Joined: 25 Jul 2007
Location: Hampshire, England. Creating RA2: Moscow's vengeance
|Posted: Thu May 01, 2008 6:09 pm Post subject:
Just a little something
Subject description: Thought I'd post this for the hell of it.
|This is the story to my mod (well, a part of it) told in the style of a novel, it's a little on long side though. I'm not censoring it, there's relatively little bad language but it's necessary to convey character's emotions. There is a little Russian, it might be bad but I know about as much russian as I know Swahili.
Feel free to suggest amendments/continuations.
(Kremlin part may become Russian campaign Mission 1 if this ever gets a campaign)
Notes: Trotsky gets exiled a few years earlier (It could happen! Maybe Stalin got fed up with him early or the whole purges were earlier because of the situation, who knows?)
Trotsky has a son (it could also happen!)
The Kremlin is what the SAS have nicknamed their headquarters in hereford, it is not to be confused with the real kremlin, the SAS headquarters are also said to be SAS headquarters to avoid confusion.
RSFR=Russian Soviet Federal Republic, basically the Russian segment of the USSR
Moscow RSFR, November 17, 1954:
The city and the whole USSR lies in ruins, Stalin's body is still warm beneath the rubble, allied Tanks stalk the streets and the last few Soviet hard-liners are flushed out of buildings, some by European troops, others by their former allies and countrymen. Three men, however, escape, before The last airbase on the outskirts of the city falls, artiilery shells dropping short of the runway by mere metres a, TU16 Badger struggles to acheive takeoff velocity, heavily laden with a cargo only two of the men on board knowing their value to the forces streaming across the moscova river. Their destination, Mexico.
MI6 Headquarters London, England September 1956:
Less than two years, that was how long it took for the Russians to fall apart. At least it looked so from Leftenant Samuel Barker of Military Intelligence six. As far as they knew the Neutral "puppet" government set up by the USA, the only 'neutral' power willing to do so was already so corrupt the mafia were practically left to rule the streets, they were planning to sell the Kremlin! The russian army, although allowed to exist and have some modern weapons may as well not do, their pay was abysmal, as was their maintainance of such modern weapons as they had. All the remaining Mammoth Tanks, much feared during the war were either in museums, in Allied research establishments or at the bottom of the Barents sea. This, he though was too much to take, he called to his secretary.
"Linda! Couldn't get us a cup of tea could you luv?"
Eight years later, Mexico city July 1962:
Two men are sat at a table outside a bar, traffic rushes past in every form, oblivious to what is happening. Their dress and speech do not distinguish them from the locals, their tanned skins, though a shade paler than the norm are still indistinguishing from the locals. Only a small pin, barely visible on their pale cloured clothes donotes them as any different from the masses that surround them. One was younger and looked distictly more at home in the sprawling metropolis, as if he had been born there but knew of another place and longed inwardly to be there.
"How long will it be?"
"Will what be?"
"You know what I mean!"
"Unless you mean your tequila I am afraid you will be bitterly disappointed, comrade"
"How many times have I told you not to call me that in public? And what do you mean it will never be ready?"
"I've checked it and double checked it, the only way it could be done is if Einstein himself hepls us, he is the only man alive with enough knowledge of this, this... device"
"So we cannot do it?"
"No, Einstein knows what we would intend to do with this and would take his secret to his grave with him"
"It is typical of that old Jew to do something like this! Not only will he not allow us to win the war but he will not allow history to take it's old course either! Think of it, in thirty years we could buy half of moscow and no stupid party official would stop us because there would be no party!"
"Go on, in english"
"There is another path we could take, admittedly it would require more work and a little plotting but we could Acheive the dream that caused my father to be Exiled and levelled our home..."
"What do you suggest?"
"I suggest that we go home, comrade"
"Da, Rodina... Wait! how can we go home? There are puppets in the Government, the Mafia rule the street and the party is underground! And if we are so much as seen by European agents we will be locked away until we are both so old we can no longer walk!"
"Let me outline my plan, I have been working on it since before my father died, although comrade Iosif tried to shorten his life he did a rather poor job and I was able to learn much from him before he passed away. It will take several years to implement, but we are not too old. We will live to see it bear fruit..."
Minsk RSFR, November 1966:
Once again two men are together, however they are not the same as the ones in Mexico, they are still there and will remain so for some time yet. They are standing at a dockyard, a dilapidated and obviously very old sumbarine is moored behind them. The two men wear heavy Fur coats to shield them from the Harsh wind and their weather-beaten faces betray their past as men of the sea, their caps still showing The embelem of the Russian Navy...
"I miss the old days..."
"Me too Nikolai, me too..."
