more damage than any bolt-action rifle.

Its most modern feature was its modes of fire which other weapons didn’t have. They could fire single shots, bursts or full automatic. Although lighter than other automatic weapons of the day, it was still heavier than the AK-47 which Nicholas/Stalin had in mind due to the limitations of 1900 technology. It would have to do. The result would become known as the Fedorov Avtomat. He hoped it would work and that the soldiers who would use it would like it. It was almost finished.

7:15 AM, February 17th 1902, training ground, forest in Ukraine near the Pripyat marshes, Russian Empire

Colonel Drago Popov strode onto the field where a cart packed with crates had been parked. Sergeant Igor Vladimirov watched curiously as the men unloaded the mysterious crates with unknown content. Colonel Drago was a very strict, disciplined man and Igor had only made it just in time, narrowly avoiding a punitive march of some 20 miles.

“This, men is the Fedorov Avtomat. It makes existing rifles obsolete and it will be your friend from now on so maintain it well.” The colonel said.

He picked up one of the assault rifles from the makeshift table and fired on full automatic. Igor and his men were flabbergasted.

“It can fire single shots, bursts or full automatic. It is recommended that you fire either single shots or bursts as automatic firing doesn’t improve accuracy and you run out of bullets real fast.” The colonel said.

“Now step forwards and receive your gun.” The colonel finished.

“Have you noticed how strange these rounds are, soldier?” Lieutenant Egorov asked. Vladimirov was a hunter and knew a thing or two about rifles.

“Yes, these bullets are some sort of intermediate round between rifle bullets and pistol rounds. There should be less recoil but I don’t think they will do much good in long range combat.” Igor said.

“I figured as much.” The lieutenant said as he took a good look at his new weapon. “These should give us a good shot at those Yellows. They’re making noise about Manchuria.”

“It depends. Maybe they won’t fight us. They couldn’t possibly beat us when we have these.” Egorov responded with a grin.

In the meantime something was going on on the artillery range half a mile away. Lieutenant Kasov waited as the men got ready for artillery training with the new gun which, unbeknownst to him, was a more or less direct copy of the French 75. Nicholas/Stalin knew of things to come in warfare and trends that had proven effective in his day such as assault rifles and wanted to be ready. He was not a weapons designer but had an idea of what he wanted and had handed his Minister of Defence a set of rough drafts and demands of weapons he wanted which he in turn had passed down the line. The French 75 was one of the things he wanted as it would give his artillery an advantage over Japanese artillery. Everyone had gathered on the field and Kasov started to speak.

“This, men, is the new 75 mm field gun. It is innovative as it has, for the first time in artillery history, a hydro-pneumatic recoil mechanism, allowing for accurate and fast firing.” Kasov paused.

“You, you and you, come over here.” He said as he pointed at three men. “You’ll be my volunteers for this little demonstration.”

The men acted quickly and slammed a shell and propellant into the breech and shut it.

“Initiate fire mission. Fire.” Kasov ordered. They fired a staggering fifteen rounds in one minute and the men were catching flies.

“Excuse me sir? When do we start training with these?”

The lieutenant smiled. “Today.”

Chapter V

11:25 PM, February 7th 1904, Port Arthur, China

Admiral Stepan Makarov marched toward the bridge of the quite new Imperator Pavel. Ten minutes ago he had received an emergency message from St. Petersburg by telegraph. The East-West telegraph line had been laid only a year before. It ended in Vladivostok where a courier had been dispatched to Port Arthur. In 1901, with the Five Year Plan two years in progress, the Tsar had stated the desire to build a better navy. He had stated that his ‘ideal’ future battleship would be of an all-big-gun design with a tonnage of 17.000 tonnes, twelve 280 mm (11 inch) guns for a main battery, 12 inch (30.5 cm) belt armour and turbine engines which would enable the ship to achieve speeds of 25 knots. Shipyards in Nikolayev and St. Petersburg had begun work on a vessel in line with the new naval policy of the Tsar and didn’t question him. By 1901 everyone knew that the Tsar was not to be questioned. The Okhrana was now under his complete control and he had purged the army, navy, the aristocracy and the new industrial bourgeoisie of dissenters.

