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TC Pilot

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*The sequel to Chronological Influences: A Soviet AAR *

Difficulty and AI Agressiveness: Regular
Version: VIP 0.4 with VIP 0.3 countries and personalized economy rates

Welcome, once more, to another of my After Action Reports. This is the third and final chapter in my series of AARs chronicling the tales of Alexei Stukov in his quest to dominate the world. At the end of the last story, Stukov, his wife and son, and four of his Imperial Guardsmen escaped into the past using a time machine as the Kremlin was being overrun by a military coup.

Remember, lots of posts mean lots of updates :)

Enjoy, and feel free to comment, criticize, or congratulate as you best see fit.

----------------------------------------------------

January 1st, 1836

A cold wind blew silently across the frozen landscape, causing clouds of snow flakes to scatter up into the air. The world was blanketed in white. A fresh snow had fallen during the night as the new year rolled into being. It seemed fitting that the very infancy of the year was met with a fresh, pure layer of snow. Smoke curled lazily up from the farmhouse chimnies scattered sporadically over the rural scene. No one was out in the cold. There was little for these simple farmers to do other than rest and stay warm at this time of day at this time of year.

Not far off from the worn dirt road that snaked through the farmland, a ghostly azure light glowed amidst a small grove of pine trees. The blue light danced against the whiteness of the snow and the blackness of the night. And as suddenly and as silently as the azure light came into being, it flickered out again, vanishing into oblivion forever.

Several minutes later, six figures appeared out from amongst the trees. Four of them wore blood red armor, clashing brilliantly with the snow, each one examing their surroundings, holding weapons this land had never known before. Another of them was a woman, craddling protectively against her chest a tiny child wrapped securely in a bundle of blankets. The final man, dressed in clothing befitting an emperor, gazed over the landscape with eyes that burned brightly with an internal resolve of a great leader.

"This isn't the Soviet Union," the man stated.

The woman smiled and looked up from the child. "So much the better. But if not in Russia, then where?"

The man glanced at the four armored men and shrugged, "Hard to say where this is, or even when."

"You don't even know when we are?" the woman asked in exasperation.

He shook his head, "We were lucky to get out before Konev's men cut the power to the Kremlin. I was rushed."

The woman sighed softly before turning her attention back onto the baby, "Well, it doesn't matter right now. We need to get some shelter before we freeze to death."

The man nodded and slowly slogged his way through the snow towards the road, marked by wheel tracks in the snow. "Hasn't living in Russia prepared you for cold?"

She followed, the armored Guards hovering protectively with them. "By we, I mean Feodor," she looked at the baby again, "I would have gotten something more, but I was rushed."

The group made their way down the road, following the closest column of smoke floating up into the sky. After several minutes, they arrived at a modest farm house.

"This will do," the man remarked to no one in particular.

"Shall we eliminate the building's occupants for you?" asked one of the red-armored men.

The man's expression, a seemingly constant frown, curled up into a smile. "No, that won't be neccesary for now."

As the group walked closer towards the house, the man spotted a flag fluttering in the weak breeze. He turned towards the others, his smile only growing larger. "Lady and gentlemen, we've finally gotten ourselves a bit of luck. Welcome to the United States of America."

He knocked on the door. Under his breath, he muttered to himself. "This will be easy."
 
hasskugel: Thanks :)

Mettermrck: I don't think they can be nearly as diabolical as they were back in 1936, but who knows :rolleyes:

weychun: Thanks!

Remember all, lots of replies means lots of updates.

-------------------------------------------

January 2nd, 1836

Sitting at the breakfast table of the newly acquired farm house, former Emperor of the Soviet Empire Alexei Stukov took stock of things. Overall, things were not good for the group. As far as he could tell from the information he had extracted from the previous occupants of the farm, they were somewhere in central Maryland in the second day of the year 1836.

Combined, the four Royal Guardsmen had enough ammunition, training, and armor to destroy an entire division of troops with their AK-45s, grenades, ceremonial swords and daggers, and state of the art (circa 1947) body armor, silencers, night vision, infared scopes, and the fanatical devotion to give their lives for the protection of their leaders. He, meanwhile, had a special revolver that had belonged to Joseph Stalin and a German Luger that had been owned by Otto Skorzeny. Azuren, he assumed, had her daggers, which he had learned she was fully capable of using.

