'A Throne of Bayonets' (Russia, 18th August 1991 TL)
- Thread starter Damascius
- Start date
von kressenstein
Banned
chilling to say the least... I would imagine that it will be national priority to take back the former lands no matter the cost...
Another lost generation for the Soviet Union....
Another lost generation for the Soviet Union....
Has the USSR been replaced by some other country in the UNSC? Without Russia it becomes a rather Western-dominated organ even if China is there.
IOTL about million people migrated to Israel from the post-Soviet States. I would assume that the lack of this large immigration wave (or it being smaller) has also had its own effect on Israel.
Aliyah proceeds until February 1991 as per OTL at which point there is an halt on any civilian flights at all until the Civil War burns out. Makashov is in fact happy to pay for flights for verifiable Jews to Israel, though large numbers have simply fled to the Causasian and Siberian territories. However, there was a number of prominent Jewish citizens who were arrested and disappeared...Makashov is a fan of brinksmanship, and so the release of Jewish exit visa's is one of his favoured methods of extracting some aid from Israel.
IOTL about million people migrated to Israel from the post-Soviet States. I would assume that the lack of this large immigration wave (or it being smaller) has also had its own effect on Israel.
Maybe a resolution that appoints the (Siberian) Russian Republic as the rightful heirs to the Soviet Union?
Or even a vacant seat? (With everyone but the short lived Russian government in exile being labeled as illegitimate)
Smaller Russian presence, more integration, greater Hebrew spread amongst Russian Aliyah and smaller number of newspapers and television stations
---2100 Moscow Time 29.VIII.1994
'Our rivers are shallow and weak.
In our windows the day's still unseen.
Our morning looks like night.
And the night is for me.'
Svetlana Yevgenievna Savitskaya had managed to get some batteries from the back of the truck before the technicians at the garage had stolen them, along with whisking away dear Father Lenin. They took him through a curtain of hanging, thick polythene and into the mortuary at the facility hospital. After getting a clipboard of signed papers and being told that Borodin would debrief her in the next couple of hours, they had drifted out into the street. The emptiness of the place belied the activity going on in each concrete building, but there was no movement except for sentries who lurked in doorways smoking cigarettes and the occasional trolleybus that came through the streets, clanging as it lurched through the ever present potholes that peppered any stretch of asphalt in the Soviet Union and discharged a few passengers who rushed into their workplaces. Limply, a few Soviet flags fluttered in the breeze above the squat, looming architecture that spoke more of industrial efficiency than Stalin-Gothic. Savitskaya was used to the efficiency, and eeriness of the secret cities like Vladimir-8, having lived in the secured Zvezdagrad near Baikonur for several years but it obviously unsettled Lugovoi and she began to wonder how long he'd been hiding in the Metro to avoid confronting the devastation above.
'Looking at watery mirrors of pools,
At the flag which has been kissed to holes
For half a century the clock has been stopped.
I'll give my kingdom away for a horse.'
That had been several hours ago, and she'd taken him to a canteen for a meal at least that was depressingly familiar. After picking through the stringy boiled cabbage and managing to trade on her name for a couple of meat dumplings that she wasn't sure contained meat, they had trekked up to Borodin's office, only to be told he was extremely busy and that they would have to wait. Savitskaya tried to intimidate the secretary, but she was unflappable. So they waited, camping in the foyer and Svetlana hassling the woman behind the desk periodically whilst Lugovoi seemed more interested in looking at the map on the wall, that didn't reflect political reality at all, and staring at the framed portraits of Marx, Lenin, Che Guevara and Albert Makashov that were on the walls of the room. He would perambulate slowly from one to the next, staring at each of them and then at the secretary in a mildly unnerving fashion, though Svetlana was certain it was unintended, unlike her momentary murmurs of incredulity. Finally they gained access to the inner sanctum.
'Go on...
Sadly my song continues to play...
Go on...
Go on...'
Borodin was no idiot, he at least had the sense or wherewithal to have another entrance into his office and whoever had been ever so busy in there with him had slipped out of it sight unseen before they could be admitted to speak with such an important man. Behind the desk sat a lean looking man of perhaps forty years, his hair cropped short like a conscript, despite a uniform that said KGB Major, six telephones on his desk and the office of the facility controller for Vladimir-8. He looked over his desk at them before standing with a smile and gesturing that they take seats. Borodin leant back in his seat once they had sat, peered superciliously at Savitskaya but couldn't help staring at Lugovoi.