The result was the Imperator Nikolayev-class of which the Imperator Pavel was the fourth and latest. Ships in this class were the Imperator Nikolay, Imperator Alexander, Tsaritsa Ekatarina and the Imperator Pavel which now served as the flagship of Russia’s squadron in the Far East. Their construction had been a strain on Russia’s economy which was still undergoing an expansion which demanded a lot from Russia’s labour force and resources; Russia for the first time experienced a labour shortage. The Tsar however was ruthless and the result would be worth it. Makarov read the message:

“Attack by Japanese forces imminent, prepare for combat immediately.”

He dropped the note and started to bark orders.

“Man battle stations. Ready the fleet for combat. We sail at midnight.”

He oversaw the activity as man scurried across the deck to ready the ship for combat. As of now the Imperators were the only ships of their kind, all-big-gun battleships, and the Japanese would be in for a surprise as one of them easily outgunned several of what would become known as pre-Imperators. The flotilla under Makarov’s command consisted of one Imperator Nikolayev-class battleship, six pre-Imperator battleships, seven cruisers, five gunboats, five torpedo boats and twelve destroyers.

Midnight arrived and the Pacific Fleet set sail. The Russian Pacific Fleet had already gone on high alert a week ago and had laid mine fields. Negotiations with Japan regarding the status of Manchuria and Korea had gone on since 1903. The Russians had deliberately stalled and Nicholas/Stalin had no intention on giving Korea to Japan. Japanese statesman Ito Hirobumi had negotiated as he believed Japan to be too weak to evict Russia militarily. He had tried to gain Korea as a protectorate of some sorts while leaving Manchuria to Russia. In the end the Russians had only stalled and their Foreign Minister was asked to take his leave. A sense of urgency befell the Japanese government and they would declare war on Russia, exactly as Nicholas/Stalin had predicted.

Sure enough, a group of torpedo boats arrived only to be sunk as Makarov duly noted. Admiral Togo would get a real surprise when he arrived at Port Arthur.

5:00 AM, February 8th 1904, bridge of the Mikasa, Japanese strike force

Admiral Heichachiro Togo knew this was a risky venture. He had not heard yet from the torpedo boats he had dispatched a few hours earlier. Perhaps they had gotten of course in the dense fog. Suddenly he heard a faint sound and an 11 inch shell only barely missed his ship.

“Gun fire.” He shouted. “Return fire.”

He quickly pulled himself together and accepted the task of commanding the fleet. He peered into the fog and saw the outline of the Imperator Pavel and twelve red glows as the four triple turrets fired another broadside. The Japanese however had six battleships and outnumbered Makarov’s flagship, but Makarov did not intend to fight them on his own. Several 12 inch shells hit his belt armour and, although none penetrated, ordered the ship to fall back. His superstructure was more vulnerable and several 8 inch shells had hit his left flank, disabling two casemates. Battleship Hatsuse had taken the brunt of Makarov’s broadside and indicated it wouldn’t participate in the chase.

“Shall we pursue?” His XO asked.

“Yes.” Togo responded. He was blinded by the prospect of sinking Makarov’s flagship and perhaps killing or capturing Makarov if he was onboard. He was making the biggest mistake in his life and became a symbol for Japan which had bitten off more than it could chew with this opponent. The Russian ship was faster and narrowly avoided the mines that had been laid previously. Suddenly the Shikishima exploded. She had hit a mine.

“We’ve run into an ambush.” Togo shouted, now the gruesome truth dawned on him. “Turn us around, we are leaving.” He ordered and the message was relayed to the other ships who turned around quickly.