Stukov was pulled out of his thoughts at the sound of a loud clattering. Stukov glanced off towards the side, where a Guardsmen had dropped a piece of his AK-45 while cleaning it ritualistically.

"Sorry, your highness," the man said sheepishly.

Stukov smiled. "That's alright. Just be careful, because you won't find replacement parts for that thing for another century."

He turned towards Azuren, who was looking fairly gloomily at their temporary residence. "What is it?" he asked.

Azuren frowned, looking up at him. "We're trapped here, you realize. There's no way we can get back to our time. We've lost everything, our power, our wealth, our empire."

Stukov nodded in agreement. "Yes, I realize that all too well, my love."

"Is this how we're going to spend the rest of our lives?" she gestured around, "Living as...farmers until we get some archaic disease and die at a ripe old age of 60?"

Stukov sighed and leaned in over the table towards her. "Of course not, my dear. First off, we're more than capable of handling any diseases of this time period. Soviet medical technology saw to that, and second of all, we're going to go straight to the top in this country."

Azuren furrowed her brow, looking at him curiously. "But how? This is a democracy. We can't just march in and kill the...president, right?"

Stukov nodded, "Yes, my dear, president."

"...march in and kill the president!"

Stukov smiled, leaning back now and stretching. "I'm afraid the time for such a direct approach is indeed behind us now. A group of seven obviously foreign people weilding strange weapons and dressed like red demons and royalty would draw undue suspicion and attention."

He sipped from a glass on the table, shaking his head in disapproval. "Terrible stuff. Anyway, while we most likely cannot hope to take over the United States to rule it as our own, we can rule it, just without anyone knowing."

Azuren smiled slightly, her frown dissapearing. "I like where you're going with this, Alexei."

"Manipulating a bunch of uneducated peasents and snivelling sycophants will be hard in comparison to this."

"How so?" Azuren asked, pushing her drink aside.

Stukov tapped the table with his finger. "We're in a time period of American politics that started the rise of something called Jacksonian democracy, a time when style becomes more important than substance, and politicians appeal to the ignorant masses, and not the educated elite. Popularity is the key. Position based on merit gives way to patronage and those who aren't fit to become leaders do."

Azuren nodded, her smile hooking skyward. Their eyes met. "So when do we start taking over...subtlely?"

Stukov breathed in and exhaled slowly. "Not until 1837."

Her smile vanished, replaced again by a frown. "We have to wait a year!?"

Stukov nodded. "Regretable as it may sound, America is being led now by a more than capable leader, a strong one that won't be pushed over by two Russians."

"One Russian," she corrected.

"Right. Anyway, this leader, President Andrew Jackson, will have his successor, Martin Van Buren, take his place after this years election. Basically, Van Buren's a place-holder meant to copy what Jackson's doing, and he's the smartest president between the seventh and ninth."

"So what do we do until then?" his wife asked.

Stukov shrugged. "Head to the capital, gain control over influential people, make money, and generally become as powerful as we can without drawing attention. When Van Buren takes office, we will be the ones that run it."
 
Mettermrck: Easier said than done. Out of curiousity, what font did you use for your American AAR?

------------------------------------------

The Year 1836

[FONT=bookman old style,]The Jackson Administration of 1829 to 1836 was one of great change in America. The country was led, and sometimes kicking and screaming, through eight years of crisis, scandal, and political upheaval. The second charter of the Bank of the United States had allowed to lapse, leaving the country's financial stability on uncertain ground. The Cherokee had been forced off their lands into Oklahoma. The U.S. Army battled the Seminole tribe in the swamps of southern Florida. The Whig Party had come into being. And most pivitol of all was the near seccession of South Carolina over the issue of tarriffs.

With the nullfication crisis with South Carolina over, America settled down again with a collective sigh of relief. It was a relief over averting impending crisis, and relief that perhaps the country could end its turbulent eight years.

Keeping with the tradition of only two terms, Jackson decided to step down and retire from politics. To ensure his policies were continued after him, Jackson used his immense influence to persuade the Democratic Party to nominate his loyal Vice President Martin Van Buren, who had been the only one of his Cabinet members who had refused to resign over a rather nasty incident involving the wife of a Cabinet member.

