Atmosphere (Russian Empire DME)

[Grey Wolf]

Prince Georgi Andreivich was never an early riser, but something had woken him that morning. He looked around the luxurious bedroom, illuminated in the weak sun of an early September morning.
"Hmm..." he said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.
Forty-two years old, he had served the obligatory Romanov apprenticeship in the Guards, but opted to retire at the minumum length of service. Not for him ending up an old and irrelevant general, too important to be pensioned off, too important to be sent anywhere meaningful. He had retired to his father's estates in the Crimea, then upon the death of the Grand Duke had succeeded to them, and the wealth that went with them. Able now to be viewed as acceptable in court society - money would do that - he had been a surprise appointment to succeed the Tsar's sister Grand Duchess Maria Konstantinaevna as Regent in Saint Petersburg upon her retirement. Effectively ViceRoy for the emperor it was a role where you learnt on the job, so to speak.
Pulling on a blue and yellow satin robe, Prince Georgi made his way across the heavy persian carpet towards the double doors. There was definitely a commotion out there; was that someone shouting ? Where were the guards ? His annoyance bubbling up, he threw open the doors, ready to bellow at whatever fool was disturbing his lie in.
Instead he froze opened mouthed and stared at the dozen generals and ministers who stood outside arguing amongst themselves.
He closed his mouth, and pulled the gown tight around his person,
"Yes...?" he asked, the coldness in his voice tempered by the overwhelming curiosity he was feeling.
"Your highness", the local Minister for Shiping, bowed and bobbed, "There is trouble."
"Your highness", another minister older, more smooth of banner, also bowed, though more stiffly, "We cannot be sure that there really is anything in this other than strange atmospheric conditions."
"In what ?", Prince Georgi intoned the words steadily, but the steel was now back in his gaze.
The minister for shipping coughed; Vladimir he remembered his name was, Vladimir Miliukov that was it.
"Your highness, we first noticed it with the relay station at Reval, its not broadcasting this morning's meteorological forecast. Then we noticed that Riga and Danzig are not either - I had one of my men go up to the main transmitter on the Winter Palace and check for sure..."
"So...", Prince Georgi looked at all the others around him, "We are worried about a lack of weather today ?"
"Your highness", it was the only woman present, "We are unable to raise Constantinople"
"Or Aleksandrograd", Miliukov added.
"I believe it must be something to do with unusual atmospheric conditions, Your highness", the older minister persisted.
"But we can raise Nizhny Novgorod, Kazan, Archangelsk" Miliukov protested, "My man assures me that he could also pick up Petropavlosk"
"A concentrated local situation" the older man smiled as if at a child whose joke was beginning to get annoying.
"Your highness", the woman persisted, "We tried the telegraph also, and were unable to get through to Constantinople...in fact we could not get a return signal from Odessa either."
"I see", Prince Georgi certainly did not see, but it seemed the best thing to say in the circumstances, "Can we contact Reval by telegraph or Aleksandrograd ?"
Nobody had anything to say on that. He nodded, wondering if that was all it in fact was, local atmosspheric anomalies and a single failed telegraph line. Quite why everyone would be in such a flap about that, he could not say.
"Convene a meeting in the Little Hall", he instructed, "And send my valet to me. I shall attend presently."

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

By the time he reached the Little Hall, the number of people waiting for him had almost doubled, and he noted several very sombre looking messengers clustering around the generals and the Minister for War, or sub-minister, effective for Russia proper but subordinate to the ministry in Constantinople - if they were able to raise him.
Prince Georgi headed that way, ignoring the old man who was trying to signal him first, and ignoring the shipping minister and the woman, a signals' expert he seemed to recall, who were hunched over a stack of papers.
"General Kuropkin", he button-holed the most senior officer in sight, "What exactly is going on?"
The general pulled himself up straight, ran a hand through his beard and then announced,
"Your highness I believe we are under attack."
Prince Georgi almost gaped, remembered in time and kept his mouth shut. He put his fingers to his forehead then nodded sharply,
"Around the table - please !"
Everyone moved, the command seeming to cut through the uncertainty, give them something to cling on to, some measure of normality. He sat, poured a glass of water from a crystal vase and looked directly at the general and his advisors,
"Are we under attack ?", he stressed the first word, wanting it to be understood that this was no idle chatter but a serious matter of state.
General Kuropkin looked him in the eye, then dropped his gaze,
"Your Highness, we have to make some assumptions. We cannot contact any of the army commands by radio or by telegraph. But we have had some returns from up-stations on the major lines...", he paused looking unconfortable.
"You believe that saboteurs have crossed the frontier and isolated the army commands ?", Prince Georgi asked carefully.
"The uplines...", the general did not want to complete the sentence.
"Will somebody please explain", the Regent snapped.
A young captain in the garb of the a messenger, and seated on the general's left, made an effort,
"Your highness," his voice was steady but his eye was not, "One of the uplines on the Eastern Dnieper informs us that there are unfamiliar units on the other bank."
"On the Dnieper ?!", the Regent was astounded, "That deep within Russian territory ?"
"We have some theories about airborne assault", General Kuropkin said weakly.
"Right", Prince Georgi came to an interime decision, "Send from here to all frontier posts, log and relay. Then identify the furthermost station we can contact and instruct them to send a party forward to investigate."
There were nods all round, repeated instructions, qualifications, several men ran off to relay the instructions.
"Then ready the Imperator for take-off. Destination Constantinople. If all methods of contacting the capital are down we must inform the emperor of our situation."
The minister for shipping, Miliukov, sprang to his feet. As a ship of the air the imperial airship Imperator came under his jurisdiction,
"I shall arrange that immediately, your highness"
"Very good", Prince Georgi nodded at him, "General Kuropkin, just in case you are correct, I recommend calling up the first swathe of the reserve and mobilising the elite regiments here in the capital."
"Yes your highness", a glint reappeared in that worthy's eye. It was the kind of action he could understand.
"And Admiral Kanenin, I will review the fleet at Midday."
"Yes, your highness", the naval officer was on his feet, "With your leave, your highness, I believe it would be well for me to relay that news at once to the flag officers and captains."
"Quite so, you may take your leave, admiral."
"Now", the Regent looked around the table at those remaining seating, "I recommend we establish a permanent committee whilst this emergency lasts."
If the Regent recommended, then no one would gainsay him. A few minutes later everyone was in motion. Prince Georgi watched them for a moment, then made his way carefully to the telephone in the corner upon a small oak table. He dialled a number known to very few...and waited...and waited...

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

"This doesn't make sense"
Vassily Aksenov looked across the much-scarred wooden table and frowned at his colleague,
"If you have something to say Anton then say it clearly."
Anton sniffed at him,
"The vodka again, Vassily? You need to keep a clear head once in a while, it does wonders for the temper."
"So you are not going to say ?", Vassily slammed his empty tin mug down upon the table and made to rise.
"As a matter of fact I am going to say" Anton said
Vassily subsided but did not look completely convinced,
"What is it ?"
"Remember when I said earlier that there had been something from Saint Petersburg, just a faint test signal ?"
"Yes...." Vassily thought he did remember, though earlier was a never good time for him, earlier did funny things to his memory.
"It just happened again, same signal but stronger."
"Not to us?"
"Well", Anton smiled wrily, "not to us, but to Petropavlosk command."
"So ?"
"Why a test signal ? Why not use the telegraph ?"
"Maybe they are ? Maybe they aren't ?", Vassily wasn't sure what he was saying.
"Maybe", Anton looked thoughtful, "We haven't had any signals from Aleksandrograd today..."
"Well, we wouldn't" Vassily felt pretty sure about that.
"I mean not to Petropavlosk."
"None at all ?", all at once Vassily's head felt clearer, "We have had nothing at all from Aleksandrograd pass us by today ?"
"Nothing"
"The telegraph runs through Aleksandrograd", Vassily mused, "If that is the reason...?"
"You mean..." Anton was shocked, "The empire of Japan ?!"
Vassily nodded,
"At a guess, Anton, at a guess."
The other man looked out of the window at the cold grey seas outside, beyond the edge of the island. Suddenly that did not seem an adequate barrier at all...

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

Part 4

The Pobieda lay tied up alongside the quayside, the filigree work shining in the Midday sun. Light grey and white, the giant submarine was the pride of the Russian Pacific Fleet - Submarine Division based here at Petropavlosk.
Captain Robert Lobanov stood on the conning tower, smoking one of the American cigarettes he had picked up on his last voyage, a round-the-world tour taking in Mexico, Chile, Argentina, Brazil, a stopover at Richmond, Virginia before crossing the Atlantic, visiting the French Empire, Naples, Egypt, traversing the Suez Canal, French Somalia, British India, the Dutch East Indies, the Spanish Philippines and back to Petropavlosk. It had showed the young crewmen that there was a whole world out there beyond the Rodina, nations with colonies all over the world...all over the warm world. Constantinople was as far as any of them had been before, and the weather there was indeed warm, but there was a whole world beyond.
"Captain, sir !", the voice of young lieutenant Andrei Pavlovich Kanenin came blasting up the voice tube. Personally, Lobanov thought he was too young for the position, despite showing promise, but when your father is an admiral you get promoted before your years. Still, it was not too bad, Lobanov mused as he cupped the cigarette and leant into the voice tube. At least the lad wasn't an idiot.
"Captain here."
"Sir, Division is calling all commanders to an emergency conference....now sir !"
"Now ?", Lobanov sighed and tossed the cigarette overboard, "I am on my way"
He stepped onto the gangway and down the side of the Pobieda. First of an intended class of nine, she had taken all the limelight until June when the first of her sisters, the Bayan, had been commissioned. Two more were to be completed before the end of the year, all built and based out here on the Kamchatka peninsular.
He strutted across the quayside, crossed the small expanse to the Divisional Headquarters, noticing that indeed other men of similar rank were making their own not-quite-hurried but definitely not lazy way there.
A Marine patted him down at the entrance. He frowned, the imperial eagle had not been in evidence on the rooftop, but such procedure was only the case when a senior member of the Romanov dynasty was present....or when they were at war !
He saw the same thought form in the minds of his fellow commanders, passed on in with them, and found himself led to a seat by an over-excited ensign. He sat, his hands steepled before him, waiting and watching. There was not long to wait. Without ceremony, Admiral Sergei Ulyanov entered, nodded to them all, and sat down at the head of the table.
"Gentlemen", he looked up, did not bother to look round, "As of this morning we have been unable to raise Aleksandrograd. Neither have we received signals from them, or any communication on the telegraph network. Twenty minutes ago I received the 'War Warning' from Saint Petersburg upon the radio."
He let the significance of that sink in, then continued,
"The exact situation is unclear. I believe that Saint Petersburg also does not know precisely the nature of the attack we face. However, under standing orders I am putting the city on alert. War patrols will begin immediately...", he paused, "There is something else - ten minutes ago I endeavoured to relay this message to Konstantine", he named the main city of Russian Alaska, "Neither the telegraph cable nor the radio elicited any kind of response. We must be prepared for the worst. Dismissed !"
All at once the place broke into uproar.

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

OK, obviously I have never been to Kuldja so the approaches to it are from my imagination. In addition, this only works if no one ends up taking China and it becomes that unpopulated wilderness. If this chapterette turns out not to have happened, no great loss.

Part Five

"Its not there..."
Count Ignatieff Voronov looked at her in annoyance,
"Of course its there, woman !" he snapped
"It is not", she was stubborn.
He leant over her, ignoring the breach in decorum in his anger, and stared down the line at... at...
"What the devil ?!" he growled.
Regardless of the fact that the locomotive stood stationary in what was but barren rocks, the Count heaved the door open and jumped down to the ground. Below them in the plains, the city of Kuldja ought to be stretching out before them, welcoming them after their long journey.
But it was not...
Other passengers were disembarking now, all moving around with a dazed expression
"That light" said one, remembering
"Yes!", the Count thumped the side of the carriage, eliciting a few not very friendly glares, "There was a flash, a light, earlier this morning. The steward remarked upon it !"
The woman only nodded, leaning out of the carriage,
"Its not there...." she said
"Yes..." the count had to concede that most definitely, "I wonder what we do now."

Grey Wolf

[DominusNovus]

Even if it is taken, it could be an area thats unpopulated.

[Grey Wolf]

"Your imperial highness, there is an urgent call from Saint Petersburg."
Tsesarevitch Konstantine Konstantinovich rolled over and looked up into the eyes of his valet,
"I thought I was not to be disturbed", he indicated the sleeping forms beneath the blankets.
The valet expertly avoided looking at what he knew to be two young girls,
"Your highness, it is your aunt, her imperial highness Grand Duchess Maria Konstantinaevna, she wishes to speak to you as a matter of the utmost urgency."
"Oh hell", the Tsesarevitch rolled himelf out of bed and stood before the mirror, naked, admiring his frame. Not bad for forty-plus, he thought.
"My aunt is almost eighty", he said to nobody in particular, "The last time she sent a royal messenger half way across the empire for me it was to present me with a new cravat for my birthday."
"You remarked upon the charming gesture, your highness, I remember that."
"Perhaps it was irony ?" the Tsesarevitch stared him down, "Oh very well, where is the telephone ?"
The valet presented it upon a silver platter.
"What time is it ?" the Tsesarevitch whispered.
The valet told him. He winced,
"Good afternoon, aunt Maria, I hope...."
She cut him dead,
"There's a war on !" she barked at him, "Don't good afternoon me."
"A war ?", Konstantine was suddenly aware of his own nakedness, "I am sure that if there were a war, my father would have been in touch before now."
"All contact with Constantinople has been lost." her cracked ancient voice came down the line.
"That is not possible", he was calm, assured, resolute.
"Of course it isn't !", she snapped, "But it has happened. The Regent has declared a War Warning, but I'll be damned if he knows what's happening."
"A War Warning ?!" the Tsesarevitch yelped.
Woken from her exhausted sleep, one of the girls poked her head out from underneath the covers, saw the valet and the telephone, yelped and dived back under.
"I hear we cannot even raise the frontier", his aunt said.
"Which frontier ?", he was disorientated, confused. Maybe clothes would help; he signalled to his valet who stepped away towards the wardrobe.
"The Western frontier."
"We cannot raise any of the units positioned in Posen ?"
"We cannot even raise Poland, any of it", his aunt sounded certain of her facts, "The Regent does not do things lightly."
"I see", he allowed his valet to put on socks, underpants, "What is your advice ?"
He was sure she had some, why else would she call....well, apart from the fact that nobody else outside of Constantinople could possibly have worked out where he was...
"Come to Saint Petersburg immediately."
"Can you organise a train ?"
"It can be done", she sounded uncertain but defiant, "It will be done one way or another."
He frowned, confused as to her reticence on the issue. No matter, he could take it up with her when he arrived in the city tomorrow.
"I will see you first ?", he asked
"The regent will meet you", she was a stickler for protocol, "I will see you when I am ready."
"Yes, of course, aunt Maria", he knew it was an apology.
"Then move quickly, my boy"
And with that she was gone. He stared a moment at the receiver, then replaced it onto the hook. A servant moved forwards to take the tray and reel back the cable. He stood up and let his valet pull up his trousers.
A movement in the bed caught his eye. He sighed; it was a pity he could not take the girls to Saint Petersburg but it would be a step too far. Maybe when he was Tsar...

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

The Kishinev was pressing its engines as fast as they could propel it, making as fast a speed Eastwards as a small airship could, in the wind and weather around them.
"Captain, I implore you - you CAN'T send that message sir !"
Igor Kollontai, Captain of the airship looked round at his second in command and raised his hands in a gesture of supplication,
"Vladimir, we must send the message."
"But it is MADNESS !", the other man wailed, "My mother's sister was put in a madhouse, I know what it is like. I will not have that done to me !"
"Vladimir, get a grip !", his tone was more severe now, "We are reporting what we saw."
"But nobody will believe us !"
"We saw it with our own eyes, you and me and Mikhail", he mentioned the Observation Deck commander, "No one can gainsay us."
"But its insane !" Vladimir slumped back against the pillar, "We cannot tell them what we saw, it cannot be possible."
"Do you doubt that you saw it ?!"
"I doubt that I am.....was.....", he broke off, and bent his head into his arms.
Satisfied that the outburst was over, Captain Kollontai turned his attention to the radio,
"Urgent Top Priority ! Urgent Top Priority !" he yelled into the system.
"Sevastopol receiving, make your report forthwith."
Kollontai noted that last word, it meant that so many reports were coming in that command needed to clear the sets as soon as one was over in order to accommodate another.
"Airship Kishinev, special recconaissance over Odessa and Moldavia. Report follows."
"You have our attention, Kishinev", it was another voice, more senior, more firm - Admiral Enqvist perhaps.
"Odessa occupied by foreign forces. Unable to identify, eagle of apparently Roman origin in evidence."
There was silence. He wondered if they had heard him, wondered whether Vladimir may perhaps be right indeed.
"Constanta occupied by foreign forces. Unable to identify. A stylised eagle much in evidence."
"Is that it ?!", the curt, angry voice definitely belonged to the admiral; that was an expression Kollontai had heard enough times in the past to be sure about.
"We have preliminary sketches, sir." he managed.
"Bring them in."
The radio went dead. Kollontai looked down at the weeping form of his friend,
"Perhaps you were right after all...", he sighed.

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

Prince Kyril Nikolaevich looked like he was in shock. Josef Sukhotin did not know much about the medical complaint, but he could tell that something had fairly knocked the minister off the tracks.
"Your highness ?", he ventured, holding out the reams of documents that the Regency's Foreign Minister had asked for.
Prince Kyril looked at him vaguely, then something approaching recognition dawned upon his face, He took the papers and placed them down in front of him.
"Er..", Josef tried to be tactful, seeing how the prince's gaze had gone blank again, "Will that be all, your highness ?"
There was no answer. After a moment or two's uncomfortable hovering, Josef chose to interpret the silence of his being ignored as an effective dismissal. He edged quietly out of the room. Something was definitely wrong here, something was very wrong indeed.

* * * * *

The Regent looked down the list of ministers that his secretariat had prepared for him, and groaned. He had forgotten that his cousin held the Foreign Ministry portfolio. It had never been more than a sinecure, a patronage position whose incumbent rarely did much more than go on foreign tours and host small gatherings of minor foreign diplomats. He could be sure that Kyril had done his share of that ! All the serious business was handled from Constantinople...except that in the current Emergency Constantinople could not be reached and with the situation at the frontiers confusing, at best, the ministers of the Regency were being called upon to act in the full capacity of their office. For some it simply meant a widening of horizons - Miliukov for example was having no difficulty over the other Mercantile Secretariats and extending his remit over all the aerial zones that Saint Petersburg remained in contact with. The Finance Minister had called an emergency meeting with representatives of all major banking houses for late that afternoon, General Kuropkin was beefing up his staff, turning the Army Co-ordination Office into a reserve General Staff in case Constantinople remained out of contact...in case...
Quite what Kyril Nikolaevich was doing though, Prince Georgi was not sure. No reports had come in from the Foreign Ministry. His name showed on the list before him but there had been no contact from his office. He would have to do something about that.

* * * * *

The fleet lay before him in the Gulf of Finland, twelve battleships, an impressive sight despite the rain and inclement weather that had seemed to descend without warning. Prince Georgi had intended to review the fleet from the Admiralty motor launch but in the prevailing uncertainty, as regarded almost everything, Admiral Kanenin had refused to alllow that. The Regent might have protested, but he was informed that the Admiral of the Fleet, Prince Mishkin, and General Kuropkin both seconded the decision. So he was reviewing them from the shore. Overhead two naval airships patolled, buffetted by the wind, but safe enough in any weather short of a faull-blown storm.
"The fleet is in good order, admiral." Prince Georgi remarked.
Admiral Pavel Kanenin smiled and nodded. It was not his doing and he could take no pride in it, but considering the circumstances he understood that he had the responsibility, and was pleased to have lived up to that at least.
"The fleet flagship, aptly named Rossiya for the Fatherland, steamed majestically at the head, flanked at a distance by a pair of gleaming scout cruisers.
"Very pretty..." he began.
"Those are the pair from the reserve", Admiral Kanenin read his thoughts, "Prince Mishkin has ordered them to be repainted to war colours overnight."
"Ah", he nodded and looked back towards the line of battleships, reciting their names in his mind. Rossiya, Svoboda, Oryel and Tsesarevitch. These leviathans of the water, completed in the late 1920s, boasted twelve 16" guns in four triple turrets and had a design speed of 30 knots. Until the completion of the new class, they remained the first word in Russian naval strength in the Northern theatre.
"Your highness", a tremulous voice said, behind him.
He turned scowling. It was the same same messenger who had dared to clarify Kuropkin's views as the meeting that morning.
"Speak", he commanded.
"Your highness...", he swallowed and then did his duty, "His highness Prince Kyril Nikolaevich begs to inform you that...", he looked at the floor, "that the Kingdom of Sweden has ceased to exist."

* * * * *

There was uproar in the palace upon his return. The standing committee he had appointed that morning had been overwhelmed, first by the masses of information descending upon them, then by the actual messages themselves. Scattered paper, broken glasses and smashed furniture bore witness to the rage of man when confronted with the inexplicable and impossible. There had already been two suicides - one a Guards officer, rumoured to have been unstable at any rate, and now...now this.
Prince Georgi Andreivich looked down at the body of his cousin. Prince Kyril did not look any better in death than in life, he thought. Of course, the bullet hole in his head and the congealing pool of blood did not help.
"Who is the deputy within his ministry ?", the Regent asked at length.
"Prince Mikhail Vyazemsky", his secretary replied, his mind being a storehouse for all sorts of usually irrelevant detail.
"I do not know him."
"Sixty years of age, your highness, a career diplomat, formerly posted to the embassy staff at Stockholm and before the Second Great War at Berlin."
"So he is experienced and can be expected to know what he is doing ?"
The secretary looked down at the body of the dead prince and pursed his lips,
"Your highness, given the circumstances, I am sure that I could not say."
Prince Georgi took that in his stride,
"Make sure he is at the full meeting at six o'clock tonight", he instructed, "I will meet with the committee now."

* * * * *

Elena Purishkevich could feel the energy running through her veins. She was striding through the chaos like a giant. Mysteries were her thing. As head of the Saint Petersburg telegraphic bureau, she was the closest thing to a civilian cryptologist that the Regency possessed. Mysteries, puzzles, ciphers and clues. They all invigorated her.
And there could be no bigger puzzle than this. She looked around the chaos of the Little Hall. Only half of the committee's members remained at their posts. Some had succumbed to drink, one or two lay exhausted on sofas they had dragged in from the ante-room, others had just simply wandered away. Whether to walk their way through to an understanding, or to disassociate themselves from the matter for ever, only the morning would tell.
She shuffled a handful of telegraph receipts, skim-reading their messages. Telegraph stations with no downline confirmation had been ordered, that morning, to investigate. The results of those investigations were now before them. It was still too difficult to put it into words precisely, but she was beginning to gain an impression of the overall pattern.
Without warning and certainly without fanfare, the Regent strode into the room, accompanied only by his secretary and a single harassed-looking guard. One or two of the slumbering officials leapt to their feet, attempted an obsequeous bow. But Prince Georgi ignored them and made his way across the plush blue carpet straight at her.
"Do we have an overview yet ?", he asked, then smiled slightly, "A coherent overview would be even better."
"I believe that we are close, your highness.", she said to the evident shock of some of thise around her, "Something beyond human understanding has occurred and yet...we must adapt to it."
That probably summed it up well, Georgi thought. He cast a glance around the room, and frowned.
"Do you have enough staff...enough reliable staff ? I want your findings written up by six o'clock tonight, ready to be presented to the full council", he paused, "I need it to be as unambiguous as possible."
"We could certainly use some additional stenographers", she said with a wry grin.
Prince Georgi motioned to his secretary to make a note of it.

* * * * *

The council chamber was full. Every minister had his deputy, his secretaries and his messenges. A bank of stenographers stood by to record every single jot of the proceedings. Two regiments of the Guard, including the elite Blue Cuirassiers, encircled the palace, guarded its doorways and patrolled its corridors. Searchlights cut through the air, probing the clouds of this stormy night. The occasional shadow of an airship might be made out, the imperial eagle emblazoned upon its side.
Inside, Prince Georgi Andreivich rose to speak. The room went quiet, expectant but hesitant. He did not stand on ceremony.
"In a moment", he spoke, "Miss Elena Purishkevich will hand each of you a dossier containing everything that we know to be true so far.", he paused and looked them in the eye, moving his gaze around the table, "I must emphasise that last part. The report you are about to see does not contain speculations or conjecture. Please bear that in mind before making comment. Miss Pureshkevich ?"
She moved round the horseshoe-shaped table, neatly dishing out beige folders as she went.
Once everybody had theirs and not before there had already been some gasps and exclamations, Prince Georgi directed their attention to the cover sheet which he had insisted be put together as a brief summary, perhaps also an agenda,
"As a summary of the situation, let me tell you that we have lost contact not only with Constantinople, but with everywhere West of the Dneiper. Reval and the whole of Livonia-Estonia are also affected. We have also lost contact with Aleksandrograd and Alaska. For the former, experimentation with the telegraphic relay stations afixes the line of disruption at an approximation of the border of the Amur Maritime Province. Throughout the day we have been conducting experiments and recconaissance. No contact can be made with our Mongolian or Manchurian provinces. The island of Sakhalin also appears to be outside of out network. Dzungaria and Kuldja, likewise."
He paused. They all seemed to be taking this part well enough.
"This, therefore is the extent of the disruption upon the empire... As for neighbouring states, we have picked up a few transmissions in unknown codes and several broadcasts which at first glance appear to be gross forgeries or impersonations. Circumstances demand that we take them seriously - you will find transcripts in the appendix. The Foreign Ministry also endeavoured to contact Sweden in person, sending representatives by rail to the Karelian border. Prince Vyazemsky - if you would ?"
The sexagenarian diplomat rose to his feet,
"To be stark, your highness, excellencies, we were informed in no uncertain terms that the Kingdom of Sweden did not exist, had not existed for some unspecified but lengthy time, and that we were addressing representatives of the United Nordic Kingdom, whose monarch King Frederick Christian Gustav III would not appreciate our attitude. Our representatives at that point did not attempt to cross the border, but returned post haste to the capital."
"Had....NOT....existed", Prince Georgi stressed the salient words and let them sink in, "The Kingdom of Sweden had not existed..."

Grey Wolf

[DominusNovus]

Ohhh, very nice.

[Grey Wolf]

The black train rattled through the night. His valet had urged him to sleep, but Tsesarevitch Konstantine Konstantinaevich was too alive to sleep, too caught up in the confusing and inexplicable news that had started with his aunt's telephone call and at every major station they passed through been augmented by whatever snippets of news were available to the railway controller. Orel, first major town to be reached after departing from the estate at Brasova, had been full of rumours. These rumours had had half a day to grow in size, and to change from the usual speculation to the more bizarre. The Germans were attacking. The Austrians were attacking. The Hungarians were attacking. Even, the Moldavians were attacking - after all, Odessa could no longer be contacted. Then maybe it was a disease, something far more perilous and fast-acting that the Bubonic Plague. Or a meteor strike, somethng akin to the Tunguska blast that had happened during his childhood, before he had ever set foot within the heartland of Old Russia. But even that didn't seem to account for everything.
Approaching Moscow that evening they had found the railway network in chaos. The Regency Orders that the train commander had, had helped clear the line, but even the Tsesarevitch's arrival in person on one of a dozen small platforms could not maked stalled and backed-up rolling stock evaporate. They had had to wait whilst the Governor of Moscow himself had been called, and had drafted in extra drivers.
Two hours late the black train had passed on through. The news they had picked up was even worse. No communication West of the Dneiper all day, strange signals, aircraft - the report said aeroplanes! - and in the distance oddly-shaped vehicles.
As evening turned into night, Konstantine sat in the luxury travelling study, paperweights holding down piles of paper, maps spread across tables and taped to the walls. Nothing was making any sense, although he was beginning to get a grip on the situation, crazy though it was. The Regent and the Saint Petersburg ministries had assumed full command. A War Warning was in force and the first tranche of the Reserve had been mobilised. The Imperator had taken off early that evening with a high level delegation on board, bound for Constantinople.
The clock struck Midnight. The Tsesarevitch ignored it. The least he could do was arrive in the Regency capital with as full an understanding of the situation as was possible.


Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

The Imperator soared above the Earth. Manned by sailors experienced in aerial matters, it had a more military tone to its crew than was usual. A detachment of the elite Blue Cuirassiers was on board, their commander on the bridge with the airship's captain and the head of the civilian delegation.
"Midnight", acting Commodore Yuri Semenoff read off the round brass clock, "One hour hence we ought to be over Moscow."
Bewhiskered in the old Alexandrine fashion, the sixty year old captain looked like a remnant from a past age. Even some of the decorations on his dress uniform predated the War of Unification - the First Great War, almost thirty years ago. Such distinction marked him out as a fast riser early in his career. The subsequent levelling out of its path was down not so much to an aversion to Alexandrine heroes, which though present could be overcome, but to the fact that he had found his ideal position. He remained an airship captain, but progressed from naval patrol, to long-range patrol, to imperial service, and in the last few years to being one of the half dozen regular commanders of the imperial sky yachts, of which the Imperator was both the newest and the fastest.
"Are we expecting any trouble ?"
The speaker this time was the florid-faced Prince Lavrenti Gorshkin, deputy minister of shipping, and deemed expendable. Of course, he was also of noble birth, possessed of sufficient status and above average in intelligence. The Regent had picked no fool to lead the delegation.
"Trouble, your excellency ?", asked Captain Semenoff.
Prince Gorshkin motioned to the map on the wall, and their course plotted across it,
"It looks as if we go uncomfortably close to what his highness Prince Georgi Nikolaevich has termed the line of disruption."
"The map can be deceiving", the captain smiled, "The pen used to mark our course would be ten miles across if it were to scale. At no point will we be closer than seventy miles from the affected area."
"That of course does not preclude whatever force is on the other side of that line from crossing it themselves."
They both turned to face the third speaker on the bridge. In the dress officer of a cavalry officer he looked at best incongruous in his present surroundings. But the Blue Cuirassiers were no ordinary cavalry unit, not even an ordinary Guard regiment if such a thing existed. And their commander on this journey was no ordinary captain.
Grand Duke Pavel Konstantinaevich was thirty-nine years old and the third son of Tsar Konstantine V. Unmarried, he was wedded, as they say, to his military career.
"Do you expect something of that nature, your highness ?" Prince Gorshkin asked nervously.
"I think it less likely in the dark" Pavel admitted.
"We should be over Orel by dawn" Captain Semenoff advised them, "Over two hundred miles from the affected area."
Prince Gorshkin looked again at the line upon the map,
"Between Kharkov and the coast the Dneiper bows East significantly."
"Our course will swing us likewise to the East, towards Rostov-on-Don", the captain explained, "Never less than seventy miles away from it."
"Hmm", somehow the prince did not feel as convinced as he had hoped to be.

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

The standing committee had changed drastically since the previous day. Most of the civil servants were gone, replaced by younger men - and a number of women. Messengers, radio and telegraphic staff and a smattering of students from the university had been drafted in. After the full council meeting had broken up, the Regent had taken Elena Purishkevich to one side, and told her to get whoever she wanted, and needed, on his authority, handing her a letter to that effect in case of obfuscation. There had been none - at least so far. The severity of the situation could hardly be ignored by anyone with any type of position of responsibility, and merely mentioning the Regent's name had produced the required results. Instead of the tired and exhausted atmosphere of the previous day, the youngsters brought energy and enthusiasm to the Little Hall, and controlled by the purpose and dedication of Miss Purishkevich they had created order out of chaos, and a filing system capable of dealing with whatever more chaos this changed world might throw at them.
The minds of the young were also more willing to hold two contradictory ideas, that everything they had known previously said it was impossible and that they should treat all the reports as serious.
The history students were proving especially useful, and a couple of classical linguists were busy working on radio transcripts that appeared to be in some degenerated version of classical Latin. There was a stack from further South which appeared to be in a similar evolved form of classical Greek. On the surface it was insane and made no sense, but if you treated it as a game, treated the world as a game, then you could make a kind of sense of it.
Everything was now pointing to the complete disappearance of all three Western army commands. Some military minds had insisted on calling it an 'elimination' or an 'eradication' but Elena and her team had seen no evidence of such. They simply were not there. The manner of their disappearance was another matter entirely, and was officially being classed as 'unproven. 'Speculative' would be a better word, she thought.
She looked up as a single figure entered the room. Prince Georgi Nikolaevich was a notoriously late riser, but he must have got up before six to be here this early in the morning. That is, if he had been to bed at all, and judging by the bags beneath his eyes, it was possible that he had not.
"Your highness", she rose to greet him.
A half dozen other workers made to rise. He waved them back down with a curt, "Carry on.", and crossed the room to Elena,
"Is there anything significantly new ?", he helped himself to a wooden fold-away seat and took the cup of coffee handed to him by a small pretty woman.
"Vera Voronovich, a student from the university", Elena introduced her after she had returned to her dutues, "A sharp mind. Professor Kozkiewicz recommended her personally."
Prince Georgi nodded, sipping the hot bitter brew,
"No new developments, then ?"
"Nothing, as you, significantly new" Elena sat back down and glanced at the clock upon the wall, "The Imperator should reach Constatinople tonight" she remarked.
The Regent nodded tiredly.
"Let us pray that there it shall find an answer to this madness."

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

The briefing room of Divisional Headquarters was far from crowded this morning. At the head of the table Admiral Ulyanov sat, flanked by his chief aide on one side and the senior officer of Naval Intelligence (East) on the other. Before them, Captain Robert Lobanov of the Pobieda, and Captain Vassali Petukhov of the Bayan waited patiently for the briefing to begin.
Sergei Ulyanov exchanged a few words with the man on his left. Ignati Kobylinsky held an undisclosed military rank, but was officially known as Deputy Director within the wider community. They seemed to come to an agreement. Ulyanov nodded then looked out at the commanders of the two great submarines currently in service,
"Good morning gentlemen", he nodded brusquely, "It is time to put our greatest assets to use."
They knew what he meant. Over the last twenty-four hours all of the coastal submarines and a fair number of the ocean-going submarines had put to sea. A few coastal vessels which had been at sea had limped home early that morning, speaking of tumultuous seas and horrendous weather conditions further South. Now, it was time for the great submarines to leave on war patrol.
"There have been, shall I say, lively discussions as to where best to deploy your vessels. Our feeling is that we have to cover the main potential enemies, namely the Empire of Japan and the United States of America. Dissenting opinions were raised with regard to British Canada, and even the Independent Republic of Prussian Manchuria, but with only two such vessels at our disposal we have resolved to send you to the two main theatres where we expect any direct threat to the empire will originate."
Lobanov and Petukhov nodded; there was nothing surprising in this at all. Ulyanov continued,
"Your mission objectives are listed in detail in these sealed orders", he patted a pair of documents in front of him, "There will be no surprise to learn that your mission essentially comes down to these simple requirements - get on station, investigate, locate, and if necessary terminate."
"We believe that one of these two powers is responsible for what is happening ?" asked Vassili Petukhov, flicking some fluff from off his immaculately-turned up cuffs.
Kobylinsky leant over to the admiral's ear and whispered something. Ulyanov nodded, then replied to the question,
"If there is a manmade reason for what we are experiencing then we have to assume that one of these major powers is responsible, at least for what we are seeing here in the Pacific. It must of course be noted that some natural phenomenon is instead responsible. The talk we hear of flashes of light, and rumours that Kuldja in Dzungaria no longer stands would perhaps indicate some kind of global meteor strike. We need to ascertain what exactly we are dealing with."
Kobylinsky decided to add something of his own to the discussion. He pushed his pince-nez glasses up onto his forehead and smiled thinly at the two senior captains before him,
"Let us be sure that even if the disturbance is natural in origin, rival powers will be attempting to gain maximum advantage from it. We can hardly expect a spirit of co-operation even in the face of disaster, least not from the Japanese! If the world is in chaos, the armies of our rivals and the navies of our rivals will be looking to take advantage of this."
"Yes", Ulyanov resumed control, "We have to require that your primary mission be deemed military in origin from start to finish. Should you come across a situation requiring humanitarian relief your instructions are to report it and resume patrol."
"Yes sir" Lobanov and Petukhov replied in unison.
"I believe that is all." Ulyanov looked across at Kobylinsky who nodded.
The admiral rose to his feet and picked up the sealed orders,
"Details of courses and patrol patterns, rules of engagement. You depart in one hour."
The two captains took their orders, saluted and hurried out of Divisional Command, eager to get back to their ships and to take the great submarines out on their first war patrol.

Grey Wolf

[G.Bone]

(is this allowed?)
-------------------------
[trans. in Russian]
Greetings;

I am Procurator Governor Herman Kardon. Although the Nation-State of Hawaii has never been formerly allied with your nation in our world, it is hoped that a diplomatic repoach can be made. We can offer you advanced technology in exchange for food. Any quantity and quality will be accepted. It is hoped that a ship from your Eastern providences (if possessing them) can make the voyage to here.

Procurator Governor Herman Kardon
Nation-State of Hawaii
Acting Imperator of the United American States

[Grey Wolf]

Sure its allowed, lol

It'll probably be picked up by the picket stations in the Kurils, relayed to Petropavlosk and get to Saint Petersburg late on day 2 for actioning. Day 1 had no easy contact between the two cities (Eastern government was at Aleksandrograd (Vladivostock)) and it will take till day 2 (which part 11 is the beginning of) before things begin to work properly within the Regency. I'll try and write up my response and include the broadcast bac within it later tonight, but there will be a couple of other pieces before it.

Best Regards
Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

Once again the full council meeting was in session. For a body that usually only ever came together on ceremonial occasions it was running the risk of soon outnumbering its appearances for the whole of 1938 in this single week of September 1939. Most of the faces were the same. The departure of the deputy minister for shipping on board the Imperator had promoted a seeming youth into his spot, but the Regent had no doubt that the man whom Vladimir Miliukov had chosen would prove to be expert at something, and no doubt at something they discovered they in fact needed someone to be expert at! So far, of all the ministries Miliukov's was proving to be the most able to adapt to the current Emergency.
Prince Georgi Nikolaevich looked up and called the meeting to order,
"This session of the Full Regency Council is now in progress.", he shuffled a few notes in front of him, "There is nothing substantial to add to the reports from yesterday evening, but we have every expectation that things will change during the course of the day. Suffice to say that we can report a negative - none of our neighbours have tried to contact us. This includes the Westphalian Empire of Germany, the Kingdom of Hungary and Moldavia. Given what we know about Sweden...", he paused trying to work out how exactly to phrase it and gave up, "...and how it is not there now, we may make some tentative assumptions about other of our neighbours. However", and he said this word strongly and with a pause after it, to make sure that everyone listened to what he said next, "However, such speculation is not germaine to the main business of this council. The agenda before us consists of updates from the various ministries, and the implementation of certain contingency plans which have been drawn up overnight. First item on the agenda, the Minister of Shipping."
Vladimir Miliukov rose, bowed to the rest of those assembled around the table and launched into his spiel,

* * * * *

Grand Duchess Anastasia Sophiaevna walked past the bemused guards and into the interior of the palace of government. They had orders not to stop any member of the imperial family from entering during this hour of the empire's need, but hardly thought to have to extend the privelege to a sixteen year old, and one of Sophie's brood at that.
Grand Duchess Sophie Konstantinaevna was the oldest daughter of Tsar Konstantine V and had married young, whilst already pregnant. Her husband was a dissolute prince of Hohenlohe-Langeburg, and this pairing had set the scene very much for what was to come. A 1925 decree of Tsar Konstantine had meant that any child born to a Grand Duchess who was wed to someone of lesser status, but not morganatically so, would bear the title Grand Duke or Grand Duchess if within two generations of a tsar. This had effectively boosted the now seven children of Sophie and Prince Augustus Eduard up the social rankings, and the pair made great play of this seeming favour, their parties and soirees becoming unmissable social events in certain sections of the Regency capital, and scandal and gossip following the pair around. It was assumed that at least the majority of Sophie's children were her husband's, certainly the eldest was, and here she was now entering the palace of government on her own, and without any kind of official escort.
Anastasia was bored. Sixteen was a transitionary age, formal education had finished and the world of the court awaited. At least that was how it usually went, but for the eldest daughter of Grand Duchess Sophia there had already been several years of parties, of introductions to influential members of the Saint Petersburg community, and more.
Now, there was a sense of crisis pervading the city. the guard was out, airships patrolled at all hours of the day and night, and the railways were locked down for military use only. She did not like feeling out of control, so after giving her mother the slip, she had ventured here, to see what she could find out within the walls of what the few newspapers being printed were terming the home of the Emergency government.