What Togo would see next would be the most horrible sight possible. The Imperator Pavel returned with three battleships while three other battleships and seven cruisers attacked from behind. Togo now realized the horrible trap he had run into. His fleet outnumbered the grand total of the Russian fleet but the Russians had more battleships, the element of surprise and the Imperator Pavel. The battlefield was a chaos with Japanese ships in the midst of a crossfire. In the meantime Togo was going nuts.

“How do they know we would be here? This is impossible. There must be a traitor!” He ranted to no one in particular. Little did he know that Stalin had been quite a reader in his previous life. He knew the history of things to come and had pre-empted the Japanese.

The Imperator Pavel hit Mikasa’s ammunition storage and the ship exploded. It would be the last thing Togo would ever know.

Sunrise would reveal the carnage that had taken place in the early morning. Out of Japan’s six battleships, four had been sunk. Only Hatsuse and Asahi had been spared from the onslaught and the latter was crippled and would remain out of action for quite some time. Of Japan’s nine cruisers, four had been destroyed and several destroyers were gone as well. As for Admiral Heichachiro Togo, he was presumed dead and later his body would wash up in Port Arthur.

6:00 AM, February 12th 1904, Yalu river, Manchuria

Lieutenant Ivan Radchenko was waiting for the go order. He had been transferred here several weeks ago in preparation of Operation February Tempest. In the past few years Russia had seen rapid modernization, even if it came at the cost of hundreds of thousands of lives. Tsar Nicholas/Stalin had slowly but surely eliminated the boyars and their influence from court in St. Petersburg and had replaced them with experts, creating some sort of technocratic monarchy. Loyal boyars were of course allowed to remain. Nicholas/Stalin needed people with administrative experience. Russia’s foreign policy had not changed until now and due to Nicholas/Stalin’s historical knowledge, he knew what would happen and had started preparations for operations in Manchuria in Korea as early as December 1903. He held no illusions regarding Korea and Manchuria and regarded conflict with Japan inevitable. By now he considered Russia strong enough to enter a conflict with all the modernizations of late. Railroads and roads connected the major cities and Russia possessed modern communications such as the telegraph cables, enabling the Tsar to direct the war from St. Petersburg. Also, the Trans-Siberian Railway had been finished with an extensive budget increase and the use of forced labour. Many thousands slaved to finish it on time and even make it double track. The Amur-Baikal line would be finished soon as well.

Ivan had seen these changes firsthand. He was of a new crop of officers, barely twenty-five, not of nobility (in fact he was the son of an illiterate peasant) and skilled in modern tactics and strategies. Previously boyars were officers, especially in the higher echelons, even if they were incompetent nitwits, as long as they sucked up to the Tsar, it didn’t matter. Ivan was proud of his achievements. He had joined the army at the age of 19 and his skill had enabled him to rise quickly. He was the son of a mere Russian peasant although reforms had enabled him to learn to read, write and do simple arithmetic and then learn a craft, in his case marksmanship in the army. Now he was waiting for zero hour and was holding his Fedorov Avtomat and glanced at his watch. As expected he heard the rumble of artillery.

“To your barges.” He yelled and saw how his men pushed their landing barge to the bank of river. “Come on, you slugs, the Yellows are waiting for you over there and every extra minute gives those bugs more time to dig in.”

“Yes sir.” The men replied as one. Ivan jumped onto the barge, keeping his eyes on the southern bank which was being pounded by Russian artillery.

“Stroke, stroke, stroke.” Ivan shouted. “Row quicker.”

He was getting more than a bit nervous about Japanese counter fire aimed at the fragile wooden sloops. Over a thousand crossed the river, each carrying around two dozen men. Their orders were to establish a bridgehead on the southern bank which should be done quickly as the Japanese did not have a major presence in Korea yet and the Korean army was weak and small. Several sloops were blown to bits but most reached the other bank.

“Get out. Move, move, move.” Ivan barked. “Take their positions. Storm them.”

His men didn’t need much encouragement as they could taste victory.