The Whig Party was in trouble, however. Relatively new and composed primarily of members of the now extinct Federalist Party, New Englanders, and Jackson-haters, the Whigs were less than capable of rallying large voter support to oust the heir of the people's hero. In desperation, the Whigs nominated three candidates from three seperate regions of the country to curry as much support, in hopes of forcing the issue into the House of Representatives, and thereby defeat Van Buren.

Election day rolled in and the results were soon in. The Whigs' strategy ultimately failed, and the Democrats recieved a smashing 69 percent of the vote. Jackson was simply too popular to defeat. His policies and methods, though controversial and sometimes alarming, had earned the favor and support of the majority of the nation.

AMI-VAN.JPG

President Martin Van Buren, 8th President of the United States and first president to be born under the American flag.

As the year went on in this mood of politics in the United States, other events in the North American continent were taking shape. American settlers of the Mexican territory of Texas, who had rebelled as a result of the chaffing influence of the Mexican government, had finally defeated the Mexican armies. The Texans rallied to the cause after the heroic fight to the death at the Alamo and the massacre at Goliad. On April 21, 1836, Santa Anna's army was defeated decisively at the Battle of San Jacinto. During the fight, the Texas rebels managed to capture the Mexican commander, and forced him at gunpoint to sign a peace treaty recognizing the nation of Texas. Foolishly, the Texans released Santa Anna, who immediately invalidated the treaty and vowed that there would be revenge. Though the war was over, Texas was teetering precariously on the brink of oblivion in the face of Mexico's vow to take back the land.

alamo2.gif

In 1836, Texas succesfully achieved independence from Mexico.

Furthering the economic expansion of the United States' burgoing industry, an industrious capitalist, Alexander Stucon, was investing large sums of money into the development of new industries in the western States. Steel plants in Illinois and paper mills in Tennesse were being built. Through a shrewd combination of political savvy and huge potential monetary rewards in this commerical venture, Stucon was becoming a man of influence in the federal government. Casting a web of politcal favors and liberal expenditures of money, the industrialist was accumulating power rapidly

With the Jackson years behind it, the country prepared itself to enter a new age.[/FONT]
 
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Corrado: Posts like those make me want to write mroe :)

weychun: Thanks

Mettermrck: Yes, antebellum America is great stuff. And thanks for the font. Interesting, don't you think, how little security there was in the White House in those days ;)

-------------------------------------------

March 5th, 1837:

President Martin Van Buren fanned himself absently in the unseasonably hot March weather. He had lived in Washington D.C. long enough to know that the climate of the capitol was normally very unpleasent. The land around was swampy and generally undesirable. Spite for the British, however, had kept the capitol where it was now.

With the parades and speeches and inagural balls and all the festivities of the previous day now over. Eight years earlier, President Jackson suffered broken ribs and was nearly crushed to death by the mobs that had swamped the city. There were no such mobs this time. Van Buren wondered whether or not that was a good sign. Either way, the celebrations were over. It was time now to get to work. There was a country that needed to be run.

There was a slight knock on the door. Van Buren straightened up in his chair and cleared his throat. "Enter."

The door opened and a couple stepped in. Immediately, Van Buren recognized the man to be Alexander Stucon, an up and coming industrialist who had been dabbling heavily in politics. Van Buren was certain more than a few of the Congress owed much of their wealth to him.

"Mr. Stucon," Van Buren said, standing up behind his desk, "It's a pleasure to finally meet you in person."

The two shook hands and Stucon gestured towards the woman. "I'd like to introduce you to my wife." Van Buren detected the faint signs of an accent. There was a subtle awkwardness to his words, but it was too slight to determine from where he was from.

His wife smile cordially and dipped daintily in a polite bow.

Van Buren smiled distantly and nodded. "Please, take a seat."

Both did. Van Buren noticed Stucon's wife seemed to be trying to hide some irritation. "Are you alright, madam?" he asked.

She smiled, "Yes, thank you. It's just...this weather. Both of us our used to much colder temperatures."

Van Buren nodded, "Yes, fortunately one does get used to it over time. I assume the two of you will be staying in town?"

Stucon nodded, leaning forward in his chair. "Yes, that was one of the reasons I came to see you, Mr. President. The two of us, and my other associates, have decided that we could perhaps best benefit the country by remaining here and offering our...assistance."