* * * * *

The reports from the ministries were over. Prince Georgi Nikolaevich brought another folder to the fore, and opened it carefully,
"We now come to the contingency measures worked out overnight", he left no doubt in anyone's mind that he had worked them out personally and had foregone sleep to do so, "We have to address the crises in government and the military together", he explained, "The disappearance of the Western army commands leaves our entire frontier viable, and whilst we are calling up the reserve and moving units closer to the line of disruption if the forces on the other side decide to press the attack we cannot guarantee to hold them back. Is that not so, General Kuropkin ?"
The head of the Army Co-ordination Office, now the de facto Head of the General Staff nodded uncomfortably,
"Any substantial push from the West cannot be met with anything like sufficient force to bring it to a halt. Once we have the reserve ready, and new lines of fortifications in place then perhaps yes. But if an attack is in the offing in the immediate term we cannot guarantee the security of the capital, of Moscow, or even of the Crimea."
"Thank you", the Regent nodded, "Therefore, it is necessary to ensure that a functional government remains if the worse does come to the worst. To a large degree Aleksandrograd always performed this function in the past, serving as the regional capital of the East with its own branches of the great ministries of state.However, having lost contact with Aleksandrograd we have to act on the assumption that it has been destroyed.Petropavlosk is the natural seat for a new capital for the East, at least during the present Emergency, but it will not serve as a reserve command centre for the Regency. I have, in consequence, decided to promulgate a two part plan."
There was hushed expectancy around the table as he paused for breath, then launched into the details,
"Grand Duke Dmitir Nikolaevich agreed this morning, at around five o'clock if I remember the precise hour, to take up the duties of government in Petropavlosk. He is to be our Viceroy in the East and to have full local powers. In addition, I have instructed the Civil Contigency Office of Minister Tarkanov's Ministry of the Interior to begin at once the task of duplicating all essential civilian and military government departments at Omsk."
There was a far greater hullaballoo about this latter announcement than about the first. Omsk ! Imagine the Regency being run out of Omsk !!!

* * * * *

"Hello", Grand Duchess Anastasia Sophiaevna walked boldly into the Little Hall, "What goes on in here ?"
Elena Purishkevich stood up from her desk, then bit back the words she was going to voice. There was no doubt about it - that poise and self-assured arrogance could only be carried by a Romanov. The girl looked to be in her mid teens, a flowering beauty though a bit on the heavy side, and with something of a sneer to the smile upon her face,
"You have me at a disadvantage, your highness", Elena bobbed a short curtsey
"Anastasia Sophiaevna", the girl tossed the name into the air with little ceremony, "I asked what goes on in here ?"
Elena sighed inwardly. That was all she needed, a distraction of this nature. Still, there was little she could do but attempt to assuage the girl's interest, and if she was still bogged down at Midday hopefully the Regent would come by and get the girl off her back.

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

The black train weaved its way between troop trains and trains laden with all the machinery of war. At least here in the Regency capital the normal business of mobilisation appeared to be able to function according to plan. As at Moscow, so it had been going Northwards - chaos, and confusion. Trains which should have been there absent, mobilisation depots beyond the line of disturbance, and the paraphernalia of war being lost, misrouted or accidentally parked in sidings for hours at a time as the controllers of the railway network struggled to cope with the loss of a huge Western tranche of their lines and rolling stock.
As the locomotive vented steam and the train came to a halt, the Tsesarevitch accompanied by his valet and a couple of personal bodyguards was already getting down from his carriage. The train commander hurried forward and saluted,
"Saint Petersburg, your imperial highness."
"Thank you, commander, carry on"
Formalities over, Konstantine Konstantinaevich headed straight for the delegation that was waiting to meet him further down the platform.

Yevgeni Tarkanov had not been relishing this aspect of his day's duties. Barely half an hour after the conclusion of another mind-boggling full council meeting, here the Minister of the Interior was at the main railway terminus, standing between the governor of Saint Petersburg and one General Luzhny, an aide of an unspecified type at the Army Co-ordination Office.
"Your imperial highness", Tarkanov stepped forward and bowed deeply, "Welcome to Saint Petersburg."
The Tsesarevitch allowed himself to be presented to the other two gentlemen, then interrupted them before the city governor could begin to introduce the several members of staff he had seen fit to bring with him.
"Please convey me to the palace without delay", he tried to keep the tiredness and irritation out of his voice, "I must meet with the Regent immediately."
Yevgeni nodded,
"There is automobile awaiting, your imperial highness."
"Then lead on please."

* * * * *

"Thank you", Prince Georgi took the report from his aide and sat back in front of the roaring fire with it. One hand swirling the contents of a glass tumbler around, the other turned the front cover and allowed his eyes to begin to devour the words set there before him.
"Urgent ! Urgent ! Urgent !" was scrawled across the top cover; well, wasn't everything urgent these days ?
"ERROR" was then centred on the page in big black writing, always something of a worrying sight he observed himself observing, and began to feel the tiredness gnawing at his bones again.
"No transmission received from Murmansk-na-Romanov"
"What the ?!", he sat bolt upright, sloshing the very expensive Napoleon brandy over the sides of the glass as he did so. He read further on,
"We regret to inform that in the confusion prevailing in the first hours of the Emergency several transmissions from minor White Sea ports were mistakenly logged as coming from Murmansk-na-Romanov. Their correct points of origin have now been ascertained by the Standing Committee. In addition, the committee has discovered no genuine transcript from Murmansk at all. We are instructing the telegraphic and radio operators to make urgent enquiries of the port at once."
"A filing error ?", Prince Georgi was incredulous.
Oh, on one level it made sense. He had seen the state that many of the original members of the committee had succumbed to, heard the stories of several of their number just wandering off, lost to the world by the insanity of it all. No doubt mistakes had crept in... But for one of this magnitude !
"Messenger !" he yelled.
A moment later the door opened and a liveried messenger stepped sharply into the room.
"I need to see Admiral Kanenin at once. Instruct him to come to the palace without delay."
"Yes, your highness", the man ran off.
The door was not closed behind him. Prince Georgi rose, a curse on his lips, then saw the reason for the apparent lack of protocol. Standing framed in the doorway were two men, one the Minister of the Interior and the other without doubt the Tsesarevitch.
"Your imperial highness", the Regent bowed stiffly, "It is good to see you."
"Georgi", Konstantine did not bother with the formalities. He sat himself down in front of the fire, and waited till Tarkanov, implicitly ignored had got the message and withdrawn,
"How are things ? I have read whatever I could get my hands on, and the Minister has updated me on your plans for Omsk - a good idea, if I might say so."
"Thank you", Georgi settled back down in his chair, and tossed the report he was just reading across to his cousin, "Maybe you should start with this", he suggested.

* * * * *

"I see", Admiral Pavel Kanenin was sitting in what he had grandly renamed the Saint Petersburg Admiralty Building, and was listening as the second in command of the Northern Fleet, Vice Admiral Alexei Biryukov expounded on the state of several of the submarines which had been at sea but which had limped into home waters over the last couple of hours.
"We also received a more confusing communication", Biryukov had deliberately left this until last, "The Albatros, an ocean-going vessel, signalled that she was heading for Danzig... Later we received a grabled message that the city was in the hands of the Hooked Cross ?"
"Hooked Cross ?", Kanenin was puzzled, "Is this some kind of religious allusion, perhaps to the Devil himself ?"
"I think not", Biryukov had not come to this meeting without getting someone to look things up for him, "We think he literally meant a hagenkreuz, or swastika...", he paused, "It is known that there is some ancient connection to the Finns.", he quoted now what he had been told.
"Finns in Danzig ?!" Kanenin was flabbergasted, "Or....", his mind did a double somersault, remembered the new reality and amended what he had said, "This United Nordic Kingdom....could that be in Danzig too ?"
"It is possible, sir", Biryukov did not care to voice his own thoughts on the matter.
From outside came the screech of a motorcycle, then the sound of running feet. Kanenin got up from his seat and walked over to the window. He could hear the voice of the messenger from in here
"I have an urgent summons for Admiral Kanenin from the Regent !"

* * * * *

"She has done a marvellous job"
The briefing over, Prince Georgi Nikolaevich was singing the praises of Elena Purishkevich as he hurried the Tsesarevtich along the palace's corridors.
"And you say she is now employing students and engineering grades to do this work ?"
"Yes, indeed, she explained to me herself that the mind of such people are more open to working out just what has befallen us... Ah, here we are."
"They have taken over the Little Hall ?", the Tsesarevitch did not know whether to be impressed, amused or iriitated. Instead he decided to see what the woman would say for herself.
But she was nowhere to be seen. The Regent looked around for a familiar face, then remembered the student who had served him coffee that morning,
"Vera ?" he addressed her.
Having been engrossed in translation she looked up startled, and leapt to her feet, even more shocked to realise who had just addressed her.
"Where is Miss Purishkevich, the Tsesarevitch wishes to speak with her."
Vera went white, swallowed and mumbled
"Your highness, your imperial highness"
"I do not bite", Konstantine assured her with a smile; well, not in any nasty way he thought with a secret grin.
"Er", Vera was still at a loss for words.
"Miss Purishkevich ?", Georgi pressed kindly.
"Oh yes!" Vera did her best to bite back what sounded like a frightened squeal. Once more under control she said more sedately, "Her highness Grand Duchess Anastasia Sophiaevna required a tour of our operation."
"Ana ?" , the Regent was confused
"You speak of a sixteen year old girl ?", the Tsesarevitch enquired, though not with much surprise. He knew his niece rather better than most people, and would not find it shocking she should behave in such a manner - annoying perhaps, but no shock.
"Yes, your imperial highness", Vera pointed to a door out of the rear of the room, "Miss Purishkevich took her to the telegraph lines back that way some twenty minutes ago."
"Hmmm", Georgi remained confused.
Konstantine decided to take control of the situation,
"Come, let us rescue your Miss Purishkevich, then perhaps I can take Ana to supper tonight... I am dining with my aunt."
That brought a wry smile from the Regent. The rather doubted that the fierce old woman was amongst the young Grand Duchess' list of favourite people...

Grey Wolf

[DominusNovus]

Technically, Danzig is a Roman city. And, if the Nazis take anything from me, thats likely to be one of the last places to fall.

[Grey Wolf]

Technically, Danzig is a Roman city. And, if the Nazis take anything from me, thats likely to be one of the last places to fall.

Oh, OK sorry...Maybe they saw an aeroplane, it doesn't really matter

But um somewhere else I posted a note that this submarine is trying to limp into Danzig so its you who will be faced with it then

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

"What ???" Vassily Aksenov stared at the machinery in shock and confusion.
Anton rolled over on his bunk and stared bleary-eyed at his colleague,
"Say it again ?"
"What ?", Vassily frowned at him
"Yeah" Anton snorted, "There you are - you said it again."
"Shut up" Vassily looked down at the transcript that his hand had automatically taken of the broadcast, "What the hell is a Procurator Governor ?"
Anton swung his legs over the side of the bunk,
"Something Roman I would wager."
"I never make bets with people who don't have their boots on."
Anton looked at his stockinged feet,
"Why would I need my boots on ?", he tried to guess what Vassily was up to.
"What does 'Acting Imperator of the United American States' sound like to you?"
Anton shuffled across to the table and poured himself a slug of vodka, ignoring the withering look this action gained him,
"Madness", he said with a shrug, "Imperator's not an American title, everybody knows that. They have things like president or congressman."
Vassily was inclined to agree, what sense could be made of a message like this ?

Greetings;

I am Procurator Governor Herman Kardon. Although the Nation-State of Hawaii has never been formerly allied with your nation in our world, it is hoped that a diplomatic repoach can be made. We can offer you advanced technology in exchange for food. Any quantity and quality will be accepted. It is hoped that a ship from your Eastern providences (if possessing them) can make the voyage to here.

Procurator Governor Herman Kardon
Nation-State of Hawaii
Acting Imperator of the United American States

He passed it across to Anton. Gulping down the vodka he stared at it for a moment,
"Do you know what I think ?" he said.
Vassily stared at him,
"A thought ? Let us hear it."
"I think some crazy person has siezed power in Hawaii. Maybe these storms are a global phenomenon and he had taken advantage."
"Do you know?", Vassily cracked a gap-toothed smile, "I think that might be the most sensible thing you have said all year!"
"Oh great" Anton laughed, "Must be the bottle speaking..."
"For some reason it is making sense today"
Vassily began to transfer the message to the encryption pad
"You are sending this on to Petropavlosk ?" Anton was astonished.
"That is our job" Vassily remarked.
"If we keep it", Anton poured himself another slug of vodka.


Grey Wolf

[G.Bone]

*Trans. in Russian & English

Greetings from the United Federation of Chinese States!

I seek an alliance with your nation in the hopes of creating a Pax Amerisia. Although we are of an alien nature to your sensiblilities, there is the underlining trouble of Nippon and the threat it has to our Eastern Coasts. I will gladly exchange whatever food supplies and armory in helping this threat from invading our lands and can help process the vaulable resources that might prove difficult to take out.

Premier Lelean Wong

[Grey Wolf]

Elena Purishkevich was running down the corridor. This was not something she was used to doing, anywhere, and certainly something she had no wish to repeat. Her bosom heaving, her lungs panting, she pulled up in front of the Regent's office,
"I need to see the Regent immediately" she shouted at the guards and waved a piece of paper in the air.
Knowing who she was, one of the guards turned around and knocked on the door
"Enter"
The guard opened the door,
"Your highness, Miss Purishkevich wishes to see you as a matter of urgency."
"Let her in, then keep everybody else out."
"Yes, your highness."
Elena entered, and the doors were closed behind her.

Prince Georgi was seated behind his desk. In prior days he had rarely used it, the business of the Regency having been a much simpler existence, or so it seemed now.
"Pull up a chair", he smiled across at her, amazed at her energy.
"Thank you", Elena sat and held the paper up, "This just came in your highness."
"Please go on."
"Relayed from Petropavlosk", she began, "It was picked up by one of the picket stations in the Kurils and passed on verbatim to Petropavlosk, and from there to us. It has to be several hours old by now."
"It is from outside the empire ?", Prince Georgi was trying to make sense of it.
"Yes, your highness.", she handed the transcription across.

Greetings;

I am Procurator Governor Herman Kardon. Although the Nation-State of Hawaii has never been formerly allied with your nation in our world, it is hoped that a diplomatic repoach can be made. We can offer you advanced technology in exchange for food. Any quantity and quality will be accepted. It is hoped that a ship from your Eastern providences (if possessing them) can make the voyage to here.

Procurator Governor Herman Kardon
Nation-State of Hawaii
Acting Imperator of the United American States

He read it twice, one time turning the globe upon his desk so that he was staring at the Pacific Ocean and the islands of Hawaii within it.
"There is no explanation ?", he asked at length.
"Only what it says."
"Hmm..and the picket station - they are reliable men ?"
"It is hard to know for sure, your highness, but I would expect they are good at their job...although on these remote outposts discipline in other areas often breaks down."
"As long as they are good at the job in hand, that is all I can ask of anybody at this moment in time."
"Yes, your highness... I had one of the students look over the transcript as it came in."
"Yes ?"
"He noted the use of Roman language, but warned against connecting it to events here in Europe."
"Hawaii would seem to be an unlikely partner", Georgi span the globe around, tracking the distance with his finger, then halted it with the Pacific in front of him again, "If we for the sake of argument take the message seriously, what are we to make of it ?"
"I am most taken by this phrase", Elena replied "Although the Nation-State of Hawaii has never been formerly allied with your nation in our world."
"Well, what about it ?" Georgi rubbed at his eyes. He would really have to get some sleep soon.
"Formerly allied ?", Elena nodded, "It sounds as if they are asking for an alliance. But 'in our world' ..."
"We all share the world", Georgi pointed out.
"It sounds as if the author means to imply there is a different world."
For the longest while Georgi was silent, then he stood up and moved across to the window. The view was hardly inspiring, being of an inner courtyard and a scene dominated by supplies being stockpiled by soldiers in the uniform of the city guard.
"I have been thinking", he said at length, "The United Nordic Kingdom, Latin to the West, Greek to the South...a different Hawaii..."
"Yes, I have been thinking also", she smiled, "The game becomes reality if it ends up being all there is."
"Yes, I know", he moved back to the desk, "If we are to take this message seriously they are in need of succour. I will pay a call to Admiral Kanenin and discuss what might be done... I do not think he would appreciate being summoned to the palace twice in so short a time."
"The fresh air will do you good, your highness, though you must sleep this night."
"Do not worry", he nodded, "I intend to."

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

*Trans. in Russian & English

Greetings from the United Federation of Chinese States!

I seek an alliance with your nation in the hopes of creating a Pax Amerisia. Although we are of an alien nature to your sensiblilities, there is the underlining trouble of Nippon and the threat it has to our Eastern Coasts. I will gladly exchange whatever food supplies and armory in helping this threat from invading our lands and can help process the vaulable resources that might prove difficult to take out.

Premier Lelean Wong

I am dealing with all these messages as if they are received for consideration on Day 2 - is that OK ?

An answer to the Hawaii one is being prepared as you can see in Part 16, its under consideration

This one will be considered in due course, but I need to know whether a couple of other things are happening - the submarine at Danzig, the airship over the Black Sea... If something dramatic happens there, then the Chinese message may well get lost in the hullaballoo

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

"Your highness,", Admiral Kanenin sounded almost apologetic, "I have to ask you a question."
Prince Georgi Nikolaevich looked out across the water towards where the Rossiya was moored, swinging in the fierce winds that still lashed the Gulf of Finland,
"Yes", he agreed without meeting the other's eyes, "You do."
Admiral Pavel Kanenin frowned, and shuffled some papers on the table, then heaved a sigh,
"Your highness, do you believe what some of the men are saying ?"
"Now then", Georgi looked him in the eye, "That is not the question, admiral."
"I suppose not", Kanenin said quietly, reluctant to spell it out for himself.
"I will help you", the Regent threw a map onto the table, "This is the map of those parts of the empire we retain contact with", he indicated a large blacked out area, "You will note we have amended it to take into account the Murmansk misunderstanding."
"Yes"
"On the periphery have been marked the information we have about .... things after the..... Event."
"Yes?", Kanenin leant over, "Latin spoken here ?" he read aloud, "Greek signals from here ?" he noted another, "Karelian border...United Nordic Kingdom...", he sighed, "We cannot get away from that reality...and that underlies the rest of the...situation."
"Yes", Georgi laughed, "Have we aswered the question without asking it?"
"I believe so", the admiral nodded, "And this ?", he picked up the transcript.
"I believe we have to act upon it as if it is genuine."
Pavel Kanenin pulled up a heavy black file, embossed in gold, 'Petropavlosk - Divisional Command'. He flicked through the pages to the most recent entries, notes of the sailing under war orders of much of the submarine fleet, including the two available great submarines. Flicking back a few pages he found what he was looking for,
"Five auxilary transports in port, and supplies of food sufficient for a two month siege"
"We could spare two...surface escort ?"
The admiral looked it up,
"I would not want to detach either of the light cruisers... Maybe one of the armoured cruisers could be made mobile, they are serving as guardships."
"Do it", Prince Georgi was well aware that this could be an elaborate hoax but under the circumstances inaction was not an option, "Load two ships with food, get an escort ready and sail them tomorrow morning. I will see to a message to be broadcast back."
"As you advise, your highness."

* * * * *


To his excellency, Procurator General Herman Cardon

Please be advised that two auxilaries laden with food are under escort to Hawaii, departing tomorrow. Request additional details on your situation and clarification of the term 'in our world'. Interest expressed in advanced technology. Responses will be routed to the capital post-haste, please use transmission identification word 'Alloa'

His Highness, Prince Georgi Nikolaevich
Regent of the Russian Empire


Grey Wolf

[Cockroach]

Transmission from: Union of Pacific Dominions
To: Russian Empire (?)
We greatly desire to establish diplomatic conntact and then perhaps trade. If you wish a diplomatic mission will be dispatched by ship ASAP
Sir John Monash
Governer General

[G.Bone]

Alloa

Your Highness, Prince Georgi Nikolaevich
Regent of the Russian Empire

Our situation is as follows;

In our world escalations were directed towards China, which was conquered by a dissident faction during the Reformation of the US. As a result of this, much of the population of the Islands are military and are over the limits that our Islands can offer in means of food and hearth. Although we do have control over Saipan, Guam, and other islands, they are simply not enough to support the troops stationed her.

The phrase "in our world" refers to the world that we hailed from.

We can offer you the B-Colt rifle, armored with a 15 bullet magazine, with it's loading mechanism being of bolt action (every 3 bullets). We can part with about a 100 of those. We also can offer the following;

1) Stryker Cannon; able to pin-point and destroy a target 20 leagues off, easily transportable
2) F-12 Lightning; a fighter plane armored with 3 machine guns, small incinerary bombs, and long range capabilities
3) Scanning Waves; a proto-device in detecting incoming planes via by radio waves, have been experiementing and is offered for improvement
4) F-14 Sparky; a long range fighter adapted to eradicate AA guns, ability to 'dive bomb'

Procurator Gov. H. Kardon
PKH, UAS

[Grey Wolf]

Replies or reaction to these will be sorted tomorrow as soon as possible - its after half past 1 am now and I need to get to bed in case I am working tomorrow. I rather think that Saint Petersburg is going to have to establish an office just for this, probably a joint effort between the standing committee and elements of Prince Vyazemsky's Foreign Ministry. But do note that from 'as soon as possible' there will be a regional governor/ ViceRoy in the East at Saint Petersburg empowered to make his own decisions as far as possible

Best Regards
Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

He let go off his binoculars and let them fall against his chest,
"Log it as another bug." he intoned.
The lieutenant beside him did as he was told. It was the sixth sighting over the Black Sea, an oddly-shaped airship bearing a different rendering of the imperial eagle upon its flanks. Quite what it meant, the young man had no idea. Commander Eugen Matveev was keeping his own counsel on that one.
The voice pipe whistled. Matveev put it to his ear, listened and then spoke into it.
"I will be there immediately."
He shrugged off the binoculars and handed them to the young lieutenant,
"Log any more bugs, I think you know the drill by now."
"Yes sir"
Matveev left it at that and hurried up the passageway to the bridge. Captain Semenoff was seated at a small central desk. He looked up and nodded,
"Commander"
Matveev saluted,
"Reporting as ordered, Captain."
"Yes", Semenoff looked up, his bearded face framing his intelligent blue eyes, "These bugs of yours - what do you make of them ?"
Matveev decided to begin with what he considered to be the cast-iron facts; it was always safer when a senior officer was involved,
"Sir, they have all been off to starboard, indicating an origin in the West, probably in the Principalities looking at the angle of approach. Although they seem at a distance to bear the imperial eagle, careful study through telescope and binoculars has shown that it is significantly at variance in many small ways - illegally so, if you see what I mean."
Semenoff nodded but did not interupt
"The airships are of an unknown design. It is not possible at this distance to ascertain what their variance of shape implies, if anything. They appear to be fast and manoevrable, and are no doubt armed. In short they appear to be military vessels."
"And they match no known type ?", Semenoff wanted a definite answer on this point, "Ignoring the heraldic devices, these are not a design known to the Austrians, or the Germans or the French ? It would not be beyond the bounds of possibility for them to have sailed them here."
"You are thinking that perhaps they sail under false colours sir ?"
"That might explain the eagle which is not the eagle", Semenoff affirmed.
"Perhaps", Matveev was doubtful, "The Romanov eagle is so well-known, one would have to consider it a lapse of immense proportions to attempt to duplicate it only to get it wrong."
"Be that as it may", Semenoff was pushing for facts not opinion, "Do these airships match anything known to Naval Intelligence ?"
"I do not believe so", Matveev had not memorised the Air Recognition Handbook but was sufficiently acquainted with it to be able to recall most major types, "To be certain I feel that I would need to check on the American designs, and perhaps those of Brazil and Argentina."
"Please do so. Dismissed, for now."
"Yes sir"
Feeling somewhat confused and deflated, Matveev left the bridge and returned to the Observation Deck. He had intended to begin with facts and then move on to speculation, but the Captain had not allowed him that luxury. He headed for the control cabin and scooped up the Handbook from where it lay open on the desk. Now to make completely sure...

* * * * *

Grand Duke Pavel Konstantinaevich reviewed the reports with a sense of foreboding. Someone was keeping a careful watch upon them, or so it seemed, someone who flew airships of an unknown origin and used a variation of the imperial eagle on their flanks. He certainly did not like the sound of the latter.
Seated in the officers' mess at the rear of the airship, he was alone in the room of polished wood and green beize, seated in a leather armchair with the sheaf of reports upon his knees. After a moment, he sighed and placed them carefully upon the small round table beside him, and reached inside his pocket for the documents that only he knew he carried. Given to him personally by the Regent, they made far more sense of his presence onboard the Imperator than the official explanation.
With a glance in the direction of the door, just in case, he opened them out and studied the opening paragraphs in detail. He needed to be sure...

* * * * *

Whooooosh !
"What in the name of God was that ?!" Matveev was on his feet, then Handbook toppled to the floor.
The young lieutenant looked at him in silent alarm.
"Speak man !" the Commander demanded
But the youngster had no words for it. A runner came from further down the gallery, already reporting before he was at the specified proximity,
"Sir ! Lieutenant Adronik's compliments sir, but he wishes to report a small aerial vehicle just flew close to the airship."
"What does that mean ?!" Matveev stared at him in confusion, "What is a small aerial vehicle ?"
"We only got a brief glance at it sir", the runner explained, "It had wings but no propellers, and was much larger than an aeroplane."
There came another roar from outside. Matveev yanked the binoculars from out of the hands of his own second, and scanned the skies before him,
"Bug acquired !" he yelled, "Write this down fool"
The youngster leapt to it
"Grey in colour, as described somewhat larger than any aeroplane I have ever seen, though I expect there are designs of this size. Definitely no propeller. What the Devil ?"
"Sir ?", the youngster stammered
"On the tail there's a design like a cross and a crescent all mixed up, and something green and orange on the wing... You know, it could be some kind of aeroplane. The size is not that much different actually, its the construction that gives it a greater appearance of solidity. It appears to be made of......metal !"
Whooosh !

* * * * *

"Sir !" the radio officer was out of his seat yelling at the captain who was glued to the viewing portal on the opposite side of the bridge, "Sir, we have an incoming communication !"
Captain Semenoff pulled his gaze away from the apparition and hurried across to the radio,
"From whom ?"
"Sir, I think its from those....aerial craft. "
"You think ? Do they not identify themselves ?"
"I do not know sir", the man wiped his sweating brow with one hand, "I think they are speaking....Swedish ?", he didn't sound too sure of that.
"Swedish ?", Semenoff stared at him for a moment, then shrugged, "Lieutenant Karpov !"
A young man ran to him, leaving a trail of paper in his wake as he dislodged a report from off the captain's desk.
"Lieutenant, get down below and see if we have any Swedish speakers on board. Bring them to the bridge. We may need them."
"Yes sir", the youngster ran off to do as he was bid.
Silently, and without orders another bridge officer tidied the mess upon the floor. Semenoff turned back to the radio,
"Transmit in Russian then in Greek. Demand an explanation as to whom they are, and what they are doing over the Black Sea."
"Yes sir."
The captain nodded then turned to the man who had just tidied the desk,
"Please bring Prince Gorshkin to the bridge immediately."

* * * * *

"You do understand ?"
The cavalry lieutenant nodded,
"Yes sir"
Being of the same regiment as the Grand Duke, military protocol took over and he addressed his commander by his military rank rather than by his social one.
"Good. I will be on the bridge. Be ready."
"Yes sir."
Grand Duke Pavel nodded, then turned and hurried along the airship's central passageway.

* * * * *

"Sir !", the radio officer almost yelped, "They are replying in Greek !"
"What are they saying ?", Semenoff turned his attention back to the radio.
"Their Greek is a bit odd", the radio officer barked into the mouthpiece in Greek of his own "Please repeat the last section of the message."
The reply came over the airways. Semenoff frowned,
"Did I hear that correctly ?"
"Yes sir. The whole message reads, as far as I can translate it exactly - Unknown Airship, identify yourself and your destination, ordered to stop and await further orders."
"Orders ?!", the Imperator's captain snapped, "Who do they think they are to order us to do anything ?"
"I should imagine they think they are well-armed and dangerous."
It was Grand Duke Pavel who spoke, arriving on the bridge just seconds ahead of the red-faced prince, who was head of the civilian delegation.
"Perhaps, your highness", Semenoff accepted the contribution with ill grace. He turned back to the radio operator,
"Request and require an answer to our own questions. Who are they and what are they doing over the Black Sea ?"
"Yes sir", the radio officer did as he was told.
"Might I suggest we slow to one third cruising speed", Grand Duke Pavel spoke with a smile, "I do not think we should risk misunderstandings at this juncture."
For a moment Semenoff just stared at him, then he turned on his heels and addressed an officer of the bridge,
"Engines, slow to one third cruising !"
"One third cruising, yes sir !"
The momentum of the Imperator was noticeably slowed within just a few moments of the receipt of that instruction.

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

General Fedor Zhuzhgov looked at the message his radio officer had just handed to him, and growled,
"What the hell does this mean ?!" he demanded.
His radio officer could only stare at him,
"Sir, I have no idea. We just picked it up... It seems to be coming from Manchuria", he added.
"The Prussian Republic ?"
Although still crazy, it would at least make a small amount of sense. The Prussian Republic of Manchuria was deemed economically at risk and of unsound security by confidential Military Intelligence reports. If anywhere had collapsed and become a...he looked at the message again... a 'United Confederation of Chinese' states he suspected the Prussian Republic was a good bet, and the mention of 'Pax America' must be some crude reference to a federation. It seemed rather a grandiose new name, though, but perhaps that was explained by the content of the rest of the message which seemed aimed at a military alliance to repel what seemed to be a Japanese invasion, though the wording was odd... But then again the signatory was one Premier Lelean Wong, so you could hardly expect perfection from a Chinaman.
The general nodded,
"Yes, I think this must come from the Prussian Republic... They have been overthrown by this general Wong and as a result are under attack from Japan... The mention of Eastern shores must mean on the Liaoyang Peninsular."
"Er, yes sir", the radio officer said with no great conviction. It was a possible explanation, he supposed, but there were surely many others,
"We are still unable to contact Aleksandrograd or Harbin", he reminded the general.
General Zhuzhgov snorted,
"You have seen the storms that have ravaged the Okhotsk coast for the last two days, I do not doubt that fierce though they are here at Ayan, further South they are even worse."
"Yes sir", again the radio officer thought that the general was making speculation into fact.
"Shall we send a reply to this Premier Wong, sir ?"
The general rubbed his eyes. New orders had come in that morning to refer all external messages to Petropavlosk in the first instance, for relay to Saint Petersburg. What did they think he was ? Some sort of superannuated office-filler ? He was a General of the Reserve, and there was always a mobilised reserve in the Eastern Government. A whole division was to hand, based at various depots North of the Amur and under his immediate command. Maybe he could do something...end his career on a high note... He could say that the message had been relayed to Petropavlosk, but maybe got lost in transmission, that Aleksandrograd had been informed but remained out of contact, and that in the circumstances he had thought it prudent to take the initiative for himself.
"First of all", he said slowly, "Order the division to assemble at the muster points. Secondly, transmit our attention to Aleksandrograd."
"Surely you mean Petropavlosk ?", the radio officer butted in.
"No", the general's voice was cold steel, "Send to Aleksandrograd. Then send the following message to this Premier Wong."

* * * * *

To Premier Lelean Wong
Prussian Republic of Manchuria

I am mobilising the reserve North of the Amur and stand by to aid you. Our Eastern government at Aleksandrograd remains out of contact due to the ferocious storms buffeting the Eastern Pacific. Therefore I am assuming command of the situation. Please provide details as to the direction and nature of the attack. We are unable to provide naval support for Liaoyang at this juncture, but the division under my command will entrain for Harbin at the earliest opportunity and march South to your relief.

General Fedor Zhuzhgov
Ayan


Grey Wolf

[DuQuense]

Remenber I have half a Million Troops . In a System of Trenches and Fortifications that have been expanded and extented since the end of the Great war in 1919. [think French Mairgot Line] They extedent ten Miles north of the Amur and cover all the Passes the Russians may Use to cross the Amur Mountians. Of course You could take some troops Over the Mountains, but not a Army. I Don't think General Fedor Zhuzhgov will get to Habin.

OTOH my troop are Simply going to Hold and Repluse, they will not Counter attack.

[Grey Wolf]

There were three of them in the room. The Regent no longer sat behind his desk, and to be honest preferred things that way; he was less comfortable it seemed with the trappings of power than with the actual implementation of it. Prince Georgi had to admit that that had come as something of a surprise to him ! He felt rested, even though the three hour nap he had managed to catch hardly made up for the stress and sleepless night he had had. But he felt better, his eyes were staying open of their own accord and he found his mind was clearer, able to concentrate better than even that afternoon.
They sat in a rough semi circle, ranged around a couple of small tables which had been pulled together. Minister of Shipping Vladimir Miliukov had two piles of documents before him, sufficiently high to serve as a rest for his arms. Elena Purishkevich had one pile, but looked no less imposing for it. All that lay before the Regent was a leather-bound note book and a pot of ink for his fountain pen.
The Message, as they were terming it, speaking the capitalisation, lay in the centre, between them all. Prince Georgi took a sip of the brandy from his tumbler, then set it down. With the nib of his pen he stabbed at the first sentence
In our world escalations were directed towards China, which was conquered by a dissident faction during the Reformation of the US
"Miss Purishkevich, has your team got any theories which could help us here ?"
Elena nodded slowly; for this she did not need her notes,
"Vera Voronovitch - you met her...", she smiled, "In fact Andrei says you terrified her the second time."
"That was the Tsesarevitch" Prince Georgi grinned
"Yes, Andrei says that who you terrified her with... Anyway, Vera suggests that we take this literally and look at it from a global political standpoint. Her analysis is that the United States of this Message", she still felt unsure about using a more definitive word such as 'world', "did not conquer Mexico, but instead turned its attention earlier to the Pacific, taking over Hawaii and later China. The reference to the Reformation of the US may be simply a way of referring to their civil war; perhaps the South won in the 1880s ? Maybe it was an entirely different civil war."
"Yes..." Prince Georgi decided that however crazy it sounded as an explanation he could not fault it. Everytime his mind challenged him that something was just too insane to be true, he replied to it 'United Nordic Kingdom' and it shut up straight away.
"Minister Miliukov, would I be correct in assuming that the reference to 'planes' means some kind of aeroplane ?"
"I think so", Vladimir Miliukov nodded, "I believe that the Americans sometimes term them so."
"And this Hawaii has had an American presence", Elena pointed out.
"So, the technology they speak of is aeroplanes !?"
The Regent sounded almost disbelieving. What possible use would the flimsy toys be to a military power ?
"Your highness", Miliukov shuffled his reports and found what he was looking for, "His imperial highness, the Tsesarevitch did relay to us that there had been rumoured sightings along his journey of unknown aerial craft, craft which he stated that the descriptions made them sound like some kind of aeroplane."
"Is it really possible that someone can have devised an aeroplane that can stand up against an airship ?", Prince Georgi stabbed the words of the message with the pen once more,
F-12 Lightning; a fighter plane armored with 3 machine guns, small incinerary bombs, and long range capabilities
Miliukov reread the words,
"I think the first part is a designation, maybe a class name like we speak of in naval terminology. I am unsure what a fighter aeroplane is, but it certainly sounds warlike. How they have managed to reinforce the wooden struts to hold three machine guns I do not know. A small bomb - I expect that is no difficult feat, it could be attached beneath and released with a lever...In fact I believe that the Germans are working on something along those lines for their naval spotter aeroplanes in case they come into contact with submarines."
The Regent stabbed at another line of the message
F-14 Sparky; a long range fighter adapted to eradicate AA guns, ability to 'dive bomb'
"That is more complex", Miliukov admitted, "AA guns would appear to refer to anti-airship...or anti-aircraft weapons, we have sufficient of those. But I cannot see how a mere aeroplane could fight back against them."
"What is this 'dive bombing' ?" Prince Georgi asked.
"I have no idea."
"We need an expert on aeroplanes", Elena Purishkevich looked up at the two men, "Somebody who is familiar with such machines."
"Maybe the flight officer from one of the newer battleships...", the Regent began to suggest, but Miliukov had another idea,
"Prince Augustus Eduard has his own aeroplanes. He is known as a fanatic in such circles."
Prince Georgi groaned. Chasing the teenage daughter of Grand Duchess Sophia out of the palace had been hard work enough, now here he was with it being suggested that they call her husband in to join the team of experts.
"It would give her highness Grand Duchess Anastasia Sophiaevna somebody different to visit", Elena said with an impish grin. To be honest she had found the sixteen year old girl to be bright and interested, but it had just been an inappropriate moment and she had been unable to shake her off on her own.
"Make a note of it", the Regent sighed, "We will require his presence here for the full council meeting tomorrow morning."
"I am wondering what scanning waves mean", Miliukov commented after a few moments."
"The author attempts to explain them", Elena pointed out, "a proto-device in detecting incoming planes via by radio waves...", she read from the Message.
"How can you use radio to detect something if it doesn't reply ?", the Regent was lost, "Direction Finding works by triangulating an outgoing signal so that we can say for certain where it originates."
"I think we are going to need a scientific committee", Elena said slowly, "And I also believe, if I may be so bold as to raise the matter, that instead of these ad hoc meetings between my team and your highness, there should be some kind of Secretariat established to whom all messages originating from beyond our borders belong."
"Yes", Prince Georgi made a note of both suggestions, and understood for the first time just how fast the bureaucracy of government could grow - especially as all of this was going to need to be duplicated at Omsk !
"I think we should look at the second message", he said after a pause.
Elena replaced the one with the other. This one was shorter, and even more confusing if that was possible

Transmission from: Union of Pacific Dominions
To: Russian Empire (?)
We greatly desire to establish diplomatic conntact and then perhaps trade. If you wish a diplomatic mission will be dispatched by ship ASAP
Sir John Monash
Governor General

"British", Miliukov stated with a sour taste in his mouth.
"Canadian ?", the Regent was confused.
"Union of Pacific Dominions ?", Elena shrugged, "I have not heard of that term."
"If you wish a diplomatic mission will be despatched by ship...", Miliukov looked up, "I have no idea what this means, or why. A diplomatic mission from whom and for what purpose... Asap...that could be a codeword of some kind."
"I think", the Regent said slowly, "that our reply to this message is going to be easier to draft than our reply to the Hawaiians. We will simply ask who they are and what they are meaning."
"And we had better use the codeword just in case it is required as a recognition signal.". Elena put in.
"A good suggestion.", the Regent leant back in his seat, "Let us return to the matter of the Message from Hawaii. The ships leave from Petropavlosk tomorrow morning, but what are we going to say in reply to Mister Cardon's offer ?"

* * * * *

To Governor General Sir John Monash, ASAP
Union of Pacific Dominions

Please state location and meaning of previous message. The Russian Empire will welcome any civilian ship to its ports in time of peace. Trade contacts are currently being run through the Regency Ministry of Trade out of Saint Petersburg.

His Highness, Prince Georgi Nikolaevich
Regent of the Russian Empire


Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

Grand Duchess Anastasia Sophiaevna was surprised at herself. She had spent most of her adolescent years avoiding contact with her elderly relatives as much as possible, but here she was, dragged to her great aunt Maria Konstantinaevna's palace for supper with the Tsesarevitch, and she was finding herself strangely drawn to the old bat. For one thing she may be old and possessed of a high opinion of herself, but the former Regent was still in command of all her faculties. There were none of those cringe-worthy moments when some silly old cow forgets where they are, who their guests are, or what the subject under discussion was. Nor did her great aunt dribble or drop food all down her front - for all that she was almost eighty !
"So how do you think Georgi is handling all this ?", Maria was asking.
The Tsesarevitch placed the forkfull of potato back down upon his plate and wiped his mouth with a serviette,
"I think he is doing as well as anyone could be expected to do, given the circumstances."
"The destruction of the World !", Anastasia put in, more for her own benefit than to add anything to their conversation. She wasn't going to let them forget that she was there.
"It is a slightly fanciful description", Maria Konstantinaevna observed.
"Its what Andrei said was happening", the sixteen year old liked to mention the handsome young student she had met in the Little Hall, "He said we have to assume that the world beyond our borders no longer exists !"
"Something exists out there", Konstantine Konstantinaevich warned his niece, "It is indeed possible that the nations we knew and loved have disappeared, but the land is still there, and there are signs that new nations inhabit them."
"I never loved Sweden", the sixteen year old pulled a sour face, "Germany was alright, that was father's country."
"Indeed", Maria took hold of the stem of her wineglass in a wrinkled but firm hand, "Did you learn a lot from Miss Purishkevich ? Konstantine says that you monopolised her time for a good part of the day."
Anastasia shrugged, and slugged back her own glass of wine,
"She had a lot of theories and a lot of information. I don't know if she had many answers though."
"I expect nobody knows the answers yet", the Tsesarevitch put in, "It is like a jigsaw puzzle."
"I gave those up when I was a child." Anastasia snorted
"Then you will have never come across the thousand piece variety", her uncle admonished her, "The French designer Lacoutier has created many hundreds of complex geometrical designs, then cut them with a jigsaw into puzzle pieces. It takes the best minds several days to reassemble them."
"God", she groaned, "Imagine doing something like a jigsaw for several days, how intolerable !"
"And yet you enjoyed the visit to Miss Purishkevich's team", her great aunt pushed the issue, "This new world of ours may not be a series of clever tricks upon a wooden board, but it is composed of many pieces, none of which seem to fit together as yet."
The Tsesarevitch watched his niece internalise this as he made inroads into his dinner. The girl was bright, that was for sure, but she was wilful and the child of his sister Sophie, that almost marked her out for certain as lazy and indolent by nature. Could Ana conquer her nature ?
"So the radio messages are like one piece of the puzzle ?"
"They are more like one quadrant", the elderly woman told her, "Radio messages in Latin are one piece, radio messages in Greek are another piece, and so on."
"And those funny armoured vehicles one of the telegraphic teams reported, they are another piece ?"
"Yes", Maria smiled at her uptake
"A most disturbing piece, perhaps", the Tsesarevitch added his own commentary.
"Why would something so comical disturb you ?" Anastasia asked.
"Because who would build something like that for no purpose ? Surely not as an amusing toy ? What if they really do work as their appearance would suggest ?"
"A moving fort ? On the road ? Only an idiot would build that", Anastasia had all the certainty of youth, "Anyone else would use a railgun, or deploy the artillery then open fire."
"Perhaps", Konstantine was not convinced.
Before the conversation could go any further there came an urgent knocking upon the dining room door.
"Enter", Grand Duchess Maria was possessed of a loud and commanding voice when she wished to be.
The doors swung inwards and there stood Andrei, one of Elena Purishkevich's team of youngsters. He bowed in all three directions, evincing a giggle from the sixteen year old, and nothing but a respectful silence from the other two.
"Your imperial highnesses", he opted for the easiest form of address, "We have received communication from the Imperator. The Regent requests the Tsesarevitch's presence at the palace immediately."
Konstantine Konstantinaevich rose to his feet. It was too early for the airship to have reached Constantinople yet, therefore something had gone wrong. If something had gone wrong, then his brother, Grand Duke Pavel, would have acted upon his secret orders from the Regent. Yes, he was needed at the palace at once. He made to take leave of the two females, but Anastasia was out of her seat and standing stubbornly beside him,
"I am coming too." she announced.
The Tsesarevitch nodded. There was little point in gainsaying her; he could hardly have her arrested.
"Thank you for dinner, aunt Maria", he smiled, "I shall return to you in the morning."
"Take care my boy"
Off to one side, Anastasia exchanged an amused glance with Andrei, then they were underway, walking swiftly through the hallway to where the driver awaited with the automobile.