'When we try to command our years,
We keep losing our days in the fight.
And once we managed to make a fire,
The rain came and put out its light'
The lone survivor of the Kremlin Regiment, who had performed such a duty to the Soviet Motherland was to be a hero. He was to meet Makashov at Vladimir immediately. Savitskaya was too going to receive another medal to the chest full of useless metal she owned, and a financial reward, but Lugovoi was going to be promoted as a simple of dogged determination, steadfast belief in the Soviet principle. Svetlana tuned out a little of it, since it was old hat, but Andrei Konstantinovich responded to it, as the three years of terrible penance in the necropolis that Vladimir-8 hung on the edge of seemed to pay off. There was no real debrief, no telling him that the Soviet government worked it's people to death, that the city outside was full of whores and alcoholics who couldn't even leave and find somewhere less miserable to die than the mosquito-ridden outskirts of a nuclear cremated Moscow or that whilst Makashov spent endless amounts on rebuilding industrial capacity and arms, the dedovshchina practically ruled most lives, even after conscription ended. The USSR didn't even have a seat at the UNSC any more, as squabbles over legitimacy meant that the former Soviet space drifted in an void of international isolation.
'We are sitting near broken dreams.
We tell our future by the compass rose
Then when it's time for us to stand up,
We sit, and we wait.'
Savitskaya snapped out of her reverie, the Kino song that had been in her head all day was still silent and forever present on the magnetic tape in her pocket. Those things were worth their weight in gold, and things like Kino were even more valued than a simple blank, since the band had always been samizdat to a degree. Borodin was looking at her and she smiled a little.
"So, who is to debrief our new hero?"
"I figured you could be trusted to do that on the train, Major Savitskaya. We want to transfer you both to Vladimir for parades, and so on. Word has it that the Generalissimo is most pleased... and is going to use this opportunity to launch a new campaign."
Savitskaya tried to keep her eyebrows where they were. She managed, barely, a faint twitch that Borodin picked up on as he leered at her for a moment, enjoying the hint of surprise that she betrayed as he turned to Lugovoi.
"Comrade Lugovoi, whilst Major Savitskaya will provide you with your debrief on the train to Vladimir, I have to debrief her now. An apartment has been provided for your use at Building Number 28 on Seversky Prospekt. My secretary will make sure that the officials of the competent organs will speed you on your way."
'Our rivers are shallow and weak.
In our windows the day's still unseen.
Our morning looks like night.
And the night is for me.'
Svetlana Yevgenievna Savitskaya had managed to get some batteries from the back of the truck before the technicians at the garage had stolen them, along with whisking away dear Father Lenin. They took him through a curtain of hanging, thick polythene and into the mortuary at the facility hospital. After getting a clipboard of signed papers and being told that Borodin would debrief her in the next couple of hours, they had drifted out into the street. The emptiness of the place belied the activity going on in each concrete building, but there was no movement except for sentries who lurked in doorways smoking cigarettes and the occasional trolleybus that came through the streets, clanging as it lurched through the ever present potholes that peppered any stretch of asphalt in the Soviet Union and discharged a few passengers who rushed into their workplaces. Limply, a few Soviet flags fluttered in the breeze above the squat, looming architecture that spoke more of industrial efficiency than Stalin-Gothic. Savitskaya was used to the efficiency, and eeriness of the secret cities like Vladimir-8, having lived in the secured Zvezdagrad near Baikonur for several years but it obviously unsettled Lugovoi and she began to wonder how long he'd been hiding in the Metro to avoid confronting the devastation above.
'Looking at watery mirrors of pools,
At the flag which has been kissed to holes
For half a century the clock has been stopped.
I'll give my kingdom away for a horse.'
That had been several hours ago, and she'd taken him to a canteen for a meal at least that was depressingly familiar. After picking through the stringy boiled cabbage and managing to trade on her name for a couple of meat dumplings that she wasn't sure contained meat, they had trekked up to Borodin's office, only to be told he was extremely busy and that they would have to wait. Savitskaya tried to intimidate the secretary, but she was unflappable. So they waited, camping in the foyer and Svetlana hassling the woman behind the desk periodically whilst Lugovoi seemed more interested in looking at the map on the wall, that didn't reflect political reality at all, and staring at the framed portraits of Marx, Lenin, Che Guevara and Albert Makashov that were on the walls of the room. He would perambulate slowly from one to the next, staring at each of them and then at the secretary in a mildly unnerving fashion, though Svetlana was certain it was unintended, unlike her momentary murmurs of incredulity. Finally they gained access to the inner sanctum.