"When we were paid with what we needed and were expected to repay it with loyal service..."
"Da, and we had command of one of Comrade Iosif's Schukas"
"Da, our old boat. You remember that time we almost sank that cruiser?"
"Yes, and then it started to spray the water randomly with shells from every gun it had!"
"You ordered a 30 degree dive and full speed to starboard! You always were a crazy chyort!"
"Hey, it saved us didn't it?"
"Yes, but we came up right under a gunboat!"
"Da, the old days were good Nikolai"
A third man appears, wearing the Cap and insignia of a Polknovic, he moves towards the two men.
"Kakovo khuya sidite!?"
"What did you just say!?"
"You heard me Nikolai, Shift your arse! You to Georgi!"
The two men move away sullenly and begin to perform the task alloted to them, using a hammer and chisel to break limpets of the sub's hull, a job far too strenuous for men of their ages, nearing their early forties they should have been promoted far beyond this place years ago, were it not for the fact that they had served in the Soviet navy during the war, something that did not stand you in good stead in the 'new' Russia. Like many they yearned for the old days, at least then you knew who was your friend and who wasn't.
The Kremlin, Moscow 7th November 1967:
The people were talking, the streets had not been alive with this much untamed energy since the events of fifty years ago. Anger was boiling over and the men from Mexico were in the city to channel it. The people were tired, of the corruption, the drugs, the Mafia and all that had happened to their country since the war. And they were going to change it.
The one known as Sergei spoke first.
"Do you know what day it is today, Comrade?"
"Da, it is the seventh of november"
"We have been in mexico too long, you've forgotten the history of the Rodina!"
"What do you mean?"
"You are missing the point, what if I were to tell you fifty years ago to the day Rodina was born?"
"I'd say you were loosing it"
"Remember, they had a different calendar back then..."
"So today would have been?"
"The twenty fith of october"
"Red october! So that is why you chose today! Sergei you really do have a flair for the dramatic"
"It is only appropriate"
"Khorosho! At least one of us remembers these things"
"Have you contacted the curator?"
"And he says?"
"He says his son is ready and he wants him back intact"
"Fine, and everything is... working?"
"Da, but can we bring him back?"
"You obviously don't remember his son... Now here is my plan"
The Kremlin is still the centre of Russia, however, it is no longer in the hands of the Party, or the government. It is the heart of organised crime in the Motherland, and it is here the mafia bosses meet. Here also, is where the first strike is to be made and the First blood to be lost. The Kremlin compound was well guarded, there were at least a hundred guards and even a pair of tanks. However this disguised it's actual weakness. The two tanks were decrepit pre-GWWII models and the guards were over-paid, over-fed, over-confident and under-trained. They would not hold out long.
Especially not with what they were going to be faced with. It started with a rumbling, a low distant growling thunder that to many would have said was a large train, or the Engines of a small ship such as a destroyer. In fact it was neither, however, it did have the Power of the latter. It rumbled along the street, halting in front of the kremlin gates, rotating through 90 degrees from the road to face directly through them, and it began to roll forwards. With a roaring and the grinding sound of metal tracks digging through reinforced gates the Soviet Union was reborn, with a little aid from one of it's most famous sons.
A Mammoth Tank.
The people rushed in behind them, not the unruly mob of this day all those years ago but the sons of the Soldiers of The Motherland and those few younger ones still able to keep up, they had rifles and even a few rockets. Not that they would need them, the guards had been dumbstruck by the appearance of a museum piece through the man entrance, most of them flung down their weapons and placed their hands on ther heads. Except for a few in one of the towers, sniping at the men below. They were going to get a very nasty surprise. The mammoth's turret turned, none the faster for fifteen years in a museum, the barrels were raised, and then an almighty sound, like a hammer blow to the whole of moscow; and the tower disappeared in a ball of flame. This was the plan of Sergei Trotsky, new Premier of the Russian Socialist Federal Republic and son to Leonard Trotsky, one of the founders of the USSR.
MI6 Headquarters London, England about an hour later:
"Bloody hell" thought Samuel Barker as he rushed to his desk, having been awoken from his sleep just half an hour before. In his hand he held a thin file documenting all that was currently known about the events, "bloody hell" he thought again. "A coup d'etat in Russia on Red october, who would have thought it? Exactly Half a century after it's birth the Soviet union returns." He glanced at the File once Again, it was alarmingly short...