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

Remenber I have half a Million Troops . In a System of Trenches and Fortifications that have been expanded and extented since the end of the Great war in 1919. [think French Mairgot Line] They extedent ten Miles north of the Amur and cover all the Passes the Russians may Use to cross the Amur Mountians. Of course You could take some troops Over the Mountains, but not a Army. I Don't think General Fedor Zhuzhgov will get to Habin.

OTOH my troop are Simply going to Hold and Repluse, they will not Counter attack.

Yes, well he doesn't know that :) I'm not trying to play this as a wargame but as a sort of human adventure. Therefore if some idiot of an insubordinate general decides to take things into his own hands and walks into a trap, then thats fine by me.

I hadn't realised though that you extended North of the Amur in the ISOT. Not that it makes much difference to anything that has gone before, only in what is to come. It will probably take until day 4 or 5 before he is in a position to move anyway.

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

Commander Eugen Matveev stared through the binoculars. The aircraft - maybe it was an aeroplane, but unlike one ever envisaged as far as he was aware - was going slower now, no longer buzzing the giant airship like an angry wasp but moving slowly alongside the hull. Nobody opened fire - which, he thought, was a seriously good thing ! Presumably the unknown pilot was quite confident in his craft's abilities. Perhaps he knew many things that the Russians were not aware of.
Matveev studied the markings upon the grey body of the aircraft in more detail now. He had been right about the tail marking s being a cross and a crescent intertwined. Now he could see that the orange and green upon the wings were the feathers of a strange eagle's head. That made no sense to him.
"Is that a mouth ?", his young second asked tentatively.
"What ?" Matveev has no idea what the youth could mean.
"On the...what do you call the bow of an aeroplane ?"
"The nose ?", Matveev looked more carefully there. Yes, the lad was indeed right ! Some sort of beast's head with teeth ! Now that he knew what it was it seemed obvious. Beforehand, it had seemed to be but a pattern of triangular markings.

* * * * *

The radio officer was struggling to make sense of the Greek that was pouring over the airwaves into his headset,
"Please say again", he enunciated in best formal Greek of his own.
The message came again. Ashen-faced the radio officer turned to the captain,
"Sir, the leader of the aerial craft wishes us to fall under escort and accompany them to Constantinople. They have still not identified themselves or answered the questions we put to them."
"Demand an answer", Semenoff screwed a sheet of paper up and threw it across the bridge, "Maybe they do not realise with whom they are playing these games."
"Yes sir", the radio officer bent to his thankless task, asking again what the strangers seemed not at all inclined to answer.

Grand Duke Pavel Konstaninaevich watched the exchange, then stepped out of the bridge. A trooper of the Blue Cuirassiers was standing guard outside, as ordered,
"Relay the codeword 'Pravda' to the men." he instructed quietly.
The man saluted and headed off. Pavel stepped back inside, and smiled at Prince Gorshkin who had been about to comment upon his momentary absence.
Pravda - Truth. It was time...

* * * * *

Lieutenant Vyacheslav Adronik had the forward watch on the observation gallery, the view being one of the seas ahead illuminated by the stars above now beginning to poke their way into the twilight sky. He could see three of the strange aircraft now, keeping pace with the Imperator as it moved ahead at one third of cruising speed, a slowness and a lethargy which seemed unnatural, and would only be used during manoevring in normal circumstances.
Suddenly another aircraft appeared dead ahead. It was speeding towards them. Perhaps its velocity was exaggerated by the fact that they were heading straight towards each other. He flinched involuntarily, but could not drag his eyes away. The aircraft was still coming !
"Sound collision !" he yelled at his second.
Just as the youngster reached the alarm, the aircraft pulled up sharply and shot over the giant airship.
"Belay that."
The youngster let his hand fall from the handle. That had been very close, in more ways than one.

* * * * *

"Captain Semenoff, your excellency", he nodded at Prince Gorshkin, "I am taking command of this vessel."
"I think not, your highness", the sexagenarian captain was absolute in his belief, "This is my vessel and I am in command."
"And I remain head of the imperial delegation." Prince Gorshkin pushed his ample chest out as far as it would go, as if his girth would make the point for him.
Grand Duke Pavel Konstaninaevich drew the secret orders from out of his interior pocket, and smoothed them out in his hand,
"I have here orders from the Regent, endorsed by the Tsesarevitch. They lay out the precise circumstances in which I am empowered to take command of this vessel."
Prince Gorshkin took them from him, read them and silently handed them on to the captain. Semenoff read them then tossed them onto the desk in the centre of the room,
"I remain captain of this vessel, it is my charge, the safety of its passengers is my responsibiity. I will take advice but not orders."
"You will take my orders", Pavel said quietly, "At this moment detachments of the Blue Cuirassiers are ensuring that I have control over the armament, engineering and steerage decks. By order of The Regent, I am assuming command."
"You are seizing command !", Captain Semenoff all but shouted at him.
"If this mission turns from a journey to our imperial capital into an ambassadorial mission with foreign powers unknown, I am requested and required to take command of this airship. Captain, you will obey my commands, or be relieved of your command."
For the shortest moment, Semenoff considered continuing to defy the Grand Duke, then he desisted. He knew he was the best person to fly the Imperator. If someone had to do it under the Grand Duke's orders then that person ought to be his.
"What are your orders, your highness ?", he forced himself to say.
"Inform the strangers that we will co-operate. We will fall under escort to Constantinople. Broadcast to Saint Petersburg that the fox is amongst the hounds."
"Do it", Semenoff instructed his radio officer.
He strode towards the bow of the airship,
"Naigation Officer, prepare to come under escort. Engines prepare to increase speed as required !"

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

Captain Leon Bernov strode the bridge of the ancient cruiser Pamiat Azova, feeling like he was a participant in a historical film. Dating from before the War of Unification, the armoured cruiser had been in reserve for over ten years, and for the last few of these had been moored as a guardship at Petropavlosk. A superhuman effort overnight had made her serviceable for this journey. Luck had played its part - a full bunker of coal was already shipped, part of the ballast that had weighted her down. Crews from several ice patrol craft had been draughted in to fill the vacancies that a guardship inevitably had when it came to putting to see again.
"Clearing harbour lightship", the officer of the deck reported.
Bernov nodded. Behind his ship, he knew were the two precious auxilaries, two colliers and a repair ship. They knew not what they would encounter...

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

The weather showed little sign of abating, but it was flyable. The Kishinev lifted slowly from the mooring tower at Sevastopol and angled up into the air, approximate heading South-West. Under special orders from Admiral Enqvist, the naval patrol airships from the Crimean bases were setting off that morning on defined flight patterns which would take them over the line of disturbance. The Kishinev's task was to overfly Constanta, a task it had carried out in more normal times, and which it had been engaged upon in the very day of The Event.
Captain Igor Kollontai opened his sealed briefing in the privacy of his cabin only once the airship was aloft. Prepared by Naval Intelligence, the three closely-typed pages included information that could only have come from Saint Petersburg that very morning. It was not possible to get any more up-to-date than that.
He ran a finger down the pages, reading, noting...then stopped. The Rules of Engagement had changed.
"Do not engage the enemy ?!" he breathed out slowly. Well, he would see about that if it came to it...
Finishing with the rest of the sheets, he rose and made his way back to the bridge.
"Well, Captain ?"
Vladimir Mikov, First Officer stood still at his control position.
"Our orders are to fly to Constanta and see what happens."
"See...what...happens ?", Vladimir was incredulous, "Those strange eagles that we saw..."
"They are the reason we are heading there again. We have already been there once since The Event and we will be able to add to our existing report."
"But that was madness...", Vladimir was struggling to cling to the vestiges of his worldview, "How can we repeat that ?"
"The world has gone mad", Kollontai wanted no one to misunderstand this central point, "We are directly ordered to be credulous."
"Credulous ?", Vladimir was liking this less and less, "What does that mean - believe any rubbish that they feel like telling us ?"
"Not quite", Igor allowed himself a smile, "We are ordered not to dismiss anything out of hand, no matter how insane it seems."
"I do not see the difference."
"Perhaps you do not, but then perhaps that is why I am captain."
Vladimir turned his back on him. Igor frowned; he had hoped that his First Officer, and his friend, had recovered from the shock of the first day. Perhaps he had not.

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

Eugen Matveev woke up feeling strange... He shook his head...why were the engines silent ? Then, he remembered. He was on the ground. He reached across and pulled the string hanging from the ceiling. A single light bulb in a green shade lit up. He looked around him; ah yes, the military base outside of Constantinople. It all came back to him now.
The strange aircraft - he might as well call them aeroplanes - had escorted the Imperator South-West across the Black Sea, over the Bosphorus and to a military base North of Constantinople. It had been dark, the airship was running some hours behind schedule by this time, and the view over the capital had been vague. But something had seemed wrong.
As his feet touched the bare floor he laughed grimly. Of course something had seemed wrong. They were under escort by some kind of super aeroplane with outlandish symbols upon them, and he had expected everything to be the same when they had arrived here ? Crazy...but wasn't everything ?
The night landing had been hair-raising. It seemed these people, whoever they were, did not have airships, using other giant aeroplanes instead - he had seen some on the ground, he could swear to that! A makeshift mooring mast had been found, he knew not what its normal task in life was, and the gigantic airship had somehow been tethered safely, a process taking almost twice as long as it normally did.
From the observation gallery he had seen the delegation disembark first. No longer headed by that fat slob Gorshkin, Grand Duke Pavel Konstantinaevich stood at its head, several officers of the Blue Cuirassiers there as aides, or perhaps bodyguards. They had met with some officials from whatever land this was....whatever land it now was... and then been driven away to... well, he could only conjecture. Presumably somewhere more salubrious than these quarters.
Not that there was anything wrong with this room, he decided, not if you compared it to what could have been awaiting them in a worse-case scenario. If some other nation now ruled from out of Constantinople then they coud easily have been uncivilised or warlike. Instead, their hosts seemed to be generally pleasant of disposition, at least outwardly.
Eventually they had been let off the airship. It had been almost 3 o'clock in the morning, and with little ceremony they had been led to this old barracks building. As a trained observer he had noted the small details about his hosts, the crescent and cross symbol again appearing, this time on the sleeves of the tan-coloured uniforms that the soldiers wore. The single officer he had seen had been in white and yellow, seemingly at odds with the colour scheme of the others. Perhaps all officers had been instructed to wear their dress uniforms ? The command crew of the Imperator, and the cavalry officers had already been wearing theirs in anticipation of an audience with the Tsar.
He wondered what time it was. There was no clock in the small room, and the location of his pocket watch was suddenly something of a mystery. He looked up at the narrow window set high in the wall and tried to gauge the angle from which sunlight was entering. Maybe nine o'clock he thought, perhaps a little later. Their hosts had let them have six hours sleep, at least that was a good sign...probably

Grey Wolf

[Cockroach]

To His Highness, Prince Georgi Nikolaevich
Regent of the Russian Empire
First to clarify some points as requested:
The Union of Pacific Dominions consists of the Commonwealth of Australia and the Dominion of New Zealand;
Surely the meaning of the message was clear but judging from your use of ASAP in your reply you didn't understand that it is an abreviation for as soon as possible.

Now onto buisness, we intend to dispatch a diplomatic mission by ship to the nearest port under your control, Vladivostok I would assume. We will also dispatch a sample of our nations products including a Kingsford-Smith "Dingo" torpedo/dive bomber (http://alternatehistory.com/discussion/attachment.php?attachmentid=1236&stc=1) and the Kingsford-Smith "Anzac" light fighter (armed with 4 machine guns and a 20mm cannon). We also must note that in our world Russia had degenerated into a number of warring states including a Tsarist one based around St Petersberg and a communist state based around Moscow.
Governor General Sir John Monash

[DominusNovus]

Oh, go ahead and give it away why don't you? I liked that they thought ASAP was a code. :mad:

lol

[Grey Wolf]

"Something ahead !"
The voice was that of Mikhail Stronganoff, Observation Officer of the airship Kishinev.
Captain Igor Kollontai was by his side in mere moments,
"What is it ?"
Mikhail trained his binoculars on the smudge upon the horizon,
"I think it is like the last time we were in this area, sir. I can see the eagle on its flanks I think. The weather and the range make it difficult yet."
"Commander Mikov, engines ahead full."
Vladimir replied with bad grace. Igor was really beginning to wonder about him. He might have a word with the base doctor once they got back to Sevastopol, he decided.

* * * * *

"Slow to manoevring speed."
Vladimir actioned the order, then turned to face him,
"I say it is the Devil's work !" he said loudly, as if making an announcement, "The Devil disguises his demons as airships."
"Vladimir, cut it out now."
"God knows that I am right !", the airship's first officer yelled, "We must destroy the demons !"
"Vladimir you are relieved !", Igor drew his own gun on his friend, "You two", he motioned to two of the ship's minimal Marine contingent, "Place him under guard in his cabin."
"You cannot stop God's work !" Vladimir was crying as he was led from the bridge, "They are demons ! Demons I tell you...."
His voice faded as the two Marines dragged him down the central walkway.
Running a hand across his forehead, Igor turned to face his bridge crew, seeing the shock and the confusion upon their faces,
"Commander Mikov has been unwell. I had not realised how serious it had become. He has been placed in protective custody for his own good - and for his own safety. Our orders from Admiral Enqvist are quite explicit. We must establish friendly relations with the Unknowns."

* * * * *

"Sir", Mikhail was strident in the urgency of his tone, "There is Greek writing on the side of the airship."
"And ?", Igor knew very well that as a member of the command crew, Mikhail could speak and read Greek as well as he could Russian
"It bears a name...the name Justinian..."
"As in the emperor ? The Secret History of Procopius and all that ?"
"Yes sir, there is another airship tucked in behind her."
"The Theodora perhaps ?", Igor laughed at his own joke and then realised that he was the only one doing so. He shut up,
"They are flashing a lamp" he noted.
Mikhail trained his binoculars upon it,
"I cannot make any sense of it"
"We have tried the radio", the Captain commented, "Perhaps they do not have it and communicate in this fashion."
"We have a signal lamp" Mikhail reminded him, "We can try signalling back."
"Its worth a shot", Igor did not sound too enthusiastic. To him it seemed as if one of them would be speaking Dutch to the other one's French, if he had remembered the proverb correctly.

* * * * *

"They are responding", Mikhail sounded hesitant.
Igor moved again to the officer's side,
"What is their response...?"
"Alpha....They are lowering a giant alpha from the side of the gondola....One flash"
"One flash for alpha..?" the Captain asked
"Beta....They are now lowering a giant beta...Two flashes."
"Shall I guess three flashes and a giant delta ?" Igor asked
"Delta...a giant delta....and three flashes."
"I think we can get the hang of this", he grinned widely, "Prepare a message using this code. Ask them who they are."
"Yes sir"

* * * * *

"They are replying"
Mikhail and Igor were now stood permanently beside each other. The Navigation Officer had the bridge, freeing the captain to concentrate on the diplomatic side of his orders.
"Approach......approach and let us have talks."
Mikhail scratched his head,
"Their dialect is a little strange, but it is not too bad that I cannot decipher it."
"Navigation, steer a course for the nearest airship, bring us alongside at 50 yards."
"Yes sir"
"The other one is moving too...I can make out a name now, sir - Heraclius."
"On no account are we to open fire", Igor snapped, "Relay that to all hands. I do not want itchy fingers on the triggers of the guns. The gun crews are to stand at ease. We are so ordered by the Admiral."

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

The full council meeting was due to start in a very few minutes. Of course, it would not start without him, but it would be bad form to be late. Prince Georgi nevertheless made time for Elena Purishkevich and the young woman who accompanied her to his study, Vera Voronovich.
"Please be seated", once again he found himself behind a desk and his guests in front of it.
This time there was no time to do anything about that. He was putting the finishing touches to a pile of documents upon the desk, things he would need in the imminent meeting.
"Please" he nodded to Elena, "We have very little time - begin."
"Your highness", she inclined her head in turn, "We have recieved a reply from..", she glanced at the sheet to get the exact wording, "The Union of Pacific Dominions...they inform us they are the new name for Australia and New Zealand."
"Maybe the British Empire is disintegrating ?" the Regent smiled
Vera cautiously spoke up,
"The final sentence would indicate that we are not dealing with the British Empire as we know it," and then she quoted, "We also must note that in our world Russia had degenerated into a number of warring states including a Tsarist one based around St Petersberg and a communist state based around Moscow."
"That could be some kind of joke ?" Georgi frowned, "The British are renowned for their puzzling sense of humour."
"We do not know what the word 'communist' means.", Elena added, though to what end she was not sure, "It should also be noted that the sender, this Governor Monash, offers to bring us aeroplanes and requests to send a ship to us....but then suggests to send it to Lord of the East...Vladivostock...I am not sure what that means ?"
"Maybe it is a crude attempt to indicate the seat of the Eastern Government at Aleksandrograd", Vera suggested.
"It is a good possibility", the Regent'e eyes were now upon the clock, "Vera", he addressed her gently, "Could you draw up a response saying that any civilian ships are welcome at Petropavlosk, with these aeroplanes on board."
"Yes, your highness."
"Excellent", Georgi rose to his feet, the other two swiftly following, "If you could send that for retransmission immediately, we will be in the Full Council meeting."
They went their separate ways at the door.

* * * * *
To Governor General Sir John Monash
Union of Pacific Dominions

Please send your diplomatic mission on board a civilian ship to the city of Petropavlosk. All contact has currently been lost with Aleksandrograd, seat of our Eastern government. We would welcome the chance to inspect your aeroplanes

His Highness, Prince Georgi Nikolaevich
Regent of Russia

Grey Wolf

[DuQuense]

Septembre 2nd

from
King Fredrick Christian Gustav
United Nordic Kingdoms

To
To His Highness, Prince Georgi Nikolaevich
Regent of the Russian Empire

Greetings Whe have been informed that in the first few Hours since the Hand of God placed us here, in this new World. You attempted to send a Delegation to Our Nation. You can understand that in the first few hours, the Safety of our Nation and it's People were paramount.

Now that a element of calm has returned, Whe wish to send a Delegation to St. Petersburg to discuss Diplomatic Relations, and the Resumption of Normal Trade and Commerce.

[DominusNovus]

September 2, 2692 AUC

To His Majesty, Boris XI, Cagan of the Bulgars

We are contacting you to ascertain the state of your nation. Your border garrisons are nowhere to be found and there seem to be people in unknown vehicles in the general area of the border. We assume this has some connection to the severe atmospheric disturbances witnessed recently. Are you under attack? Do you require humanitarian aide? The Imperial Roman Union enjoys the peace we have allowed our two peoples to experience for the past 20 years, and does not wish to jeopardize it.

Imperial Roman Union

OOC: 2 things. First of all, the Romans don't want to give the impression that they're experiencing any problems. Second, actually, I've forgotten the second. Damn.

[Grey Wolf]

Andrei Kuznetsov looked down at the messages which had come in during the last half hour. Things had begun to take on a momentum of their own. They had come in from the telegraphic office since the start of the full council meeting, and nobody with sufficient authority to action them existed within the standing committee in Elena's absence. As he read through the message from the United Nordic Kingdom, he wondered whether he could just pass the message on - to the Foreign Ministry, presumably... but even if he did, both Prince Vyazemsky and his deputy were in the meeting with the Regent. It would do little to expediate matters.

from
King Fredrick Christian Gustav
United Nordic Kingdoms

To
To His Highness, Prince Georgi Nikolaevich
Regent of the Russian Empire

Greetings We have been informed that in the first few Hours since the Hand of God placed us here, in this new World. You attempted to send a Delegation to Our Nation. You can understand that in the first few hours, the Safety of our Nation and it's People were paramount.

Now that a element of calm has returned, We wish to send a Delegation to St. Petersburg to discuss Diplomatic Relations, and the Resumption of Normal Trade and Commerce.

There was nothing overly complex here. If the structure existed to deal with this kind of message, he could have dispatched a reply in the name of the Regent and invited a delegation to present itself at the border. But, in the absence of any freedom of action, he simply wrapped the message inside another sheet of paper and annotated it with his advice. It would be dealt with later when someone was available with sufficient authority to act upon it.
He reached across for another one of the messages. Ah, Hawaii - again !
"Vera", he called across the hall, "Please come here."
The young woman left the batch of radio intercepts she was working on and arrived beside him. Without need for explanation, he handed her the message from the mysterious Mr Kardon.
"Ah, he is certainly desirous of our friendship", she smiled at him, and pulled up a chair, scanning the message quickly, "This is a direct reply to our request for more information. Its beyond me, I am afraid. There are details of aeroplanes, for example."
"The Regent requested Prince Augustus Eduard attend the Full Council meeting", Andrei commented, "Increasingly we are coming into contact with these aeroplanes, we need somebody who is familiar with their eccentricities."
"There is talk of an advisory Committee on Science", Vera spoke up, "This message should be marked for their attention."
Andrei took it off her and wrapped it in another single sheet of paper, annotating it appropriately. Hopefully by this time on the morrow, things would begin to be rather more organised. His attention now turned to the third message before him. He screwed his eyes up and tried to concentrate on the bizarre contents swimming before his eyes. Even the heading made no sense at all,
September 2, 2692 AUC

To His Majesty, Boris XI, Cagan of the Bulgars
"If it was the year 2692, what would that mean to you?"
Vera frowned, and did some quick calculations.
"That they started to count in 753 BC ?"
"Rome ??", Andrei was at least generally aware of classical history, though it was not his area of expertise.
"The date that Rome was founded by Romulus, according to tradition" Vera explained, "If this is from the same...place...as the broadcasts we have been picking up in Latin, maybe..."
"Maybe we are dealing with modern-day Romans ?", Andrei raised his eyebrows.
"So it would seem."; even now they were a little unwilling to voice things too directly.
"And the form of address... who is Boris XI...I assume Cagan is a title, the same as King maybe ?"
Vera nodded,
"I expect so. What does the rest of the message say ?"
"Its talking about the Event, and asking ... I think it is assuming we are Bulgarians ? Its asking us if we are alright, and if they can assist us. It finishes with a statement about their desire for continued peace between nations."
He handed it across to her, now, and stood up.
"I am just going for a walk." he announced, "I need to clear my head, think a few things through."
"Aha", she took little notice of him, now that she had the message in her hand. Returning to her desk, she began to compare its contents to some of the radio intercepts they had been attempting to deal with over the last couple of days.


Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

As the Full Council meeting broke up, Prince Augustus Eduard made his way across the floor of the chamber to the Regent,
"Your highness", he button-holed him upon the threshold, "My daughter is within the palace ?"
"Yes, your highness", Prince Georgi did not need to think about whom he meant; even if he had had other daughters of an age to go wandering off on their own, the whirlwind that had been Anastasia the previous night would have been the first thing on his mind, "The Tsesarevitch saw to it that she got one of the imperial guest suites for the night."
"Ah, good", the Prince looked more relieved than pleased, "The Tsesarevitch is a good man, but..."
"I think you had better leave that thought right there", the Regent warned him , "The Tsesarevitch is acting head of state, and in the current Emergency we would be wise not to have slanderous talk spoken aloud."
"As you will", the prince nodded, and made his way back to where he had been sitting, to collect his notes from the meeting.
Prince Georgi turned back towards the door, and found Elena Purishkevich and Prince Vyazemsky waiting for him.
"Your highness", the latter said, "I believe we should iron out the details of the new Secretariat as a matter of urgency."
"Yes, I believe that is best. Please come with me."
They followed him down the corridor towards his study.
Behind him, Prince Augustus Eduard was just exiting the chamber. The new Scientific Committee would not go into session until after lunch, and there were things to see to first - family matters. He wondered whether Ana would be up yet - like her mother, she was a notoriously late riser. Still, if she was in bed, he would rouse her. They could not go on like this.

* * * * *

"Miss Purishkevich has accompanied the Regent and Prince Vyazemsky back to the Regent's study", the guard on the door informed her.
Vera sighed. Another delay ! True, it would be a meeting designed to prevent this situation from occurring in future, but for the immediate term it did nothing to solve her dilemma.
"Thank you", she nodded and made her way back to the Little Hall. Entering, she noted with surprise that Andrei was not yet back from his walk. Maybe he had more to think about than she had assumed.
She retook her seat, and looked again at the latest message to come in from the outside world. All such messages were being transcribed by the telegraphic office, then brought to the standing committee by runners. This one was a direct radio communication from whoever was now in control of the Baltic provinces. The author sounded almost plaintive in his confusion.

To any European Nations:

Greetings, we are the Baltic Confederation, made up of Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania, and the Occupied territory of Kalingrad. Or at least we had Kalingrad, I think we lost it. Anyhow we have just gone through some sort of tranportation, and are currently trying to establish contacts with anyone who would know why we are here. And where here is.

Please get back to us, as we are thoroughly confused.

Commisioner Hiiu
Baltic Confederation

The names were the same, except for Kalingrad, she had no idea where that was. She also didn't recognise what sort of name Hiiu was - Lithuanian perhaps ?
Vera made a note on the pad in front of her to ask Elena Purishkevich to get some more students in here, linguists preferably but also perhaps some anthropologists. Like everything within the palace of government, the standing committee seemed to be on the verge of another great increase in size.

* * * * *

"You will open that door."
The guard looked thoroughly uncomfortable. The girl was a Grand Duchess ! Technically she outranked her father... But this was Russia, and her father had precedence over her in a family situation. He made a quick mental calculation; Prince Augustus Eduard had just been elevated to some sort of government committee, whilst the girl was only sixteen years of age. He produced the spare key and inserted it into the lock. The German only gave him a cold hard stare as he went past and into the imperial guest suite.
Upon the bed, the two naked figures leapt apart. Anastasia regained her poise almost at once and stood brazenly before her father,
"You have no right to come in here."
Augustus Eduard looked beyond his daughter to the naked young man cowering on the floor behind the bed,
"Leave now !" he commanded.
The fellow made to retrieve his clothes from the back of a chair.
"Now !", the prince shouted.
"No !", Anastasia inserted herself between her lover and her father.
The prince balled his fist, then stepped backwards,
"As you wish, Ana" he ground out, "You are no longer welcome at home."
With that, he turned on his heels and stalked out. Anastasia stepped towards the door and addressed the guard outside, heedless of her nakedness,
"Please fetch your commander. I have a complaint to make."
The guard blushed at the sight of her, then quickly made off. Anastasia closed the door and locked it. She turned back towards her lover,
"Andrei, we will not be disturbed again."
Allowing his passion to overcome his common sense - for the second time that morning - Andrei swept the Grand Duchess up into his arms. They landed on the bed with a crash.

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

The railway station was even more crowded than when he had arrived. Troop trains carrying the first of the Reserve units to be called up had been pulling in incessantly, and the recruits, young and old alike were being marshalled and led away to the barracks and camps hastily opened for their dispersal. Freight trains from Moscow, and from the East were backing up down the tracks, sometimes six or seven in a line as the sidings could no longer cope with the influx of materiele all coming into the city at once.
Yet one platform remained clear of the chaos, and one track out of the station had no traffic upon it at all. The Tsesarevitch stood there now, at his side his nine year old son, the only one of his three children who had not been in Constantinople when...whatever had happened, happened. Grand Duke Konstantine - what other name would his eldest child have ? - had been at boarding school in Saint Petersburg, but that morning the Tsesarevitch had decided to withdraw him and lodge him at the palace. This was not a time to have one's heirs out of sight.
Talking of which, he smiled firmly at his youngest brother, and his young wife, heavily pregnant with their first child. It was going to be an arduous trip for her, but Grand Duchess Elisabeth had refused to be left behind in the Regency capital whilst her husband entrained for the Far East.
"Dmitri", the Tsesarevitch took his brother aside, "I am going to issue an Edict altering the Law of Succession."
His younger brother could not keep the surprise from off his face,
"Tsar Paul's rules have stood for over a century now." he noted.
"It is true, and they have served us well, despite all", Konstantine Konstantinaevich could not deny that, "But with the uncertainties in the world, I feel that the larger the dynasty is, the more secure that Russia will be."
"The two Alexandrine lines already stand behind us should we fall", Dmitri commented, using the terms 'us' and 'we' to refer to the senior, Konstantine, line of the Romanov dynasty.
"That is true.", the Tsesarevitch acknowledged with a wry smile.
His brother smiled the same thought back - the Alexandrine lines, of which the Regent was the most senior of - may be Romanovs but they were not Konstantines.
"What did you have in mind ?"
"Many of the European powers have primogeniture in place. They also have a rule that if a woman marries into the royal family of another nation then her place in the line of succession if forfeit."
Dmitri looked at him wide-eyed,
"You can only mean by that to instate Sophie and her...", he bit back the word 'brood', "her family into the line of succession !"
"I spent a while yesterday with Ana, she has interesting qualities."
Dmitri was not quite sure how to take that one. Everyone knew the rumours surrounding his elder brother. Instead he replied at a tangent,
"So Sophie takes her place after me, then her sons and then her daughters after her ?"
"I will publish the Edict tomorrow morning", the Tsesarevitch confirmed.
The train commander appeared on the edge of the group, hopping nervously from foot to foot. Konstantine steered his younger brother back towards them,
"It is time ?" he asked.
"Yes, your imperial highness", the train commander looked anxiously at his watch, "The line is clear all the way to Vologda, but we must leave at the allotted hour."
"Then, brother, it is time to take my leave of you."
Konstantine embraced the thirty-three year old Grand Duke, then kissed the hand of his Swedish wife,
"I hope the journey to Petropavlosk is not too arduous." he said courteously.
"Thank you", she smiled at him, then allowed her maid to help her up into the carriage.
Dmitri stepped forward and ruffled the hair of the Tsesarevitch's son, hie nephew,
"Take care, little fellow."
"And you, Uncle Dmitri"
"Oh, I intend to"
And with that Dmitri hopped aboard the imperial train, that shortly afterwards began to edge out of the station. Father and son stood and watched until it was completely out of sight, its smoke and steam swallowed up in the noxious cloud that was enveloping this part of the city.
"Back to the palace, my boy", the Tsesarevitch smiled down at his son.
"I can't wait !", the youngster enthused. After the stolidity of boarding school, a return to palace life sounded almost like the most excellent adventure

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

You may think some of these are just vanity pieces, but they are intended as a sort of shuffling of the pack, making sure the pieces are in the right place, kind of thing

- the new Secretariat will enable replies to foreign governments to be posted more swiftly in future

- the Scientific Committee will enable something useful to be done with unknown technology especially aeroplanes

- the positioning of Dmitri as ViceRoy of the East will allow for an immediate response to situations out there as they occur

- the change in the Law of Succession ensures that if the worse comes to the worst there is still someone to rule the country !

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

As a note, the ISOT'ed dynasty consists of

1. Tsesarevitch Konstantine Konstantinaevich

2. His son, Grand Duke Konstantine Konstantinaevich (aged 9)

3. His unmarried brother, Grand Duke Pavel Konstantinaevich

4. His youngest brother, Grand Duke Dmitri Konstantinaevich

5. Dmitri's unbord child
(by dint of the edict of Day 4 it will take its place whether male or female)

Also, by dint of the edict of Day 4 the following now take their place before the twin Alexandrine lines :-

6. Grand Duchess Sophie Konstantinaevna

and then her children, boys first then girls :-

7. Grand Duke Sergei Sophiaevitch (aged 11)

8. Grand Duke Gabriel Sophiaevitch (aged 7)

9. Grand Duke Fedor Sophiaevitch (aged 4)

10. Grand Duchess Anastasia Sophiaevna (aged 16)

11. Grand Duchess Nadejda Sophiaevna (aged 10)

12. Grand Duchess Tatiana Sophiaevna (aged 8)

13. Grand Duchess Anna Sophiaevna (aged 2)

And then the Alexandrine lines descended from two Grand Dukes whom Tsar Konstantine V recognised as loyal and accepted into the line of succession. The oldest scion of the Alexandrine line is Prince Georgi Nikolaevich, Regent of Russia

Grey Wolf

[DominusNovus]

Very nice. I'm not sure if I've got this part right though. Augustus, he's Sophie's (number 6) husband, right?

[Grey Wolf]

Very nice. I'm not sure if I've got this part right though. Augustus, he's Sophie's (number 6) husband, right?

Yes, that's right - Augustus Eduard is a minor German prince, not even THE prince of somewhere unimportant but just A prince from there. He qualifies as royal enough for the marriage not to be morganatic though.

He's thus the husband of Sophie, and the father of (most of) her seven children. He's definitely the father of Anastasia, after that he is PROBABLY the father of each of the others, but there's a chance that others of Sophie's lovers may genetically be responsible for one or two

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

The Kishinev was following the two other airships Westwards towards where the map showed the Principalities would be. Except, of course, that the map was lying. What they would find when they got there was whatever homeland these curious Greek-speaking Romans had established. At least Constanta was still there; he knew that from the previous overflight, though it had looked 'wrong' back then. A closer study of the city would be very interesting indeed.

Ivan Novikov stood upon the bridge, watching the captain out of the corner of his eye. As Navigation Officer upon the airship, he was now Acting second-in-command after the removal of the first officer, but he could not shake the feeling that maybe Vladimir had been right. What else could explain the sudden disappearance of nations, and of armies, and their replacement by Greeks ? It had to be the Devil's work, surely. And yet, the Captain would have them believe that Admiral Enqvist had given him secret orders to make contact and land at the strangers' base ? He did not think so.

* * * * *

"No ! No ! No !", Vladimir thumped himself in the chest, threw the chair at the wall and then let out a gurgling scream.
It worked. A look of horror upon his face, the Marine who had been standing guard outside opened the door, unsure of what he would find but certain that his prisoner had done himself a terrible injury.
Vladimir brought the splintered leg of the chair down hard upon the man's head, then kicked the body out of the doorway. It was harsh on the fellow who was only doing his duty, but God's will be done.
He slipped out of the cabin, closing the door quietly, and made his way stealthily towards the rear of the vessel.

* * * * *

Mikhail Stroganoff put down the sketchpad and looked carefully at the drawing, pleased with the effort. He made a few annotations about changes he would neat to make when he had the chance to properly sit down and complete it for Naval Intelligence, but as a rough outline of the Justinian it looked pretty close to his expert, if biased, eye.
"That is very good", Captain Igor Kollontain came alongside him, "Are there any significant differences between her and the Heraclius ?"
"Ah", the Observation officer nodded, "That is a good question."
He moved towards the outer hull, reaching for the binoculars which were always around his neck.

Behind them, on the bridge, Ivan noticed the engine seeming to miss a beat. Then it began to draw out completely, losing its rhythm entirely. He smiled, suddenly knowing what was going on. He wouldn't tell the captain until there was no avoiding the issue. The longer he remained ignorant, the better the chance... Yes, he was certain now in his heart. The captain had been lying all along...

Grey Wolf

[DuQuense]

It's begining to seem as if Russia will be as interested in sercuring at least one Border, as my Swedes are.

[Grey Wolf]

It's begining to seem as if Russia will be as interested in sercuring at least one Border, as my Swedes are.

btw I haven't a clue what's going on in the Caucasus ! The map seems to show the sultanate in possession of Baku...?

As for the borders that ARE secure, these are actually only the Central Asian ones - from Persia-Afghanistan-India but NOT China because the Chinese border provinces were part of the empire and have been left behind during the ISOT

Your Swedes will receive a reply soon :)

Best Regards
Grey Wolf

[DominusNovus]

btw I haven't a clue what's going on in the Caucasus ! The map seems to show the sultanate in possession of Baku...?

As for the borders that ARE secure, these are actually only the Central Asian ones - from Persia-Afghanistan-India but NOT China because the Chinese border provinces were part of the empire and have been left behind during the ISOT

Your Swedes will receive a reply soon :)

Best Regards
Grey Wolf
Well, the Sultanate's border there is good, assuming we agreed on the Caucasus as our border. So, we probably won't be fussing too much over there.

[G.Bone]

is russia still musing over China's telegram?

[Grey Wolf]

is russia still musing over China's telegram?