'Go on...
Sadly my song continues to play...
Go on...
Go on...'
Borodin was no idiot, he at least had the sense or wherewithal to have another entrance into his office and whoever had been ever so busy in there with him had slipped out of it sight unseen before they could be admitted to speak with such an important man. Behind the desk sat a lean looking man of perhaps forty years, his hair cropped short like a conscript, despite a uniform that said KGB Major, six telephones on his desk and the office of the facility controller for Vladimir-8. He looked over his desk at them before standing with a smile and gesturing that they take seats. Borodin leant back in his seat once they had sat, peered superciliously at Savitskaya but couldn't help staring at Lugovoi.
'When we try to command our years,
We keep losing our days in the fight.
And once we managed to make a fire,
The rain came and put out its light'
The lone survivor of the Kremlin Regiment, who had performed such a duty to the Soviet Motherland was to be a hero. He was to meet Makashov at Vladimir immediately. Savitskaya was too going to receive another medal to the chest full of useless metal she owned, and a financial reward, but Lugovoi was going to be promoted as a simple of dogged determination, steadfast belief in the Soviet principle. Svetlana tuned out a little of it, since it was old hat, but Andrei Konstantinovich responded to it, as the three years of terrible penance in the necropolis that Vladimir-8 hung on the edge of seemed to pay off. There was no real debrief, no telling him that the Soviet government worked it's people to death, that the city outside was full of whores and alcoholics who couldn't even leave and find somewhere less miserable to die than the mosquito-ridden outskirts of a nuclear cremated Moscow or that whilst Makashov spent endless amounts on rebuilding industrial capacity and arms, the dedovshchina practically ruled most lives, even after conscription ended. The USSR didn't even have a seat at the UNSC any more, as squabbles over legitimacy meant that the former Soviet space drifted in an void of international isolation.
'We are sitting near broken dreams.
We tell our future by the compass rose
Then when it's time for us to stand up,
We sit, and we wait.'
Savitskaya snapped out of her reverie, the Kino song that had been in her head all day was still silent and forever present on the magnetic tape in her pocket. Those things were worth their weight in gold, and things like Kino were even more valued than a simple blank, since the band had always been samizdat to a degree. Borodin was looking at her and she smiled a little.
"So, who is to debrief our new hero?"
"I figured you could be trusted to do that on the train, Major Savitskaya. We want to transfer you both to Vladimir for parades, and so on. Word has it that the Generalissimo is most pleased... and is going to use this opportunity to launch a new campaign."
Savitskaya tried to keep her eyebrows where they were. She managed, barely, a faint twitch that Borodin picked up on as he leered at her for a moment, enjoying the hint of surprise that she betrayed as he turned to Lugovoi.
"Comrade Lugovoi, whilst Major Savitskaya will provide you with your debrief on the train to Vladimir, I have to debrief her now. An apartment has been provided for your use at Building Number 28 on Seversky Prospekt. My secretary will make sure that the officials of the competent organs will speed you on your way."
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I have also heard a claim that Russia immigration meant the Israeli economy became less dependent on Palestinian workforce which slowed down the peace process. I don't know enough about the topic to comment that claim though.
Essentially they're the same as OTL - but a lot of them were in the Russian Far East, so Makashov is basically rebuilding the nuclear, chemical, biological weapons infrastructure, as well as other special facilities (like the glorified looter's base that is Vladimir-8 - the hub on the ring of wire that surrounds Moscow like a compass rose that supplies all the garrison troops etcetc). Arzamas-5 is a scientific development and research city.
There are still some even today in Russia - you can see some photos here
---0900 Moscow Time, 30.VIII.1994
It was forecast to be sunny in Grozny, which was nice enough, Dzhokar Musayevich Dudaev thought to himself as he stared across the burnt out city-scape. It had been agreed, given the threat posed by the USSR to the independent states of the Caucasus to meet in the one city where the Communist Party of the Soviet Union had teeth and the army behind it. The Grozny siege had seen the Russians burn and ruin the city and even three years later it still bore the scars. Ichkeria had it's growing pains too, though the alliance with Dagestan and the key oil refining capacity had helped. Everyone in the region wanted to be friends with Chechnya, despite the contention between them amongst one another, whether it was Ossetia with Georgia, Armenia and Azerbaijan or the internal politics of Dagestan, which looked set to disintegrate into more ethnic strife.