SECURITY CLEARANCE RED ONE OR HIGHER NEEDED
Sergei Leonov Trotsky
Born: 1935 Mexico City
Last known location: Moscow, RSFR
Parents: Leonard Trotsky, Anna Vilnius
Known Affiliates: none
Sergei Leonov Trotsky is the son of Leonard Trotsky, one of the founders of the USSR and Anna Vilnius, another Soviet citizen exiled in Stalin's purges in the 30's. He has a reputation as being an excellent chess player and possesed of a keen intellect. He is rumored to be in possesion of missing research material relating to Einstein's time machine stolen during the war, however only Einstein himself knows some of the most vital parts of the design and therefore the likelyhood of him or his affiliates reverse-engineering such a device may be considered minimal.
Although born in mexico it appears he speaks fluent Russian and sees Russia as 'home', he is a devout communist of the same school of thought as his father, believing in what may now be termed marxism-Trotskyism. A communist system with less bueracracy than any that have existed so far.
He should be considered dangerous politically but is currently not dangerous enough to warrant a covert extraction or assasination attempt.
Forget the last Paragraph, Sergei Trotsky is extremely dangerous and currently believed to be the leader of the uprising in Russia which has already seized moscow and appears to be spreading throughout the country, however where he is now we can't touch him without levelling moscow again.
Once again "Bloody hell" thoght Leftenant Barker. "I'm going to need more than a cup of tea to get over this one, shame I don't get off duty now until 0740 hours. I have this horrible feeling this problem is going to get much worse before it gets better..."
He reached his office, still leafing through the files on every possible related figure, absent mindedly sat down at his desk and called to his secretary, who had also been called in on the news reaching MI6.
"Linda? Phone Sergeant Appleton and tell him I want a full breif for the whole department in half an hour!"
"Yes sir, may I have clearance to use a direct connection?"
"Of course, and tell him to meet me down at the Old Vic when we go off duty!"
Two days later, The Kremlin, Moscow RSFR:
Sergei is behind a desk, it appears that the Kremlin has not yet been completely cleaned out, a red flag with a hammer and sickle stands in the corner; conviniently covering a small line of bullet holes. He is with the other man from mexico, now dressed in the uniform of Commander in Cheif of the Red Army. He speaks first.
"Comrade Premier, head of the Party, Sergei Trotsky. The Rodina awaits your call"
"Don't call me that Ivanovich Alexeyev! You know I don't like all those titles, if you have to call me anything except Sergei, which has served us well all these years, call me 'Comrade Premier' if you must"
"Da, comrade Premier, the whole nation is holding it's breath for you. I know what you plan to say Sergei, and I am willing to aid you in your aims, but the people must hear your voice; not mine"
"Konechno Comrade, I just hope they still believe in the party"
"They do Comrade, just make sure the party believes a little bit more in them than it did under Stalin"
"That is my intention, but first we must re-establish the Union. Gather what loyal, communist troops you can and send detatchments to the major cities."
"Da, but what do you mean what loyal troops? Most of the army is in our favour, all the airforce is ours and every detatchment of the Navy except some of the new surface forces is flying the red flag! We have already won, people are celebrating in the streets! The puppet government has fled and what Mafia bosses that are left have been arrested!"
"I kid you not Comrade Premier!"
Ivanovich moves towards Sergei and gives him a hug in typical russian style accompanied with a large pat on the back.
"Where too Sergei?"
"The radio station, to make my address to the nation, and for you to assume command of the Red army after your unfortunate exile alongside my father!"
The 'Kremlin' (SAS headquarters) Hereford, England, 9th november 1967:
An SAS Sergeant is cleaning his assault rifle when another Sergeant runs up to him with a look of amazement and excitement on his face.
"Hey! Fred! You're not gonna believe this one mate!"
"What now Pete?"
"There's been a revolution in Russia, the Reds are back!"
"Ha, bloody, ha"
"Really, listen to this"
A radio is turned on and tuned to the BBC, a reporter's voice, in clear slightly posh english fills the room, he speaks without a trace of emotion
"This is a BBC world service announcement and the time is seven minutes past nine. There has been a military takeover in the Russian Republic, a Soviet regime has been installed and it's leader declared as Sergei Trotsky, son of Leonard Trotsky. The republic claims that it's right to exist comes from majority support that has been denied by the puppet republic and repressed by international organised crime syndacates based in russia. As yet no statement has been made by any Allied country, however uprisings have also occured in many ex eastern bloc countries and some of these have expressed their desire to form a new Soviet union."
The Sergeant who only moments before was using the ramrod to clean the barrel of his rifle stops mid-action and exclaims.
"I know, it was bad enough last time round"
"How would you know? You weren't there!"
"Neither were you!"
"None of us were! All the guys who fought first time round have retired!"
"Except the CO"
"yeah, but that old bastard was around in the stone age! Even if he was only a kid"
Yes, work on MV continues. It is not forgotten.