Yes. To be honest I don't think Zhuzhgov is going to even reply for another day or so. He's in the twilight of his career and wants to go out with glory, and damn the bureaucrats in Saint Petersburg. Confusing him is going to send him into a period of introspection and investigation, from which he will only emerge when he has decided what his new of the world should be

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

Aleksandr Luzhny stood in the Old Hall and slowly turned full circle. Upon the walls, paintings of former Tsars, generals and the occasional cultural icon seemed to look down on him. He wondered whether Tsar Paul or Tchaikovsky would have had anything to say about the situation that the empire now found itself in. He was certain that Suvarov or Seniavin would have had, for all that they were of a time so far gone. Their age had been one of upheaval, more for the general than for the admiral, an age which had seen revolution, the overthrow of monarchies and the Terror.
"Is this going to be sufficient ?"
The speaker was a minor civil servant, a functionary in the staff of the palace of government but someone who knew the lay-out of the building inside out.
Luzhny nodded and smiled,
"Yes, I think that this will serve our needs very well indeed."
"Excellent !", the civil servant clapped his hands together in a gesture of pleasure, "I have a list from Prince Vyazemsky of the furnishings that you require. It will be delivered within the hour."
"Thank you"
As the man departed in self-satisfied urgency, Luzhny turned his attention to a young man who had just wandered into the hall and had flopped down into an ancient armchair, perusing a sheet of paper in his hands.
"Good afternoon.", he said cautiously.
The other looked at him, then leapt to his feet,
"Andrei Kuznetsov", he beamed, "Elena Purishkevich has put me in charge of the Standing Committee's side of things."
He did not mention why she had chosen him, why she had thought it politic to disassociate herself with him directly. No doubt 'informed sources' would make everyone aware eventually, but for now no one need know the cloud hanging over his head...or the reason for the fire burning in his eyes.
"Ah", Luzhny took the paper from his hand, "I am glad that we are working together so well and so quickly."
He was quiet a moment, taking in the message, then looked into the eyes of the young man before him,
"The Crown Prince of the United Nordic Kingdom wishes to pay his respects at Saint Petersburg at his earliest opportunity ?", he was surprised, "We have to arrange the details of this visit ?"
Andrei almost laughed at the man's naiivety, then bit it back, deciding that he may well end up counting on his support if Prince Augustus Eduard made an issue of things,
"The mention of an aeroplane makes it the more complex, but there is an airfield outside of the capital, and we could have automobiles there ready to convey them to the palace."
"I see", Luzhny suddenly realised quite how substantial a task running the new Secretariat for Foreign Communications might well be, "Are we in a position to draft a reply ?"
"Yes", Andrei was definite. Elena had explained to him how things would work. This kind of message simply required a signature from the Regent, then the telegraphic office would send it at once.
"Oh good !", Luzhny beamed, "Do you think you could deal with this one right now ? We don't want a backlog to build up."
"Yes, of course", Andrei hid his delight, "I will see to it personally."
"Excellent", Luzhny looked round at a number of footmen entering the hall, "I need to arrange for the placement of the furniture."
"Of course", Andrei bowed his head and watched his erstwhile boss busy himself with matters of chairs and tables, and their neat geometrical arrangement within the Old Hall

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

Day 4
Note - this may be out of sequence

"No !", General Zhuzhgov towered over his subordinates, that he had invited to his headquarters.
The others looked at each other. General Ioann Gorshakoff decided to speak up,
"Sir, if what you say is true, then the Chinese do not know who is in our territories ?"
Zhuzhgov frowned at him. Did the man not understand ?
"We must attack at once", he snapped, "The doctrine of surprise favours us still."
"The message says that this China is made up of all the European holdings from Chihli Southwards", Gorshakoff pointed out, "Why are we going to strike due South ?"
For the longest moment Zhuzhgov stared out of the window. The winds were still up, the seas were still raging. It was better than it had been, but it was worse than it usually would be...ever normally would be.
"Nothing can be trusted. The enemy has made advances we do not even have reports about. We must strike back - for the name of the Fatherland !"
"Yes sir", the other general said.
"Sir..." Gorschakoff began.
"No !", Zhuzhgov bellowed, "We have allies - you can see that. We must act now."
Gorshakoff looked at the floor,
"Yes sir", he said

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

This is Day 4; some Day 3 stuff may come along later out of sequence, but I am not too bothered as I think I am running in 2-day blocks here anyway

Colonel Iev Tikhomirov was not happy. To say true, it was something of a usual state of affairs with him, especially once the all too brief summer was over in these parts. Eastern Siberia was about as far from his birthplace in the sunny Crimea as it was possible to get, in terms of climate and almost in terms of distance (he pitied those poor sods who ended up in Alaska !). But today, Iev was especially unhappy. Crazy things had been happening for the last few days - massive storms rolling in from the Sea of Okhotsk, incessant rain and driving winds, and above all the loss of any and all contact with anywhere South of the Amur river. Repair parties sent out had come back with strange tales of a fortified wall blocking their access to the bridges; personally he thought they had got lost in the storm, or that the weather had addled their wits. But it remained true that Aleksandrograd and Harbin both remained out of contact.
And now this... He looked at the orders that had been delivered by motorcycle despatch rider direct from Ayan. The reserve division was to muster and march to the aid of the Chinese... What Chinese ? As far as he could make out, the orders implied that German or Japanese China had rebelled against its colonial power and that a native Chinaman was now in control - and asking for help. Perhaps that was even so, but why in the name of God was the reserve division going to go to his aid ?!
Surely, even if the court at Constantinople thought it worth risking a third Great War for, this type of intervention would utilise the frontline army in Manchuria and Mongolia. He didn't see how that army could be also out of contact with Harbin, heck the city was right in the middle of them ! Someone had surely got their wires crossed...
But, he had his orders and he could hardly disobey them. His was one of the five dispersal camps for the division, and he had carried his orders of the previous day or so to mobilise the troops. Now, he was being instructed to bring them to the muster point. Did the general in Ayan have any idea of what he was doing ?!
Personally, Iev rather suspected that the old fool didn't. His first impression had been that Zhuzhgov was well due for retirement, and everything he had seen of him since then had only served to add to that impression. If this was some crazy scheme of the old man's ? But why would he be acting without orders ? It didn't make sense...but did anything these days ?
"Captain Tupikov !", he yelled for his aide.
The harrassed-looking officer all but ran into his commander's office, saluted sharply and waited.
"Captain...we are ordered to take the regiment to the muster point. Do we have sufficient transport ?"
Tupikov looked as if someone had just slapped him hard in the face,
"Sir, we hardly have any transport...", he coughed, this damn weather was getting to him, "I would suggest that the cavalry brigade ride to the muster, but I fear we must march the infantry there. We have only a half dozen serviceable trucks here, and nothing has been down the rail spur since...since whatever has happened."
That was certainly true. Usually each day brought one or two small trains into the camp from the South, but for the past few days there had been nothing.
"We must make do the best we can, Captain. Please see to it immediately."
Tupikov stared at him open-mouthed, then slammed it shut and coughed again,
"Yes sir", he managed.
"Thank you, dismissed."
As his aide hurried out, closing the door too loudly behind him, Colonel Tikhomirov made his way across to the window. The parade ground was awash, the incessant rains had overwhelmed the drains, and who knew probably the sewers too. Maybe there was one advantage to leaving the base after all, though conditions in the field were hardly likely to be any better

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

The radio officer was enduring another buffeting. General Zhuzhgov's words were a mighty roar this evening, and his logic was another assault on the senses.
"It is a metaphor !", he was shouting, "McKinley who, it does not matter ! The use of Americanisms is intended to show that these Chinese think they are modernists, capable of ruling themselves and of standing in the field of battles against any who dare."
"What has happened in Manchuria ?", he thought that he probably ought not to be asking this, but that surely the general must have worked out an answer to it by now.
"A Japanese invasion !", Zhuzhgov was on his feet now, pacing about the room, "Maybe the Japanese have stirred up the Manchurians against our government, and the Chinese are willing to help us pacify them in return for our aid against the Japanese. Yes", he nodded fiercely, "That must be it!"
"We....ahh...", he was not sure how to phrase this, but again thought that omitting to mention it would not allow him to see the full picture, "Er, there have been reports about a fortified wall thrown up on the North back of the Amur."
"Yes", Zhuzhgov could take anything in his stride now, "That makes perfect sense ! The Manchurian revolutionaries have thrown up a basic defence against the North - they are afraid of us ! They continue to battle our forces in Manchuria, that is why we have not heard from Harbin."
"Or Aleksandrograd ?"
"Exactly !", Zhuzhgov slammed his fist down upon the table, "Once you understand what is happening, then everything comes together does it not ? Now, for that radio message."
"Yes sir ?"
Zhuzhgov sat back down at his desk and splashed the pen into the pot of ink,
"Send this to our Chinese allies", he said, writing quickly across a sheet of paper.

* * * * *

To Premier Lelean Wong
United Republic of China

My division will move South against the Manchurian revolutionaries during the course of tomorrow. They appear to have thrown up a makeshift barrier on the North bank of the Amur, but we anticipate no difficulty in crossing. Once within Manchuria we will link up with the hard-pressed Russian army units already there, and relieve Harbin. The estimated time for completing this operation is one week. After that we will be able to head South and link up with your forces in Chihli province.

General Fedor Zhuzhgov, Commander of the Reserve
Ayan

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

Igor Kollontai stared down at the mangled body of his friend. Vladimir had been felled by a single shot from his service revolver, but the fall had taken him into the airship's engine. Everything was a mess, blood and engine oil leaking everywhere. This was going to take some time to clear up.
"Sir", Mikhail Stronganoff broke into his commander's thoughts gently, knowing what it must feel like to have killed a friend.
"Yes ?", Igor turned around slowly.
"Sir, there are four more dead on the bridge, including Novikov. We have secured the ship."
"I see..."
So, the Navigation Officer had gone down too. Somehow it seemed as if a kind of collective religious hysteria had seized the airship during its descent towards Constanta.
Another officer appeared, panting with exertion and grimy from head to foot,
"Sir, I've checked the hull as you ordered. Several of the metal struts are snapped, and others have had the rivets pop out. Her back's not broken but its almost as good as."
Igor nodded but said nothing. In the middle of the fight, and with the engines sabotaged they had managed to crashland at the airfield their curious hosts had led them to. It was something of a wonder that the Kishinev was in one piece, even if that piece be battered and broken.
"Sir", a Marine officer, his arm bandagd in a bloody tourniquet saluted with a grimace, "The, um", he tried again , "Our hosts await your presence outside. There is some kind of reception committee."
Igor laughed harshly, then quickly sobered,
"We do not tell them what happened on the airship." he decided.
The three officers nodded their understanding and agreement.
"We will simply say that there was an accident and a man fell into the engine. Should they get a look at....at it", he swallowed heavily remembering that it was his friend that he was referring to, "then they will see what we have already told them that they would see."
"Yes sir"
"Good", he pulled at the hem of his jacket and straightened his collar, "Under the circumstances I expect that our hosts do not expect me to appear fresh and neat."
He turned and made his way towards the exit. Behind him, Mikhail Stronganoff looked down at the mangled corpse in the engine,
"Find two men to extract that, then see what damage there is."
He turned and made his way back towards the bridge. With Mikov and Novikov dead, he was now acting commander of the Kishinev.

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

Apologies for any crap in the middle of this, I've just spent the last hour trying to rescue the PC from a load of shit that my firewall let through, and which I think has to be blamed on EZBoard

"There is nothing from Constantinople", it was a statement not a question from the Tsesarevitch.
"Nothing at all", Prince Georgi poured another measure of brandy into his cousin's glass.
"It is not good news, but is it bad news ?"
"Only time will tell.", the Regent set the decanter back upon the side, "Let us hope it is not too much time."
"We have come to accept it...", Konstantine tried his thoughts out as words, "It is insane, it is crazy, and it is madness...but it is true."
"There is little doubting it", Georgi agreed, "Humanity is good at adapting to situations, no matter how bizarre."
"And this is certainly bizarre."
"Had you asked me last week", Georgi gave up, "I could not have dreamt of this."
"My dreams are often unusual", the Tsesarevitch cracked a secret smile, "but no, nothing like this."
"The Scientific Committee is working on a provision map - they are working closely with the Standing Committee and the Secretariat. Hopefully they will have something for us by nightfall."
"It is going to be the strangest-looking map known to man", Konstantine opined.
"In a few days time we are going to be in a much better position to fill in the blanks. The Kishinev is at Constanta, meeting with whoever is ruling in the Principalities. We should begin to get reports from the Bayan and Pobieda soon, and Task Force H will be deep within the Pacific by then."
"What about the areas we have heard nothing from ?"
Prince Georgi took a sip of the brandy and then nodded,
"The Commandant General on the Persian border has communicated to us that he has sent several small expeditions South over the border. The reports are confusing, but they seem to indicate that Persia has disappeared..."
"The people ?", the Tsesarevitch asked.
"And the cities. The hills and plains are still there, but there is no sign of Man."
"This is another aspect we will need to consider.", Konstantine stared for a moment at the wall, "Maybe we need a Philosophical Committee as well as a Scientific one."
Georgi was not sure whether he was being serious, but it did raise another issue which had been worrying him,
"The Patriarch of Moscow has been making inflamatory speeches in his churches."
"Damn", Konstantine was suddenly aware of a need to be careful here. The Moscow Patriarch was a die-hard Alexandrine, and had a passionate hatred for the Konstantine branch of the dynasty, primarily because of everything Tsar Konstantine V had done to Moscow over the decades. Usually subservient to the Patriarch of Constantinople, Moscow was now using its new-found freedom in a difficult way.
"Indeed", Prince Georgi caught the subtext, "but it is not just that. He is saying that the situation is a test from God, and that we must all beware of demons in human form."
"Let us hope this nonsense remains confined to Moscow."
The Regent pursed his lips,
"Given everything that is happening, I fear that it will not be."

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

"Hmm", Igor Kollontain drew out the three sheets of closely-typed orders from the admiral. They were creased and somewhat stained now - that would be the sweat from his chase of Vladimir along the central walkway and down into the engines... But he could still read them.
"I am empowered to offer preliminary terms for an alliance, to later be formalised by Admiral Enqvist or another representative of the Regency."
Mikhail leant across to him, and whispered,
"Are you sure it says that ? We aren't exactly....", he fumbled for the right word, "er, we are not very senior in the service, sir."
Igor laughed,
"I am aware that I am merely an airship captain, Mikhail. But this is what it says."
He handed the papers across to his acting second in command, letting him have a look at them for the first time, letting someone other than himself look at them for the first time.
Mikhail read them slowly, then handed them back and smiled across at their hosts....their Greco-Roman hosts...

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

Grand Duke Pavel Konstantinaevich looked carefully at the map his hosts had placed before him. Showing the full extent of their empire, it had new red ink marks across it, showing what were now believed to be the borders of the sultanate.
"The border in the Caucasus looks almost the same as ours.", the Grand Duke noted, "That would explain why there have been no reports from there."
Their host smiled at this. His name appeared to be Altair, though Pavel was a bit confused as to whether this was his given name or some sort of honorific. They had been left in no uncertainty about who he was though, the brother of their empress, and the son of the previous ruler. Of course that raised a plethora of questions in its own right. He swept them aside,
"This border here", he ran his finger along a red line bisecting Bulgaria West-to-East, "North of here is now another nation ?"
"Yes", Altair smiled at him.
They were talking Greek. Despite the bank of translators on the sultanate's side, and the linguistic skills of his own team, Greek was the only language they seemed to have in common.Every now and then the conversation had faltered, what did that word mean, how exact was that idiom, what was the root of that word ? But they were getting by, and in an odd sense the linguists and translators helped, answering these questions of etymological nature even if not finding mutual comprehension in Persian, or in French.

Grey Wolf

[DominusNovus]

I like it. This is day 3, right?

[Grey Wolf]

Prince Augustus Eduard watched in stunned amazement. This was something, this was truly something ! All his family worries fell away, that slut Ana, so like her mother, his wife... Nothing mattered now, only this...this aeroplane ! But it was more than that, far far more than that ! It was an astonishing beast of the air. Three propellers ! Huge...huge compared to any other aeroplane he had laid eyes upon, almost the size of a small airship.

Prince Mikhail Vyazemsky waited patiently as the aeroplane taxied to a halt, and drew up on the concrete of the single runway before them. As Foreign Minister of the Regency government, this would be his first official engagement. Up to now, since the death of Prince Kyril Andreivich, his main achievement had been to oversee the setting up of the Secretariat for Foreign Communication in partnership with the Standing Committee and under the auspices of the Regent.
Oh, he had met with foreign ambassadors in the last day or so - the poor lost souls whose countries appeared to have disappeared off the map. They were even more confused and scared than the Russians were. It had felt like baby-sitting a lunatic asylum...if that wasn't the worst mixed metaphor !
The door opened. A hastily-built stairway was wheeled into place by several of the airfield's groundstaff. A honour guard hastily ran forward and formed up either side of it, as the delegation from the United Nordic Kingdom stepped out of the aeroplane.
The young man in the lead held himself like a young lion - a young Alexander, King of the Macedons, perhaps...though of course his name was Alexander. They knew that much about him. Crown Prince to King Frederik Christian Gustav, and brave enough to undertake this mission personally, despite the weirdness and wildness of the new world around them.
Prince Vyazemsky stepped foward, hoping that the esteemed visitor spoke Russian, assuming that he did, not wishing to gamble on a Nordic language when one could not be certain as to which one had gained the upper hand in the world from which they had come from.
"Your highness, may I welcome you to Russia."
"Thank you", Alexander smiled a confident smile, "It is a pleasure to be here."
"I am Prince Mikhail Vyazemsky, Foreign Minister of the Regency government. This is Prince Augustus Eduard, our expert on aeroplanes and a member of the Scientific Committee."
He doubted that the titles would mean that much to their guest, but they would establish certain basic facts for him.
Crown Prince Alexander nodded, internally processing the Russian, then replying in the same tongue,
"May I present my entourage..."

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

I like it. This is day 3, right?

Day 3 or Day 4 - I'm getting confused, but as long as it all plays out alright in the end we should be ok

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

"This cannot be tolerated !"
As if to punctuate his message a precious Ming dynasty vase flew across the lounge and smashed to pieces against the far wall.
"Konstantine Konstantinaevich has gone too far this time!"
Margarita restrained herself from getting to her feet. Instead she spoke in her calm, soft voice, the one she had always used to bring her brother down from the heights of his anger,
"Simeon... The Tsesarevitch will win if you let your anger get the better of you."
Simeon stopped in his pacing, and hung his head,
"I know, I know, but it makes me so angry."
"That is quite clear"
The speaker this time was an ancient army officer, his wizened frame covered in medals and ribbons the like that nobody usually dared to bear in public these days
"Colonel Ogienko", Margarita smiled at the old man, "How is the feeling within the guard regiments ?"
The ancient nodded, his sparse white hair not doing eough to cover his bald pate which shined in the reflected light of the chandeliers,
"The discontent grows - in all except the Blue Cuirassiers; those swine are bought and paid for. But true patriots control the others."
"Excellent !", Simeon threw himself back down into his seat, "The loss of contact with the imperial assembly has been a blow", he remarked, "But there are those within the Regency government who support our views."
"Deputy Minister Ilyushin at the Ministry of Finance has already come across"
The speaker this time was a non-descript man, a dark grey suit covering the exact details of his frame, short cropped dark hair on top of a head which anyone would have trouble describing without using bland and general terms
"Excellent", Simeon was now on his best form. He cast a glance at his sister, grinning, then returned to the last speaker,
"And within the Okhrana itself ?"
Dmitri Vyacheslavitch Breshkovsky inclined his head,
"The murmurring is growing, your highness, but you must allow me to control matters such as timing and degree. I am the expert here."
"Of course, of course !", Simeon was all gushing praise.
He turned to the fifth and final person in the lounge, and hesitated. He was never very much at ease with religious office-holders, always feeling that they could see through him and into the twisted secrets of his soul, which God knew he had a-plenty,
"Your eminence, has there been word from Moscow ?"
"Yes", that was all the answer he was going to give, "There has been word from Moscow."
"Good", Breshkovsky picked up the hanging thread of the conversation, "It remains therefore, to advance our plans. Your highness, have you had word from your Andreivitch cousins ?"
Prince Simeon Mikhailovich, son of Grand Duchess Maria Feodorovna and her noble-born husband was an Alexandrine Romanov, cousin to the Andreivitch line which had recently seen the suicide of its leading member, Prince Kyril.
"I have contact with the late minister's daughters. They are naturally ill-disposed towards the Regent and the Tsesarevitch."
"That is good.", Breshkovsky allowed himself the thinnest of smiles, "If you can arrange a soiree for the middle of next week. Have them invited as guests of honour. Nothing too overt, but bringing them into the house will begin the final stage."
"We can do that", Margarita smiled, "It will be good to go head to head with that bitch Sophie Konstantinovich and her incessant parties."
"Play it carefully" Breshkovsky warned, "And do not forget that our lives depend on that."

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

"It is a front !", General Fedor Zhuzhgov bore down on his subordinates, "Think about it - there have been only a few days, it has to be a ruse, a wall which looks strong on the outside but is weak on the inside."
"It looks pretty substantial to me", General Ioann Gorshakoff said slowly, "Of course I agree with you, sir, but I do not see how they have done it."
"Its the Japanese", Zhuzhgov thrust his hands into his pockets, "I was thinking it was the revolutionaries, the Manchurians, but of course not, it is the Japanese !"
"Here, so quickly ?"
"We know they were developing a new type of airship", Zhuzhgov stared into a middle distance only he himself could see, "And there is no doubt a Manchurian movement, some sort of what do they call it - Underground, something which the famed Okhrana never got near to!"
"So it is a charade ?", Gorshakoff was perplexed, "A game ? This is not really a defensive wall ?"

Over by the parapet of the forward position, Colonel Iev Tikhomirov listened in astonishment to the discussions of his senior officers,
"Not a real wall ?", he muttered to himself, "Not a real wall ?"
He supposed that they assumed it was not a real army manning it, and that it had been not a real aeroplane which had soared above them earlier ?
Waiting and watching, he began to formulate a design. This insanity could not be allowed to go on

Grey Wolf

[perdedor99]

To the Russian nation;

I greet you in the name of his Highness Hirohito and the Empire of Japan. We apologize for our lack of knowledge of your nation’s current status but we are consider that peaceful relations between both our nations will be advantageous to both in the long run. Please respond if your nation is agreeable to talks between our nations.

Prince Konoe Fumimaro
Prime Minister
Empire of Japan

[Grey Wolf]

"Come in, please sit down.", Prince Georgi Nikolaevich smiled from behind his desk.
Elena Purishkevich waited for the doors to close behind her, then took one of the seats facing the bulwark of the Regent's desk. She could understand why he was once again behind it, the piles of paper would have overwhelmed the smaller tables around the room. Of course, most of that paper came from her team, the Standing Committee had been busy.
"All of these intercepts", he thumped a hand down on the heftiest pile, "The world surely looks a confusing mess."
"It certainly does", she agreed, "It is also worrying that broadcasts in English appear to predominate the further one gets away from the Fatherland."
"Yes", Georgi ran a hand across his bloodshot eyes. Although he was sleeping these nights, he knew he was not sleeping enough. He could feel the lead weight in his arms and legs.
"We have taken the Scientific Committee's map and made some more estimations, your highness"
She handed across a folded weave of paper.
Opening it up, Georgi could see indeed that they had bee busy. Information had been coming in from aa multiplicity of sources. The delegation to Constantinople had at last radioed in, and amongst its reports had been that the borders in the Caucasus were secure. The Commandant General of the Persian frontier had pushed a cavalry column to where Tabriz ought to be - and found out, not greatly to anyone's surprise, now - that it was not. Crown Prince Alexander of the United Nordic Kingdom had been able to describe which areas his father had control over, and which seemed to have some new force occupying them. His eye wandered to where one of Elena's students had drawn the hakenkreuz,
"This Germany seems to be an aggressive and strange beast.", he commented.
"It is a puzzle", she agreed, "We have picked up broadcasts from someone they call the Fuhrer - leader. What has happened to the empire ? To the tradition ? It seems an impossibility, yet", she smiled, "It is no less impossible than anything else."
"Of course", Georgi agreed - how could he not, and yet, "They speak to me of a more warlike and aggressive spirit, a spirit that has driven out the underlying need for civilisation."
"Some of the speeches we have picked up certainly seem to suggest that, your highness", Elena had gone down to the telegraphic office herself and listened to the ferocity with which this man, the Fuhrer. had been speaking, "There is also something dangerous lying beneath."
"How do you mean ?", Georgi was too tired to make mental leaps of such magnitude.
"Something about racial purity, racial supremacy...", Elena was not sure that the translator had got it quite right, "There was definitely some mention of the Aryan nation."
"Aryan ?", Georgi frowned, "I thought that meant Indian ?"
"This Fuhrer appears to use it as a synonym for Teutonic."
"I fail to quite understand", Georgi admitted and handed back the map, "How long do you estimate it will take to complete this ? Or at least to have one we can begin to properly mass produce ?"
"Another week perhaps", Elena was cagey, "It depends upon whether you want the Southern hemisphere mapped out or not."
"It would be useful. We know there is at least a union of New Zealand and Australia down there. We have to assume there is more."
"The Scientific Committee's proposals should garner the necessary information."
"Yes", the Regent nodded, "The Tsesarevitch has sold the idea to me. I was reluctant to part with that many airships, but..."
"But aeroplanes make them less valuable ?", Elena felt bold enough to say.
"Something like that", Georgi agreed, "I have given orders to the naval commands, the airfleets are to take to the skies over the next couple of days. Admiral Ulyanov assures me that Petropavlosk has been standing ready to do this, and that he will have four in the air by dusk tonight."
"The situation with regard to Alaska is one of the great puzzles", Elena mused, "The listening posts on the Kurils reported hearing Russian spoken there, but there have been no direct broadcasts from Konstantine", she named the main city and administrative centre of Russian Alaska.
"Well", he smiled, "We should soon know."
He looked across at the clock and wondered how to do this tactfully, but Elena noted his action.
"I can see that I am keeping you from someone....or someone from you, your highness.", she made to rise.
"Thank you", he rose as a matter of courtesy, "I have a dinner engagement with Crown Prince Alexander and Grand Duchess Maria Konstantinaevna."
"That should certainly be interesting.", Elena grinned.
"I fear so", the Regent grimaced, "The Tsesarevitch seemed to be of the impression that Grand Duchess Anastasia Sophiaevna would also be there."
"Ah", Elena paused on the threshold, "Then it certainly will be interesting."
"Yes", Georgi did not sound encouraged, "Yes indeed"
He remained standing until the doors closed behind her.

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

"Understood", the radio operator turned around, "Sir !"
Captain Alexei Goncharov had been studying the mass of intercepts which Petropavlosk had picked up in the hours before his airship, the Volia (Liberty), had taken off. None of it was making a great deal of sense. He crossed the bridge,
"Yes ?"
"That was the last station in the Aleutians, sir. They report that no picket stations further Eastwards are transmitting."
"We've lost them ?"
The radio operator did not like to comit himself to any such speculation,
"All I can say, sir, is that since the Event no transmission has been received from them."
"I see", Goncharov ran a hand through his beard, "So once we pass this station, we are effectively in enemy territory ?"
"Unknown territory, sir."
"Yes", he turned away.
Unknown territory where formerly the Russian Empire had held sway. To his military mind that spoke of enemy territory, quite clearly. Yet Admiral Ulyanov's orders were clear - this was an ambassadorial mission to whoever...or whatever..was occupying Russian Alaska. This was not a mission of war.
He returned to the transcripts. From what he could tell, and here and there the translators had made obvious errors, there were two empires of Japan and a China of some sort, all engaged in a war to the West. Admittedly, that was something of a leap of faith but the transcripts spoke about armies, sieges and alliances. He thought he knew the area well, but West Columbia and Elizabeth did not feature on any map he had memorised. He did know a Port Elizabeth, but it was in South Africa, and somehow that fact didn't seem relevant.
"Observation Officer", he called, "Anything ?"
"No sir. The skies are clearing at last, but there are no other vessels in the sky."
"Remember to look out for those aeroplane things. The Regency government seems to think some of the other powers have taken to using them militarily."
"Yes sir", the Observation Officer replied dubiously, "Aeroplanes, sir, yes of course."

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

Grand Duke Pavel Konstantinaevich was impressed. This Constantinople was nothing like the one which he was used to. He would hesitate to say that it was better, but it was different, and he was certainly enjoying his time here. The Muslims were being very generous and free with their time and hospitality. He had never been to Central Asia, but he remembered his brother, the Tsesarevitch, commenting on the warm welcome he had received in Bokhara. He had thought nothing of it at the time - after all Bokhara was a Russian possession, if the welcome had been anything less than warm the emir would have been subject to some serious consequences. But perhaps now he realised that his brother had meant more than just the usual welcome reserved for a member of the ruling dynasty.
"Leonid", he called for one of his aides.
Leonid Erivansky, a captain in the imperial service, and seconded as a lieutenant to the Blue Cuirassiers for the duration, crossed the cushion-strewn floor, a mug of something warm and sweet in his hands.
"Yes sir ?", he used the military rank as befitted his current posting to the regiment.
"What do you make of this ?"
The Grand Duke passed his aide a sheet of paper, his notes from their earlier meeting with the curious Altair, now annotated with additional suggestions. Erivansky ran his eye over them and nodded cautiously,
"The Regent will agree to all this ?"
"I was specifically given plenipotentiary powers", Pavel pointed out, "Prince Georgi Nikolaevich would not have done that had he not wished me to negotiate on the Fatherland's behalf."
"Hmmm", Erivansky read the additions again, "We must not give them too clear an indication of our current military....ah, position", he hesitated to use the word 'weakness'.
"The visit of the Imperator Konstantin Veliki to Constantinople should dispell any such suggestion.", the Grand Duke grinned.
The new 18"-gunned battleship was still working up in the Black Sea. She was the only one of the empire's major units in the South to have survived...to have come through the Event. But she was new, she was powerful, and even with her trials not completed the voyage to the imperial capital...the sultanate's capital would be a useful shakedown cruise.
"These aeroplanes concern me"
This time it was not Erivansky who spoke, but Aleksandr Murdvinov, another aide, another member of the imperials service seconded to the Blue Cuirassiers for the duration.
"The Muslims have agreed to give us several aeroplanes for study", the Grand Duke pointed out, "We cannot hold it against them that they are more advanced in this area than are we."
"I get the impression that if they wishes to destroy Sevastopol, it is within their power to do so from the air.", Murdvinov observed, "Their Airfleet commander seemed to be hinting that."
"I did not take it as an overt threat."
"Not overt", Murdvinov agreed, "But it is implicit."
"The threat would be there whether or not it was spoken.", Pavel reminded him, "Besides, it is hardly unknown for airships to destroy a city."
"Only with artillery support." Murdvinov countered, "Somehow I feel that these rocket-propelled aeroplanes..."
"The word translated as 'jet'", Pavel reminded him, "Though I did not understand why."
"Rocket, jet" Murdvinov shrugged, "Either way they are aeroplanes without propellers, and with great speed. I feel they are more of a threat than we are taking them to be. The Muslims certainly will not give us anything near their most advanced technology. We must remember that."
"True", Grand Duke Pavel slowly unwound himself from the couch and stood up, "When Leonid has finished perusing the paper, please run your eyes across it also."
"Yes sir", Murdvinov knew when to consider an instruction an effective dismissal.
Pavel crossed the floor of this lounge, or rest room, or however it translated, that the Muslims had given them as their base. He looked out of the open doorway into the gardens outside.
"Sir !", one of the two lieutenants making up his bodyguard saluted sharply, "Nothing to report, sir."
"The weather is clearing at last", Pavel smelt the air of Autumn in the wind.
"Yes sir"
"Hmm", the Grand Duke looked down towards the lower level. He could just make out someone down there, "Who is that ?"
"I believe it is the father of Altair's wife.", he blushed, "I did a tour of Khiva sir, when I was a raw recruit. I can still remember a few smatterings of the Muslim language."
"I see", Pavel wondered how such a fact had managed to pass him by. The fellow would have been most useful in their early meetings with this Altair,
"Remind me of that next time I am to meet with the Muslims, lieutenant. I am sure that Altair will not mind my taking along another aide."
"Yes sir"
Pavel nodded, and turned back into the room. Diplomacy was a curious beast, he thought, and the greater one's advantages the better for dealing with it

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

The Crown Prince was laughing uproariously. Prince Georgi was not very happy about that, but the Swede, or Dane, the Nordic whatever he was, had been seated next to Grand Duchess Anastasia Sophiaevna, and the Regent could only wonder whose ridiculous idea that had been. Not that the Crown Prince seemed to mind; judging by the hilarity over there he was finding the young girl to be quite an amusing dinner companion. Part of Georgi's brain wondered if the fellow was married, the rest of it clamped down hard on that idea.
"Ahem", he coughed, and addressed his comments to their host, "The Tsesarevitch made his apologies for tonight ?"
It was an innocent question, but the effect on the old Grand Duchess was not as expected. Maria Konstantinaevna's eyes narrowed, and her teeth were bared in a grimace,
"Konstantine Konstaninaevich excused himself on the grounds that he was expecting members of his household from Brasova at the station tonight."
"Ah", Georgi realised he had just put his foot in one almighty pile of dung. The Tsesarevitch had travelled from his estate with his valet and servants. The only members of his household he had left behind were....oh dear...
"Erm", Prince Mikhail Vyazemsky, the only other Russian present, and an honoured guest at the Grand Duchess' palace felt that he ought to say something to break the sudden frigidity that had descended upon their half of the table, "Has there been any news of the Albatross ?"
Prince Georgi frowned, then smiled grateful at the Foreign Minister's subtle diplomacy,
"The Romans who seem to be occupying Poland", he scratched his head to hear such words coming from his mouth, "They seem to have taken it into Danzig for repairs...they referred to Danzig by some Latin name which I am afraid passed me by. Miss Purishkevich would know."
"Ostia Nova", Anastasia unexpectedly interjected, then grinned, "Andrei told me."
Feeling that again the conversation was lurching towards dangerous ground, the Regent nodded politely at the sixteen year old,
"Thank you - yes, Ostia Nova. There has been no communication with them since, as I am sure you are aware."
"Yes, I am", Prince Vyazemsky could hardly admit to being otherwise. The head of the Foreign Ministry and with joint responsibility for the Secretariat on Foreign Communication, it would have indeed been a dereliction of duty for him not to have known otherwise.
"The Germans are my father's worry.", Crown Prince Alexander added in to the conversation, "With their swastika...you use that word ?"
Prince Georgi looked confused, it was not one he knew. Once again it was Anastasia who replied,
"Hakenkreuz, Andrei told me that too", she smiled a wide and cheeky smile.
"Ah yes, thank you", Alexander nodded at his neighbour "The Germans with their hakenkreuz, they are making warlike noises upon our Southern border."
"Miss Purishkevich was most concerned about the speeches their leader was making", Prince Georgi remembered, "She spoke of racial supremacy and some reference to Aryans, which I admit I found confusing."
This time it was one of Crown Prince Alexander's aides who spoke up,
"If I may ?", he asked, then received the nod from the Regent, "History tells us of great migrations, coming in waves from the Indian subcontinent. We may see the most recent in the Tatars, perhaps, the Mongols if you use that term ? But before them were wave after wave of tribes, and before the tribes waves of peoples migrating into what was then a mostly empty continent."
"And the Aryans were one of these ?", asked Prince Georgi.
"Loosely speaking, your highness", the Nordic could not answer better than that, "To some degree it is a more theoretical division than a real one. Are the Celts Aryan ? How about the Goths ? When you bring it down to such specifics, any attempt to use it as a meaningful division falls apart."
"And yet this Fuhrer does ?"
"Hitler", said Anastasia, again surprising them.
"Hitler ?", Grand Duchess Maria Konstantinaevna eyed her great-niece with a frown, "What do you mean by such an interuption ?"
Anastasia was surprisingly apologetic in her reply. Georgi noted that somehow the old woman had this effect on her, an effect he had not noticed anyone else having.
"I am sorry", she smiled demurely, "Adolf Hitler, that is the name of the man who calls himself Fuhrer. There are also Rudolf Hess and Josef Goebbels."
"These are names ?", Prince Georgi was surprised, "People who are leaders of the German nation ?"
"Yes", Anastasia speared an aubergine with her fork, "Andrei was trying to explain them to me last night."
"Ahem", Georgi coughed. He really wished the girl would stop mentioning her lover, and most definitely steer clear of what they got up to at night, "Hitler is the name of the leader, then ? What are the others' titles ?"
Anastasia looked him in the eye. If this was a challenge, or a game, she was up to it,
"Rudolf Hess is Deputy Fuhrer, the man Goebbels is Information Minister, or some title which translates as that."
"What", the old Grand Duchess said slowly, "is a Deputy Fuhrer ?"
"The Americans have a Vice President", it was the Nordic aide who replied, after receiving a nod from his prince, "We believe that the title Fuhrer must be seen as equivalent to president, and that of deputy fuhrer as being equivalent to Vice President."
"Germany is a republic ?!", Maria Konstantinaevna almost choked on her beans.
"In some form, your highness", the aide explained, "We are not sure how democratic it is, to have been able to have launched a war of aggression."
This time it was Anastasia's turn to be confused,
"What is a non-democratic republic ?", she asked.
Once again it was the Nordic aide who answered,
"Your highness", he always played safe with forms of address, "The closest example would be the Roman Republic in its final years. Julius Caesar did not proclaim himself emperor - nobody did until Augustus. But although Rome was a republic in name, the power was increasingly centred around the one individual."
"So Hitler is the Julius Caesar of his day ?"
"Hmmm...", the aide was stumped by that one.
Crown Prince Alexander took it upon himself to answer,
"My father believes that he may see himself in a similar light. He is engaged upon a war of conquest, he has militarised his nation, and he believes destiny to be behind him."
"That is a dangerous mixture", Georgi observed.
Maria Konstantinaevna drank deeply from her wine glass,
"The Tsar himself has such spirit", she noted, "The War of Unification and the Reconquest would not have been possible had Konstantine not been so driven."
"Of course, your highness", Georgi knew better than to dare challenge anything anyone said about Konstantine V, for all that he did not seem to exist upon this world anymore, "His Imperial Majesty has done great things for Russia."
"This Hitler believes he can do the same for Germany, perhaps.", commented the Nordic Crown Prince, "My father views him as the most serious threat to our security."
"Perhaps", said Georgi slowly, "We can come to some mutually beneficial arrangement ?"

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

Captain Robert Lobanov put the message down before him, and picked up his cigarette from the ashtray. What did it mean ? Was Japan the same ? It would make things less complex, if that were so. Hirohito was emperor, that was correct. Prince Kunoe Fumimaro as Prime Minister ? He did not think that right, but an elected post could easily change, a week of storms and other disruptions since the Event could have brought a government down. This part seemed to be the key though :-

We apologize for our lack of knowledge of your nation’s current status but we are consider that peaceful relations between both our nations will be advantageous to both in the long run

That indicated that the Japanese Empire knew that something had happened - but to where ? Were they mistaken in addressing such a message to the Russian Empire; perhaps they had experienced changes within China as regarded their possessions in Shantung ? If such a change had occurred, it would not be unnatural for them to assume that an equal change had occurred on their Northern border.
Or...or it could be a similar, yet different, Empire of Japan. It was not going to be easy to discover. He rose, and stubbed out the cigarette. Stepping out of his cabin he made his way along the passageway tpo the bridge.
"Navigation, come to full stop."
"Full stop, aye", the Navigation Officer showed no surprise at the captain's sudden appearance nor his unexpected orders.
"Communications, please raise the buoy."
"Yes sir", Lieutenant Andrei Pavlovich Kanenin obeyed instantly.
With the radio buoy deployed they were able to send messages without surfacing.
"Message to Divisional Command", Lobanov looked at the map screen in the centre of the bridge, "Have received general communication from Japanese government. Unable to verify their situation. Heading into Yokohama to investigate."
The message was relayed.
"Bring in the buoy. Navigation, new course, plot direct route to Yokohama."
"Yes sir"
This was going to take some doing, penetrating the foremost harbour of the Japanese Empire, but it was clear that remote observation was not going to achieve much in this instance.

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

"And of course there is the Tsesarevitch", Princess Margarita Mikhailovich was in full flow now, "We all know his predelictions."
She paused and turned towards the bishop. seeming to address him alone as she said,
"I am not saying he enjoys his niece, but..."
She left it hanging, implying that that was exactly what she was saying, even though she had no evidence that it was so, and privately doubted it.
"The line of Konstantine has been a curse upon Russia", the bishop said slowly, his voice seeming to rumble from the depths, "The Patriarch is working out the theological implications of what has happened. His preliminary ruling is that this is God's punishment."
"And the foreign demons should be destroyed !"
The speaker was another woman, young and energetic. Princess Andrea Kyrilovitch had lost her father, and she knew precisely where she would lay the blame,
"The Regent wanted to negotiate with the Devil ! My father could not allow that."
"Of course, my child", the bishop was sympathetic. Suicide was hardly condoned by the church, but he would let her have her delusions about the reasons her father saw fit to take his own life. The Cause was all that mattered.
"Well, enough of the philosophy, when do we act ?"
The speaker this time was a tall and suave British man. Sir Maurice Paxton had been his country's Head of Mission at the Consulate in Saint Petersburg. He well knew that the Britain he had represented no longer existed, and this drove his choices. He could go home and see if he could make a living in a country he would forever feel was somehow wrong. Or he could stay here in Russia, to try and become a player here. He had chosen the latter course.
Princess Margarita turned and regarded him with her best smile,
"We must do something before Crown Prince Alexander departs. Show the foreign demons that the Konstantine line is not in as much control as they will have told him."
"Good", Sir Maurice nodded, "Let us get down to the details. Colonel Sharpe has sworn his aid in this matter."

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

Note - in the previous piece featuring these two (Atmosphere 15) I accidentally reversed their roles. As could be seen from Atmosphere 3, they were supposed to be the other way around. Thus, for this piece I swap the roles back to how they were intended to be, with Vassily the drunkard and Anton the more serious one. Apologies for any confusion!

"I do not understand this", Anton looked up from his machinery, "I am getting attack orders and confirmation between various Russian units on the Amur."
"That's quite a way North of the frontier", Vassily opined from his bunk.
"I know we have been monitoring a war further South", Anton was thinking aloud, "But there has been no mention in anything I have picked up of an attack aimed at us in the North."
"Saint Petersburg knows what they are doing", Vassily shrugged, "They just don't want to tell us."
"How am I supposed to monitor signals traffic if nobody tells me what is going on?!", Anton complained.
"Like the rest of us, you are supposed to do your job and love it", Vassily laughed.
"This is more than some game", Anton admonished him, "This is serious work we are doing here..."
"Yeah, yeah", Vassily picked up the magazine he had been reading when interupted and went back to real tales of adventure.
"It us easy for you..."
Anton broke off as a new signal, urgent and much clearer came over the headset,
"Urgent ! Urgent ! Request for help ! This is the Saria, we are under attack by aeroplanes North of Hokaido. Urgent ! Urgent ! Request for help !"
"Saria", Anton broke in abruptly, "This is Picket Three, please give your position and we will relay to Petropavlosk."
"We are ten miles North of Hokaido, under attack by Japanese aeroplanes bearing the red sun on their wings."
"Understood, Saria. Please await."
The Saria was one of the four airships that Divisional Command had despatched to try and investigate what was happening in the surrounding areas. For her to be under attack by the Japanese implied that the island nation seemed inclined to fire first and ask questions later.
"Picket Three to Petropavlosk Divisional Command, Urgent ! Relaying message from the airship Saria. They are ten miles North of Hokaido and under attack by Japanese aeroplanes. Please advise."

Grey Wolf

[perdedor99]

To the Russian government:

It is with a heavy heart that I express our Highness Emperor Hirohito most sincere regret to the Russian people and most importantly, to the families of those lost and injured in the terrible mistake committed by members of our Imperial Army Air Corps against your nation’s airship named Saria. No words can adequately express his Highness condolences and concern for those who have lost their loved ones. His Highness too grieves for the families and the catastrophic losses that these families have endured.

His Highness has instructed me to fully investigate these events and to assure your nation that compensation will be paid for your material losses. Rest assured our nation’s intentions are peaceful and tragic mistakes like this will not be repeated.

Prince Konoe Fumimaro
Prime Minister
Empire of Japan

[Grey Wolf]

First Officer Boris Kostenko looked at the still form of his captain with concern. Ivan Petrov hadn't moved since being hauled out of the sea by two suprisingly burly Japanese sailors. He had checked that he was still alive, still breathing, but that was about it. Hopefully this destroyer, Oshio he had been told it was called, had a ship's doctor.
He still wasn't sure what had happened. They had been cruising South from Petropavlosk, having drawn the middle of the three routes (two airships had been dispatched on the same course further West, the aim being for one to investigate further South than the other). As they came out of from behind the clouds, three or four Japanese aeroplanes had suddenly jumped on them. The next thing they knew they were going down, the Saria's radio officer calling for help that could never come.
Those aeroplanes, he shuddered. He had never seen anything like it! To say true, he had hardly seen an aeroplane at all. But aeroplanes in the Russian Empire were flimsy things, rich men's toys, nothing like these hard cold machines of death which had shot them out of the sky.
He took a mug of hot soup from a Japanese sailor, nodding his thanks,
"Doctor", he said urgently, pointing to the captain at his side.
The sailor seemed to understand. He hurried off to talk to one of the officers.