6:30 AM, February 12th 1904, Yalu river, Manchuria

Soldier Omura Hattori was in his trench and fired his machine gun at the storming Russians. Japanese resistance was fanatic and many Russians fell prey to his rounds but his unit was being overwhelmed. The Russians were using large numbers very localized. He ducked as a bullet nearly grazed his face. He saw how his comrades fell as the Russians fought back with their semi-automatic rifles which fired a hail of bullets at any Japanese soldier dumb enough to stick his head up. He forgot his surroundings as he fired up to the point of overheating his weapon.

He stood knee deep in muddy water and blood. It was a massacre for both sides but Russia had numbers. Russian 75 mm shells rained down and covered Russian forces in a creeping barrage while 305 mm howitzers took care of especially tough pockets of resistance. Omura was one of the few to have survived the initial onslaught. He forgot everything around him as he fought to preserve the honour of his country. Eventually the first Russian entered the trenches. Omura picked up his rifle and charged at the 7 foot tall Russian and stabbed him with his bayonet, screaming “Banzai”. The giant fell but unfortunately in this war Goliath would defeat David so it wasn’t the metaphor that Japan desired. Where one fell, two took his place and soon Omura found himself surrounded by Russians and his comrades either dead or in retreat. Suddenly he received a blow to the head with a rifle and everything went black.

‘Well, at least I took some of them with me before they got me.’ He thought before passing out. In the initial onslaught the Japanese fared well, considering the circumstances. They were outnumbered by far. Most units retreated in fairly good order although some failed to receive the order such as Omura’s which was engulfed in Russians and outnumbered 5:1. This time Japan would not defeat the Russian juggernaut. Chapter VI

9:30 AM, March 7th 1904, Gatchina Palace, Russian Empire

“Sir, a telegram has arrived from the east from general Kuropatkin.” A servant said as Nicholas/Stalin was reading the newspaper.

“Well done, now be off.” Nicholas/Stalin said with a small smile.

“Thank you, your Imperial Majesty.” The servant said and walked away, presumably to take some time off.

Nicholas/Stalin started to read the message from Kuropatkin:

“Japanese forces routed –stop – beachhead established – stop – marching for Taedong river – stop – heavy Japanese resistance – stop – Japanese counteroffensives have failed to outflank our forces – stop – awaiting instructions – stop – awaiting go-head order for Operation Polar Bear and Polar Wolf – stop.”

“Excellent.” Nicholas/Stalin said. “Excellent.” He started to laugh. “Everything is proceeding exactly as I have planned, well not everything but most of it anyway.”

His second son and fifth child was a haemophiliac unfortunately. He been appropriately named Alexei. Nicholas/Stalin had responded by immediately killing Russian monk Grigory Rasputin before he could do any damage. ‘Oh well, at least I have a healthy successor.’ He thought.

5:00 AM, March 11th 1904, military field headquarters near Yalu river, Korea

General Alexei Nikolayevich Kuropatkin yawned as drank his coffee and looked at a map, displaying troop dispositions. The Tsar had just given the go-ahead order for Operation Polar Bear and Operation Polar Wolf which would be the end of Japan’s presence in Korea. As it was, Japanese resistance was stronger than expected as their supply lines were constantly being harassed by the Russian navy. Russian forces had ploughed their way through the Korean peninsula and were closing in on the Taedong river, thereby avoiding combat in the mountain ranges, instead trying to isolate Japanese troops there by cutting them off.

The plan was now to attack the Japanese pocket around Pyongyang. In the meantime Russian troops would land at Incheon, cutting the Korean peninsula in two and enabling Russian forces to encircle or outflank the Japanese. This would be the deathblow for the Japanese presence in Korea.

5:30 AM, March 15th 1904, Yellow Sea

Colonel Viktor Arkov stood at the bow of one of the landing barges which was headed for Incheon as part of Operation Polar Bear. A fog covered the ocean which would enable them to surprise the Japanese defenders for as far as there were any.

“Row faster.” Viktor whispered. “Be quiet.”