A tank rumbled by in the street. Despite best efforts to ensure that the city was prepared for the arrival of the dignitaries, a riot said to be incited by remnant Soviet infiltrators amongst the Russian minority had wrought wide-spread devastation that had made the city look as though it was still fighting through the terror year of 1991. Then Ichkeria had starved it's heart and eaten itself in the process, but still a significant core of hard liners managed to scrape livings supplimented by recidivism and Soviet handouts. The ruins and the gunfights that had raged through the city were going to scar it for years, unless billions of dinars were pumped into the city. The plan might just do that however.
The meeting that Dzokhar was preparing for was going to reshape the world's perception of the post-Soviet space, and show that co-operation was possible and that the Caucasus was not all about hating your neighbours. The sound of the helicopter landing on the roof indicated that his guests had arrived and he waited for them, turning and lighting a cigarette that he took a slow pull on before stroking a hand over his moustache as 'President' Colonel General Vladimir Magomedovich Semyonov of the Kuban-Circassian host and the largest post-Soviet state in the region walked in. An old friend, they shook hands with smiles before he was followed by the Ossetian President former KGB man, Leonid Tibiliov who nodded brusquely, possibly because he'd entered with the Georgian hardliner and demagogue, Zviad Gamsakhurdia hot on his heels, reminding him that he would not stand further probing in Tskhinvali. Bringing up the rear of the group was the freshly minted Dagestani president, the youthful and already tired looking Gadzhimurat Kamalov, whose anti-corruption reporting had propelled his tiny political party into winning him the Dagestani Presidential election several weeks prior. Of all the men in the room, Kamalov was potentially the most interesting, since none of them, Dzokhar included really knew Kamalov's mind on this.
"Apologies for the mess and the flight from the airport to the Presidential Palace. Our Russians decided they wished to demonstrate their dissatisfaction with the continuing state of affairs, since they like to commemorate the week of Moscow's destruction with vodka and chauvinism plus their best attempt to replicate the current architecture in that glowing hole here."
That got a round of sardonic chuckles and Dzhokar invited them all to sit on couches. Gamsakhurdia sat as far away from Tibiliov as he possibly could and then stared daggers at him as Dzhokar produced the draft document from a safe that was behind a carpet hung against the wall.
"Perhaps you have heard rumours of a plan for an alliance of 'Caucasian Integrated States', President Kamalov. Let me tell you that they are no rumours. As the leader of Dagestan I am sure that you will be quite willing to understand that we are willing to try the multi-ethnic experiment on a greater scale. Whilst Makashov sits in the Office of Generalissimo of the Soviet Union, we have to look to resolving our problems through words rather than violence, for if we bicker we will be devoured."
Kamalov cleared his throat as Semyonov took a glass of coffee and started dropping cubes of sugar into the black liquid.
"So, you are saying that we jump into a little Soviet Union?"
"More like a combination of NATO and the Western European Union. We will retain our independent states, political leaderships, but foster closer communication between our militaries and seek agreement on our mutual problems. We invited the Armenians and Azeri's but neither would come if the other did. They can always join later, though I am sure the Turks will be spitting teeth if they knew what we have planned. Kamalov... we're mostly agreed on this. But we'd want Dagestan in. Your nation is the most heterogenous amongst all of us, and that is an asset. We want you to be a model on how to balance everyone."
Kamalov nodded, as Semyonov took a sip of his coffee and Tibiliov shifted and spoke.
"The Ossetian government is even willing to cease supporting our countrymen, or arrange a population transfer if Georgia will give suitable recompense to emigrating Ossetians."
Gamsakhurdia's eyes lit up for a moment, as though he was unable to believe his ears.
"What about it being your homeland?"
"The structure of the planned community would allow sufficient oversight, in our opinion. We also think it'll mean you have to respect the rights of the Abkhaz but ultimately Zviad, you are set to win from this deal, if you are willing to accept it"
The Georgian leant back and then looked through the document once more as Dzhokar looked to Semyonov, who simply nodded to him. He had been nicknamed Smiling Semyonov due to broad propaganda campaigns, and limited freedoms within the Kuban-Circassian Host. The autonomous city of Stalingrad had given him the nickname though, and it had stuck. That was Shustko's little fief, and it kept Semyonov in balance from spending all his time on the Black Sea coast. Semyonov liked to pull the strings without speaking, and Dzhokar even heard that he had managed to net the world's most elusive man, Mikhail Gorbachev. That was all happenstance and rumour though.