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

Sorry, haven't got the energy for long pieces tonight

"Japan...again" Prince Georgi Nikolaevich looked at the message which had been passed across his desk, "An apology this time."
"Well", the Tsesarevitch rubbed at his eyes, "That is something. I don't think we should be getting entangled with the Japanese at this moment in time."
"It would complicate things overly", the Regent agreed.
Konstantine let out a yawn, tried to stifle it but ended up letting out an even bigger one,
"My apologies", he managed
"Think nothing of it", Georgi was trying hard not to himself, having a distinct idea why the Tsesarevitch was so tired.
"The Secretariat should be able to compose a reply", Konstantine said, "All the usual fluff, I think it would be standard fare."
"Yes, quite so"

Grey Wolf

[G.Bone]

Encoded message to General Fedor Zhuzhgov

Sir;

Concerned citizens are unhappy with their current mayor. This may pose an obstacle in your plans on annexing the vacant lot near your yard. We may need your help in our struggle with the lot left vacant for now. If assistance is provided, stronger equipment may be provided in annexing that lot. Please reply on this frequency.

[Grey Wolf]

"Your highness !", Elena Purishkevich waylaid the Regent in the corridor, "I think we have a problem."
Prince Georgi stopped in mid stride and turned to the man at his side,
"I think the Crown Prince will be happy enough with just the Foreign Minister and the admirals as his hosts for the afternoon."
"Yes, your highness", the man, a senior official of the Imperial Service sounded far from convinced, "Should I inform Crown Prince Alexander that you hope to join him later ?"
"I think it would be best not to", Georgi could see the concern in Elena's eyes, "We would not want to raise then dash more false hopes."
"As you will, your highness."
Georgi nodded and took his leave of him. He turned around and accompanied Elena back to his study. They sat in the fore area, in armchairs before the fire.
"One of the secondary stations picked this up, and retransmitted it. It does not seem as if Petropavlosk are receiving these messages - probably atmospheric interference from the storms that wracked the Sea of Okhotsk."
Usure of what he would see, Georgi took the paper and read it aloud
"Encoded message to General Fedor Zhuzhgov
Sir;
Concerned citizens are unhappy with their current mayor. This may pose an obstacle in your plans on annexing the vacant lot near your yard. We may need your help in our struggle with the lot left vacant for now. If assistance is provided, stronger equipment may be provided in annexing that lot. Please reply on this frequency."
He looked up,
"Who is this from ?"
Elena raised her hands in the air,
"The station on Lake Baikal can only say somewhere within China."
"China....so someone within China is communicating directly with this General Zhuzhgov ?"
"It would appear so."
Georgi stood up and strode to the door,
"Fetch General Kuropkin now", he instructed the guard on the door, "I do not care what he is doing or where he is, his priority is now to get here as soon as possible."
"Yes sir !", the guard knew when to salute and run.
Nodding to Elena, Georgi crossed the floor and swept the telephone from off the desk,
"Operator - please get me Military Intelligence"
There was a pause, then a voice on the line.
"Colonel, this is the Regent...........Thank you........Who is General Fedor Zhuzhgov ?..........AYAN ???......One division.........Thank you."
He put the telephone down with a bang and turned towards the Head of the Standing Committee,
"He is a general of the Reserve, stationed at Ayan on the Western Okhotsk coast.... He has a single division under his command."
Elena looked at the message again,
"It would appear that he is about to do something with that division, your highness."
"With one division ?", Georgi stared into the flames of the fireplace, "What on Earth is going on?"
"On Earth, your highness ?", Elena smiled thinly, "Maybe..."

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

This is into the day 7/8 zone

The air was full of fire. The artillery batteries fired incessantly from behind their hastily-thrown-up bulwarks. Their shells rained down upon the defensive wall, and yet seemed to make little difference. Overhead aeroplanes of strange design, bearing the red sun on their wings. Japanese ? It made no sense, but still they came. And now the counter-battery...
Colonel Tikhomirov threw himself to the ground. Rail guns ? Those had to be railguns ! But how? The counter-fire came again, and again. Explosions throwing up huge haloes of earth as they made their way across the intrvening land towards the artillery park.
"Sir!", Captain Tupikov dived under the doorway and skidded to a halt within the makeshift command centre, "Message from the general sir."
Iev took it,
"Advance ?", he summarised it aloud, "The first assault has been destroyed, survivors are falling back, we are ordered to advance and fill the gap !"
"Er", his aide did not know what to say, "Oh...yes sir ?"
"No sir", Tikhomirov threw the paper to the ground and drove it into the mud with his boot, "No sir!"
"Sir ?" Tupikov sounded worried.
The Colonel gave him a withering look and drew his revolver,
"Captain Tupikov, order a careful withdrawal. This madness has gone on far enough."
"But sir..."
"Captain", the Colonel kicked a stone across the muddy floor, "Do you think we have a hope of breaching that defensive wall ?"
"No sir, not at all."
"Very well", he motioned to the rear with his revolver, "Put the withdrawal into action. I am going to see the general."
The captain swallowed. In the face of things he decided his immediate future lay in obeying his superior officer, here and now
"Yes sir"

* * * * *

General Ioann Gorshakoff looked askance at the General of the Reserve; had the old man gone completely mad ? Sure, his role was as an advisor, seconded from the General Staff and all that, but he assumed that Constantinople had had some purpose behind the idea when it had first promulgated it.
From the window of the farmer''s mansion he could see the aeroplanes dropping bomb after bomb upon the artillery park. From the radio sets manned by nervous young officers he could hear news of the collapse of the first assault. And General Zhuzhgov was ordering a second assault ? Into the same maw of the Hell beast ? What madness was this...?

* * * * *

Colonel Iev Tikhomirov commandeered one of the few motor vehicles his regiment possessed, and personally drove himself across the rutted fields, bouncing from road to road without ever being stupid enough to put the little automobile upon one. Twice he had to swerve to avoid straffing runs from Japanese aircraft, something entirely new to warfare but which one either picked up quickly on or died failing to learn.
He skidded across a cattle grid, spun the car around and leapt from it waving his identification in the faces of shocked headquarters troops who looked as if they wished themselves back in Ayan.
Ducking under a doorway that seemed made for a man of a different century, Tikhomirov ran towards the command room.

* * * * *

All was chaos. Reports were coming in from all directions, and nothing was at it should be. General Fedor Zhuzhgov stood like a speared bull, tossing and turning as the matadors drove further spikes into his hide.
"Concentrate fire on the bridge !" he demanded
"Sir, the enemy aeroplanes have destroyed our forward observation posts."
"Where is the second assault ?! Contact Tikhomirov again - he must attack now!"
"Sir, position 19 reports that the enemy is using railguns armed with 18" guns."
The general's personal radio officer entered the room, sought out General Gorshakoff and took him to one side,
"Sir, this has just come in from the Army Co-ordination Office at Saint Petersburg... I do not think the general will listen to it."
Gorshakoff took the transcript and read, his face blanching as he did so.
From General Kuropkin, Acting Chief of the General Staff
By order of His Highness, Prince Georgi Nikolaevich, Regent of the Russian Empire
To General Fedor Zhuzhgy, General of the Reserve, Ayan
Desist immediately any offensive action. Not authorised by Saint Petersburg. Fall back and await new orders. Respond immediately upon receipt.
General Gorshakoff looked across to the raging, angry Zhuzhgov and shook his head,
"He will not act upon this, not now."

* * * * *

Iev ran through the building. Outside he could hear the drone of the motor of one of the Japanese aeroplanes, the scattered firing in response, and the shouts and screams of men. If they had found the divisional headquarters - if they knew that they had found them ?
Somewhere the building shuddered - aeroplane or rail gun ? He did not pause, but raced on. No one stopped him, no one even challenged him in here. The assault was going badly, the battle was being lost. A senior officer running was not to be wondered at.
He leapt across the threshold, dodged a running radio officer and steadied himself.
"General Zhuzhgy !", he demanded,
The old man turned around, froze in shock
"Colonel", he spluttered, "The attack.."
"The attack will be called off."
"You must lead it", Zhuzhgy was listening to no man but himself, "A second assault on the same place as the first, it will break them."
"It will kill us all, general."
From the side General Gorshakoff approached and pressed a piece of paper into his hands.
Zhuzhgy was scowling,
"We will not retreat, Colonel. I will not discuss this any further !"
"No", Iev handed the transcript back to Gorshakoff, "Nor will I."
He drew his revolver and shot the general once through the heart.

* * * * *

From General Gorshakoff, commanding on the North Amur
To Japanese commander
Be advised that Saint Petersburg has urged halt to all hostilities. We are disengaging and pulling back. You are advised that this was an unauthorised action carried out without Regency approval. We would appreciate an embassy under a flag of truce for further negotiations.

Grey Wolf

[DuQuense]

Amur River , Just south of Blagvoshchenck, Russia

General Chaing Kia, Looked out at the Battle thru the observation scope, The Princess won't like this. But He had Done everything he could to chase then away, A Couple of passes of the Planes Targeting only the Trucks and Artillery, then when they withdrew, a mass salvo from the 18” guns set to land just behind the Russians. Any normal officer would have realized what they were up against and withdrawn. But no these Russians had to attack. A mass Charge rite into the machine guns Nests, No one in the great War had done something so stupid after the first several Months. If the Scuttlebutt about what had happened was rite. Maybe these Russians never had a Great War.

Anyway when the Russians had opened up with their artillery He had no Choice but to respond. Just then a Aide came up. “They are withdrawing, Radio has received a request for a ceasefire, they are claiming this was a unauthorized attack by a Rouge General.” “Order a immediate Cease Fire, and Transmit a Acceptance of their negotiation Request” “ Oh Yes , Send out all available Medical Personal.”

A half hour later General Gorshakoff, was walking across the Bridge that they had tried to take. As He walked past the Fixed defenses, and the Concrete pillbox holding machine guns, he Realized that this was not a overnight defensive line. As he stepped aside to allow a couple of Japanese wearing Red Crosses and carrying a Stretcher to run past, he glimpsed a Giant Pillbox with what seemed Battleship turrets on top. No Definitely not a Overnight line.

[Grey Wolf]

The automobile was of British manufacture, a lustrous sheen of a green so dark it appeared almost black, headlights which rose bodily out of the front of the vehicle, and the the stylised form of an arrow upon the crest of the radiator. Nobody was inside, and hardly anyone was around the street corner at this time of the afternoon. There had been a miscalculation.

* * * * *

The blast of the bomb, detonated by a rudimentary timing device, could be heard out to sea in the Gulf of Finland towards Kronstadt. Aboard the fleet flagsip, the Rossiya, concerned heads turned back towards Saint Petersburg.
"Gas explosion ?", asked Prince Vyazemsky hopefully.
"Hardly", Admiral Kanenin was tight-lipped, "I can recognise the sound of explosives when I hear them."
Admiral of the Fleet, Prince Gregori Mishkin returned to the bridge with the Nordic Crown Prince and his advisors in tow,
"That was an explosion ?", he asked.
"Yes sir", the Flag Captain replied, indicating towards the shore, "Something blew up on one of the harbour approach roads."
"Find out which one."
"Yes sir", the Captain turned towards his radio officer, "Contact the Admiralty and find out where that blast occurred."

* * * * *

Dmitri Vyacheslavitch Breshkovsky shook his head. This is what you got when you trusted amateurs with the execution of a plan. For sure, the details of the Crown Prince's route had been correctly lifted from the Foreign Ministry files, and Colonel Sharpe had placed the automobile in a good position, with the timer set perfectly. Then something had come up at the palace, the Regent had excused himself, and instead of a tour of the harbour area Crown Prince Alexander had been taken out to the fleet straight away.
He looked across at his team of Okhrana investigators beginning to cordon off the area and sighed. At least he could try to tidy up things from this end. He bent down and carefully retrieved the stylised arrow which had been blown across the road by the force of the blast. It would be good if he could keep the nationality of the automobile secret, or at least delay its discovery.
Pocketing the device, he walked slowly towards the burnt out lump of metal which had once been a luxury limousine.

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

This piece feels a bit stilted, but its one of those things - it seems a good idea until you actually try to write it!

So this was Petropavlosk ? Grand Duke Dmitri Konstantinaevich had never been so far East before, He supposed it was impressive as a naval base; it certainly wasn't impressive as anything else. Still, it had to be better than Omsk ! He was very glad that the 'Reserve Government' being established there would be entirely staffed by Imperial Service professionals. He could not have stood effective banishment to the middle of nowhere. Petropavlosk at least was somewhere...even if that somewhere was about as far from anywhere as it was possible to be.
He turned and helped his heavily pregnant wife down from the train. Elisabeth looked around her, and smiled at the tiny delegation which had come to meet them.
The leader of this group was Admiral Sergei Ulyanov, Divisional Commander of the Imperial Navy. He looked uncomfortable in this role, but was clearly the most senior person in the port city,
"Your imperial highnesses, welcome to Petropavlosk. The Hotel Rossiya has been placed at your disposal."
"Thank you, admiral", the thirty-four year old Grand Duke spoke briefly.
He was not too worried about the hotel having to turf out its guests. In the current circumstances he doubted that there were many guests intending to stay, and any foreign diplomats who were lodged there were going to have to face up to the reality that their own countries no longer existed. They could not continue to live on credit from banks which had no validity anymore, or to attempt to live at the expense of their hosts indefinitely.
A man stepped forward from the behind the admiral,
"Your highness, I am Ignati Kobylinsky, Naval Intelligence. A briefing is prepared at Divisional Command."
Dmitri nodded; whether it was an invitation or a thinly-veiled instruction he got the underlying message, it was important for him to be brought up to speed at once. He turned to his wife,
"You will be able to settle into the Hotel better without my getting in the way."
She smiled but did not believe him. Still, she knew he was trying to make the best of a bad situation. He turned back to Kobylinksy,
"I assume you have transport ready ?"
"Yes, of course, this way please."

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

"The Regency gold reserves are secure. All the major banks which were headquartered in Constantinople also had reserves within the Regency. Several banks also have their headquarters here, anyway.", Prince Felix Putiatin, Finance Minister of the Regency Govenment paused, well aware that his audience knew he was about to turn from the good news to the bad, "Some of the foreign banks have currency reserves here - we have received applications from four such institutions to fully incorporate within the Regency", he smiled, "It seems as if the loss of their homelands and the chaotic situation of the world at large does nothing to dent the bankers' drive for profit."
"Quite so", the Regent would never have doubted it for a minute, "We are inclined to accept these applications ?"
"It is the Ministry's professional opinion that we should", Putiatin commented, "At the least because several very extravagant foreign delegations have their credit lines with these banks. It seems as if the British and the French do not realise that the loss of their homelands means the loss of their priveleged status. The British, here in Saint Petersburg, seem especially keen to make great purchases in the name of a country which they no longer represent."
"If you would, your excellency ?", Prince Vyazemsky asked permission to break in, and received the nod, "The position of the foreign delegations is a difficult one. We will no doubt need the embassy buildings for new ambassadorial missions, but we cannot say that the Britain we may find upon this world actually has any claim to the building."
"We cannot say that the current British occupants have either", the Regency Attorney General noted, making a rare foray into speech, "Legally they remain the possession of a country that no longer exists. There is good argument that in this case they are forfeit to the crown."
"Does that not raise complications of its own ?", the Minister of Shipping knew that he was commenting way outside of his mandate but doubted that anybody else was going to bring the issue to the fore.
"Please explain", Prince Georgi asked him.
Vladimir Miliukov took a deep draft of the water placed in front of him upon the table, then attempted to do just that,
"What is the legal position of the crown ?", he asked, "His imperial highness, the Tsesarevitch is theoretically acting as head of state for his father, the Regency government is theoretically acting as a national government for the imperial government at Constantinople. This temporary state of affairs cannot go on indefinitely."
"I am not sure I understand..." Prince Georgi frowned.
"I do", once again it was the Attorney General who spoke, "And the Minister does indeed raise a valid point. It was brought to my attention by the Tsesarevitch's Edict on Succession of a few days ago, but as a matter concerning the imperial dynasty the office which I enjoy has no power over that. The precedent however was educational."
"Please explain.", Prince Putiatin tapped his foot against the floor. How had his discussion of international finance become so easily derailed ?
"The legal situation as it still currently stands is that Tsar Konstantine V and the imperial government in Constantinople, exercising power through the council and the assembly, are the ultimate legal authority. Both the Tsesarevitch as Acting Head of State, and the Regency Government under its emergency decrees still bow down to that ultimate authority...even if no longer exists."
"We cannot know that this state of affairs is permanent", the speaker this time was the elderly Minister of Trade, Roman Vassilevsky. He smiled a calm warmth, indicating that nothing could perturb him, not even the end of the world.
"With all due respect", Vladimir Miliukov had grown to hate the old gentleman over the past week or so, "If it is not a permanent effect, would you care to explain how ?"
"Nobody can explain how we got here", Vassilevsky smiled condescendingly at him, "Nobody can guarantee that tomorrow morning all will not be back as it should be."
"This is insane", Miliukov muttered into his water.
"The point has been made", the Regent looked around the Full Council, "I would suggest that the office of the Attorney General look into these matters and comes up with a ruling for the next meeting. For now, please let us return to Prince Putiatin's overview of the financial situation."
"Thank you", the prince was relieved, there was still a lot to get through, "Other of the foreign banks are at the point of collapse. We have secured the premises of a number here in Saint Petersburg, but also in Moscow, Vladimir, Omsk and Petropavlosk. I would recommend that the council issue a compulsory purchase order and let the Bank of Russia buy these institutions outright; the alternative is to allow them to collapse, perhaps to the ruin of thousands."
"Please draft the order", Prince Georgi looked up from his notes, "then have it checked by the Attorney General."
"Thank you", Putiatin was relieved; it had been one of his major aims for the meeting, "We now move on to international trade where the situation is even more complex with regard to finance. Minister Vassilevsky's office has been dealing with merchant houses and shipping companies who now only exist at the Russian end of their business. For most of these their assets have shrunk significantly and can be summarised as the physical buildings of their warehouses and the contents within. Of course, there are numerous ships all around the empire. I believe that Minister Miliukov's office has logged all of these now?"
"Yes, indeed", Vladimir smiled, "We have logged their position, their cargo, their owners and any subcontraction, and we have matched these to a preliminary list of foreign-owned companies provided by the Minister for Trade."
"So", Putiatin nodded carefully, "we have a picture of the assets and viability of these companies. This will tie in with a survey my own office has undertaken as to their liquid wealth, which banking institutions hold this, and whether these are solvent. There is, however, the vexacious question of debt."
"In what way ?", asked Prince Georgi; as far as he knew, debt was always vexacious.
"The merchant houses have debt secured upon assets which no longer exist, or upon of delivery of cargo that cannot now be delivered."
"I am sure you have a solution ?", the Minister of Trade sounded a mite peeved that the Foreign Minister seemed once again to be treading on his toes.
"I would suggest a system of bridging loans to cover the transitional period, secured upon the entirety of what each company now possesses. If after this transitional period they are unable to prove viability as a commercial enterprise, the business will be forfeit to the Bank of Russia and auctioned off."
"That sounds fair", Prince Georgi scratched his nose with the tip of his pen, "In fact, it sounds more than fair. One hopes that they will appreciate our generosity."
Prince Putiatin smiled,
"It is not entirely altruism, your highness. The people currently running these companies know their markets and their business better than anyone else. If they can make them viable, then they will. If not, then it is time to strip out their assets."
"All these suggestions are within the law ?", the Regent addressed his question to the opposite side of the table.
The Attorney General nodded,
"Since it is the Bank of Russia that any property will be forfeit to, there is no problem with ultimate legal authority."
"Good"
Prince Putiatin took that as a sign to continue,
"A final - and very important - question is the future state of international finance. From what the Standing Committee has been able to establish, the nations we now co-exist with come from different...worlds ? realities ? The exact phrase is hard to fathom", that brought a guarded laugh from around the table, "But it boils down to the simple fact that no machinery for international finance exists. It is therefore contingent upon us to create it."
He paused and took a drink of water whilst he let the significance of that sink in.
"We have already received several transmissions through the Secretariat for Foreign Communication", he gave a brief nod of recognition to Aleksandr Luzhny, seated beside the Foreign Minister, "And the question of trade has come to the fore. In order for trade to work, international banking needs to be set back upon its feet."
"And how do you propose that we do that ?", Roman Vassilevsky's question could have been innocent enquiry or barbed criticism, it was never easy to tell with the old man.
"I propose the establishment of bi-partite trading banks, under the joint ownership of the Bank of Russia on the one hand and the national bank of each of our new trading partners on the other."
There was a sudden outburst of conversation all around the chamber. To give such a degree of control to nations they knew so little about ?!

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

These last few 'episodes' are concerned with 'shuffling the pieces' - there is now a financial overview and a way forward so Russia is not about to suffer an economic collapse. It also provides a starting point for negotiations with other nations. And the new Viceroy for the East has arrived in Petropavlosk so there will be no repetition of renegade generals running their own little show, and the area now falls within the civil remit once again. Hopefully this will help Russia belatedly establish its position in the theatre

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

The room was hot and stuffy, but so intent were the four people within it upon their work that none of them really noticed. The occasional extra glass of water, or dry cough from the elderly lady, that was all that would have shown an observer that the roaring fire had been allowed to go unnoticed. Not that there were any observers, of course. A double guard stood outside the doors, with orders to allow disturbance only on matters of the gravest urgency. Ordinary urgency could wait, or be routed through one of the Ministries, Committees or Secretariats. It was not easy work to depose a Tsar...
"This form of words may do it"
Attorney General, Ladislas Tarnowski was a Pole by birth, but had made the most of the exctinction of his nation in the Second Great War and risen up within the Imperial Service by virtue of his extraordinary mind and grasp of detail. Of course people had said, it was the only the Regency government, no Pole would ever make it in the imperial government in Constantinople. But now things were different, and he was about to be implicit in something that in ordinary circumstances would be the highest crime of state.
The Regent took the page of scribbled notes, looked at the sentence that his minister had come up with then passed it on to the Tsesarevitch.
Konstantine Konstanintaevich smiled and read it quietly aloud,
"His Imperial Majesty, Tsar Konstantine V, no longer being living upon this Earth."
He turned to his aunt, and added
"I do not think that even the philosophers upon the Scientific Committee can quibble with this."
Grand Duchess Maria Konstantinaevna snorted,
"It is not the philosophers who will make trouble, my boy, it is the Church."
"Yes, that is true" Konstantine had never had much time for Biblical law and rules, let alone for an organised religious hierarchy. It was even worse now with the Patriarch of Constantinople having vanished, and the Patriarch of Moscow taking it upon himself to assume the spiritual leadership, and to publish his theological interpretations of the Event. Moscow had never loved the Konstantine line, and it was no surprise that these theological ramblings were a barely disguised attack upon it. God's punishment, indeed !
"You are satisfied with it, your imperial highness ?", the Attorney General addressed himself to the Tsesarevitch.
"Yes, I am", he was definite, "When can we do this ? The sooner we take a firm grip upon the empire the better."
Prince Georgi took a gulp of water and looked askance at the fire,
"I see no reason for delay. We can clear down all the lines tonight, and make the announcement first thing in the morning."
"The regalia will not be forthcoming", the Grand Duchess pointed out. Together with many other things they had been in Constantinople.
"I doubt that the Patriarch of Moscow will agree to perform the ceremony, even if we asked", Konstantine snorted, "My father was crowned in Vladimir, that will serve me well enough."
"It is quite some journey.", Prince Georgi pointed out, "It will delay the formalities by several days."
"It needs to be done.", Maria Konstantinaevna was adamant, "If there is no investiture, then Moscow will claim there is a lack of legitimacy. If there is a rival investiture, then it looks as if they are simply being peevish."
"One thing is certain", the Tsesarevitch commented with a smile, "We do not need to worry about lodgings and security for visiting heads of state !"

Grey Wolf

[DuQuense]

?What about the Patriarch of St Petersburg.?

My Crown Price can stay a couple extra days, so You can have at least One Foriegn Witness.

[Grey Wolf]

?What about the Patriarch of St Petersburg.?

My Crown Price can stay a couple extra days, so You can have at least One Foriegn Witness.

I think you'll find he's a bishop or an Archbishop. As far as I understood the Orthodox Church it was organised with one Patriarch at Constantinople, then each of some unknown number of other domains had a Patriarch of their own, either breaking away or being autonomous, of which Russia was one with the Patriarch at Moscow.

The Tsesarevitch intends to use a proxy for the 'absent' Patriarch of Constantinople, and the Bishop or whatever at Vladimir will do that

Alexander is welcome - he'll be Guest of Honour, lol, but will have to endure a gruelling train journey on the Russian royal train...unless you want to fly him to Vladimir

Grey Wolf

[DuQuense]

Alex understands the Importance His Father and HIS Ministers attach to the Russian Mission, He will stay as Close to the officail party as Possible.

And the Nordic Reserve Bank ( he has a Finance Ministry official in his party] Will be happy to enter disscussions on a joint exchange system. Perhaps some of the Russian Companies Stranded in UNK, can Merge with their Counterparts in Your Russia.

[Grey Wolf]

This is day 9

"Stand by, stand by", the first transmission in over two hours flashed across the telegraphic network. A similar message after an identical period of silence was passing through the ether from the main radio transmitter at Saint Petersburg.
"Stand by for a message from the Imperial Palace, Saint Petersburg."
All over Russia, people stopped what they were doing to listen. Public radio had been distinctly quiet the last few days, a few bland statements from the Regent, a lot of patriotic music and the occasional traditional play or poetry reading. Now, here was something new. They stopped and listened to whatever His Imperial Highness, Tsesarevitch Konstantine Konstantinaevich had to say.
"People of Russia, I salute you for your bravery and endurance. People of Russia, I salute you for the steadfast manner in which you have faced this dire Emergency."
There was a pause, then the voice again, stronger yet softer,
"People of Russia, I have sad news to impart. His Imperial Majesty, Tsar Konstantine V, named 'The Great' by the assembly of January 1938, no longer lives within this world."
He let this sink in, then
"I have been acting as Head of State since the Emergency began, but it is now time to move on. As of this moment, I am taking strong grasp of the nettle that Fate has thrust my way. This is no time for shirking. This is no time for hiding behind formalities and failing to do one's duties."
All over Russia people stood in silence, listening, sensing that what was left of the past era, what the Event itself had not destroyed, this message was about to sweep away.
"His Imperial Majesty Tsar Konstantine V, no longer living within this world, I, his eldest son and most beloved heir, do take upon my shoulders the title of Tsar of all the Russias. I shall keep alive the memory of my great father, and I shall rule as Tsar Konstantine VI."
With that the Russian national anthem played across the airwaves, sung in emotional throats up and down the empire. Then, when it was over, instead of the service returning to the announcer, the new Tsar remained on the air,
"The ceremony of investiture shall be at the city of Vladimir in two days time. As my father did, so shall I...."
Another pause,
"People of Russia, I salute you in this hour. Your emperor."

* * * * *

Prince Simeon Mikhailovich could not control himself. A vase, a teapot, a silver tray flew across the room crashing into the further wall, then he wrenched hold of the radio set itself and wrestled it to the floor, stamping and kicking until the speaker finally gave up, and only the valves at the back remained sparking. He turned to face his sister, his face red with rage,
"Yes, I know", he snapped, "Calm down, do not worry - bah !"
He slammed a fist into the walnut table and slumped to the floor, his head in his hands.

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

Gently, almost too gently for its size, the nose of the submarine poked its way above the waves. Shortly, the great bulk of the ocean-going vessel could be seen on the surface. The hatch on the conning tower popped open, revealing a short moment later her Captain, and several other men.
"Something must be wrong with the buoy", the Chief Engineer was muttering to himself.
Captain Radovan Orlov took his pipe from out of his pocket and lit it with a flint lighter. He took a few puffs, enough to get it properly lit, then looked out across the icy seas.
"Spitzbergen to the South ?"
"Yes sir", a young lieutenant pointed out at a smudge in the distance, "That will be the North coast."
"Run up the aerial"
It was already being done, his command a mere formality.
"We should be ready to receive the correct signals now, sir", the First Officer could not resist having a dig at the Chief Engineer and his erratic buoy.
"Very well. Let us see what is what."
With that, Captain Orlov descended back into the submarine. The Kerch was one of the newest ocean-going submarines in the Imperial Russian Navy and had been just out of Archangel when the greatest storms any of them had experienced had hit them. Buffeted and thrown all ways, they had finally staggered into a deserted Finmark fjord and attempted to make contact. Nothing; atmospheric conditions seemed to be disrupting all communications. Shipshape again, they had put to sea and deployed the radio buoy once back in the Arctic Ocean. But what it had picked up had been simply nonsense. Maybe now they would get something sensible.
"Sir...", the Communications Officer sounded nervous.
Captain Orlov slowly paced across the bridge to stand beside him,
"Have you raised Murmansk, lieutenant ?"
"Yes sir, no sir..."
"Excellent", the Captain sighed, "Yes or no ?"
"Sir...I am getting another signal out of Murmansk, it is not ours !"
Around the bridge people stopped to listen to the exchange. Murmansk was in somebody else's hands ?!
"Switch to Archangel, and make it a prority call."
The young officer turned the dial and flicked a couple of switches,
"This is the submarine Kerch calling Divisional Command, Archangel, Priority please acknowledge !"
A crackle, maybe a voice, then suddenly loud and distinct,
"Kerch, this is Admiral Chernov. Please stand by for an encrypted message."
The Communications officer hurriedly grabbed his code book, notebook and pencil and began taking down the message that came over his headphones.
"Message ends. Reply in twenty minutes and we will have further instructions."
And that was it.
Captain Orlov looked down at the lieutenant
"Translate that. I will be above."
With that, he climbed the ladder back on to the top of the conning tower. Were they at war ? Who with - Sweden ? He looked South towards Spitzbergen,
"Lieutenant", he grabbed one of the others on deck enjoying the fresh air, "Organise a special watch South. We do not want to be surprised."
That worthy grinned, thinking it some kind of exercise intended to prevent him from enjoying himself too much. He took a pair of binoculars from one of his fellows and trained them on the distant shore. Was the Captain afraid of Polar Bears, he laughed at his own joke, but did not think it politic to speak it out loud. The Captain surely seemed in a very strange mood.

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

Dmitri Vyacheslavitch Breshkovsky walked out of the bedroom and closed the door slowly behind him. He turned to the doctor, an extraordinarily expensive man, an extremely discrete man - you got what you paid for.
"How long ?"
The doctor adjusted his pince-nez glasses,
"It is hard to say. Maybe a few days, maybe", he shrugged, "longer."
Dmitri nodded,
"Thank you doctor."
He escorted him to the stairway and allowed one of the footmen to show him to the door. Dmitri made his way across the marble flags of the hallway and into the lounge.
"Well ?", Princess Margarita Mikhailaevna looked up from studying a pile of notes, letters, transcripts and the like.
Dmitri did not see any point in lying to her,
"It does not look good.", he helped himself to a glass of sherry, "The doctor is non-commital, that is never a good sign."
"That is true", there was little emotion in her voice for all that it was her brother they were discussing, "Does this affect our plans ?"
Dmitri sipped at his sherry, and considered her. A sharp-featured woman, but not unattractive, cold eyes but a formidable intellect, and a personality that brooked no fools.
"I do not see why it should", he said, "We are growing, and the Patriarch has come out with his ruling... After today's announcement I feel certain he will come out with something even stronger. More people will turn away from the usurpers."
"Then we shall go on.", Margarita laid down the papers and stood up, "I see no reason to cancel the meeting with the bishop. I shall merely say that Simeon is indisposed."
"Good", Dmitri set his empty glass down, "I shall be in touch."
"Of course you will"
Margarita stood and watched him go.

Grey Wolf

[Cockroach]

Assume the UOPD's diplomatic mission will arrive on day 15
(departed on day 7 so 8 days in transit seems a fair amount of time)
8 Days Post Event, abord Jervis Bay
Four or five more days of this thought Air Commadore Michael Hall, he couldn't stand the rolling of the liner on the high seas... indeed the battlecruiser he was on a few days back was bearly tolerable despite it being a fine day. The Air Commadore was part of the diplomatic mission to Russia, to think it was only 17 years back since he had as a pilot officer participated in the intervention against the communists indeed one of his bombs had claimed the life of a major bolschevik, someone who had taken the russian word for Steel as his name* if Michael Hall recalled properly... but that was a very different Russia, one rent by civil wars; the one he was about to encounter was still stable and apparently still in the hands of the Tsars, if that was good or bad the Air Commadore couldn't decide...

[Cockroach]

14 Days Post Event, abord Jervis Bay
It was mere hours before the Jervis Bay would be arriving in a Russian port, Air Commadore Michael Hall was down in the hold supervising the preperations for the unloading of the Dingo and the two Anzacs. On deck a Walrus seaplane was being readied for launch to carry an officer into port to finalise the arrangements for the ship's arrival and transportation of the diplomatic mission on to St Petersburg...

[Grey Wolf]

The black train hurtled across the landscape of the night. This time it was not alone. Ahead of it an armoured train containing a mixture of troopers of the Railway Division and the Blue Cuirassiers forged ahead. In the rear, a luxury sleeper containing members of the nobility and exalted others bound for the coronation ceremony, followed in its wake.
The Tsesarevitch was still awake. The servants had long since retired at his repeated request, hie valet, complaining, last of all. His son Konstantine slept the sleep of youth in the carriage to the rear, whilst his aunt and niece no doubt slept in their curious alliance in adjoining compartments in the rearmost carriage before the guard's van. But Konstantine Konstantinaevich did not retire from his study. He sat, and he thought, and he brooded.
The girls had not understood. Their had been an awful scene when he had told them they could not accompany him to Vladimir. Why had he rushed them North on those uncomfortable trains only to vanish a few days later and leave them alone again ? Why couldn't they come with him ? It had blown up into a full-blown argument, and into the middle of it, all innocence and confusion, had walked his son. Nine years old, not many years junior of the girls, but a world away in terms of knowledge. He had wanted to know who the girls were, were they friends for him ? For him ?! Konstantine hung his head, and cringed at the fabric of lies he had managed to weave to get himself out of that one. He doubted they would hold for long once they were all together again in Saint Petersburg.
And as a sign that the world was indeed crazy, the Standing Committee had prepared him a dossier on more distant locales, everything that they had been able to garner in the ten days since the Event. It was a mighty tome, stitch-weaved and thick. One could brain a bear with it, or use it to wedge open the heaviest wooden door. But he had been expected to read it. It really wasn't the kind of book that gave itself over to skim-reading. You think that India is just a province of the British Empire, its armed forces strong but defensive, and its capabilities limited ? Think again ! You think nothing interesting ever happens in North Africa ? Shock of the century, the bloody Egyptian empire of the pharoahs is back, or some such craziness ! One could not skip a section in case some place you had always thought of as an inconsequential hell-hole had been transmogrified by the Event into a great power threatening to dominate the world. Hell, even the pox-ridden republic of Mexico had been reborn as some kind of Aztec super-state ! Aztec ?! The world was mad.
Which indeed it was, if his other reading material was to be believed. Not to be outdome by the Standing Committee, the Scientific Committee had prepared a bound document on scientific, philosophical, and if it please the Gods (for whom else could it please?) religious explanations for the Event... Or non-explanations. A black leather cover and gold embossed titles marked it out as a book trying to be something it really did not manage to rise to. The Standing Committee's paper and cloth concoction had needed no fancy exterior to boost the value of what lay within. The Scientific Committee's expensive cover seemed to be an attempt to disguise the paucity of actual fact within its interior.
Oh, there were theories, but everybody had theories about something. He remembered heated debate at the Constantinople Academy of Sciences - the Moon had been blasted out of the Pacific Ocean by a meteor strike, the Moon was a passing comet caught by gravity and entwined with the Earth, the Moon had been formed at the same time as the Earth and was in many ways its twin planet. All exceptional theories, all with enough evidence to stand up as credible and deserving of further exploration. And none of it conclusive.
That was what the Scientific Committee's document was like. A theory from Professor of Astronomy, Count Oskar Bernsdorff, a theory from Professor of Physics, A. I. Polivanoc, a theory from Professor of History Katrina Trepov, and so on... All of it worthy, all of it possibilities, none of it certainties... Heck, the only one who demanded belief was the religious fool ! Konstantine all but gnashed his teeth; couldn't they stay in business helping the poor and counselling the desperate ? Must the Church poke its nose into everything, even into science ?
He took a quaff from the glass of port upon the map table. Ah, the map table...a new addition to the study, and one which in its own way asked more questions than provided answers. There was no human habitation in Persia ? Tabriz and Tehran had vanished, as if they never were ? Persepolis did not even stand as a ruin. Had this Persia never known humanity ? The Commandant General of the border had pressed cavalry columns even further South, still nothing. He had established camps where Tabriz and Tehran should be - cities do not usually grow in accidental spots, and they were eminently suitable locations. Camps now, maybe cities later - Konstantine had even heard dream-laden talk about a competition to name the new cities...
Two areas were marked with jagged red lines - theatres of war. Northern China and Western Indochina. Radio intercepts had spoken of war between, well did it matter who between ? None of the nations were really whom they had previously been. The talk was of huge fleets, massive aerial squadrons of aeroplanes, strange self-propelled armoured vehicles carrying a gun the like of an artillery piece. If these reports were true, and not exaggeration, misinformation or a failure of translation, then the Russian Empire had a lot of technological catching up to do. It hardly beared thinking about - Russia not the most powerful nation on the planet ?

* * * * *

A half mile behind, someone else was not sleeping. Princess Margarita Mikhailovich instead was lying fully dressed on her sleeper bed, a thick wad of papers on her chest, carefully reading, carefully sorting, carefully planning. It was a wonderful ruse, coming along to support her cousin in his investiture, travelling amongst his friends and lackeys, sounding them out, carefully listening for hints, possibilities and that special chance that you had to be there to recognise. Maybe she had a few names now. But she was in no hurry, she gave no indication. All of it could wait. This was as yet the laying of the ground...

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

The report landed in the flames of the hearth. Dmitri Vyacheslavitch Breshkovsky reached out for his fountain pen, dabbed the nib in the pot of ink, and began to write across a replica pad. In less than five minutes he had mimicked the agent's handwriting, and produced a report similar but different in several key areas. This was the report that would go to the Director.
The report completed, he threw it on the floor; let it grub up a bit. It was amazing how that always helped ! He picked up the receiver off the squat black telephone and dialled,
"Dragonfly"
The voice on the other end was cautious, suspecting,
"Confirmation ?"
"Pallas."
"What do you have for me?"
Dmitri ran a hand along the surface of the desk. Was the Okhrana bugging its own telephone lines ? If it was, who was doing it ? Ilya ? Boris Fedorovitch ? Yes! He suddenly knew, Boris ! It would make things so much easier.
"Target two Americans, two...two Americans", the stammer was a switchback code, making sense only to the man on the other end, "Nevsky, zero-seven hundred hours, black....black caps."
To the man on the other end the message now read one Russia, white coat, and as a double double switchback 'white coat' was code for something very particular indeed.
"I understand you", he said, "Two Americans, black caps."
"Confirmed."
He hung up. Boris Fedorovitch would find nothing unusual in that. Calls to hired help, as hitmen were known, was nothing unusual for the Okhrana, and the target being Americans, in this crazy post-Event world actually made sense. The foreign diplomats with no nations left to represent were increasingly dangerous lone guns in the Regency capital. Taking out two of them would not be unnatural, especially if it was an Okhrana set-up.
Dmitri picked up the report from the floor and smoothed it down. He placed it inside a brown enveloped and scrawled across the face in his own best handwriting,
"For the Director - Urgent"
He opened the door from his office,
"Katya, please deal with this."
She stood up, thirty something but with the face of a woman ten years younger, if not the body.
"Yes, sir", she took it from him.
He returned inside and stirred the ashes in the fire. Yes, this should work out fine, this time.

Grey Wolf

[Tetsu]

Very nice. I like it.

[Grey Wolf]

Very nice. I like it.

Thank you :) I was trying to think what seemed likely in a situation where the world you know has vanished. All these displaced foreign diplomats are definitely something I don't see that one can just magic away. The religious element certainly seems likely, too, as what else are many people going to think - it must be an act of God, surely ? And they would look to the religious authorities to interpret it. And those who oppose the current regime will be enervated by a sudden opportunity to really do something about it. In fact, the chaos and confusion prevalent in the post-Event weeks, is an ideal time to strike blows against the regime and hide it as doing something else.

Best Regards
Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

Who was Grigori Rogovsky ? Well, nobody now, just a corpse. But who he had been was what puzzled the Interior Minister, who he had been, and why he might have been killed. Yevgeni Tarkanov sat in his small book-lined office, his desk, his chair and a single smaller chair the only other furniture within it. He was not of the habit of receiving guests here; that was what conference rooms were for. His office was his private sanctum, and quite honestly he would organise it as best suited him. Thus, he was sat in silence and in seclusion reading the report from the Okhrana on that morning's shooting in the Nevsky. It seemed quite clear that Grigori Rogovsky had been the target, two bullets close to the heart marked it as a professional job. In fact, were the circumstances otherwise they would have indicated the possibility of Okhrana involvement itself, but the Director had passed this one up to him, and he knew that he had no knowledge of the matter.
So, who would murder a priest ? What little was known of Rogovsky was in a file before him; humble background from a fishing family in the Kola peninsular, enrolled in the seminary at age eighteen, made good progress, associated with the progressive wing of the Church, and had on record several glowing statements about the Patriarch of Constantinople's modernisation programme. Rarely mixed socially with anybody, certainly never with revolutionaries, politicians or the nobility. Was known to be on bad terms with the Bishop of Saint Petersburg - but that seemed unlikely to supply a motive for murder !
He sighed and steepled his fingers. Could he afford to annoy the Church at a time like this by visiting the bishop for questioning, just to be sure ? With the Event so stark in the minds of all, would not such an action be open to miscontruement ? A government attempt to stifle the Church ? It was at times like these that he wished he could refer the matter up the line to the main Interior Ministry in Constantinople, but that no longer existed and he had to get used to being the Interior Minister, and not just the holder of that officer within the Regency.
At that moment the voice of an old college professor came back to him, speaking across the years. What did you do with a decision of this magnitude ? You slept on it. That way if you awoke certain of the need to act, you were fresh and invigorated and ready to go through with it. But if you woke up and felt it better left forgotten, you could sweep it under the carpet and get back to what was trully important. Yes, he would nothing about this report until the morrow.
Pleased at having made a decision, Yevgeni rose from behind his desk and headed out of his office With the coronation of the Tsesarevitch imminent, and with the ministry about to be legally transformed into the Imperial ministry, there was a lot of paperwork to arrange with the stationers. That would probably take him the rest of the day. It would be dreadful to get a tiny detail wrong and have to do it all over again !