Viktor knew he could have easily gotten a desk job in a safe, cushy office but he wanted to defend his country against the treacherous, vile Japanese which, he had been told, were committing unmentionable atrocities against the Koreans and Russian prisoners of war. As expected the navy started to fire. They had waited until the landing barges were only minutes away from their landing zones to achieve the maximum effect of surprise. 10, 11 and 12 inch shells slammed into Japanese coastal positions.

“Men, prepare for battle.” Viktor barked. “It’s time to fight!”

“Yes sir.”

Viktor jumped into the water and led the charge to the beaches. He was surprised to find only sporadic Japanese fire. They usually resisted fanatically and he would normally been greeted with a hail of bullets, grenades and shells right now. He jumped into the Japanese forward trench.

“Banzai!” A Japanese soldier suddenly screamed. Viktor turned around and stabbed the Japanese soldier with his bayonet and the little yellow man fell to the ground. To the 6 foot 2 inch Viktor.

“Curious.”

“What is curious, sir?” One of the men asked.

“They know they can’t win but still they fight on.” Viktor strange.

“I noticed sir.” The soldier replied. “I don’t know whether to find it frightening or laughable.”

“I’m just happy that there are so many more of us than there are of them.” Viktor replied.

“True sir.”

Viktor marched on and started barking orders as his men occupied the trench. He looked forward and saw how thousands of Russians took care of the sporadic resistance and was proud of his country.

3:00 PM, June 18th 1904, Busan, Korea

Corporal Moti Kinuma watched as Japanese soldiers boarded freighters and troop transports headed for Japan and prayed the Russian navy wouldn’t show up. In the distance he heard the rumble of artillery guns as the Russians besieged the port in an attempt to disrupt the evacuation. Japanese batteries provided counter battery fire and machine guns rattled. Japanese soldiers were outnumbered as the Russians used sheer numbers to win.

Undoubtedly a massacre was going on as the units on the front honourably resisted the Russian aggressors until the last man standing to enable others to return to Japan. Ito wished he was out there to help. He wished he could make himself useful and his mind went out to those fighting and dying as boarded the troop transport.

He stood on the railing and watched as smoke columns rose from the city. Busan was burning and Korea was lost. An alarm started blaring and Moti watched horrified as a Russian cruiser squadron attacked the troop transports. His ship was hit several times and he jumped overboard. He would later wash up on shore and he would wish he had stayed on board the sinking ship where thousands of others had died, the quick way out. A Siberian labour camp would be all he would know from now on.

12:30 PM, July 1st 1904, Tokyo, Empire of Japan

Prime Minister Katsura Taro had not had a good day, in fact he had not had a good day since the start of the war. He and his government had gambled that a quick defeat would bring the Russians to the negotiating table. Military intelligence however had wilfully ignored the Russian troop build-up in Manchuria. Korea was gone and Taro had just gotten off the phone with his best diplomat and negotiator and several military officers.

The military situation was hopeless and Taro would soon request the Russian ambassador for an armistice. Over the years intelligence reports regarding Russia’s growing strength had flooded in as the results of the Five Year had been published. Coal, steel and weapons production had been increased. At the start of the war the opposition had already exclaimed that Japan could not defeat the Russian giant.

He called in a servant to have him send a telegram to St. Petersburg. Japan wanted the war to end. __________________ Chapter VII

9:00 AM, July 27th 1904, Catherine Palace, Tsarskoye Selo

Nicholas/Stalin was sitting in his study, reading once again which was one of his favourite hobbies. He stopped for a moment as he suddenly realized that he could look back on over a decade of rule. He had to say he had done quite well. Russia was growing stronger by the day and with the second Five Year Plan he had decided to take it slower to let the Russian people recover, not to mention the Imperial treasury.

His victory in the Russo-Japanese did have one undesired side effect as the alliance system started to shift. An Anglo-German reproach was starting to take shape and he saw the threat on his border grow.