"One of the main issues, is that given the fight that Grozny faced, and the devastation that you can see, even out of the window, three years down the line from Zero Day, is that we are in sore need of money for Renovations. With the assent of the Kuban-Circassian host, and the Republics of Ossetia and Ichkeria, we'd like Grozny to be the Federal Capital of the Caucasian Integrated States. The original plan called for it to be in Vladikavkaz, since its name is more than fitting, but it has been decided that the Federal Military will be based there. The only real question is for you Kamalov, and you Gamsakhurdia. We are inviting you to be co-founders of a real future for our peoples."
Dzhokar looked between the two men he'd just named. Gamsakhurdia spoke first, impetuous and desirous of the right to be seen to be confident, even as Semyonov smiled over his coffee at the other man's impulsiveness. The Georgian had given Tibiliov a brief look before speaking.
"Georgia will join this arrangement and I assent to Grozny as Federal Capital."
Dzhokar smiled a little, and looked to Kamalov patiently. Indeed, all eyes were on the Dagestani Avar now.
"Dagestan will... join. Though I want to organise a referendum. I think I can sell it to the people."
There were nods and smiles all round and Dzhokar lifted his cup of coffee and sipped from it. Perhaps Grozny would one day shine after all.
It was forecast to be sunny in Grozny, which was nice enough, Dzhokar Musayevich Dudaev thought to himself as he stared across the burnt out city-scape. It had been agreed, given the threat posed by the USSR to the independent states of the Caucasus to meet in the one city where the Communist Party of the Soviet Union had teeth and the army behind it. The Grozny siege had seen the Russians burn and ruin the city and even three years later it still bore the scars. Ichkeria had it's growing pains too, though the alliance with Dagestan and the key oil refining capacity had helped. Everyone in the region wanted to be friends with Chechnya, despite the contention between them amongst one another, whether it was Ossetia with Georgia, Armenia and Azerbaijan or the internal politics of Dagestan, which looked set to disintegrate into more ethnic strife.
The meeting that Dzokhar was preparing for was going to reshape the world's perception of the post-Soviet space, and show that co-operation was possible and that the Caucasus was not all about hating your neighbours. The sound of the helicopter landing on the roof indicated that his guests had arrived and he waited for them, turning and lighting a cigarette that he took a slow pull on before stroking a hand over his moustache as 'President' Colonel General Vladimir Magomedovich Semyonov of the Kuban-Circassian host and the largest post-Soviet state in the region walked in. An old friend, they shook hands with smiles before he was followed by the Ossetian President former KGB man, Leonid Tibiliov who nodded brusquely, possibly because he'd entered with the Georgian hardliner and demagogue, Zviad Gamsakhurdia hot on his heels, reminding him that he would not stand further probing in Tskhinvali. Bringing up the rear of the group was the freshly minted Dagestani president, the youthful and already tired looking Gadzhimurat Kamalov, whose anti-corruption reporting had propelled his tiny political party into winning him the Dagestani Presidential election several weeks prior. Of all the men in the room, Kamalov was potentially the most interesting, since none of them, Dzokhar included really knew Kamalov's mind on this.
"Apologies for the mess and the flight from the airport to the Presidential Palace. Our Russians decided they wished to demonstrate their dissatisfaction with the continuing state of affairs, since they like to commemorate the week of Moscow's destruction with vodka and chauvinism plus their best attempt to replicate the current architecture in that glowing hole here."
That got a round of sardonic chuckles and Dzhokar invited them all to sit on couches. Gamsakhurdia sat as far away from Tibiliov as he possibly could and then stared daggers at him as Dzhokar produced the draft document from a safe that was behind a carpet hung against the wall.
"Perhaps you have heard rumours of a plan for an alliance of 'Caucasian Integrated States', President Kamalov. Let me tell you that they are no rumours. As the leader of Dagestan I am sure that you will be quite willing to understand that we are willing to try the multi-ethnic experiment on a greater scale. Whilst Makashov sits in the Office of Generalissimo of the Soviet Union, we have to look to resolving our problems through words rather than violence, for if we bicker we will be devoured."