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

"I am confused, sir", First Officer Stepan Fradkov frowned deeply and ran a hand through his damp lank hair, "That Nordic vessel does not belong to the same world as we do ?"
"That is correct" Captain Orlove settled a tiny smile upon him
"Nor does this so-called Republic of Spitzbergen ?"
"Indeed, though it is more than so-called, it is so."
"But", Fradkov looked across the harbour and wondered if he had this right, "The Nordi ship and this republic do not belong to the same world either ?"
"Indeed, that is so."
"It is most confusing", Fradkov offered...

* * * * *

President James Hamilton was cold. This was Spitzbergen, after all, and the overwhelming feeling anyone got after a spell in the open was that they were cold. Summer had come and gone, too briefly, always briefer here, and now the onset to Winter would be long and arduous. It may only be mid September but each night would bring a little more of the Long Cold closer, until it was there for sure.
Still, he was also fascinated. It was not the fascination of a young boy or of a primitive, but rather of the educated and keen mind of a scientist - for did he not have a degree in Physics from the University of Stavanger ? He stood there, hands in his muffler, fur cap upon his head, his mind trying to fit the twin phantoms into a coherent picture of reality.
The first murmurrings of something been wrong had come from the radio station, but they had been late, nobody paid too much heed to idle Norwegian chatter, no one worried too much if Archangel was out of contact for a few days. That was just life up here on this latitude.
But then nothing was replaced by something, by a very peculiar something. And instead of the homely and comforting broadcast of ships that were as familiar as old friends, they were washed with distress messages from traders lost in the sea of time, or so it seemed to them.
And then... then the Nordic ice patrol ship had sailed into port. Maybe they did not call them by that name, but half destroyer, half ice-breaker and with the towing power of an ocean tug, the ice patrol ship was the closest designation that Spitzbergen could come up with. The Freggajar, a vessel from the United Nordic Kingdom... It might as well have been from the Christian Kingdom of Iberia or some such dream phantasia.
But it was real. Its commander, Captain Klineson, had dined at the Admiralty, had tried to explain matters - confusion, lost signal, unusual activity, war. But it had been a story, a tale made for a lonely night. It had not been reality.
Not until the Kerch had radioed in, precisely five hours ago. And now they were going to meet these Russians who claimed there was an empire, meet them and see for themselves what was what, what might perhaps have been what

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

Crown Prince Alexander sat down at the table and looked out at the view, not that it was awe-inspiring or anything, it was just large...yes, large was the word for it, the rolling fields of Russia. Today they would finally roll into Vladimir, and he was quite looking forward to it. In his world, Vladimir had long lost its historical prominence but here, in this new world of theirs, it had been boosted up by Konstantine V's destruction of Moscow. Moscow had been rebuilt as a provincial city, Vladimir had emerged as the heir to its importance. It had been in Vladimir that Konstantine V had been crowned in Russia, and it would be there that his son would be crowned in the next day or so.
Tsesarevitch Konstantine Konstantinaevitch sat across from him, pouring strong black tea into the small cup of his aunt, a gesture recognising her importance in the family.
"Thank you, my boy", Grand Duchess Maria Konstantinaevna raised the brittle chin to her lips.
Anastasia poured her own. This was an informal breakfast, servants were not required.
"I am honoured to breakfast with you", Alexander felt it appropriate to say.
"Would you be honoured to have some toast ?", Konstantine asked him with a grin, handing him the silver toast rack with its neatly sliced triangles.
Alexander took a pair, and drew the pot of butter towards him.
"My father will be very interested in my reports of this ceremony."
"Indeed ?", Konstantine sipped at his tea, "Which aspects in particular ?"
"I think he will find my description of Vladimir of interest, but also how you have moved the ceremony into the modern era."
"I will use the same order of ceremony as my father"
"And the presiding priest ?"
"Priest ?", Konstantine laughed, "Yes, I suppose he is that. The Archbishop will stand in for the Patriarch of Constantinople."
"I was wondering about that", Alexander admitted, "Is not the Patriarch of Moscow now the senior Churchman in Russia ?"
"Yes, and no", Konstantine exchanged an amused glance with his aunt, "The Church heirarchy will not change, even though Constantinople is denied to us. The Patriarch will be replaced in time. The Patriarch of Moscow will not accede to that role. In the meantime, it is politic to use a proxy of the head of the Church."
"Politic ? I am not quite sure I understand how that is so ?", Alexander asked.
"The Patriarch of Moscow hates the Konstantine line !", Anastasia blurted out, scattering crumbs across the table, "We cannot let that swine to crown my uncle !"
"Hmmm", Maria frowned at her great-niece, but decided not to say anything.
The heir to the throne of the United Nordic Kingdom nodded slowly, and took a sip of his tea, black and unsugared as the Romanovs seemed to like it,
"It is probably a mute question to ask whether the Patriarch of Moscow will take this well ?"
For answer Konstantine rocked back in his seat and let out a hearty laugh,
"Yes", he laughed, "Yes it is a mute point."
"He'll be bloody furious !", Anastasia couldn't resist adding, "He already hates us, this will show us how much we despise him back."
Alexander nodded, at both of the comments,
"And is this a safe policy, given the recent rise of religious mania owing to the Event ?"
Maria raised her eyebrows and exchanged a glance with the Tsesarevitch. She commented,
"The forces of religious fanaticism cannot be defeated by pandering to them. We must stand firm against creeping superstition."
For an old woman, she thought clearly, the Crown Prince thought. He could see why the Tsesarevitch had decided to include her in his official party - though perhaps he had no choice, he doubted that she would have taken no as an answer.

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

The Kishinev touched down gently, the moorring teams bringing her down with smooth professionalism. Ten minutes later, Captain Igor Kollontai and Acting First Officer Mikhail Stroganoff were on their way to Admiral Enqvist's headquarters, courtesy of a staff limousine he had sent for them. Igor sat and watched the factories, warehouses and barracks go past as the long black automobile swept through the Navy District of Sevastopol. All such a contrast to Constanta, which had felt like a visit to the previous century. The Byzantines were clearly civilised and technologically capable, but their industrial age had not yet progressed beyond the steam age. Well, he had helped a little in that development; in return for help repairing the airship, his engineers had constructed a radio set for the Byzantines, and trained a couple of their bright young things in its use and maintenance. He doubted it would be long before the technology swept across the nation. Owning a single radio set was something of an exercise in pointlessness.
The limousine slowed and negotiated a double bend, before sweeping through a gateway and drawing up at the steps to the Sevastopol Office of the Admiralty. Smart-uniformed Marines opened the doors for them, and the two airshipmen were rushed through to the Admiral's office.
Admiral Fedor Enqvist was a small man with a sharp white beard and clear blue eyes that seemed to seer into you. He gestured the two of them into chairs, and dismissed the guards. Before sitting down, Igor passed the document wallet he had been holding across the desk.
"Welcome back, gentlemen", the admiral nodded at them, "If I could..."
He opened the wallet and drew out the several sheets of parchment within.
"Draft Treaty between the Roman Empire and the Russian Empire", he read, "So they call themselves Rome ?"
"Yes sir", Igor inclined his head, "but they are what we would think of as Byzantines."
"Yes", the admiral bent to reading down the document before him, "Hmmm, all seems to be generally in order"
He set it to one side.
"Your coded messages were received", he commented, with one eye on the door, "I have passed them on to the Okhrana with the suggestion that they look into the whole question of religious fanaticism within the service."
"With respect sir ?"
"Yes, Captain ?"
"Sir, Vladimir was never an extremist. He just....well, he changed, sir, after the Event, after what we saw over Odessa and Constanta on that day. I think he cast around for an answer, and was open to being influenced by the talk coming out of Moscow."
"The Director of the Okhrana did confide in me on that latter matter", the admiral commented carefully, "He was of the opinion that the root of the problem lies at the office of the Patriarch."
"Yes sir", Igor definitely agreed with that, "His....ah, misguided comments about demons and the Devil had set something dark in the minds of several of my men."
"Religion can do that", Enqvist nodded, "As an item of interest, did you observe anything similar among the Byzantines ?"
"There was a coup of some type whilst we were there, sir.", Igor knew that that was old news, "I believe it had a degree of religious overtones, perhaps framed in a clash of Ancient and Modern."
"Religious mania could well be something which is affecting each and every society in this strange new world of ours.", Enqvist mused, "We must make sure that it does not weaken us in comparison to our neighbours. The friends of today could be the enemies of tomorrow."
"Hopefully this treaty will prevent that in this case, sir", Igor pointed out.
"Yes, of course", Enqvist sounded mildly irritated, "I will send it by Imperial Service airship to Saint Petersburg tonight. The Regent and the Full Council will debate it, and then deliver a final copy for us to take back to the Byzantrines.", he paused, "I see no reason why you should not be the one to fly it back out to Constanta, though next time we will ensure that your crew is vetted more thoroughly."
"Yes sir", Igor felt both pride and worry. He did not like the sound of such vetting at all, even after his recent experiences. Anything that the Okhrana got their hands upon was likewise to be permanently changed, and rarely for the best in the longer term.

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

Princess Margarita Mikhailovich mingled, flashing her false smile at all and sundry, listening to conversation, making passing remarks of little consequence, just seeing and being seen. The ceremony of investiture had been tedious, and nauseating, but she had held it all within her. That Moderniser, the Archbishop of Vladimir had presided for a Patriarch they all knew to be no longer existent. It was pure hypocrisy on the part of the Konstantines - the whole rationale for the coronation was that the Tsar in Constantinople no longer existed. By the same line of reasoning neither did the Patriarch, but instead of doing the natural thing of acknowledging the Patriarch of Moscow as the head of the Church, as he had been before the conquest of Constantinople in the 1830s, the Tsesarevitch has used a proxy for the non-existent Patriarch of Constantinople.
She bit down on a sandwich, plain bread, ham and pickle, how unremarkable. The Tsesarevitch, she amended her thoughts, the man now calling himself Tsar Konstantine VI, was holding court at the far end of the hall, talking to that foreign demon Alexander, and that little slut of a niece of his. She sensed an oppotunity there. Although privately sure that Anastasia was too hot for even her uncle to handle, the intimation of a relationship would help her cause. She looked around for a likely candidate.
Her eyes alighted on the Deputy Minister of Finance, Petr Ilyushin. She already knew from Breshkovsky that he was with them, but he stood in the centre of a small group of other men, deputy ministers again perhaps, or maybe ministerial members of the imperial service. Perhaps there was potential there, if she played things carefully.
She eased into a vacant spot, that had not been there before she entered it. The men, being the trained as gentlemen, moved aside and made way for her.
"Your highness", Ilyushin saw that it was up to him to make the introductions, "I am sure everyone knows her highness Princess Margarita Mikhailovich of Perm."
She bit back a sharp comment; to give her her husband's title ?! It wreaked of minor aristocracy. Was she not a Romanov ! Daughter of a Grand Duke.
"Your highness, may I present Roman Mardaryev, Deputy Minister of Trade"
She nodded pleasantly at a non-descript man with a monocle.
"Valentin Narizhny, Deputy Minister of War."
Again she nodded, this time with a hint of a smile. The man was tall, stern-looking but with something in his dark eyes hinting at hidden depths. Yes, perhaps something there.
"Leonid Anosov, Chief Secretary in the Ministry of Shipping."
She nodded at an unpleasantly fat man, straining out of his trousers, his midrift migrating downwards despite the valiant efforts of his clothes.
"And Alexei Shevchenko, Deputy Chief Secretary at the Interior Ministry."
This man was pleasant-looking, young but already whitening on top. She saw a hint of disinterest in his eyes, not aimed at her but at his fellows and at the whole gathering around him. Perhaps something there, perhaps not. He might be up for a distraction, or he might be the modernising type more inclined to cleave to the Konstantine line and what it represented.
"I see her young highness looks bored", she ventured to steer the conversation the way she wanted theirt thoughts to go, "I had half a mind to see if I could rescue her from boredom, but she seems inclined to stick closely by his Majesty."
A few nods, yes maybe this would work...

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

They walked down the road, a long column of them, three or four abreast, topless, men and women alike, whipping their naked torsos with chains and beating themselves around the head with wooden paddles. Every now and then one would falter and collapse, and a member of the crowd would rush out with water or perhaps, if they were lucky, a small hipflask of brandy. Once recuperated, the marcher would pick up his chain and paddle and beat about himself again. Of course, there were those who failed to rise...
Arturo Sykes watched with interest, and not a little awe. He would never dream of doing such a thing himself, but admired those whose convictions led them to such ends. And, he had been charged with seeing just how genuine these people were in their belief that Armageddon was just around the corner. The Society of the Dead, their name translated as, a growing movement across Moscow of people who believed that the end of the world was nigh, and that the greatest duty left to man was to repent his sins.
Could they be used ? The British Consul in Saint Petersburg had suggested he look into the possibility. Quite what Sir Maurice Paxton expected to do with them, he had no idea, but he could certainly report on their dedication to their belief. Perhaps it could be used ? It was not up to him to worry about.
With the marchers past, Orthodox priests were now cleaning the roadway before the church. One or two collapsed Society members were being tended to; he saw a sheet drawn over the face of another, that would be one man - or woman - who would not be of use to Sir Maurice...

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

General Fedor Bakhunin was fuming, he was also more than a little worried... The Caucasus was never the easiest place to understand at the best of times, but when people were lying to you ! He cursed heavily, it was his head on the line. The Regent would not be pleased...the Tsesarevitch...Tsar, he corrected himself...would not be pleased ! General Kuropkin was going to be furious !
He paced the carpet - Persian, oh sweet irony there as well. Who was lying, who had done it ? Had it been the governors in the South, if so why ? Had it been some ruse by those foreign devils ? Or both ? Maybe even in collusion.
Nothing to worry about he had wired from Astrakhan, Caucasus borders secure.
"Secure, by my ass !", he snapped, invoking a donkey which he did not in fact possess.
Saint Petersburg had been pleased by his news - oh dear Forgiving Lord, he had pleased them with a lie! But it was not his lie, though it had been his untruth. The Regent had let it be known that the mission to Constantinople had been informed of the status of the borders and would not be raising it as an issue.
But... He stopped and stared at the painting on the wall. His father, Count Ignati Bakhunin at the Siege of Moscow at the close of the Great War. How could he face the old man now ? How could he return to Orel and look his father in the eye ? Of course, he could not.
But he must put things right ! He sat back down at his desk, and checked his top drawer. The revolver shone silver and black. He closed the drawer, and pulled a pad of paper towards him. There were orders to give, telegraph messages to transmit. He would set it all in motion first. Nobody would be able to say in his obituary that he had failed twice in his duty !

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

The Icelandic Ambassador was here with his wife, and their daughter, a pretty teen with the type of blond of hair that accompanies the palest skin.
And finally, there was the Representative of the Faeroes Islands, an autonomous state under the Icelandic crown. This worthy, Fingal Olsen had been speaking the most. In between an examination of his worries and concerns for his little nation, and tales of daring do with the polar bears of Spitzbergen, there had been little room for any more conversation.
At lst the Faeroes islander piped down, noticing that his food was going cold and bending over to wolf it down like some starving animal.
Radovan Orlov decided that the time had come to try a conversational piece of his own. Of the lot of them, he and his officers were those newest to the idea of global change, what he had heard people referring to as The Event, though Knut Knutson, the Icelander, always appended 'of Magnitude' onto the end every time, explaining that it was a term coined by his king personally. To Orlov, the whole idea still verged on the preposterous, but he could see that this was no clever trickery of the Swedes, and besides had not Divisional Command informed him itself that this is what had happened ? It was simple enough to accept, if you cast away sanity. He smiled and asked,
"How has the Event affected trade with the mainland, I would imagine there were a lot of ships over there when...whatever happened, happened ?"
President Hamilton's face clouded,
"My brother...", he took a drink from the glass of red wine before him, "My brother, Andrew Hamilton, is the owner of the trans-Atlantic Polar Bear Lines. He was in Stavanger... He is not now, not in this Stavanger we have here. We have to accept that anybody who did not 'come' with us is lost to us for good."
"The human tragedy", Captain Klineson remarked, "In every great historical occurrence, there is always the human side. Whether it is war and the unification of nations, or as mind-boggling an occurrence as the Event, there is human suffering and human pain."
The President didn't seem to know quite what to make of this speech. He nibbled on a forkful of carrots, then nodded slowly as a reply came to him,
"My brother's wife - Helen - was in Stavanger with him. They left their children with her sister in the North. I do not think that Caroline has yet told them that their parents will never return."
"Who can tell whether there is no chance ?", it was Knut Knutson commenting, talking in his slow, considered manner, "Nobody knows what caused the Event of Magnitude, perhaps there is a way back, or perhaps a Door Between Worlds, as I hear some are calling it."
"Perhaps indeed", James replied, "There is always a glimmer of hope, until there is certainty."
"Let us talk of happier things", it was the president's wife, Marjory, speaking.
"Yes indeed !", Fingal Olsen had finished his meal, gobbling his plate clean in the interval whilst others had had their chance to talk. Now he took up where he had left off before, "I remember an opera, back in Trondheim in 1935 I believe it was, the Winter Queen, that was the name, so sad..."
And on he went. Radovan Orlov raised his eyebrows and settled back to listen to more of the Tall Tales of the North. Maybe it was a tradition in these parts, in this world, whatever ?

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

" More tea, my dear ?", it was the first time in a long while that Prince Georgi Nikolaevich had been able to sit down with his wife and relax. With the situation on the borders now clear, he had put an Imperial Service airship at her disposal and had her flown to Saint Petersburg from Yalta on the Crimea where she had been vacationing with the Comte d'Aubergne and his family.
There was still too much work to be done, too much happening for him to feel that he could leave the palace of government. Instead, he had found her lodgings within the Imperial suites - as far from young Anastasia as possible, though she was not yet back from Vladimir anyway. The imperial train would not get back in until the morrow.
"Thank you", Xenia took the cup and settled back into the armchair, "I see that responsibility has brought a new lease of life to you, Georgi."
They had been married but six months, and it had already begun to go sour. Her criticisms at his indolence, of his accepting a sinecure of a position. That more than anything had lain behind her extended holiday to the Crimea. But now, she was seeing a different side of him. He had energy, drive, purpose - it all added up to someone she was suddenly finding fascinating...
There came an urgent knocking upon the door,
"Come in!"
"General Kuropkin's apologies, sir", the guard said upon entry, "But he requires a meeting at the earliest opportunity on a matter of the utmost urgency."
"Earliest opportunity ? Utmost urgency ?", Xenia smiled at her husband, "You must go, Georgi."; it all sounded very exciting !
"As you will", rose and kissed her hand.
"To the general, then", he instructed the guard.
As they exited the room, Georgi could tell by the pace of the guard that something was seriously wrong indeed !

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

Sorry, this reads very poorly. I'm crap at writing when conditions are not ideal - got my parents staying, and they insist on having the light on... But I knew if I didn't post this I may very well grind to a complete halt and not get anything achieved at all!

"Let me explain how it works", Elena Purishkevich interrupted them, "Each major telegraph station has its own signature code. In order to verify transmission, each station's operators know the code for the upline and downline stations..."
"Isn't that a security risk ?" General Ilya Rossokovsky asked with a frown.
Elena sighed; desk-bound hide-bound, he knew little more than how to administer paperwork.
"It is less of a risk than their not doing so. That way an enemy could intercept our lines and forge a communication."
"This way that can only happen if the operator forges it themselves ?", General Kuropkin was livid, though not with her.
"Yes...", Elena pursed her lips, "Gortshanov must have used the knowledge of his telegraph officers to fake the Baku codes."
"But why ?!", Rossokovsky was at a loss, "It is an abominable thing to have done !"
Prince Georgi Nikolaevich entered the room, General Kuropkin rising to brief him. Soon afterwards, they were joined by Prince Vyazemsky and Yevgeni Tarkanov, the question of whether this was a foreign affairs or interior ministry problem not having yet been solved.
"It is true that Gortshanov had an unblemished record", the speaker was Gennadi Podgorny, a higher-up in Military Intelligence who had been especially summoned by General Kuropkin, "The Okhrana carried out regular reviews of each governor, nothing ever came up suspicious about Gortshanov."
"What do we know about him ?", it was Elena who asked, unsure whether she was the only one in the dark, but wishing no longer to be.
"He was appointed by the Tsar....by Tsar Konstantine V in 1929, for service in the Second Great War. He has ruled well, and kept the Muslim peoples in check.", Podgorny explained.
"Which was why the Tsar appointed him", the Regent pointed out.
"So...now he has rebelled ?", Prince Vyazemsky ventured into the conversation with an expression of confusion.
"I suspect", Podgorny rubbed at the stubble, never quite a beard, that was a permanent feature of his face,"That finding a powerful Muslim state just South of his borders was something of an incentive. No such thing had existed since the 1830s, and the Event might have been interpreted as God's will..."
"Or just a simple greedy opportunity ?", the Prince smiled coldly.
"Either way", the Regent settled down into a chair and pulled several reports towards him, "The problem we have is threefold."
"Threefold, your highness" General Kuropkin was confused, "There is the question of whether he is rebelling alone, and there is the question of whether this Islamic sultanate is involved."
"And, general, there is the last sentence of General Bakhunin's message from Astrakhan - In these dark hours I am endeavouring to do everything I can to set the matter right."
"He feels responsible", Rossokovsky shrugged, "That is natural; it was he who passed the fake message up to us."
"He is endeavouring to set the matter right", Georgi said slowly, "What does that imply to you ?"
"Oh my God", Podgorny put a hand to his forehead, "He still has direct control of units of the Fourth Army !"
"Which I would wager a small fortune is now heading South into Circassia.", Georgi nodded.
"We must recall them at once !", Rossokovsky ejaculated.
"And if hostilities have broken out ?", it was Podgorny, converted to the idea who pressed it now.
"We withdraw", the administrative general was definite, "Then we talk."
"No", Georgi tossed the reports back onto the table between them all, "If hostilities have commenced, Gortshanov will have approached the sultanate for aid. It is there that our efforts must be directed."
"With Grand Duke Pavel Konstantinaevich ?", Yevgeni Tarkanov spoke for the first time, "In Constantinople ?"
Prince Georgi smiled; was that relief in the Interior Minister's tone ? Relief that he would not have to handle this crisis himself and could pass it across to the Foreign Ministry ?
"I will authorise a flash message immediately", Georgi looked across at Elena, "If you would not mind sending it personally once it is written."
"No, of course not, your highness"
Good, he picked up a pen and began very carefully and slowly to write a message for the embassy in Constantinople. Who knew how much could be riding upon this ?

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

From Said Gortshanov
Governor of Circassia

To His Imperial Majesty, the Sultan

I have secured complete control over Circassia. Dissenting units have been eliminated and the 3rd Chechen Regiment stands firmly to arms. Other units are filling up with volunteers as the cry of Jihad goes up across the land. The heathen Russians shall be driven out, God-willing ! Grant us thy aid, O' Mighty Sultan, and gain a new servant in eternal gratitude. The chance to establish the Dar al Islam upon this world can only be God's way of saying 'It shall be done'.

This has been handed by horse-messenger to a sultanate border official North of Baku and has had to filter through to Constantinople

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

I'm going to advance to Day 15 now to try and catch up with everybody else. This should see :-

1. Pacific Dominions and Japanese Empire delegates arrive in Petropavlosk

2. Force H arrive in Hawaii

3. Face-to-face discussions with reps of the Baltic Confederation and Roman Poland

4. The return of the draft treaty to Constanta

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

Day 15

They walked across the concrete in the watery morning sun. Captain Igor Kollontai and (now confirmed) First Officer Mikhail Stroganoff exchanged a worried glance. They were not at all sure what to make of the man from Military Intelligence who accompanied them, but were even less happy with the Okhrana officer who now walked beside them.
The Kishinev loomed in the sunlight, seeming to gleam with the promise of a bright future. Igor was well aware of the black leather case he carried, and the document that laid within, a document which was the result of three days' long and hard discussions at Saint Petersburg. He had not, of course, been privy to these discussions, but he knew that opposing views had been at hand, that fierce debate and discourse had occurred, and that the presence of the officer from Military Intelligence was an indication of which side had won.
"Sir !", the small group of guards by the airship saluted.
Igor returned their salute, then sighed inwardly,
"Lieutenant, please escort Mr Voroshilov to the bridge, and have the crew report to him in alphabetical order."
"Yes sir", the guard looked perplexed.
The Okhrana man looked at the captain and nodded,
"It is wise to begin on a good footing", he said with a smile.
Igor looked away.

* * * * *

Gennadi Podgorny sat in the captain's study. Kollontai was on the bridge and had no need for the cabin at present, whereas Podgorny had a lot to mull over, and details to work out. The document within the sealed black case was a potential bomb. It was his duty to make sure that as few people as possible knew exactly why that was.
He reached across the metal desk, bolted to the flooring here, and raised the standard mug of strong, bitter coffee to his lips. He had insisted on having the report from the Okhrana man as soon as possible. Such obvious vetting was clearly distasteful, but in this situation, religious fanatics could certainly undermine the whole mission. Nobody had been thrown off at Sevastopol, but three men, two of whom worked in the upper reaches of the airship, one of whom was a guard, had been marked as potential problems. The Okhrana man acknowledged there was little or no evidence except a family tradition of deep religious faith, and that none of them men had shown sympathy with the abortive mutiny of the previous journey to Constanta. The guard had even been involved - on the Captain's side - in the firefight on the bridge. But it was best to know who to watch, even if they did nothing.
A lot was at stake here.

* * * * *

Igor Kollontai stood beside the viewing port, watching as the two Byzantine airships escorted him into Constanta once again. This time was a much more sedate and orderly affair than the crash-landing of the previous visit, the speed of descent controlled, and the men standing calmly and professionally at their posts.
He looked across to where the Okhrana man was standing, watching. Voroshilov was an unwelcome guest, and knew it, but in knowing it he had made sure to make his presence as obtrusive as possible. When given overt power, the Okhrana liked to make sure everybody knew who they thought was in charge.
"Sir", the radio officer looked up with a wide smile, "Contact from Marcus !"
Igor nodded. Marcus of some-place that sounded like an attack of coughing, had been the young Byzantine whom the Kishinev's crew had trained as that nation's first radio operator.
"Prepare for reception", First Officer Stroganoff was overseeing the landing manoevres.
Igor looked back to the window. His crew was happy, but the dark knot at the heart of the bridge was a difficulty that would have to be faced before it began to cause discord and problems all of its own.

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

Grand Duke Dmitri Konstantinaevich held his head in his hands,
"Cease.", he mumbled, then louder, "One at a time !"
He looked up at the shocked faces of his main administration assistants, the city's senior military officers, and the irritatingly calm face of the Deputy Director of Naval Intelligence, all of whom had crowded into his office and now stood jostling before his desk.
"Let us deal with things rationally.", he said in a tired voice; when was the last time he had had a decent sleep ? Certainly not on the train, it must have been before he had departed Saint Petersburg.
"I would advise adjourning to a more suitable location", Ignati Kobylinsky suggested.
"The conference room at Divisional Command is perhaps best suited to this.", Admiral Ulyanov suggested, "Petropavlosk does not as yet possess civil administration facilities of equal worth."
"I agree", Dmitri, "Thank you, admiral. Please present yourselves there in thirty minutes. Use the time to get more information - especially on the Japanese and Mongolian situations. I want as full a discussion as possible of all of this."

* * * * *

Thirty minutes later it was a much more orderly procession which filed into the Divisional Command conference room on the dockside. Admiral Ulyanov had yielded the head of the table to the ViceRoy and now sat off to one side with Kobylinsky.
"Thank you", Dmitri looked around, "I have used the interval to draw up an agenda. Yakov ?"
He motioned to one of his senior adminitrative assistants who quickly circulated the hand-written sheets around the room.
"I have placed the Japanese issue as the top priority, primarily because I am still confused as the state of Japan itself."
"We believe there are two Japans", Kobylinsky had been monitoring naval signals for the last ten days and subjecting them to detailed analysis, "Reports from the Pobieda after its venture into Yokohama speak of an empire, whilst General Gorshakoff, after his experiences on the Amur, speaks of a republic. The Army Co-ordination office in Saint Petersburg has suggested Gorshakoff be retained despite his poor performance in his role as advisor. He has made contact with the Japanese forces and this should be considered to be an asset for the moment. However, General Kuropkin's office has informed us that a new structure is going to be created in the Ayan command, to reflect the fact that it is now practically on the frontier. This should be in place in the next few days, and will leave Gorshakoff out of the command and control loop, but in place in an administrative and diplomatic position."
"Very good", Dmitri nodded, wondering why he had to rely for such information upon Naval Intelligence, "And Mongolia ?"
It was Stepan Kirov, one of his senior administrative assistants who answered here, albeit tentatively, "The situation with the Chinese borders remains confused. We are hearing of Chinese columns pushing into these areas, and occasional reports of aeroplanes in the skies. Who controls these areas currently is unknown to us. Our border posts and garrisons were in our own world's equivalent to these provinces, and we have hardly anything on what are now our borders. Saint Petersburg have advised us to make greater use of the radio station on Lake Baikal as its range and pick-up is different from ours, and I have instructed the picket stations in the Kurils to enact that liaison."
Dmitri nodded. In a way all that simply added up to was 'we don't know'.
"The delegations", he read Article 3, "Ships both from the Pacific Dominions and the Japanese Empire arrived here this morning. I believe that the latter had survivors from the Saria aboard ?"
"Yes, your highness", Admiral Ulyanov glanced at the sheet before him, "Twenty-three officers and men. One officer - Captain Petrov himself - and two men remain in too serious a condition to be moved and are still in hospital in Hokkaido."
"Do the Japanese offer recompense ?", it was Yakov Shumyatky who equired, his administrative responsibilities including that for finance.
"Indeed they do", Admiral Ulyanov affirmed, "Both for the loss of the airship herself, and for each of the fatalities."
"And do we deem this to be sufficient ?" asked Dmitri
"The numbers are within the expected range", the admiral replied cautiously.
"Then we should accept, and see if we can use this tragedy to make better relations with our neighbours to the South."
No one gain-sayed the ViceRoy upon that one,
"What about the Pacific Dominions ?"
"They have arrived with an ambassador and cargo. We need to find quarters, probably within one of the lesser hotels, and also make arrangements to move their ship...ah, the Jervis Bay to an unloading bay."

My parents are up and they've descended on me and turned the light on. I can't write in bright light, so that's the end of this for the moment

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

day 16

Imperial Edict
of Tsar Konstantine VI

By order :-

Being as the Imperial government, assembly and cabinet do not exist upon this world

1. The Regency government will hereby take the role and prominence of the Imperial government

2. His Highness, Prince Georgi Nikolaevich, Regent of Russia, will hereby take the role and prominence of Prime Minister of the Russian Empire

3. The Army Co-ordination Office, having been divesting the duties of the General Staff in this Emergency, will hereby take the role and prominence of the Imperial General Staff. The Head of the Army Co-ordination Office, General Kuropkin, will hereby take the position as Head of the General Staff.

4. The Regency Admiralty Office, having been divesting the duties of the Imperial Admiralty in this Emergency, will hereby take the role and prominence of the Imperial Admiralty. The Head of the Regency Admiralty Office, Admiral Kanenin, will hereby take the position as Head of the Imperial Admiralty.

5. All Regency Ministries, having been divesting the duties of the Imperial Ministries in this Emergency will hereby be reinstituted as the Imperial Ministries of the Russian Empire. All Regency Ministers will hereby take the role and prominence of the Imperial Ministers of the Russian Empire (list follows in Appendix).

[Grey Wolf]

Appendix to the Imperial Edict of Tsar Konstantine VI

Reinstitution of the Regency Ministries as the Imperial Ministries

List of the Imperial Ministers of the Russian Empire

>> The Imperial Foreign Ministry
Minister Prince Mikhail Vyazemsky
Deputy Minister Aleksandr Chubin
Chief Secretary Yakov Karayev

>> The Imperial Ministry of Finance
Minister Prince Felix Putiatin
Deputy Minister Petr Ilyushin
Chief Secretary Anouska Ryzhkov

>> The Imperial Interior Ministry
Minister Yevgeni Tarkanov
Deputy Minister Count Hermann von Bernsdorff
Chief Secretary Dmitri Boldyrev

>> The Imperial Ministry of Trade
Minister Roman Vassilevsky
Deputy Minister Roman Mardaryev
Chief Secretary Alexei Kryukov

>> The Imperial Ministry of Shipping
Minister Vladimir Miliukov
Deputy Minister Sergei Krasnoshchekov
Chief Secretary Leonid Anosov

>> The Imperial War Ministry
Minister Eduard Sharapov
Deputy Minister Valentin Narizhny
Chief Secretary Boris Kosygin

>> The Imperial Office of the Attorney General
Attorney General Ladislas Tarnowski

>> The Imperial Ministry of Education
Minister Ludmila Lopukhin

>> The Imperial Ministry of Transport
Minister Gavril Kolychev

>> The Imperial Ministry of Industry
Minister Ignati Kasyanov

>> The Imperial Ministry of Agriculture
Minister Ilarion Kochubey

>> The Imperial Office of the Postmaster General
Postmaster General Vladimir Mikoyan

>> The Imperial Ministry of Health
Minister Prince Nikolai Chernyshev


In addition to the Imperial Ministries, three bodies have been created to deal with the Emergency. These are now reformulated and instituted as Imperial Secretariats

>> The Imperial Secretariat for Foreign Communications
Head Secretary Aleksandr Luzhny
Deputy Secretary Andrei Kuznetsov

>> The Imperial Secretariat for Science and Philosophy
Head Secretary Professor Matthias von Horn
Deputy Secretary Prince Augustus Eduard

>> The Imperial Secetariat for the Emergency
Head Secretary Elena Purishkevich
Deputy Secretary Vera Voronovich

[Grey Wolf]

Sir Maurice Paxton walked slowly along the dockside, nobody acknowledged him yet nobody questioned his right to be there. He was a well-known personality in Saint Petersburg, as head of the British mission to the capital of the Regency. All that had changed now - whatever Britain existed on this world was not the one he knew, and just that morning the new Tsar had announced the abolition of the Regency, reconstituting the Saint Petersburg government as the Imperial government. Russia was going back to its roots. But, despite this, a lot of what had gone before still counted for something. So, he walked openly and with arrogance. Nobody was going to stop him, and nobody did.

* * * * *

I've no idea why I wrote this piece, can't concentrate on anything at the moment. Still, it has a certain usefulness s I'll post it

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

The ViceRoy was at a loss for words. The leader of the Pacific Dominions delegation was an honoured guest. How had this happened ?
"It is almost nightfall !", he snapped, "Why has Commodore Hall been kicking his heels on the dockside all day ?"
Yakov Shumyatky blanched,
"Surely not ? I cleared the monies before Midday !"
Stepan Kirov looked confused,
"The suite of rooms in the Boyar were cleared as instructed." he ventured.
"But nobody advised our guests of this ?!", Dmitri Konstantinaevich was astonished, "We do have a diplomatic party do we not ?"
"Er", Yakov looked blankly at his fellow senior administrative assistant, "I thought Pavel Zamyatin ?"
"He's dead", Stepan sounded confused, "Did we not replace him ?"
"HE IS DEAD ?", Dmitri ground out, "And the city has not replaced him ?"
"I did not know he was dead...", Yakov commented.
"He threw himself off the cathedral dome after the Event", Stepan said with a curious blankness in his voice, "I heard somebody say that his only child, a daughter was in Japan..."
"And lost to him forever ?"
"So it would see, your highness."
"And he has not been replaced ?"
"I doubt it was uppermost in anybody's mind, your highness."
"Yes, well" Dmitri sighed, "Get the Commodore here now. We must make recompense. Those aeroplanes he has - we must have them, they are so advanced they make our own machines look like a flimsy kite, and our airships no better than hot air balloons."
" I...I", Yakov stammered, "I will go down to the 'Jervis Bay' and make sure that the Commodore understands the situation at once."
"Yes", Dmitri looked down at the desk, "Do it at once."

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

Xenia threw the silver tray at her husband,
"You are pathetic !", she snapped, "I thought you had changed, Georgi."
Prince Georgi Nikolaevich, newly-installed as Prime Minister of Russia, batted it away with a frown,
"I really do not understand..."
"No, of you course you do not", she growled with frustration, "You were making the title of Regent into something, and now..."
"And now what ?", he stooped and picked the tray up off the floor, "There is no change in my role. My duties are the same."
"The title of Prime Minister ?!", she spat, "It makes you a slave to Konstantine !"
"Nothing has changed."
"Everything has changed. As Regent you could be proxy for the head of state ! In this new world, that could have meant something - you were on the point of making it mean something !"
"Xenia..."
"No", she turned her back on him, "As Prime Minister you are nothing, Georgi - though that fulfills your wildest dreams, doesn't it !"
He sighed and placed the tray back on to the table,
"Why are you here then ? Why do you not go back to the Crimea ? I am sure the Comte and his wife would appreciate the company."
"Yes, why not ?!", she turned back to him, glaring, "Book me on the last train tonight."
With that she stormed off towards the door.
"I can arrange another airship" he offered, quietly.
"The train will be fine !"
The door slammed behind her. Georgi stared at it for a moment, then strode over towards the telephone. He dialled a number
"Okhrana, office of the Deputy Director." a woman's voice came over strongly.
"This is the R....this is the Prime Minister, could I speak to the Deputy Director ?"
"One moment please"
Then a pause, then
"Prime Minister, this is an honour.", the voice of Dmitri Breshkovsky came across clearly, "What can I do for you ?"
"Its about my wife", Georgi began.

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

Day 17

The series of explosions rent the early morning air. Across the cityscape, the lights of the main roads, and the rooves of the skyline were eclipsed by half a dozen shafts of burning flame, shooting upwards in the force of the blast. Dogs began barking. Alarms began ringing. People began shouting. The city awoke to an early surprise

* * * * *

"Explain it !", Prince Georgi Nikolaevich had been in the middle of the first deep sleep he had had in several days. With his wife finally out of the city, and with good news from most of the fronts, he had been able to relax and sleep soundly. Then the blasts had woken him, and in his groggy state his chambers had been invaded by a mob of shouting men. One of the blasts had gone off in the courtyard behind the palace kitchens. His guards were afraid he may be a target. It had taken time to calm them down, calm them all down, let him have some privacy to get dressed in.
Now, they were in the council room. The Prime Minister, the Tsar, several ministers and generals, and representatives of the Okhrana and the two service intelligence agencies.
"I do not think we can explain it yet, your highness", the speaker was perhaps the youngest man in the room, the most senior representative of Naval Intelligence that could be found at this early hour.
"Why can you not explain it ?", asked General Kuropkin, not missing a chance to put one over on representatives of the rival service.
"There were two blasts in the dockyard area", the naval man, Anatoli Kopelkin explained, "The docks are patrolled by Marines, it is not known how they managed to get through to sensitive areas."
"Who are we talking about here ?", asked the Tsar looking from person to person but not getting any sense of an answer, "Anarchists ? Religious fanatics ? Foreign agencies ?"
"There is no evidence yet.", the Okhrana man was dour, quiet, "Any or all of them have to be counted as possibilities."
"Foreign agencies ?", Prince Vyazemsky did not like the sound of that suggestion, "What foreign agency can have penetrated the capital ?"
"The Nordics."
The speaker this time was Petr Ilyushin, the Deputy Minister of Finance, present because one of the targets had been the Saint Petersburg branch of the Russian Trading Bank, the second largest in the empire.
"Crown Prince Alexander has agreed the draft treaty", Prince Vyazemsky said with a scowl, "The United Nordic Kingdom has no territorial problems with us."
"Because they said so, your excellency ?", asked Ilyushin, "As I understand it, their nation before the Event included Kola and more of Karelia. Are they not sore at losing these ? Are we not sore at losing Murmansk ?"
"Everywhere there have to be compromises and agreements", Prince Georgi put in, "Those with the Nordics have been the easiest to achieve and the least problematic of the negotiations we are undertaking with foreign powers."
"Precisely, your highness", Ilyushin sat back and crossed him arms as if he had made a telling point.
Prince Georgi frowned at him, then turned to the Interior Minister,
"How many blasts were there altogether ?"
"We think eight, your highness", Yevegeni Tarkanov sounded as uncertain as he was, "It is possible that the morning will reveal another."
"What are we certain of ?", asked the Tsar.
Tarkanov nodded,
"Your majesty, in addition to the two at the dockyard and the one at the palace, there were explosions at the Russian Trading Bank, two on the Nevsky, one on the Konstantine Bridge over the Neva, and one outside the barracks of the Blue Cuirassiers."
"No substantial damage was done, and no casualties were suffered", General Kuropkin put in hurriedly, "The fact that the blast was outside the barracks, proves the eficacy of their security arrangements."
"And the lack thereof elsewhere ?", asked the Tsar, "I would remind you that one of the blasts occurred at the palace."
"What casualties were suffered ?", enquired Elena Purishkevich, newly created as Head Secretary of the Imperial Secretariat for the Emergency after the Tsar's shakeup of the government.
"Three kitchenhands killed, two more and the night watchman injured."
"What is the overall casualty fugure ?", she pressed.
"Around fifty", the Interior Minister sighed, "The attacks on the Nevsky brought down entire buildings. We have yet to establish who exactly was targeted and why."
"One of the properties belongs to her imperial highness, Princess Andrea Kyrilovitch.", the man from the Okhrana delighted in letting slip this little piece of information.
"The daughter of my late predecessor ?", Prince Vyazemsky was surprised.
"Could this be construed as an attack on the dynasty ?", asked Prince Georgi.
The Okhrana man looked towards the Interior Minister, indicating that he should answer. Yevgeni could only shrug,
"It is difficult to say from this level of detail. We will need to wait to see."
"Why ?", it was Petr Ilyushin again, "An imperial princess has been attacked !"
"I think the Minister is right", the Okhrana man took a delight in his words, "The property belongs to the princess, but was empty. The attack was perhaps symbolic but as a symbol it was somewhat lacking. It could simply be opportunism, a target on the Nevsky which was most easily penetrated."
"Enough", Prince Georgi broke in, "Whilst I welcome the discussion, I think that until further details are known, all we can do is speculate. At this hour, I scarcely wish to waste my time, or any of yours, on mere speculation. What other facts are known for sure ?"