In family life he was doing well now. At first he had difficulty adjusting to life at court with the stiff protocol and all and he suffered from several tantrums, most notably against his father Alexander III whom he considered to be a fool. He had settled in and was now father of five and happily married. He had clashed with his wife once a few years back with him calling her ‘meddlesome’ and she calling him ‘negligent’ in a fight over government affairs. In the end he had made it crystal clear to her that he would not tolerate her interference and that she should concern herself with the children.

He heard the laughter of children and looked out the window. Sure enough, the eldest was playing soldier again, inspired by the bed time stories he had undoubtedly heard hundreds of times by now. He would turn 9 years old in December and was already a promising Tsarevich. He was intelligent, strong and curious to learn more.

1:00 PM, July 27th 1904, Catherine Palace, Tsarskoye Selo

“Lunch is ready.” The nanny shouted to the children who were playing games. Nicholas/Stalin heard and went downstairs as he was hungry too. A lunch with the entire family seemed a good idea and the nanny made good food as Nicholas/Stalin had found out after tasting one of her pastries on her insistence. She was also responsible for the cake that had been eaten on his last birthday.

“Hello, Katinka.” He said as he entered the dining room. “What have you made for us today?”

“I made something Italian today.” She smiled. “Salami sandwiches.”

“Excellent.” Nicholas/Stalin said as he sat down.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you. We’re eating outside today.” She said. Nicholas/Stalin frowned. This was unusual and he didn’t like that. ‘Ah well, the weather is good.’ He thought.

“Good idea.”

He looked on approvingly as she readied the makeshift table standing outside and followed her.

“Your Imperial Majesty, where is your spouse if I may ask?” Katinka suddenly asked.

“She is paying a visit to her mother-in-law in St. Petersburg with little Alexei. She’ll be joining us tonight at the party.”

“Ah.” She replied. Nicholas/Stalin smiled. He knew that she and his mother didn’t get along well as they were both somewhat bossy, thinking that their way was the best solution to any given problem. Fortunately Alix was now in charge of the household.

“Hello, papa.” The children said almost simultaneously.

“Hello.” He said with a smile. “What did you all do today?”

Josef was the first to respond.

“I played chess inside and then went out to play tag.”

“And your studies?” Nicholas/Stalin asked.

“I studied this morning.” Josif replied with a grin.

“And what did you do today?” He asked the girls.

“We helped Katinka.” They replied with a big smile. Nicholas/Stalin had to admit that Katinka had a way with the girls that he would never understand. He contemplated this as he ate his sandwich and made himself a jelly sandwich while he was at it.

10:00 PM, July 27th 1904, Catherine Palace, Tsarskoye Selo

Nicholas/Stalin walked down the stairs and as he approached the crowd, they raised their glasses and cups and toasted on their Tsar. He mingled with the crowd and chatted with some important people. The man he was really looking for was Count Lambsdorff.

“Ah, Vladimir, there you are.” He said.

“Your Imperial Majesty.” He said as he made a slight bow.

“How are negotiations with the Japanese going?” Nicholas/Stalin asked.

“Very well. They’re grovelling before us like worms.”

“Excellent. Ask for nothing less than the complete renunciation of any Japanese claim on Korea and Manchuria.”

“That was the plan.” Lambsdorff said with a smile. Nicholas/Stalin smiled back. Everything was well and soon Russia would be the most powerful nation in the world. __________________ ve decided to let this story end. I'm sorry to end it this way with a cliffhanger and flash forward but I've other things to think about and I was getting bored with this as it's not really going anywhere.

Weapons of the Soviets will be continued.

8:00 PM,May 16th 1906,Winter Palace, St. Petersburg

Nicholas/Stalin waltzed across the floor with his wife whilst his most loyal followers surrounded them in the Golden Dreamworld. The occasion was truly one to celebrate though as today was the day that the Russian flag had been raised over Hsinking and Manchuria had come into the arms of the Russian Empire.The event had recieved little coverage as the Moroccan Crisis had dominated the headlines giving the Russian army the time to hold a 'democratic' plebiscite and then went on to fully intergrate the province with the rest of Russia.