Van Buren raised an eyebrow curiously. "Assistance, you say? What sort of assistance?"

A sly little smile crept onto Stucon's expression. "Assistance in guiding this nation's course."

Van Buren frowned instantly. "Mr. Stucon, I assure you the country is in good hands. Perhaps you should run for office in the more traditional sense if you have political aspirations."

Stucon chuckled lightly, "Mr. Van Buren, unfortunately, you have little choice in the matter. It would be a sad error in judgement for you to refuse my assistance."

Van Buren blustered, "Don't you threaten me!"

Shrugging, Stucon made a sharp whistling sound, "Very well. I'll have my associates threaten you then."

The doors to the office swung open and for large men, heavily armed and dressed like hellish demons marched in, carrying weapons Van Buren had never seen before. The four surrounded the bewildered and defenseless president.

Trembling, Van Buren stared up at the four Imperial Guardsmen. "W...what are you going to do to me?"

"Now, Mr. President," Stukov said, "We will soon discover just who really runs this country."
 
weychun: Would it look like: :eek: or :confused:

-----------------------------------------------------

1837-1840

With President Van Buren virtually just settling in to the presidency, the legacy of Jackson reared its head. With the Bank of the United States gone, and the government and people's money in the hands of unscrupulous 'wildcat' banks, a flurry of land speculation tore across the western states, driving land prices souring. When these business ventures inevitably failed for the majority of investors, an economic downturn occurred. Labeled the Panic of 1837, it was the first of a cycle of economic ups and downs that would plague the country approximately every twenty years for the remainder of the 19th century. Overnight, debtors prisons filled up overnight, soup lines and massive unemployment appeared all over the country, and factory and bank closures were common.

All across the country, banks refused, or were unable to, to exchange gold and silver coinage for bank notes. Even the U.S. Treasury refused to accept bank notes, a serious vote of 'no confidence' against paper money at even the highest levels.

Though Van Buren's administraion was hardly responsible for the Panic, his administration has judged harshly for it, and blamed entirely unfairly for the economic woes of the nation. Idealogically though, Van Buren refused to implement government interference in the banking procedures of the country. Regardless of who was actually responsible, public opinion for the Democratic administraion plummeted sharply. For the Whigs, the Panic was a political blessing. The Whigs quickly gained majorities in both the House and Senate of Congress in the 1838 mid-terms.

Despite the Panic, a wave of new immigration hit the shores of the United States. This new wave was different than the previous immigrants. Established American citizens were shocked and sometimes horrified to discover hundreds of immigrants from Asia and Eastern Europe arriving. Though eager to adopt American culture and assimilate, this immigration trend was a cause for alarm and concern for "nativist" America.

Meanwhile, in the swamps of the Everglades in Florida, the Seminole chief Osceola was captured during truce negotiations in October of 1837, severely crippling the Seminole guerilla war effort. The treachery of the American soldiers caused an uproar even in the United States and considered a black mark against the government. Though the Second Seminole War still continued on, the Americans emerged triumphant, shattering the Seminole war effort.

In Texas, the continued threat of Mexico loomed ever greater. The Texan economy, barely in its infancy, was struggling to support the costs of maintaining a military defense. In 1837, Texas was officially recognized as a sovereign nation by the United States, what many considered to be a first step towards annexation, since most Texans were formerly American. In early 1839, a combination of angry civilians and Native Americans rose up violently, overwhelming a shocked and depleted military. After several weeks, the military managed to restore order. The economic situation for Texas continued to worsen, sending more supporters towards annexation.

In Mexico, the effects of the Panic were being felt as well. A combination of crumbling economy, military defeat, and oppressive rule by Santa Anna were throwing the country into chaos. Revolts erupted all across the country, overwhelming the Mexican military.

SS1.jpg
The chaos in northern Mexico was becoming out of control

To many in the United States, a weakened Mexico could only mean good news. America was already stronger and more capable of recovering from economic downturn, and could call upon a vast resevoir of loyal citizens to fight, should war ever come between these two nations. The concept of Manifest Destiny, the belief that it was the United States' God-given right to extend the country's borders across the entire continent to bring freedom and democracy, was a powerful calling indeed.
 
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How about this.

Van Buren : Ok you run the country, but what the hell is that?