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

day 18

Grand Duke Pavel Konstantinaevich looked straight ahead and then stuffed the transcript into his mouth, munching upon it with a grimace.
"Er", Anton Udorskiy, the Arabic-speaking guard looked at him askance, "Bad news, sir ?"
"I should say", Pavel lay back upon the divan, "I should say...."

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

Day 20

Air Commodore Michael Hall was not impressed. Chaos and confusion seemed to be underlying the every act of the Russian Empire. His unforgiveable wait at Petropavlosk, their bumbling apology, the second class hotel they seemed to have found for them... And then the railway journey, so much less efficient than an aeroplane, and for some reason the preferred method of transport from the Far East to Saint Petersburg - he wondered whether their airships were less reliable than the ViceRoy of the East had intimated.
Now, well this just seemed to cap everything ! The locomotive hauled the express into a city that seemed to be on fire ! Thick black smoke roiled everywhere, flames could be seen at numerous locations, and was that not the sound of gunfire ? What on Earth was going on ?

* * * * *

Prince Augustus Eduard knew exactly what he owed this honour too ! Over the last several days, bomb explosions and even - God alone knew how - sniper attacks had wracked the city. The Mayor had been shot in the shoulder and wounded, and the Deputy Minister of Trade, Roman Mardaryev killed when the limousine he was riding in had pulled up at the palace just as a vehicle across the road had blown up. The Palace of Government was now a cordoned-off area, but three Blue Cuirassiers had been killed just that morning by a bomb planted in a delivery lorry.
The Tsar and Prime Minister did not want this job. Oh, they claimed they were too busy in this current crisis, but he knew, oh he knew. So, here he was at the main railway terminus to greet a man from the other side of the world, and who did he have with him in his delegation to do this with ?! His daughter Grand Duchess Anastasia Sophiaevna with whom he was barely on speaking terms, the Deputy Minister of Finance, Petr Ilyushin whom he hardly knew, and a high-up from the Okhrana whom he had never met before, Dmitri Breshkovsky.
The train could be seen approaching the platform now. From outside, not too far away by the sound of it, came the thunder of another explosion.

* * * * *

This was the delegation ? Air Commodore Hall was astonished, and found all of his growing prejudices reinforced once again. Could the Russians do anything right ? This sorry looking group of people seemed even worse than the apology for a delegation he had finally dealt with in Petropavlosk.
"Welcome to Saint Petersburg", a man spoke English to him with a disconcertingly German accent, "I am Prince Augustus Eduard of Hohenlohe-Langeburg, this is my daughter Grand Duchess Anastasia Sophiaevna."
"Charmed, I am sure, your highness", Michael Hall kissed her hand.
The girl - for that was all she was - looked at him with a playful smile, then stepped back, all the time keeping her eyes upon him. It made him feel very uncomfortable.
"May I present Petr Ilyushin, Deputy Minister of Finance, and Dmitri Breshkovsky."
He shook hands with the two men. A deputy minister and someone whose job was not being mentioned ? Military Intelligence ? Secret Service ? Perhaps this Breshkovsky was the most powerful person present, it would not surprise him.
"We have a limousine waiting outside, and an escort to the Palace of Government all arranged."
Michael Hall nodded at the prince,
"Please lead on", he said with his best forced smile.

* * * * *

Katerina Zvereva bided her time. She had been selling flowers opposite the station for a week now. Nobody noticed her, unless it was for the vibrant reds or the succulent greens. Another explosion rocked the area. Most people ducked instinctively. She didn't, she knew precisely the location of each and every blast within this area. Nobody would make a fool's mistake in this operation.
There they were ! They emerged from the terminus, one man standing out like a sore thumb amongst his hosts. She waited. It would be soon, then it would be her turn...

* * * * *

"Transportation has been arranged for the rest of your delegation and your baggage", Prince Augustus Eduard tried to remember everything he was supposed to tell this man from the Pacific, "The Prime Minister is very eager to meet you."
"I had hoped for a meeting with the Regent", Michael Hall had come to understand that he was the highest office-holder in the land.
"It is the same person !", Anastasia laughed at him, "Uncle Konstantine changed the law and now we have the imperial government back again."
"I understand", Michael nodded, "The loss of Constantinople must have been quite a blow."
"Here is the..."
Prince Augustus Eduard broke off from what he was about to say as a group of half naked men bearing chains suddenly ran around the corner in the road. Before he could speak, they began whipping themselves, bringing up bruises and ugly red weals within a matter of seconds. These were seasoned Society members, one or two women amongst their number.
Michael Hall stared in open amazement, something which quickly gave way to horror and a degree of shock. Bare-breasted women on the streets of the Russian capital, ripping the skin of their bodies open with rough steel chains ?!
Breshkovsky and Ilyushin moved into the road, calling several of the stunned guards positioned around the station to help them deal with the Society of Death. One of the members collapsed, his ribs exposed by the damage he had done to himself. Another staggered to his knees, then whipped himself back up to his feet, blood streaming down the lacerations upon his back.
"Get out !", Breshkovsky had no need to feign his distaste, "Get out of here !"
"Come on !", Ilyushin had moire difficulty with his words, "Guards - remove them !"
It was sufficient, More soldiers from around the station came running down the streets to intercept and haul away the topless, bloodied men and women. One of the latter fell in the gutter, an over-exuberant slash of her chain having dealt herself a blow to the head and knocked her senseless.
The struggling mass of humanity moved back down the road, as the guards began to use their bodily weight to push the Society members back the way they had come.

* * * * *

Now was the time. Katerina reached into a bag beneath a large flower pot and withdrew several ovoid objects. She nodded to herself. This was her moment of glory.

* * * * *

Insane religious fanatics whipping the skin off their bodies. Anastasia had been fascinated the first time she had seen their like in Saint Petersburg three days ago, but now she was bored. It was not even exciting. You wanted a man with his flesh firmly attached, like Andrei she thought with a wicked grin. His flesh was very firm indeed.
Her eyes roamed, alighted on the young woman selling flowers across the road. Not surprisingly any customers had been scared off by the melee in the middle of the road. She felt a certain sympathy growing within her for the woman. It must be hard to earn a living like that...
The black bag she had just pulled out was a curiosity though. It looked like leather from here, and a good quality at that. Maybe she made more money than she had assumed ? What were those things she was pulling out of it now ?
Anastasia acted without thinking. She dived on the man from the Pacific Dominions, sending him sprawling into the mud and muck of the roadway. Three ovoid objects arced over their heads, exploding with vicious force against the steps leading into the station.
Guards looked around in shock. She rolled over, well aware that in her bedraggled state she was showing rather more of the lower reaches of a Grand Duchess than any of them had ever hoped to see,
"The flower seller !", she screamed, "Kill her !"
Most of the guards hesitated. Then many of them died, as the woman across the road threw two more grenades into their number. A few others, luckier and more alert, opened fire. The woman went down under the hail of bullets.
Anastasia pulled the foreigner to his feet and looked around. Dmitri Breshkovsky was just running back from the battle with the religious fanatics. He frowned when he saw her and the man from the Pacific standing unsteadily in the roadway, then looked quickly around,
"Where is the prince ?" he demanded.
A young lieutenant, blood running from a shrapnel wound to his forehead seemed to kneel at the Okhrana man's feet,
"The force of the blast blew him under the automobile" he coughed.
Anastasia looked down and found herself looking into the keen blue eyes of the severed head of her father. She sat down fairly on her rump. Prince Augustus Eduard was dead...

Grey Wolf

[DuQuense]

I just finished the post about the Austrialian Delagation. Almost all of my People are Ex military [ The Princess is reaching out to know compedent people] And given the unsettleness of Asia they will not be surprised at unsettlement in Russia, nor would they be surprised at the Trans siberian RR. But please treat them a little gentlyier than the Austrialians.

[Grey Wolf]

That was strange. Yevgeni Tarkanov looked at the report again...a British make of car ? Something flashed in his mind and he skimmed several pages back - two British casualties 'presumably caught in the blast, although their clothing was incongruous'. He followed the footnote to the back of the report, where it explained that the men seemed to be wearing a type of urban camouflage. There was something else...he struggled to put his finger on it... An American ! He had been blown up the day before, again presumed to be a by-stander. He picked up the telephone receiver,
"Get the Deputy Minister in here at once, please"
Cunt Hermann von Bernsdorff entered the office of the Interior Minister a few moment's later, looked at the solitary chair and decided, as usual, to remain standing,
"Yes, what is it, sir ?"
Yevgeni handed him the report,
"Get the staff to look into other foreigners - from the nations no longer existing - who have been, ah, caught up in the explosions or the fighting. Also look at whom the automobiles which have been blown up belonged to, or at least where they were made."
"Yes sir", the Count frowned, but was beginning to see the light. Just in case, Yevgeni decided to make it clearer,
"I want you to draw up provisional plans to bring in every such foreigner."
"All of them ?", the count was surprised, "Just in Saint Petersburg ?"
"Hmm", Yevgeni flicked a fleck of dust from off his sleeve, "No - thorughout the R...the empire."
"Yes sir - provisional plans ?"
"Such as could be implemented at short notice, if we decide to take that decision."
"Yes sir"
Yevgeni nodded,
"Thank you."
Count von Bernsdorff closed the door behind him. Yevgeni leant back in his chair and sighed. It had not been the only thing that he had noticed in the report. But, he would have to deal with the other matter himself, and in great secrecy. He picked up the telephone receiver once again,
"Bring me all information we have on the bombings on the Nevsky - oh,", and he added it almost as an afterthought, "also upon the assassination of that priest."
Now, he would see...

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

Thing were beginning to fall apart, Prince Georgi could sense that. No sooner was one situation sorted out than another arose in disastrous proportion. Treaties had been agreed and signed with the Byzantines, and with the Nordics. Positive negotiations were under way with two nations who were going by the name of Japan, and with the Pacific Dominions. Negotiations had stalled with the sultanate, primarily over the question of Baku, but the atmosphere remained reasonably friendly. Grand Duke Dmitri was finally getting the government of the East sorted out in his capacity as ViceRoy in Petropavlosk, and the situation on the Amur was now fully in hand, Gorshakoff having been appointed ambassador to the army of the Japanese Republic, and a new general sent out from Saint Petersburg taking over command of the military forces. The shadow government in Omsk was also finally getting its act together, and the nationwide network of radio stations and telegraph stations had been repaired, improved and boosted.
Yet, negatives continued to abound. The Fourth Army in the Caucasus was in contact with Gontsharov's rebels but making little progress in the mountains. There were reports from Mongolia of Chinese incursions; of course, all the border posts, defence lines and Russian armies had vanished in the Event and Mongolia was very much an open door. Reports from the Okhrana continued to stress the rise of religious fanaticism across the empire, especially in the big cities, emanating from Moscow and with the full theological backing of the Patriarch. And then there were the attacks in the capital, daily bombings, shootings and even running barttles.
It was impossible to get a handle on this. Who was responsible ? The Interior Ministry did not know. Military Intelligence did not know. The Okhrana never admitted to not knowing anything, but all they said was that it seemed to be several different groups. They did not even name them, apart from hinting at religious fanaticism ! Just what was going on ?!
How could you have your capital in this kind of chaos and claim to be in control of the situation ? How could you even approach being in control of the situation if you did not know what was causing all this trouble ? And, if he was not in control of the situation ? Suddenly, the chaos and insanity of the first days after the Event were seeming like a golden time; the disappearance of countries, of armies, chaotic communication systems, it all seemed like fun compared to the bombings, shootings and chaos of the moment.
He rose from the armchair before the fire and strode across his study to his desk. He lived up the telephone receiver and dialled,
"Please could you ask Prince Vyazemsky to bring the ambassador from the Pacific Dominions to my study."
Perhaps aeroplanes could solve all of his problems, and if not then there was no man better qualified within the borders of the empire than this Air Commodore to explain just why to him.

Grey Wolf

[Ward]

from the Governer General of French Indo China
Gerneral R.B Collin
To the PM of Russian
Prince Georgi

Dear Sir

We are Looking For Allies in this world and would like to send Are Chief of Staff General Bong to meet with your Goverment .
Would You be willing to meet with him .

Yours Truly
General R.B. Collin

[Grey Wolf]

Princess Margarita Mikhailaevna put down her delicately-fluted glass and looked across the room at her guest. Dmitri Breshkovsky frowned back, and nodded,
"That is shooting, from just outside."
"It catches you by surprise ?", she asked obliquely.
He smiled at her perceptiveness,
"Once you put something in motion it is neither possible nor desirable to have complete control over it. That is especially the case where religious passions are concerned."
A bullet ricocheted off the wall just by the window. Dmitri glanced at the road outside; it looked like one of those running battles which had not been a definite part of the plan. They had just somehow developed over the last few days. He rather suspected a hard core of anarchists was to blame.
"But we have not lost the ultimate direction", he reassured her, "When the time is right, we will be ready to move."
"Yes", she replied as if it were a question, "We grow all the time, and the doctor says Simeon is...", she looked at him for help.
"He will be able to play his part", Breshkovsky said, "The exact medical terminology is scarcely relevant."
"Yes", Margarita looked at him directly, "And if Simeon is the figurehead, who will be the one pulling the strings ?"
Dmitri made to answer, his tiniest hesitation turning into a longer shocked silence as two men burst through the door, slamming it behind them.
"What is the meaning of this ?", Margarita demanded.
The more senior of the two men bent low and kissed her hand, then rose.
"This is Colonel Sharpe", Sir Maurice Paxton said, "The Interior Ministry is rounding up all foreigners from before the Event !"
"All of them ?", Dmitri turned his stare upon the British man, "Are you sure ?"
"Well", Sir Maurice smiled, "I cannot be completely certain, but I saw Austrians, Egyptians and Frenchmen all being rounded up, as well as the moves against my men."
"Is your force destroyed as a fighting unit ?", the Okhrana man asked.
It was Colonel Sharpe who answered,
"No, sir. All units had scatter grounds to head for. There are supplies already stashed, and munitions at a nearby location. I would estimate that about half opur force will remain active in the immediate period, maybe a little more later as some of those who were caught on the wrong side of the city straggle in."
"Good", Dmitri glanced outside where the sound of fighting had died down, probably moved along the street to some other part of the city, "We should move within the week."
"Yes sir"

Grey Wolf

[DuQuense]

The Question is what are you going to do with them. The UNK and the RoJ would be willing to accept deportees form the repestive areas,
The New Nation of Israil would be unhappy if this deteriates into another Pogarm[sp] against the Jews,

And heaven knows what will happen when you Deport the Eygptians.

[Grey Wolf]

Day 25

Prince Georgi sat in the armchair and stared into the flames of the fire. Had his wife been right ? He had dismissed Xenia's tirade as the warblings of an over-ambitious woman. Whatever had he seen in her ? Beauty, he supposed. And until she was safely married she had kept her sharp tongue in guard. But maybe she was right about the post of Prime Minister. Ever since he had stopped been Regent and started upon the role of Prime Minister, things had gone badly wrong in the empire.
Ha, he laughed out loud to hear his own thoughts. Cursed ?! Ha, he sounded like those Society of Death fools ! Or like the ultra traditionalists who believed that change was bad. But, irony of irony, the changes which they railed against merely returned the empire to the situation as existed before the War of Unification. What was more true was that they were scared, afraid, that the Event had unsettled them completely. And they clung to the familiar, regardless of the logic of their position.
He picked up the glass of port and drained it in one go, then poured more from the decanter. He swirled it around the glass and looked deep within its interior. Ah, alcohol ? Had it come to that ? True, he had always liked a drink but he knew he had been pouring the stuff incessantly the last few days. Another bomb, another drink... Nothing seemed to break the cycle.
He supposed he should do something. But everything his ministers had done had backfired. Even the rounding up of foreigners from nations no longer existing (the official definition), had gone wrong. Oh, sure the French and the Germans (perhaps surprisingly) and some others had come quietly. Others had protested, caused problems with their equivalents in this world - heck, even the Nordics wanted their pseudo-citizens back, as did the Japanese...both of them ! But others had resisted. The Americans had all gone down shooting - personally he blamed the idiot policeman who had opened fire too soon, making the Americans think that they had come to exterminate them.
The British had been worse...but they now knew the British had been the only ones with real evidence against them. Only about a third of their contingent had been picked up, and most of those were clerks, women, children. The rest had vanished ! Vanished ?! But they turned up every now and then in attacks. The world had gone crazy !
And the Interior Ministry operation had created new problems ! A rumour had somehow got around that the rounding up of foreigners was linked to problems with the new Islamic power to the South. The Egyptians had seemed quiescent at first, then got wind of this rumour, fought and fled. Several other minor Islamic delegations had followed suit. Now there was a kind of Jihadi militia loose in the city, and they had already claimed their first victim, a priest who had been enroute to the palace, shot dead.
And the religious fanatics ? The Society of the Dead ?! He pulled a sour face, wolfed down the port and refilled it almost without thinking. They were spreading. There was of course, natural wastage, and they had put a stop to all civilian trains coming in from Moscow in an attempt to contain the problem, but it was spreading within Saint Petersburg and every bomb and every shootout added to the appeal, for a certain type of person.
But...but something still did not add up. The British, this Paxton he had read about, were operating independently once the end of their world had been confirmed, but why ? The religious fanatics had their own very definite reasons, but were they being organised ? Was there someone behind all this ? Were both parts connected ?
He slammed the glass down, ignoring the splash of red liquid. Yes, surely there was a controlling force, but why had the Okhrana said that there was no evidence ? The Okhrana...
"Oh my God...", he stared at the flames... The Okhrana...?

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

"China ?", Prince Georgi's head hurt, "China has invaded Mongolia ?"
Andrei Kuznetsov wished for a moment that his boss was there, and not him, then decided that it did not really matter. He had a position, an importance and he had to live up to that. Ana would not have it otherwise. He felt a momentary confusion - was he doing this for a sixteen year old girl, or for Russia ? Then he realised, he had never done anything just for Russia. It had usually been for himself, now it was for his lover. Yes, that made sense in a twisted sort of way. He smiled at the Prime Minister,
"We have a communication from the Chinese commander wishing for an agreement on what they term 'the new borders'."
"But Mongolia is part of the empire...", Georgi rubbed his too red eyes.
"Your highness, the army was stationed in Inner Mongolia and Manchuria, when we....arrived in this world, we arrived without our army."
"And the Chinese have walked in ? It is as simple as that ?"
"Almost, your highness.", Andrei imagined Ana's smooth soft thighs and willed himself to complete this, "The Mongolians always viewed themselves as Chinese. Whilst we were amongst the foremost powers in China, they were content with our rule. Now that China has a greater power, a unified power, they see a more natural affinity to them."
"And there is nothing we can do ?!", Georgi sounded amazed, "I should talk to General Kuropkin."
"Of course, your highness", Andrei imagined parts slightly higher up than Ana's thighs and forced himself to do this, "The Fifth and Sixth Armies are deployed against the threat from India. We have recieved no reply to our communications and we know about thier aggression in Indo-China. East of that line we have almost nothing, your highness."
"Almost nothing", Georgi inclined his head, "Almost nothing."
Andrei had to force himself to concentrate on Ana's curves, her rump, her navel, her breasts,
"Your highness, the reserve division at Ayan is all that we have until the new Reserve formations complete forming up."
"You are sure of this ?", Georgi could feel the tiredness dragging him down towards the floor, "You are not guessing ? This is the same briefing that the general would give me ?"
"Yes, your highness", Andrei imagined Ana's noise, half-laugh, half-squeal as he sucked her nipples, "I know this. Apart from some Marine formations at Ayan and Petropavlosk, there is nothing beyond civil forces in the East."
"Nothing ?", Georgi heaved into a seat, "Nothing at all ?"
"I believe the first of the Reserve units are forming up at Omsk to protect the Shadow Government", Andrei wondered how he knew all this, "But nothing we can send into Mongolia, your highness."
"So..." Georgi stared at the floor, "So, we must accept the loss of a province in order to gain peace with these Chinese ?"
"I am not a strategist, your highness", Andrei pictured Ana's mouth so firm, and wet and young, "But I believe that the Foreign Minister himself would give you that same advice."
"Yes", Georgi lurched to his feet, wobbled and clutched at the pillar, "You think it is necesary to signal compliance to these Chinese ?"
Andrei had run out of Anastasia's body parts. He tried to conjure up her taste, mouth, vagina, anus, anything. But he was stuck, staring at the floor. He would do it for her, but he would do it alone,
"Yes, your highness", he found himself saying, "If we delay they may take it as a refusal to comply. We do not know their strength except that in this theatre it massively outweighs anything we can bring to mind."
Georgi nodded and pulled himself up straight,
"What is your rank ?" he asked
"I am termed Deputy Secretary."
"Civilian rank ?", the Prime Minister asked.
"I was a student, your highness. Miss Purishkevich brought me in."
"I see", Georgi swayed but remained rooted to the spot, "It is within my purview to award field promotions and honorary commissions. I declare you an honorary Commander in the Guard."
"Thank", Andrei swallowed, "Thank you, your highness."
"Do as you suggest", Georgi decided, "Then get back to...do you have a woman ?"
"Ah, yes your highness."
"You sounded hesitant, Honorary Commander..."
Andrei looked his Prime Minister direct in the eye,
"Your highness, I am the lover of her imperial highness Grand Duchess Anastasia Sophieaevna."
"Ah", Georgi nodded, "I knew she had one, of course."
"Yes, your highness"
"How is she dealing with the death of her father ?"
Andrei was not sure how to answer that question, not sure that he even knew. But Prince Georgi Nikolaevich was Ana's kinsman, he had to answer
"I believe she is bearing up, your highness... Ana's family background is not one that you or I would recognise."
"Yes, that is probably true", Georgi gestured towards the door, "Please leave and send the message, Honorary Commander."
"Yes.....sir", Andrei tried it for size, "Thank you."

Grey Wolf

[General_Paul]

To: Prince Georgi, Czar of Russia
From: James Murphy, General at Arms, New London



Subject: diplomatic trip to your nation


Dear Sir,

We, nation of New london, would wish to send a diplomatic envoy to your capital, to discuss trade, and military issues that we as civilized nations must deal with. We would also like to personally apologize to the leader of your nation for alienating him, and others in your nation during our war with indochina. Thank you for your time and consideration in this matter.


James Murphy
General At Arms
New London

[DuQuense]

Mamore Shigemitsu. Head of Imperial Japanese in St. Petersburg, Looked across the lobby at his Republican counterpart. Peter Li Chan, with the brand new title of Deputy Foreign Minister. ?What kind of a name was that for a Japanese. But according to the File naval Intelligence had put together, Both his Grandmothers had Been Japanese, While his one grandfather was Korean American & the other of course, was Chinese American.

Shigemitsu knew of some Japanese Americans in Tokyo, Shunned and put down as disgraces to Japan. But this Republic's Japanese seemed to accept them. Li Chan had been a Lieutenant General, before the Princess, had picked him for this. Another thing He didn't quite understand, How the Royal Family was so involved in Politics, instead of letting the Ministers, and Officials run the government like they were suppose to.

But the man was Competent, The Republic people had arrived one day before the Imperials. The Former Japanese had had 3 dozen officials, and 2 dozen Soldiers here. Li Chan had started getting them in Shape, unlike the Republicans, who had to find their own way. The Imperials had been meet by a Welcome party, That whisked them here .

The Dozen Republic Marines also had the Former Soldiers running up and down the stairs and Halls, yelling about taking Pride in being Japanese Soldiers. It appeared that when the Republic delegation arrived, the Soldiers had been sitting half asleep at the Gate. Mamore approved, and had Noticed that the Imperial Soldiers had been taking extra care in their Drills.

Fortunally there had been plenty of room for it. The Consulate appeared to be a Former Palace, that the Japanese had Purchased before the Move to Constantinople. Three Quarters of the Rooms had been closed up. They has hired Cleaning Crews, and if they both agreed that a large Percent of the Cleaners ,were also Okhrana, But as long as they did the cleaning.....

Then had come this trouble, Most of the Japanese in St. Petersburg had, Made it to the Consulate, And the Rest had Surrendered with trouble. Now when they wanted to go to the Ministry to consult with the Russians, a couple of Soldiers escorted the party to the Gate, Where Several of the Russian soldiers outside, then escorted them to the Ministry. But there had been several Russian Japanese from the Amur, and they had slipped out to see if they could find what was happening. They were overdue, and so Mamore Shigemitsu. Stood in the lobby waiting, with his counterpart Peter Li Chan .

Turning, Peter said, “You Know Mamore ,the Head Doctors at Tokyo Hospital have come up with a name for this. As if Naming it Helps make it Better. They call it Cultural Shock Sydrome. The feeling that all you Held True and Unchangeable is simply a toy for the Gods to change as they will.” “Our Soldiers hold on to their Pride, that is what had happened to the soldiers here. You and I Hold on to our Duty to the Empire or the Republic.” “Our Royals, and the Royals here hold on to their Duty to their People.” Pausing as a burst of gunfire echoes down the Street. “ I wonder What the ordinary everyday people out there have to hold on to.” “ If this is What happens to a Nation with Cultural Shock Syndrome, ?could it hit our Nations?.”

[Grey Wolf]

From the Imperial Secretariat for Foreign Communication
for His Imperial Majesty Tsar Konstantine VI

To General Collin

We would be pleased to accept your General Bong at your earliest convenience. Do you have aeroplane technology ? Is it possible to fly here ? We are aware of two large powers between our nations on the direct routes. Perhaps you have an aeroplane that can fly over the Indian Ocean and Northwards over Persia ?

[Grey Wolf]

From the Imperial Secretariat of Foreign Communications
for His Imperial Majesty Tsar Konstantine VI
and His Highness, Prince Georgi Nikolaevich, Prime Minister of the Russian Empire

To James Murphy
General At Arms, New London

Dear Sir,

Please note that His Imperial Majesty Tsar Konstantine VI is our lord and master. His Highness Prince Georgi Nikolaevich heads the Imperial government.

We believe that the Commandant General of the Indian Frontier has already issued an invitation for local trade delegations to journey to Samarkand. We believe this would be the best opportunity to discuss matters as they affect the frontier provinces.

We would be happy to receive an ambassador in Saint Petersburg. We believe you have aeroplane technology ? A route can be agreed at your earliest convenience.

[Grey Wolf]

Nicely done Japanese piece, DQ, I am fascinated to see them sharing a palace in Saint Petersburg. I was impressed with the ending, and the way you folded recent events into it. I am sure the Interior Ministry will sort out any misunderstandings about your nationals (if they haven't, ah, killed them). Its good to see that the Foreign Ministry is acting independently of the Prime Minister in sorting out foreign delegations. I wonder if Georgi even knows they're in town yet !

Best Regards
Grey Wolf

[Ward]

From the Imperial Secretariat for Foreign Communication
for His Imperial Majesty Tsar Konstantine VI

To General Collin

We would be pleased to accept your General Bong at your earliest convenience. Do you have aeroplane technology ? Is it possible to fly here ? We are aware of two large powers between our nations on the direct routes. Perhaps you have an aeroplane that can fly over the Indian Ocean and Northwards over Persia ?




from General Collin
To The Imperial Secretariat for Foeign Communication for His Imperial Majesty Tasr Konstantine VI

We will be flying in over Persa with in the Next Four Days. We will need to Refuel before we arrive in St .Pettersburg please send us an area we can land on water and Refule .

[Grey Wolf]

Omsk was nobody's favourite city, at least not if they had ever been anywhere else. But it beat a jail cell in Saint Petersburg a thousand times, and it beat a firing squad a thousand times that. There had been those who had called for a Court Martial, but the new men sent out by General Kuropkin had flattened such calls. It was clear to all who had been there, or to anyone who read the full report, that without his intervention General Zhuzhgy would have continued to order units into the attack, until no one remained able to fight, and all had been lost. Unorthodox though it was to accept the assassination of the commanding general in the field, it had been understood that these were unusual times. Colonel Iev Tikhomirov has been reassigned.
He stepped down off the train and looked around at the incredible hustle and bustle all around. Porters, baggage handlers, officials moved around everywhere. Freight trains backed up out of the station, carrying equipment, stone and other supplies. It was only four weeks since Omsk had been declared the seat of the shadow government, and it was still dealing with the influx of hundreds of officials, their files and their need for space. Optimistic estimates said that things would not settle down until after the New Year. Pessimistic estimates...well, most pessimistic estimates said that there would be no New Year. It was that kind of city...
"Colonel Tikhomirov ?"
"Yes ?", he turned slowly and looked at the man who had addressed him. He was slight, wiry fellow, around average height, with short dark hair and insightful eyes of a surprising blue.
"Major Lavrenti Shelekov, Military Intelligence."
"Good to meet you, Major."
Iev had been seconded to Military Intelligence. He had had no idea what to expect, but this did not seem to be an unpromising start.
"I have an automobile outside", Shelekov smiled, "I think you will like it. It will take us to the airfield."
"Please lead on"

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

The harbour at Longyearbyen was full of ships. Captain Yuri Litvinov was sure that he had never seen so many ships at Spitzbergen in his time, but of course this was a new world, and a different Spitzbergen. That was certainly for sure !
The port was a city - a city on Spitzbergen ! Sure, it wasn't the largest port city, more like Murmansk than Archangel but it was a city, no doubt about it. Large block buildings, squat and solid, houses running along streets with lighting, and automobiles in them. A solitary mansion at the end, flying some kind of flag - the governor's office ? No... The captain as the Kerch had said that Spitzbergen had a president, so this would be his mansion.
"Bring her slowly alongside", Litvinov commanded
The helmsman obeyed and the light cruiser gently nudged the dockside. A few minutes later, the First Officer reported,
"Sir, the Novik is tied up securely."
"Very good", Litvinov nodded, "And I can see our hosts."
A half hour later, Litvinov and his senior officers stood face to face with the President of Spitzbergen and his Foreign Minister.
"Welcome to Spitzbergen", James Hamilton was getting used to this, "If you have any urgent needs, please see the Commissariat on the dockside."
"It is a pleasure to be here", Litvinov beamed.
Oddly, it was true. If he had to be in Spitzbergen, he would rather it was this one than the barely-inhabited frigid wilderness of his own world.

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

"So, this is an aeroplane ?"
Colonel Iev Tikhomirov stared at the ungainly machine before him.
"It is, yes", Major Shelekov sighed, "Most of those we have are a lot lighter, this one is French... It belongs to one of the oil barons, we are renting it from him."
"Renting it ? I thought the army simply commandeered what it needs ?"
"You do not steal such property from such people", Shelekov was definite on that score, "We rent it, and if it is destroyed we pay for it."
"I see.", Iev was well aware that a lot of things were going to seem strange to him in his new employment, "Did you...did we rent a pilot ?"
"Not as such", Shelekov was amused, "His pilot was French, we have hired one from the Racing Club."
"I see", Iev found himself saying once again.
He took a long look at the machine before him. It was an ugly beast, ungainly really did not do it justice. Where most aeroplanes had cockpits - or so he remembered from photographs in the newspapers - this one had a glassed-in cabin with several seats inside it. Huge propellers, two to each wing, sat either side of a snub nose, and the aeroplane tapered back to a fragile-looking tail.
"This is one of the more advanced aeroplanes ?", Iev asked.
"Yes...no...yes", Shelekov shrugged, "I do not doubt that smaller specimens have beter individual performance, but we needed one with a cabin, not a cockpit. We have a small crew to put aloft."
"Including myself ?"
"Of course", Shelekov grinned. He kicked a divot of turf with his foot, "This is a highly-engineered aeroplane, but compared to what we are learning about such machines from other powers, well....this is a piece of shit."
"Shit ?", Iev was not sure how it could be applied to the machine before him.
"This is an outdated weak and totally underperforming specimen.", Shelekov explained.
"And yet we are going to go up in it ?"
"Yes", the Military Intelligence officer laughed hard, "In half an hour when the photographer gets here."
Iev looked once more at the aeroplane. If this was a piece of 'shit', then what on Earth did the other powers possess ?

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

The Pamiat Azova lay within the harbour like an antique toy. Hawaiian natives, and Americans gathered every day to stay at her graceful lines and detailed filigree ironwork. Captain Leon Bernov was happy with this attention; Hawaii was a wonderful place, a warm place ! He had no wish to leave, no over-rising desire to sail back to what would soon be the frigid North. To him, the tardiness of their hosts was a boon. His little fleet sat in a little used area of Pearl Harbour, two auxilaries who had exchanged their full loads of foodstuffs for broken-down parts of aeroplanes and a radio detection device, and several colliers which were now full again for the return voyage - whenever. The repair ship sat happy in its berth, its crew enjoying the glories and the tastes of Honolulu.

_ _ _ _ _

Yevgeni Polumiskova was especially happy that for now the Russian force had no intention of returning to Petropavlosk. He had met the sweetest Hawaiian girl, Apikaila, luscious black hair, olive skin and...well, things happened whenever he thought about the rest of her.
He turned over in his bunk and looked down at the card table, deserted from last night's game. He was sure that bastard Tupolev was cheating, but he was a shy one, too many nights in his Siberian home town with nothing to do but to drink and to gamble.
But what did it matter ? Apikaila mattered... What if they were ordered to sail ? Well, this was not the world he had been born into. Maybe other rules did not stand now ?

Grey Wolf

[Cockroach]

Day 21, St Petersburg
Air Commadore Michael Hall sat in the hotel in which the Pacific Dominions' Embassy had occupied... Less than a day back a bomb had gone off near him, he had survived bloodied, bruised and with a couple of pieces of shrapnel firmly embeded in his flesh. Next time he went out he planned upon carrying his old pistol that had served him well all those years back during the intervention against the Bolsheviks, it hardly seemed like those 16 years had passed.... Back in 1923 Michael Hall had been in the Australian Flying Corp for just over four years when his squadron had been deployed as part of the British Empire's effort in the intervention. Over the next four years he had flown countless sorties in anything from the old Bristol Fighters that equiped the Tsarist airforce to the latest products of the UK's aircraft factories. On more than one ocasion Michael Hall had been forced to bail out or crash land.... But what purpose had all that activity served? the Bolsheviks had until this event controlled a vast swath of territory covering Moscow and a decent chunk of Siberia; Tsarist Russia held most of the land on the near the Baltic coast, indeed since the union with some of the Baltic Republics in 1933 that area had grown; but all the rest of Russia was split between a variety of warlords and failed states...

[Grey Wolf]

There was a crew of four. The pilot proved to be a sour short fellow, Pavel was all he said when asked for his name. The photographer was a contrast, Kiril Kamenev, a garrulous fellow who seemed determined to regale them with stories about his African explorations and the search for a mythical ape in the Congo in the mid 1930s.
Major Lavrenti Shelekov was Observer, co-pilot and whatever Pavel asked him to be, which was not much. Iev found himself at a loose end - for this mission alone, he was the trainee. In future he would be expected to command. But for the training operation, it made no sense for anyone but Shelekov to be in charge.
"This is an aeroplane with long range" Shelekov explained.
"With long what ?!", Iev was finding it difficult to hear above the gigantic thrum of the propellers.
"Long range", Shelekov spoke louder and clearer, "We can overfly the Chinese border in it."
"Is that what we are doing ?" Iev was confused
"No", Shelekov grinned, "We are headed for Mongolia."
"Why ?", it was the usual question that anyone asked when mention was made of going to Mongolia.
"We have reports of Chinese incursions."
"So we are going to fly over them and have a look ?"
"That is about right", Shelekov laughed.
"Do they not have aeroplanes of their own - the Chinese ?"
"Yes, very good ones from what I hear."
"Oh" Iev was confused, "What happens if we run into those ?"
"We say hello"
"Oh..."
That seemed to be that, then

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

"Sir", the messenger looked confused, worried, "My orders are to deliver this to the Director himself, in person."
Dmitri Breshkovsky did not like the sound of that. He put on his sternest face,
"Have you ever known the Director to personally take documents out of the hands of messengers ? It is not what he does."
"I was given my orders by Minister Tarkanov, sir."
Dmitri did not like the sound of that, either. He tried a softer approach,
"You know who I am", he said, "You have seen me at the palace with the Prime Minister ?"
"Yes sir"
"So, I am sure that you realise that I am quite capable of taking charge of your package and handing it to the Director when he is free. If Minister Tarkanov is concerned he may telephone the Director and ask whether I have handed it over."
"I suppose so, sir"
The messenger reluctantly handed the package over, and with a last hesitant look around, he left.
Dmitri let out the breath he did not know he had been holding and retired quickly towards his office. He stopped beside his secretary, Katya
"Do not let anyone through for twenty minutes."
"Yes sir", she was all business-like and obedient, just as a secretary ought to be.
He closed the door to his office and opened the package, spreading its contents upon his desk. Sitting in his chair he perused the contents, and felt the bottom fall out of his world...

* * * * *

Ten minutes later, he knew what to do. He still found it hard to credit that the Interior Ministry had been this efficient. He suspected that the Minister himself must have played a hand in the compilation of the evidence, he doubted that the Count could have overseen such an operation. So, if Tarkanov was taking a personal interest in the Okhrana...well, he would think about that later. For now, he had a lot of work to do.
He sorted the papers into three piles, and then went through each carefully. The first were the most incriminating - his agents, his contacts, his sources, all recorded and compromised. This would be the hardest to deal with. A few choice pieces could end up in the fireplace, but Tarkanov knew what he had sent the Director. No, he would have to be subtle - a few choice assassinations, and for the rest, he would change the record of their command.
That fitted well with the second pile - events he had been involved in, but where the degree of his involvement was not known, not obvious. He would be recorded as being at meetings, or on the scene, but there was not a direct causal link - not unless one looked deeper, and he needed to make sure that nobody did look deeper. He recognised a couple of the operations as being ones Boris had suggested, and which he had then twisted to his own ends. Yes, Boris could be made to take the fall for these.
The third pile was irrelevant, operations he had had no part in and which were not - as far as he knew - directly linked to the bombings, shootings and running battles. Of course, he could tell that because he knew what was linked. The Minister was looking for a pattern and had swept some irrelevant details into the evidence. But he could make use of that too, throw in a few false leads and perhaps use the single mention of Boris to his advantage.
He selected three items from the first pile - one a photograph which actually showed him, though no one had made that connection, the other two reports which would be hard to turn another way. These three went onto the fire. He made a few notes on his pad in a private cipher, checked again the second pile and added a final line to it. Repackaging the rest of the documents, he resealed the package with expert care and picked up a report on the Jihadi Militia from where he had left it unread upon the corner of his desk.
He opened the door from his office
"Katya", he said, "I am going to the apalce to discuss the Jihadi with the Prime Minister. If anybody needs me, you can tell them this."
"Yes sir"
He left and moved quickly down the corridor to the Director's suite. Opening the report on the Muslims who had fled the rounding up of the foreigners, he walked in
"Ah, Anna", he smiled at the dour thin-lipped woman behind the desk, "A messenger delivered this for the Director"
He handed over the package and went back to perusing the report. Looking as if it were something which really concerned him, and which she would tell the Director had him worried, he went back out into the corridor.
Now to the palace, though he had one or two people to drop in on upon the way

Grey Wolf

[Tetsu]

I have no idea how you're so prolific with your writing. Regardless, good stuff. I'm enjoying it.

[Grey Wolf]

I have no idea how you're so prolific with your writing. Regardless, good stuff. I'm enjoying it.

Thanks

I've kind of stalled today because I have to get some job application stuff typed up and printed out

Hopefully I'll pick up again in 24 hours, people are expecting lol

Grey Wolf

[Landshark]

Thanks

I've kind of stalled today because I have to get some job application stuff typed up and printed out

Hopefully I'll pick up again in 24 hours, people are expecting lol

Grey Wolf

Lucky sod. I have to fill mine out by hand.