The Moroccan Crisis had also been a massive success story,with the Germans and British finding the Russo-French alliance to be rock solid. Al around Europe he looked for a chance to begin what was an inevitable war as soon as the Russian army was ready. Mere months ago he had commisioned studies into motorized transport,the military uses of the Aeroplane and the feasibility of Armoured Fighting Vehicles. He hoped to have results and concepts within the month and hopefully production of perfected designs in 2 years.

His saber rattling had mainly been isolated to the Balkans were he was giving large amounts of help to the Balkan leauge as well as Nationalist elements inside Austria-Hungary. Crushing these elements was proving much harder than expected for the Austro-Hungarians leaving them a crippled shadow of what they had once been.

"We just need a spark" Stalin thought to himself before kissing his wife and basking in the applause of his followers.

The dance was over.

7:00 PM, December 5th 1904, Winter Palace, St. Petersburg

“Happy birthday.” Nicholas/Stalin said.

“Thanks papa.” Josef said. In the meantime Nicholas/Stalin looked around the room. He noticed certain personality changes in him and he was suppressing them. Stalin and no one else ruled this body and, by extension, the Russian Empire. His old paranoia was coming back again too as a result. He noticed how she had hired the occult weirdo Aleister Crowley, a foreigner for Christ’s sake.

“Hello, Your Imperial Majesty.” He said in his weird accent.

“Do not do that. I don’t like it when people sneak up on me.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” He said as he glared at the Tsar of Russia. Instead of looking away, the Tsar looked right back and his eyes bored into those of Crowley. Tension rose for a moment but then Crowley looked away.

‘He’s too dangerous. He’s got to go.’ Nicholas thought. He didn’t mention him during his son’s birthday but he was already contemplating the best way to get rid of him. It would be before long that he and Alix would get into an argument over it.

11:30 PM, December 5th 1904, Winter Palace, St. Petersburg

“No, he is not going anywhere.” She shouted.

“He’s dangerous, don’t you see. He’s an occult, foreign, satanic psychopath.” Nicholas/Stalin shouted back.

“But he can heal our son, Nicholas. Don’t you see that.” She said in tears.

“I don’t care. He’s a threat. He’s trying to influence me through you and I have warned you before that rule over Russia is mine and mine alone.” Nicholas/Stalin replied. “My will be done.”

“If he’s going, I’m going and I’m taking little Alexei with me.” She said hysterically.

‘That can be arranged.’ He thought as he left the room. He went into his office to phone the head of the Okhrana to arrange for an accident to happen to Crowley and his wife 9:00 PM,June 22nd 1908,10 Downing Street,London

Herbert Asquith was becoming a tired old man. He realised now the stresses Bannerman must have had to face. He had once believed that Germany was a rouge state who could have led to France and Britain putting their differences aside but now his entire world had gone upside down. The increasingly aggressive Russian empires annexation of Manchuria as well as their boosting of the Balkan nations had proven them to be the greater threat and now Britian and Germany had been forced to come together to unite against the close Franco-Russian friendship.

He also noticed with fear how the Russian navy and army had transformed since Nicholas had taken over. They now boasted 10 ships worringly similar to the dreadnought as well as 5 others which were still under construction. The Russian army had fearsome new rollers which they had nicknamed "Tanks" these were aptly named in his view as they lokked like giant wter tanks on tracks. They had fully embraced the new inventions of automobiles and aeroplanes and were mass producing them in their reformed industrial base. The entire make up of his fitter Bear made Asquith shiver in what the consequences of what war may bring. 10:00 PM,June 23rd 1908,Winter Palace,St Petersburg

Nicholas/Stalin and Alexandra sat by the fire, it's crackling being the overwhelming noise in a room where the couple only had monotonous conversaions these days. Nicholas/Stalin studied his wife wondering if he should go through with his plan. She had tested his patience far too many times,trying to intervene in political matters,spousing anti-semitic views and being an example of the class system which the Georgian peasent still despised. She he had grnated him a strong healthy heir and now that the boy was growing an independence from his parents he knew she had epended her usefulness.