Kamalov cleared his throat as Semyonov took a glass of coffee and started dropping cubes of sugar into the black liquid.
"So, you are saying that we jump into a little Soviet Union?"
"More like a combination of NATO and the Western European Union. We will retain our independent states, political leaderships, but foster closer communication between our militaries and seek agreement on our mutual problems. We invited the Armenians and Azeri's but neither would come if the other did. They can always join later, though I am sure the Turks will be spitting teeth if they knew what we have planned. Kamalov... we're mostly agreed on this. But we'd want Dagestan in. Your nation is the most heterogenous amongst all of us, and that is an asset. We want you to be a model on how to balance everyone."
Kamalov nodded, as Semyonov took a sip of his coffee and Tibiliov shifted and spoke.
"The Ossetian government is even willing to cease supporting our countrymen, or arrange a population transfer if Georgia will give suitable recompense to emigrating Ossetians."
Gamsakhurdia's eyes lit up for a moment, as though he was unable to believe his ears.
"What about it being your homeland?"
"The structure of the planned community would allow sufficient oversight, in our opinion. We also think it'll mean you have to respect the rights of the Abkhaz but ultimately Zviad, you are set to win from this deal, if you are willing to accept it"
The Georgian leant back and then looked through the document once more as Dzhokar looked to Semyonov, who simply nodded to him. He had been nicknamed Smiling Semyonov due to broad propaganda campaigns, and limited freedoms within the Kuban-Circassian Host. The autonomous city of Stalingrad had given him the nickname though, and it had stuck. That was Shustko's little fief, and it kept Semyonov in balance from spending all his time on the Black Sea coast. Semyonov liked to pull the strings without speaking, and Dzhokar even heard that he had managed to net the world's most elusive man, Mikhail Gorbachev. That was all happenstance and rumour though.
"One of the main issues, is that given the fight that Grozny faced, and the devastation that you can see, even out of the window, three years down the line from Zero Day, is that we are in sore need of money for Renovations. With the assent of the Kuban-Circassian host, and the Republics of Ossetia and Ichkeria, we'd like Grozny to be the Federal Capital of the Caucasian Integrated States. The original plan called for it to be in Vladikavkaz, since its name is more than fitting, but it has been decided that the Federal Military will be based there. The only real question is for you Kamalov, and you Gamsakhurdia. We are inviting you to be co-founders of a real future for our peoples."
Dzhokar looked between the two men he'd just named. Gamsakhurdia spoke first, impetuous and desirous of the right to be seen to be confident, even as Semyonov smiled over his coffee at the other man's impulsiveness. The Georgian had given Tibiliov a brief look before speaking.
"Georgia will join this arrangement and I assent to Grozny as Federal Capital."
Dzhokar smiled a little, and looked to Kamalov patiently. Indeed, all eyes were on the Dagestani Avar now.
"Dagestan will... join. Though I want to organise a referendum. I think I can sell it to the people."
There were nods and smiles all round and Dzhokar lifted his cup of coffee and sipped from it. Perhaps Grozny would one day shine after all.
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Mikhail drank his water, then chewed on the crust of bread. He waited.
Mikhail drank his water, then chewed on the crust of bread. He waited.
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Gorbachev was with Shustko at the end of the part one, though only a few people knew that. Some time between Parts One and Two Semyonov went and took over the show as since he is a Circassian, a Muslim and generally not so great a fit with the Orthodox republic. He wouldn't just vanish however, he wanted a piece of Shustko's pie and he was willing to share with his old boss. Semyonov has imprisoned Gorbachev, since Gorbachev was unwilling to play ball politically and Semyonov didn't want to let him loose... he might prove useful yet. (Gorbachev has something of a King Arthur aura about him, since he apparently has vanished into thin air.)
Could still turn out much better than OTL which was a RL dystopian Russia-screw,
At least the OTL epic disasters ushered in by Yeltsin and his equivalents in the non-Russian SSR's. Has been butterflied by ole Boris getting a well -deserved bullet to the head.
Read a couple more pages and I take it back, except the Yeltsin getting what he deserved bit. Because frankly his misrule was realistically among the worst things that could've happened to Russia.
Recreateing the cluster-f**k that was the Russian Civil War in the 1990's is a little ASB but intresting to read. It's almost as bad as China under ''The Lesser Mao'' in another TL.
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