[Grey Wolf]

Admiral Pavel Kanenin wondered what the commotion was down by the dockside. Unlike in recent days, this did not seem to be a bad situation which was gathering everybody's attention. There had been no bomb blasts, no shooting, and no cries of pain. In fact people were sounding excited.
Making sure that he had his side-arm - these days you did not go out unarmed - he headed across the concrete expanse towards the source of the disturbance. Two giant merchant ships were tied up alongside, a pilot vessel just steaming back out into the Gulf of Finland. He frowned and looked for signs of identification - ah, he could see the American flag upon their sterns....an American flag anyway, it did not quite look right.
As he approached, he could see that the Americans had come ashore and seemed to be setting up some kind of stall on the dockside. What was this, some kind of flea market ?
"Hmmm, lieutenant", he button-holed one of the officers milling around, "What is going on ?"
"Sir !", the man fairly jumped to find himself face-to-face with the admiral, "The Americans are carrying all sorts of goods for sale !", he sounded quite excited.
"Hmmm, I see", Kanenin pushed his way through to the front.
Half a dozen American sailors were hauling crates and opening them with crowbars, all under the supervision of a senior officer. He approached the latter,
"Welcome to Saint Petersburg", he called in his best English, "I am Admiral Pavel Kanenin, Head of the Imperial Admiralty."
"Ah !", the American officer's face brightened, "Thrilled to meet you !", he saluted, "I am Captain Hector Burrows of the SS Columbia. My colleague", he pointed to an older man just coming down the gangway from the second merchantship, "is Captain Joseph McCartney, his ship is the SS Ventura."
"I see", Kanenin looked around, "And all this, Captain ?"
"Allow me", Burrows reached into a waterproof wallet and withdrew a letter bound in red ribbon, "A letter from our President, sir."
Kanenin took it and read it as best as he was able. His English was reasonably good, but there were some terms that he was not familiar with, a few American idioms which did not quite make sense to him. Still, he got the general idea,
"You are here as emissaries of the American Republic, making contact through means of trade ?"
"I guess you've got it just right there, Admiral."
"Good", he looked the American up and down, "You are the senior Captain ?"
"Yes sir"
"Would you accompany me to the Admiralty. There are procedures and formalities which need to be completed."
"Of course.", Burrows turned to greet his fellow captain, "Joe ! I've got to accompany the admiral to fill in some forms. Carry on the good work of the boys here."
"Right you are, Captain Burrows", the older man nodded contentedly. Organisation was his thing, he ws happy to leave diplomacy to his younger counterpart.

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

The aircraft glided slowly out of the clouds.
"There !", yelled the pilot, "Over there !"
Shelekov looked carefully and gave a more considered comment,
"Two...three...possibly more aeroplanes on the horizon."
"Chinese ?", Iev Tikhomirov was hoping he sounded intelligent in his question.
"These Chinese appear to be Americans from what the station on Lake Baikal has been picking up."
"I see...so these are American Chinese aeroplanes ?"
To his mind it did not feel so odd to use such a phrase as 'American Chinese'. After all, in the world that no longer existed there was a Prussian Republic of Manchuria, an ex-colony of Prussia that had declared independence upon Westphalia's conquest of Prussia and unification of Germany.
"They have seen us", the cameraman was already taking photographs of them.
"They seem quite compact", Shelekov commented, "Remember I said this aeroplane was a piece of shit?"
"I remember", Iev grimaced, "And I see what you mean now"
The other aeroplanes were now coming their way.
"So we say hello ?", asked Iev.
Shelekov was already talking over the radio. Iev could not help but wonder whether the American Chinese would be satisfied with saying 'hello' back at them...

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

A wide array of food was doing the rounds. Captain Bernov, with little taste for the unusual and luxurious was finding himself picking at the circulating trays, putting together a meal from elements of French, Hawaiian and the occasional piece of Chinese cuisine. Nothing rich, nothing strange, just a mixture of steak, noodles etc. He wrapped it around his fork and bit into it.
Beside him, the senior officers from Force H were as a group less staid, more adventurous. The Captain of the auxiliary Khabarovsk, a giant of a man going by the name of Alexei Smirnov, was wolfing down an astonishing concoction of Hawaiian and Japanese delicacies, washing it down with expensive French wine, and holding a little court of his own amongst ship captains from other vessels in the harbour.
Lavrenti Grigorev, first officer on the Pamiat Azova had eyes for a different spectacle. A dozen or so Hawaiian girls doing the hula, bare bellies, luscious black hair, garlands of flowers, and amazing lithe movements. One particuarly was getting his attention. He resolved to do something about it later. He would have to be wary of the Americans though, some of their officers were sitting drinking, laughing pointing. It was unseemly, but he was a practised observer of the enemy. He could frame tactics in moments.

At the head of the table, the Hawaiian king and the Procurator General were sat, both of them seeming to vy for the position of host. King Lunalio's beautiful wife, age had not worried her, and their two adopted sons seemed to be having a great time, unnoticing of tensions in the air.
Captain Bernov watched them carefully. The change of course would bring a chance to mingle, to meet his hosts in person. So far, Hawaii had been good to him in his negotiations. But could he get more out of it ?

Apikaila moved, her young firm body dancing for the delight of the old gods, or so the old women said, she was more sure she was dancing for the delight of the men laughing, clapping and cheering from the table. Some of them were Americans, she noted, a few were Russians. Ah, Russians like her Yevgeni. One of them was giving her the eye, what a smart uniform he had on, someone important ! She swayed and moved, making it seem as if she performed solely for him.

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

Day 27

Trade Minister, Roman Vassilevsky walked slowly amongst the crates in the huge warehouse, looking with scarcely hidden envy and astonishment at the wares that the American ships had unloaded. The dockside bazaar has given way to something more fitting to the size of the load; aeroplanes, automobiles, and the like needed rather more space than that !
There was one problem, he thought, he did not speak English, and the Americans scarcely seemed to have the rudiments of Russian. He had the classical education - Greek and French. It had served him well, before, well, before...
Instead, he had a keen young translator, a woman no less ! He was not too thrilled but realised that when it came to essentially administrative duties women had their place. He had just decided that this was one of those.
Even less pleasing was the new Deputy Minister of Trade, Pavel Zakharov, replacing the murdered Mardaryev. Zakharov seemed to think that his promotion was a step on the ladder to the full position. Vassilevsky was leaving him in no doubt as to what he thought of that.
The younger American captain came up to them with two men in strange grey suits. He spoke his piece. The woman listened, then translated,
"Captain Burrows wishes to introduce Tomas Andrea of the New Krupp Corporation, and Leonard Harcourt of the Somma Design Workshop."
"Good", Vassilevsky nodded at her in a condescending manner, "These are sales representatives ?"
Another exchange in English, then she faced him again,
"Mr Harcourt has blueprints for...ah..."
She clarified something with the Americans, then tried again
"Blueprints for an armoured gun vehicle."
"I am sure Minister Sharapov will be fascinated", he decided it was not a matter within his purview if it was only blueprints, "Can they show me the aeroplanes they have for sale ?"
She put the question to the Americans

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

"The world is full of signals", even Elena seemed to have lost her spark, "Some of them are directed at us, but there are a vast number between other countries, and within a certain area there seem to be preliminary attack signals."
"Attack signals ?", Prince Georgi held his head in his hands, "I assume those are not aimed at us ?"
"We are sure of that.", she replied, "It looks like war is brewing in Central Europe."
"That could secure our Western borders", Minister for War, Eduard Sharapov commented, "It will divert everybody's attention Westwards, give us time to train the new units and get them in place."
"The first units formed from the call-up of the reserve have been deployed at Omsk", General Kuropkin added, "There are growing problems with the Chinese over Mongolia, our preliminary studies suggest deployment of new forces in the Irkutsk region as a matter of priority."
"Has there not been a reply from the Chinese commander ?", Prince Georgi looked at Elena.
"Nothing has been reported, and considering the station on Lake Baikal, it appears that none has been made."
"Military Intelligence reported an aerial encounter between one of their aeroplanes and three Chinese." Kuropkin noted.
"Friendly ?", Georgi sounded dull, exhausted.
"We assume so", the general nodded, "Our aeroplane returned to Omsk, and the Chinese did not open fire."
"Well", Georgi took a long draft of the port at his side, "That is at least something."
Elena looked at him sideways. She was tired, exhausted perhaps, and beginning to feel overwhelmed by the complexities of this new world, but she knew that a couple of days rest would restore her to her prime. The Prime Minister however seemed to have gone beyond that. To Elena's eye he seemed perhaps even on the edge of a nervous breakdown. Diagnosis was one thing, what to do about it was another one entirely

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

Escorted by two Icelandic scout cruisers, the Russian squadron made its stately way into Reykjavik. Unlike the mission to Spitzbergen, this one had a full squadron of warships out of Archangel, and a senior diplomatic representative to attend the Icelandic Conference aboard.
Vice Admiral Konstantin Primakov looked back at the little fleet behind him, and felt a surge of pride. Flying his flag in the brand new armoured cruiser Dmitri Donskoi, he led into the Icelandic capital the scout cruisers Zhemchug and Izumrud, both sisters of the Novik which had made the journey to Spitzbergen, and all three amongst the newest not just in the Northern Fleet but in the whole Imperial Russian Navy. In addition, four ice patrol boats and two auxilaries held their station well.
"Iceland never looked so powerful", a voice beside him commented.
Primakov turned and nodded sagely. Aleksandr Chubin was Deputy Foreign Minister and head of the Russian delegation to the Icelandic conference. He was a man of indeterminate elderliness, grey but wiry and with cool steel in his equally grey eyes.
"Their navy is certainly an improvement over the Danes", Primakov commented.
"And the huge buildings on the dockside", Chubin pointed across the panorama before them, "Each is the office and warehouse of a major mercantile house. We are amongst masters of trade here."
"I understand", Primakov found the old gentleman's way of talking somewhat unnerving, it was as if he were acting out a play set in the old days.
"They are almost Merchant Princes, their influence on the King and court cannot be discounted. Indeed, sources suggest that it is this influence which is responsible for Iceland hosting this very conference."
"I see"
Primakov looked out across the harbour. He could make out ships from a multitude of nations, many flying flags of state as well as national ensigns, marking them out as carrying, or having been carrying, senior diplomatic representatives from their powers. Most of the flags were unknown to him, some were variations on a theme from those he knew from before, others seemed quite strange indeed.

* * * * *

"Welcome to Iceland, your excellency"
Aleksandr Chubin was surprised, and gratified to be met on the dockside by a delegation led by the young King Alexander II himself. The Foreign Minister, bearing the very non-Icelandic name of Kenneth Farquhar was present also, but playing a definite second fiddle to his monarch. This was not the case, though, with the two other men, both of whom wore the rich velvets and silks of Mercantile Princes. He let them introduce themselves, nodded sagely at their comments, and accepted both of their invitations to dinner. It would fill the remaining days before the conference began.

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

Day 30

"I'll tell you something," said the Tsar, easing into the chair, "This has been the longest month in history!"
"It certainly has", Prime Minister Prince Georgi Nikolaevich could only agree with him as he took his own seat at the full council meeting.
It was September 30th, and all thirty days of September 1939 would be remembered for their crises, their emergencies, and truly it would be spoken for their insanities. It seemed scarcely credible that but a single month had passed from where they had been over the Summer, in their own world, worrying over their usual worries such as the threat from Westphalian Germany, to where they were now, in some crazy patchwork of a world, where their main worries included an Islamic superstate to the South and aggressive American Chinese to the East. Just one month had seen all that ? No, it would hardly be believed in a hundred years.
Prince Georgi looked down at the agenda before him. Topping it, of course, was the Icelandic Conference, due to begin at Midday, but below it were a whole series of mini crises, and serious decisions to be made. The bombings and riots across Saint Petersburg had got worse, rather than better. Interior Minister Tarkanov had fingered the Okhrana, and a Special Directorate under Dmitri Breshkovsky had already been set up to look further into things. There had been arrests, including some high up in the organisation, and some shootings, people fleeing from apprehension. But it had done nothing to curb the violence, to rein in the destruction. The Jihadi Militia had been offered an amnesty, transport to the sultanate if they wanted it, anything to deal with their own small but effective campaign, but they had refused to listen to what they called 'lies' and had responded by blowing up a police station on the Northern edge of the city. And China... The General Staff and the War Ministry had reached agreement on the urgent deployment of new units formed from the reserve around Irkutsk and Lake Baikal, but this could only be a stop-gap solution. Something needed to be done, contact re-established with whoever had offered peace for the cession of Mongolia. Perhaps it had been another rebel general? Someone without the authority to give what he offered. It was all highly unsatisfactory.
Georgi looked up as the other ministers completed filing in. Some came with their deputies and copious stacks of papework, others alone with a single pad. It depended on whether their ministry had much to offer in the current situation.
"Good morning..." Georgi began, then broke off as the doors open one last time.
A latecomer emerged
"Bastards ! The bastards ! British bastards !", Petr Ilyushin, Deputy Minister of Finance appeared to be struggling with his coat, "Bastards !", he shouted.
Several people were on their feet moving towards them, not least Prince Felix Putiatin, who as Minister of Finance felt that his deputy was bringing shame and embarrassment upon them both,
"Petr, what is it ?", he enquired.
"Bastards !", Petr through open his coat, "The bastards have strapped a bomb to me !"
People froze. People saw the timer, saw the hand edge into the red. Elena Purishkevich fell backwards off her chair - afterwards she would claim it was deliberate. Foreign Minister, Prince Mikhail Vyazemsky dove into a corner, his military training taking over. Georgi was on his feet. Konstantine VI sat there staring in stupefaction.
The bomb exploded...

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

Guard Commander Vadim Pastukhov froze. A blast ? A bomb ? Not outside ! The alarm started ringing, a loud insistent bell throughout the palace. He moved.
Ordinarily he would never have dared entered the Grand Duchess's chambers without her permission, not after what had happened to his colleague when the sixteen year-old had complained about his conduct to their superior. But he knew when to act, and when to damn the consequences.
He was pleased, if surprised, to find her dressed and seated at her dressing table. Usually at this time in the morning she would be still in bed. Perhaps she had had some plans to go out, to take advantage of her lover's free time once he got away from the Secretariat ? It scarcely mattered now.
"Your highness, there has been a bomb in the palace. Please come with me !"
Anastasia did not argue. She rose and followed him out of the room, sweeping up a brown fur coat from off the back of a chair in her departure.
Vadim led her to a back stairway and down to where his orders stated that members of the imperial dynasty were to be taken to safety in the event of a breach.

* * * * *

It was eerily silent. Elena Purishkevich lay on her back, staring upwards at thick black smoke and seeing fires raging out of the corner of her eyes. She coughed, spasmed, rolled over onto her front and lay there hacking away for a moment.
Memory flooded back to her. A BOMB ! The British - how ? who ? what ? Ilyushin had said the British had strapped a bomb to him. She raised herself to her knees, tried to get her bearings. The hall was burning, flames leapt along the tapestries, were beginning to dance across the ceiling. She could hardly see the interior, just blasted shapes and fallen bodies. There seemed to be little movement.
Keep low, she remembered that. Where was there a door ? Crawling on her hands and knees she began to make her way towards what she hoped was salvation.

* * * * *

Ouch... Prince Mikhail Vyazemsky held a hand to his head. It came away sticky with blood. Something had struck him a blow in the explosion. He sat up and gathered his wits. The fires were spreading, the smoke thickening. Nobody seemed to be doing anything about it, either.
The Tsar ! Duty flooded his mind. He had to find him, get him out. Weakly, his head swimming from the blow and from the smoke that assailed his lungs, he crawled into the centre of the room. His hands told him more than his eyes could in the darkness. The tables were upturned, blown apart, bodies...body parts lay amongst them. He found his way to where he thought the Tsar had been sitting. There was nobody making a noise, there was no movement, there was nothing.
This had been at the opposite end of the table from where Ilyushin had been standing. Maybe Konstantine VI lay unconscious somewhere in the wreckage around him ? Mikhail began tearing at timbers, straining until he was overcome with coughing.
"No..." he gasped, but it was too much
He collapsed and passed out...

* * * * *

Vera Voronovich found several others already at the great doors as she ran down the corridor.
"A bomb ! It was a bomb !", Andrei was saying to anyone who would listen.
Several guards were pulling the doors open now, staring into the smoke and flames beyond.
"Oh my God !", she gasped.
Something crawled out of the murky interior towards them. Something bedraggled and blackened.
"Vera !" it croaked.
Oh my God ! Miss Purishkevich ! She rushed forwards with Andrei to haul her out of the burning room.

* * * * *

Georgi Markaryan was lying on the floor. That didn't seem right... Wasn't he supposed to be on duty ? Guarding the public doors to the hall ? Surely, that was what he had been doing ? He pulled himself to his knees, shaking his head. Hadn't he just admitted the Deputy Minister of Finance, flustered at being late and as rude as usual about security concerns ? Surely that was the last thing he had done. His eyes began to focus once more. Yes, that was the door...but what was that ? Smoke was pouring out from around it... It was hanging oddly... Why was Sergei lying on the floor with his head bent at such a crazy angle ?
He turned and threw up.

* * * * *

"Samson...", Elena appeared to be delirious.
She looked up into the confused and concerned faces of the two young people and forced herself to go slower,
"Send to all stations - code word Samson"
Nobody moved
"Do it !", she yelled, then broke down into a hacking cough.
Andrei raced away to find the Secretariat's communications officer.

* * * * *

Anastasia was just sitting there in the wine cellar. She seemed to be eyeing several bottles of a particularly fine vintage. Vadim Pastukhov was confused. Nobody else had come down it here. It was standard procedure to come here. He could not have been wrong ! He knew what a bomb blast sounded like. He knew that the alarm bells signified what he had thought they did.
Something rustled on the stairway. He drew his pistol, moved to the foot of them. Where was the code word ???
"Identify yourself !", he demanded.
"Tsesarevitch Konstantine Konstantinaevich", came the voice of a child.
"Are you alone, your highness ?"
The boy moved into view and looked down at the gun in confusion,
"Nobody came for me", he said
"Konsti !", Anastasia raised herself up and took the boy's hand in hers. She led him back to where she had been sitting.
Vadim swallowed. Now he had the heir to the throne to worry about as well as the Grand Duchess. Where on Earth was everybody else ?

* * * * *

"You cannot be serious !"
The Imperial Secretariat for Foreign Communications' Communications Officer was standing his ground.
"I cannot send that signal without direct authorisation !"
Andrei Kuznetsov looked him in the eye,
"Who from ?!", he demanded coldly.
The man shivered,
"Standard operating procedure...", he tried lamely.
"Does not exist here", Andrei had finally worked out what was going on, "Surely you know the story of Samson ?"
"Delilah cut off his hair ?", the man was confused.
"No you fool !", this was no moment for religious stories, "In the temple, bringing it down on the heads of his enemies."
"I...", the man blanched, "The Tsar is dead ?", he asked slowly.
"If he is not dead he is unconscious and probably badly injured", Andrei spoke more calmly now, "Miss Purishkevich may be the only ministerial rank to have survived. Send the signal."
"Yes", the man was beaten, deflated. He sat before the machine and picked up the headset, "Clear the line", he said automatically, "Codesign Kniaz Veliki One", he identified the signal as emanating from the Palace of Government, "Clear the line and prepare for transmission to all stations, Urgent Top Priority, no exceptions."

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

Vice Admiral Konstantin Primakov looked at his radio operator with suspicion,
"Request confirmation !", he bellowed, then turned to the armoured cruiser's captain, "Captain, bring the crew to battle stations."
"Yes sir", Captain Pavel Masliukov sounded puzzled, but obeyed.
"Officer of the Deck", the admiral brought another man hurrying towards him, "Do you have the exact location of Deputy Minister Chubin ?"
"It is logged , sir, two minutes please."
The man ran off.
Primakov realised that the radio operator was staring at him.
"Yes ?" he barked.
"Sir", the man was shaking, "Absolute confirmation on Samson. New signal - pleadge of allegiance to Tsar Konstantine VII is to be sworn immediately. It requires confirmation."
"Confirm it.", Primakov turned to the Dmitri Donskoi's captain who was still barking out orders to his first officer, "Captain"
"Yes sir ?", Masliukov swung around.
"I want the senior officers of all ships in the squadron on board in twenty minutes, and find the ship's chaplain."
Masliukov swallowed,
"Yes sir"
Primakov nodded and went back to the bridge rail. He stared out at the massive dockside buildings, and wondered just what kind of world this was where the Russian Empire could have a second new Tsar within one month...

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

They came in several lorries, and nobody stopped them. Bomb blasts echoed across the city, huge explosions using most of the remaining explosives, bringing chaos and destruction to sensitive and important places. Yet none was as important as this, and despite the smoke billowing up from the rooftop, it had not been reinforced.
Sir Maurice Paxton stood his ground beside the lead lorry. Colonel Sharpe gave no speech, issued no instructions. He waved his men on and they approached the palace. Satisfied, Paxton walked around to the rear where a radio operator sat beneath the canvas,
"Inform that all is ready for Stage Two."

* * * * *

Dmitri Breshkovsky blew the smoke away from the end of the barrel and looked down at the body of his erstwhile colleague. Boris would not be moving anymore, the single shot to the forehead had ensured that. He would not be talking either, not able to refute the lies and accusations that Dmitri had planted all around him.
He stepped out and nodded to the guard. Sergei Kulik was a good man only in the sense that he was entirely trustworthy, entirely loyal to the bribes and corruption that Dmitri heaped upon him. Other than that, he had little idea and little use for what the word 'good' meant.
Dmitri reached the stop of the steps, holstered his gun and walked out into the corridor. He strode purposefully towards his office. Men and women were striding purposefully all aorund him. He smiled - he had done that. Now, to do something more. He must place the call.
"Katya, let nobody through for five minutes", he instruced his secretary.
That was all it would take - five minutes. It seemed not unreasonable an instruction. He closed the door behind him and crossed to his desk. Picking up the receiver he dialled a number known only to him. A woman answered.
"Your highness, prepare for the homecoming"
That was it, a simple message. But she would be ready. They all would be ready.

* * * * *

Islam Maskhadov looked at the man with a frown. He had been coming to them for a week now, and his information had always been correct. But how could you really trust a heathen ?
"Prove it", the leader of the Jihadi Militia said coldly.
Gennadi Matviyenko was not surprised. The Deputy Director had told him that this would be the hardest part of his role. He unrolled an oilskin cloth, and passed across a dossier to the suspicious Muslim.
Ten minutes later they shook hands on an extension of their deal.

* * * * *

They came down the street, five or six abreast, gathering outside the palace, topless, whipping their naked torsos with chains, some of them now wearing the refinements of spiked anklets, bracelets, and leg chains. Blood seeped everywhere. But they were exultant.
"God has spoken !", one man, his back a mass of scar tissue cried out.
"Praise God that he has done so !", the woman had probably been pretty before she had cut her breasts to ribbons.
"God delivers", an old man leaning on the brickwork panted, by the looks of him not long for this world if he kept this punishing routine up.
Their numbers were swelling now, hundreds pushing up behind them as the Society of the Dead came to celebrate the passing.

* * * * *

Prince Simeon Mikhailovich stood before the full-length mirror and admired the cut of his dark blue velvet suit.
"Are you ready ?", his sister asked for the upteenth time.
He gave her his best smile. Of course he was ready. It was such a nice suit ! How could he not be ready...

* * * * *

The guards were falling back. Mortars fired from concealed positions. Explosions rippled across the courtyard. Two weeks of preparation, two weeks of distractions had finally paid off.
"Take it !", Colonel Sharpe yelled
Three of his men ran forward, leapt over a balustrade and secured the steps. Two more were close behind with the battering ram, splintering the door open even as their comrades fired over their heads.
"In ! In ! In !" urged the Colonel
The British troops stormed into the palace.

* * * * *

Nestor Stepashin was confused. His labour march was gathering hundreds, thousands of people, yet they did not seem to share his anger, his hatred of the aristocracy. Instead, these new marchers seemed to be trying to push the parade from its route and towards the Palace of Government.
"What's going on ?!", he yelled at the woman at his side
Valentina Ivanov looked as confused as he did. From being a march for the proletariat's rights, it seemed to be turning into some anti-Konstantine demonstration
"This is very dangerous", she commented.
"This is wrong", he agreed
But the crowd behind them was now pushing them in one quite particular direction...

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

"I cannot find him !", Vera Voronovich ran back into the old hall.
Gunfire, screams and the occasional explosion were now very plainly coming from just down the corridor. She looked at Andrei in something close to panic. Andrei forced himself to think. The Tsesarevitch was missing.... Something Ana had said ! Of course, he knew now. He turned to the radio operator,
"Codebook", he snapped
The man handed it to him, no longer questioning where authority lay. Right clearly did not lie with the men attacking the palace. Anybody seeking to defend it had to be on the right side. Andrei handed it back, his finger on a certain word on a certain page.
"Transmit and destroy the book, then save yourself."
"Yes", the man was enthusiastic.
Andrei took Vera's hand
"I know where they will be !"
They ? Wondered Vera as they ran out of the far end of the hall.

* * * * *

Vadim Pastukhov was close to panic now. Still nobody had come. He felt weak at the knees. The Tsesarevitch had urinated in a jar, it was affecting them all. The Grand Duchess just held her cousin to her, not moving. He wondered if it was perhaps delayed shock. She had shown little sorrow, little grief at the death of her father. Perhaps now when she was truly alone it was hitting home for her ?
Someone moved at the top of the stairs. No codeword ! Again !
"Halt or I will fire !", he had exchanged his pistol for one of the automatic weapons upon the rack down here.
"It is Andrei"
Vadim recognised the voice of the Grand Duchess's lover. Still, he had the Tsesarevitch down here as well, he had to be sure.
"Are you alone ?"
"I am Vera Voronovich of the Secretariat for the Emergency", a woman's voice spoke.
"Two of you then ?"
"Yes, hurry it up", Andrei's voice now.
"Enter - slowly"
They came in together, nobody else following. Andrei rushed to the Grand Duchess and fell to his knees at her feet. Vera took hold of the Tsesarevitch and looked him in the eye,
"You are Tsar now", she told him, aware of how cold and impersonal that was, but aware of how little time they had.
"My father is dead ?", young Konstantine spoke.
"The bomb killed him.", Vera had little idea how to be gentle about this, and just told him.
Konstantine nodded and turned to his cousin,
"Ana, I am Tsar now" he said.
Anastasia swept him up into her arms, and for once began to cry.

* * * * *

Georgi Markaryan had no idea what he was doing. He was lying behind a ruined door, watching a group of men who spoke a strange language. He had no weapon, no clue. What the hell was going on ?
The fires had burnt themselves out. There had been a commotion at the other end of the hall. A couple of survivors had been hauled out, he thought. He was sure someone has said 'The Tsar is dead', but didn't they all know that, wasn't that why Konstantine VI had been enthroned at Vladimir after all ?
Something was not registering right, but he could hardly concentrate. A man in a suit was entering the palace now, talking to some of the troops in their strange language. Was this some kind of foreign invasion ? Wasn't there a plan about what to do if it was ?
He strained to remember anything, something, anything...

* * * * *

It seemed strange to be in Prince Georgi's study without the Prime Minister. But Georgi Nikolaevich would not be needing it, not anymore, not ever again.
Prince Mikhail Vyazemsky sat before the fireplace, his wounds bandaged, a gun cradled in his arms. Four soldiers stood watching the door. The invaders had already over-run what was left of the hall, there had been no time to think before fleeing. This room with its heavy wooden doors had seemed a good idea at the time.
Now, of course, they were all realising that there was no way out but the way they had come in. They would have to hold out and hope for relief.

* * * * *

"We have to go", Andrei Kuznetsov had taken over the role of leader of the small group, "There are invaders in the palace. We cannot stay down here and hope."
Vera said nothing. It was up to Anastasia as the oldest royal present. It would be necessary to take Konstantine's views into consideration if he had any, but he was looking at his cousin, looking for guidance. The sixteen year old nodded at her lover,
"We should go", she decided.
Vadim nodded; action was better than inaction. He led the way up the stairway...

Grey Wolf

[G.Bone]

To Whom It May Concern;

I offer you order in a time of chaos. I offer you the usage of the United States Army and it's Air Core. This might be an offense to your sovereignty but it will help to put down the rebellion that appears to proliferate in your nation. This also could be the prelude in settling the matter of Mongolia and Sianking. If alive, please respond.

Lord General Tai Hing Lee
United Federation of Chinese States

[Grey Wolf]

Aleksandr Chubin looked at the lieutenant from the squadron flagship,
"I am about to go into a meeting", he snapped, "This meeting is with the senior representatives of all the major powers and maritime nations of this area of the Earth. Is what the admiral has to say of greater import than that ?"
"Sir", the lieutenant's orders were unclear on how to handle obfuscation, "Vice Admiral Primakov has told me to tell you that is it top priority."
"Hmmm", Chubin viewed the heavy oaken doors, their carven images and age-worn colour stating to him how much wealth and tradition this Iceland had, "Are you aware of what this is about ?"
"Yes sir", the man swallowed.
"And is it sufficiently important to require my return to the ship ?"
"Sir, I...", the officer was reluctant to give a personal opinion.
He looked into the cold grey eyes of the diplomat and nodded,
"Yes sir, I cannot think of something more...serious."
"Very well", the Deputy Foreign Minister sighed, "Take me back to the Donskoi."

Grey Wolf

[Ward]

SA4&SA5

Captian Hector Burrows of the SS Colombia hearing the expotions in the City of St. Pettersburg . Headed back to his Ship the SS Colombia along with the crew members who were with him at the Warehouse . He turned to one of the Sailors and stated Chief when we get back to the ship breack out the weapons and set a guard out , Yes Sir Cmd we will also breack out the battle flag as of now we are active .

One hr after the Crew of the SS Colombia were back on Board the crew were in Republic of America Naval Uniforms and the Weapons were being placed on the Deck of the Ship , The SS Venture was also changing over to an Aux of the Republic of America Navy .

Captian Burrows was ordering his ship to Get intouch with the Russian Naval Athorities .To find out what was going on in St. Pettersburg .


Sorry about the Spelling

[Grey Wolf]

"I do not know, sir !", Colonel Yuri Samsonov almost shouted at his superior officer, "Too much is happening to get a proper grasp of the situation."
General Rossokovsky stared at him,
"Then who does now ?!", demanded the administrative expert of the General Staff.
"All chains of command pass through General Kuropkin, sir, or go direct via the Tsar or Prime Minister in an emergency."
"But..." Rossokovsky was confused, "I thought you said that the codeword 'Samson' implies that they are dead."
"Yes sir"
"Then, tell me, what happens then ?"
"The chain of command will come directly through this office."
Rossokovsky looked at him in stunned amazement,
"But I do not know what to do", he stated blandly.
"No sir"
Neither did Samsonov, but he seriously hoped that someone with a shadow of a clue would seize what was left of the reins of power before everything collapsed around them

* * * * *

"What do you mean ?", Gennadi Podgorny demanded of the telephone in his hand, "Surely the troops in the city are reporting to somebody ?"
He grimaced at the answer he was getting, then without another word threw the receiver down at the table. Something broke, span off the end. It scarcely mattered. If nobody was coming they would have to do this themselves.
He had been at a briefing on the situation within the city - oh, how ironic ! Held within the Palace of Government it was now the centre of resistance to the assault which appeared to have carried the main block. His request for reinforcements and relief had just been turned down. Nobody seemed to have any idea who was in command.
"Understand", he said to the senior officers gathered around him, "There is no overall commander. I suggest we take it upon ourselves to decide what to do."
"Who is the most senior ?", Colonel Oleg Tolbukhin sounded reluctant to take orders from anybody else.
"There are officials from the Interior and War Ministries, and commanders from the General Staff and Military Intelligence here", Dmitri Boldyrev, Chief Secretary of the Interior Ministry pointed out, "Surely if somebody has a plan we should agree to act, and work out such niceties after the event."
"I have a plan" Podgorny said vigorously, "If people would please listen to it ?"
This time he was able to outline what he thought they ought to be doing.

* * * * *

Admiral Pavel Kanenin was astonished.
"There is no contact at all from the palace now, sir", the radio officer repeated.
The two messages bearing the Palace of Government call-sign had been received - the death of the Tsar, perhaps even of the Prime Minister, and the order to swear the oath of allegiance to the young Tsesarevitch. He had complied, rebroadcasting to all naval stations and swearing in the Admiralty staff. But now their last contact had gone dead...perhaps literally. The palace, and whatever remained of the government was out of the loop.
"Sir", the radio operator was getting something now, "Signal from Fleet Admiral, Prince Mishkin, will bring flagship alongside the dock. Prepare."
"Transmit acknowledgement", Kanenin moved to the window from where he could just about make out the two large American merchantmen down on the dockside. They had contacted him earlier; it was clear even to them that the 'normal' round of explosions and shootings had escalated to something far worse. He had had little news to tell them, only that it appeared that somebody had assassinated the Tsar. They would have to be told if major units of the Baltic Fleet were to take up positions on the Neva.
"Signal the SS Columbia, for Captain Burrows", he commanded, "Inform him that the Rossiya and escort are going to come up the river. Advise him to have all of his men aboard ship."
"Yes sir."

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

Anatoli Kopelkin knelt on the floor of the tavern with several other colleagues and friends. They had been eating breakfast after a long and arduous nightshift at the Admiralty when the world had gone to pieces. Huge plumes of smoke stood witness to the fires raging across the richer districts of the city. Whole buildings appeared to have vanished from the skyline. Police and city garrison troops were now reportedly pinned down under heavy fire at those locations. Hardly anyone had been seen heading towards the Palace of Government.
"A typical diversion", Anatoli said for the fifth or sixth time, "They drew everybody out then they hit their real target."
"Maybe", Ruslan Kirpichnikov was a naval man, bearing the rank of commander for all that he had not set foot aboard a ship since his teenage days. He was a communications specialist, and had spent the night discussing matters of detail with his counterpart aboard the armoured cruiser Dmitri Donskoi, anchored at Reykjavik. Today was supposed to be exciting because of the International Conference due to start there, not because the world would end in Saint Petersburg.
"What do you mean by maybe ?", Anatoli snapped.
Crazy unaimed gunfire seemed to be spraying the outskirts of the harbour area for no particular reason. Every now and then a burst would come through the windows, shatter more glass, fell another fool who had got up off the floor too soon.
"I mean to ask who", Ruslan growled, "You say 'they' - who are 'they' ?"
"All of the intelligence services and the Interior Ministry have been trying to establish that for the past two weeks", Anatoli commented, "We know the constituent parts, at least those that we can see, but we do not know the driving force behind them."
"I expect we will know soon enough"
The speaker this time was Pavel Grigoriev, the owner of the tavern. Nobody could say that he was wrong, even if after years of drinking in his establishment they had learnt never to question him anyway. This time, though, the difference was that they believed him.

* * * * *

The Rossiya was being nudged gently into position alongside the docks, her captain overseeing the final stages of the operation from the deck, whilst the Fleet Admiral remained on the bridge.
A small black automobile shot across the concrete expanse, drawing fire from somewhere - they could not make out where, and it seemed to change every time. It screeched to a halt before the gigantic behemoth, divulging Admiral Kanenin and several nervous-looking Marines.
"We need to get something in the air", Kanenin called up at the Prince.
"I've ordered the Aurora to come up", Prince Mishkin told him, "She caries two floatplanes, we should be able to get a view of what is happening around the palace."
"There must be troops fighting against whatever is happening", Kanenin sounded more hopeful than certain.
"It would be best not to bombard them", Prince Mishkin agreed.
They nodded, saluted each other, then went their separate ways, the little black automobile screaming along the dockside towards the American ships this time.

* * * * *

Vadim Pastukhov looked up and down the road, and felt a sinking feeling in his heart. It was all chaos. To one side it seemed as if all the religious nutters in Russia were gathered, whipping themselves with chains and bleeding all over the road. To the other side a labour march, complete with union banners and a small band of drummers stood in total confusion. People streamed through them shouting Alexandrine slogans. Others stood with firearms, vintage or even service issued. They all seemed to be waiting on something.
"We cannot just run across", Vadim told the others, "Somebody will see, and somebody will recognise the Tsesarevitch...er His Majesty."
Andrei looked around and grimaced in turn. It was surely true. With nothing else to do, the crowds were looking around, watching, they would notice.
"Then we wait", he said, "They are waiting for something, so maybe it will provide us with our opportunity."
He looked to Ana for confirmation and got her nod. She was not about to play the hero in this.

Grey Wolf

[Grey Wolf]

"Sir", Colonel Sharpe's salute was military precision correct, for all that he was effectively saluting a civilian, "We have a small group of them cornered in the late Regent's study, and another group holding out in the far wing."
Dmitri Breshkovsky nodded with a smile on his face,
"Kill them all", he said.
"Yes sir !", Colonel Sharpe boomed enthusiastically and hurried off to finish the job.
Dmitri moved through the hall, and looked down at the blackened and blasted bodies. He saw the British leader, Paxton, bending over a corpse and strode to stand beside him.
"It is amusing", Sir Maurice commented, "The head of the Prime Minister and the body of the Tsar, broken and mingled in death."
"Yes", Breshkovsky kicked the burnt and severed head of Prince Georgi across the room, "It is amusing. How are things with your allies ?"
Sir Maurice Paxton drew himself back up to full height,
"They have performed well. The Mixed Brigade has the dockside under fire, and through your auspices the Jihadi are keeping the police well and trully occupied at the Sophiaevna Palace."
"Good", Breshkovsky had not doubted that it was otherwise, "As soon as the last pockets of resistance are quashed, we will begin Phase Two."
"We will be ready."
"I know", it was the closest that the Okhrana man would get to saying that he was pleased.

* * * * *

Princess Margarita Mikhailovich looked at her brother with concern. Simeon seemed deflated. His excitement over his new suit had evaporated and a kind of lethargy sunk in once he had realised he was not going to be going anywhere anytime soon. She was beginning to be convinced that he was not sane - not merely whatever that doctor had said, but tipped over the edge. Still, as Dmitri said, he could play the part any way that he did not end up dead.
The room was full; supporters, friends, hangers-on and the odd latecomer to the cause, people whom were marked out for a quick death unless they came through on the excessive promises that had been exorted from them.
"Cousin, the time is near", Princess Andrea Kirilaevna raised her glass of wine.
Margarita smiled and raised hers back
"To the Resumption of our Destiny", she said.
"That is a toast I can drink to", replied the daughter of the late Foreign Minister.

* * * * *

Gennadi Matviyenko lay on his belly and watched. The man whom the Deputy Director had chosen as his liaison to the Muslims, he was now watching their handiwork.
The bombs that had gone off that morning had drawn vast numbers of police and city garrison troops to the blasts. The Jihadi Militia was pouring fire down onto them, in a proportion massively greater than their size.
He looked across at one particuarly pleasing spectacle, the burning palace of Grand Duchess Sophie Konstantinaevna. The entire facade had collapsed, and initial reports were that the Grand Duchess and at least two of her sons were dead.
Strike more names from the roll of the Konstantine dynasty. It was just a pity that they could not get them all.

* * * * *

Captain Andrew Turner cautiously kicked at the blasted timbers of the door, and entered the burnt out interior of the study.
"Careful", he advised his men.
They moved in, spanning out.
"This one", a soldier called across to him
Turner moved across towards what looked like they had once been armchairs, over by the smashed-up hearth. A body lay on the floor, bandaged and blackened, riddled with bullets.
"The Foreign Minister", Turner recognised him from the photographs they had studied before the operation.
"Prince Vyazemsky ?", the soldier asked.
"Yes", Turner laughed, "You've killed what passes for a prince in Russia.
"Yeah", the soldier looked down at the body, "That ain't that much."

Grey Wolf

[Cockroach]

Pacific Dominions Embassy, St Peterburg, 28th of September
The news was grim indeed, rumors were spreading that the Tsar and most of the government had been killed and that some variety of coup was underway. Air Commadore Michael Hall was prepearing for the worst, the 70 occupants of the embassy were all armed and ready, both the 30 cavalry troopers of the Australian Horse (assiagned as embassy guards) and the 40 civilians, indeed the cavalry detatchment's two old Lewis machine guns were already covering the entrance. Air Commadore Michael Hall was ready himself: a .303 Carbine slung over his shoulder; his old revolver in hand and a sabre hanging from his belt...
If anything would happen it would happen soon....

[Grey Wolf]

I'm going to jump ahead to November 1st, don't think it is going to upset anyone in particular. Just aware of how far behind everyone else I am, and I don't really want to be writing October under pressure. So, I'll jump ahead a month and post it in a new thread

Grey Wolf

[DuQuense]

Japanese & Nordic Embassy St Petersburg

Mamore Shigemitsu. Head of Imperial Japanese in St. Petersburg, looked around the Grounds with his Republican counterpart. Peter Li Chan, and their Nordic Host. While in St Petersburg the Nordic Prince had Purchased this former Palace, right next to the Japanese Embassy. Plans were underway to combine the three embassies in St Petersburg into one. Unlike the Japanese, this one sat on the Waterfront, It had a large pier, probally for the former owners Yacht. That had been left in Constantinople along with the owners. Now a Nordic Frigite sat at the Dock, with Nordic Marines offloading. There was a Gate between the two properties, and the two Delagations were coordinating their reponse to the Civil war.

It was obovious that they would not be able to stay with the ongoing shelling, Peter Li Chan left to make another call to the only other Foriegn delagation, left. The Australians were a half Mile up the road, & the Nordics were offering to help them evacuate if wanted.

[Grey Wolf]

http://www.alternatehistory.net/discussion/showthread.php?p=80746

Just in case you get to November 1939, this is where it is now.

Grey Wolf