"I will rid myself of the bitch once and for all he said and with that a all of a sudden grabed her in an embrace.

"Alexandra my dear!" he cried crying to sound as emotional as possible. "We have been through a rough time together but we need to make things right between us. I am ready to listen anything you desire will be done,I am at your command!" Alexandra could only nod, overcome by this suprise revelation.

"We both need to be alone together like before and I have a suprise for you,I've had a new hideaway built for us away from politics and diplomacy! Go there immediately and wait for me there immediately but I wont be there for a couple of days I need to settle buisness here before I leave."

Alexandra was stunned by this sudden change in her husband. For the first time in years it seemed he loved her again.

"Where is it?" she asked in a slightly frightened voice.

"It's a chateau on the Tunguska river" Nicholas/Stalin answered. Chapter XI

7:12 AM,June 30th 1908,Romanov Summer Retreat,Tunguska

Czarina Alexandra Romanov had got up early to prepare for her husbands coming. He had promised to come in the early hours and she wanted to be able to meet her Husband as he arrived. The strange away he had acted ever since his fathers death had put their marriage on a see saw of intimate love at one moment and contempt the next. It had seemed that Nicholas had goten word of her affair of Crowley as for the past year he rarely spoke to her and her attempts to take him away from politics had only led to more hatred from the one she once loved.

But now he seemed a changed man. His sudden expression of love that night and the revelation of this new summer retreat had given them he oppurtunity it seemed to her now as if everyone was going to be alright once more.

Alexandra never knew what hit her as she and the "Summer Retreat" were vaporised in an instant. As was everything else for miles around as the asteroid airbursted in the upper atmosphere.

Her last thoughts had been happy. 10:15 AM,June 34th 1908,Schönbrunn Palace,Vienna

Emperor Francis Joseph was an old man but certainly not an idiot. He still retained his political skill and was ready to take advantage of his new oppurtunity. The Tsars wife had been killed,apparently by a forest fire in Tunguska and he knew that his adversary would be emotionally crushed for the next few weeks. Now was the time to annex Bosnia-Herzegovina.

This he hoped would kill two birds with the one stone. Not only would he show the Russians and their Serbian dogs who had authority oer the region but would also show the Russian supplied nationalist upstarts that he has still and in charge and that Austria remained strong. Germany and Britain gave their backing as did Italy,their Quadruple alliance would show off any of the French and Russian upstarts who would try and whine.

"The Russians believe they can take Bessarabia eh?" He said sarcastically to himself. "Soon I'll show them who owns the Balkans."

As he retired for the night he went to bed with a skip in his step. He felt on top of the world once more. 11:00 PM,July 1st 1908,Jughashvili Estate,Tsaritsin

Joseph Jughashvili felt uncommonly nervous as he walked down the corridors of his estate as he entered the room he found several members of the Okhrana some more high up than he was in the elusive organisation other people sat mainly military men or nobles. They were all united by one cause-they all hated the Tsar and Jughashvili saw the chance to unite them under his command.

Stalin wiped the sweat from his brow and began his speech "Gentlemen. Many of us do not know each other but there will be a time for introductions later. There is only one thing which is important right now and that is to remove the Tsar. Now some of us want rid of the monarchy permanently,other merely want a different monarch,for years the Tsar has oppressed us and divided us leaving to fight each other whilst he sits safe and in complete control. This man aims to take away our power and give it to peasants,he aims to destroy our church and most importantly he wants to destroy our way of life. This man canot be allowed to succeed for if he does Mother Russia will walk blindly into socialism.

We must unite and put away our feeble differences for there is only one enemy and he is our target!

As the assorted guests stood up and politley clapped Jughashvili knew he had them.

The Tsaritsin Brotherhood was born.