Stukov : It's an auto-kalashinikov 45.

Van Buren : Auto what?

Stukov : Automatic Rifle?

Van Buren : What? How does it work?

Stukokov : Guards, aim at his legs.

Bang Bang Bang

Van Buren : wow, get a load of that.

After typing this, didn't find it funny at all, but what the heck.
 
Hmmm, is a war with Mexico on the horizon? I hope Stukov has other political in's besides the captive Van Buren, especially with the Democrats so unpopular and the resurgence of the Whig party. Great AAR so far.
 
weychun: But that would be mean :p

VILenin: Thanks :)

Mettermrck: By American legions, do you mean my 30,000 infantry and 10,000 dragoons? :p

jose1357: Hey, you can compliment my Soviet AAR all you like. I don’t mind :)
----------------------------------------------------

May 15th, 1840

Alexei Stukov stared out the window as the rain pattered softly against the glass. It had been raining for hours now, forcing him and his family from venturing outdoors. Nowadays, they would often enjoy the spring and summer weather on family ventures outside of Washington D.C., with their ever-faithful Imperial Guardsmen keeping a protective watch over them. For three years now, they had lived inside the White House, with Stukov carefully manuevering his way through American politics, a game even a simpleton should have mastered before long, to firmly establish himself as the true leader of the country, regardless of who won the elections.

It had taken a few hours, but Van Buren had eventually broken. Now, after three years, Stukov doubted he had a single independent thought on his own.

Sighing, he turned from the window and sat down in his favorite chair. It seemed hard to believe that out there were his grandparents and great-grandparents, toiling in the lands of the Russian czars. If he lived long enough, his own parents might be born. He had resigned himself to the fact that he would not live long enough to see himself immigrate to the United States. That would not happen for another seventy years.

"Alexei?" he heard his wife say.

He turned to look at her standing in the doorway. He smiled sincerely.

Nowadays he went by the name Alexander Stucon, at least in public. Only his wife would call him by his true name, and only when they were alone. To attain his position of power, he had to discard his past identity, his heritage, and his roots. The white, Anglo-Saxon Protestants of this country would not stand for a Russian in their government.

"What is it, my love?" he asked her.

She walked over to her, dressed in what would be considered appropriate female clothing for the time. She had expressed her intense distaste for their new situation. In the Soviet Union, she had mostly worn Soviet military uniforms or the like. Now, such dress would be too out of place. One day, Stukov decided he would eliminate that annoyance.

She deserved it all. She deserved to have more than he could give her.

"You've been looking out the window for hours now. What's bothering you?" she embraced him. She melted into his arms as he pressed her closer. "Has something happened?"

He shook his head. "No, nothing's happened. I'm just worried about Feodor."

She nodded in understanding. They had decided a few days after his first word, which happened to be "Momma", that it would be best to simply not tell him of his heritage, or how he had been the heir to an empire that ruled the world. For all he knew now, he was Theodore Stucon, son of a wealthy industrialist.

"Don't worry. He'll learn in time, my love," she whispered with a reassuring tone, gently stroking his hair. They held each other for several minutes.

"His birthday's not too far off," he said, breaking the silence between them, "I can't believe it's been five years."

They of course knew he was already five years old. He had been born in June of 1947, but they had traveled back to 1836 when he was eight months old. But it didn't really seem neccesary to make it totally precise. In this day and age, a few months difference made little difference.

"Do you think we will ever be emperor and emperess again, Alexei?"

Stukov sighed, and slowly shook his head. "No, not as we were before. But we will still be in power, still in charge, only without the risk. No one will know it is us that rules this land of farmers and slaves."

"What happened to slavery here?" she asked.

He smiled. He immensely enjoyed telling her the history of his adopted homeland. "A civil war finally broke out. After the war, it was finally abolished, though it made little difference."

"It must have been a terrible war."

He nodded and shrugged, Yes, it was. But this country will experience more as time goes on."

Azuren arched an eyebrow at him, "Is that a fact?"

"Not yet," he smiled slyly, "But I'll make it happen."

She kissed him and rested her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes and smiling, "That sounds good," she paused, gently kissing at his neck, "You know I love you."

He nodded slowly, "Aye, I know."
 
EXCELLENT!


I read your Soviet AAR and it was great, so are you going to try to conquer the world on this one?