[b]~Black Sea Coast, Odessa, Ukrainian State~[/b] [i]June 1960[/i] The sun was just tentatively peeking over the horizon, its rays stretching their way towards the Richelieu Steps where the Hetman and Prime Minister were making their way down to the seaside. Anastasiya was wearing the uniform of the High Commander of the Ukrainian Royal Army her father preferred, with six stars instead of five as the normal highest rank, but stripped of all the decorations that her father had plastered on. "It was good of you to come out so early in the morning, Vadym Stepanovych." "Not at all," replied the balding man in his mid-forties, striding briskly to keep up with the tall Anastasiya. He wore a simple but well-kept grey suit with a blue tie, and a hint of concern betrayed itself on his narrow face. "Quite frankly, it was inordinately difficult to get a meeting with your father, even when I became Prime Minister, let alone at five o'clock in the morning. I was beginning to worry that the Solovski dynasty had no intention of negotiating with the Parliament they themselves created." Anastasiya slowed to a stop, and rested her gaze upon Antonenko. "Everyone seems to view me through the lens of my father, whether that have a good or bad impact upon what they see. I would ask that you at least make an effort to dispel any notion you have of that and instead look at what I am doing with a new light. My father may have viewed you as little more than a populist obstruction to his policies, but I respect your work in the Verkhovna Rada." Vadym blinked. The reaction he received was so contrary to his expectations that his stop was a little more... abrupt. The royal guards accompanying them looked almost as if they were ready to move to stop him from falling, but he managed to hold himself steady. A couple seconds passed with him meeting her gaze, calculations processing inside his head. "You've asked me here to discuss cooperation, haven't you, your Highness?" Vadym cautiously let the words out. Anastasiya smiled, a wide, beautiful smile, her pitch-black hair fluttering a little behind her in the wind. "And freed of that bias, you've figured it out all in one stroke." Soft, light peals of laughter rang out down the stairs, causing a few birds in their trees to flutter their wings a little in surprise. Anastasiya covered her mouth with one hand as she laughed, then continued walking down. "I'm pleasantly surprised. I expect to enjoy our little chat." Vadym dutifully followed, bereft of words for the time being. If only he didn't already have a wife... not that that would matter anyway. --- "Those steps are... longer than I remember..." Vadym panted. Anastasiya let a slight grin show, nodding. "They are a work of art, but also quite the exercise. Goodness knows how those fleeing the Cossacks down it in 1905 would have felt, but I suppose that that era is lost to time now, so we'll never have a reliable depiction... Ah, here's the High Admiral." Leonid Ostapovych Kostenko, the High Admiral of the Ukrainian Royal Navy, bowed to each of them in turn. "Your Majesty and Sir Prime Minister," I'm pleased to present the captains of the Ukrainian Royal Navy." Three lines line of well-decorated officers saluted. Anastasiya strode her way down the front of the first line, shaking each man's hand in turn. She stopped at the end, performed her own about-face, and announced "At ease." The officers relaxed their arms, and she made her way back to the High Admiral and Prime Minister. "-but so few? Surely we should have more ships," Vadym was concernedly addressing the High Admiral. "Exactly," interjected Anastasiya. "That is precisely what I brought this meeting together for today. But first, after you, Leosha." The admiral smiled, and Anastasiya couldn't help but notice Vadym's look of surprise. When they had taken a walk out of earshot of the officers down the dock, Vadym said, "So I take it you two have some prior acquaintance?" "Ah, that's an old story. Do you mind if I tell it, Anna?" Anastasiya blushed a little, the first sign of embarrassment Vadym had seen out of her. "Ah... fine, fine, it was nothing really." Leonid chuckled, and went on. "She was a stowaway, this one." Anastasiya went entirely a bright shade of pink. "That was... not entirely-" Leonid waved her off. "Back when I was captaining the Kagul for the Imperials, Anna managed to get onboard and stayed on for a couple of weeks before my men found her rifling through the food stores. Believe me, her father was livid, but the crew was about ready to adopt her as their mascot by the time we got her back. She was a good girl with a good head on her shoulders, and she still is." Anastasiya's blush had faded and she was all smiles. "I appreciate the vote of confidence, Leosha. Just as I'm sure that if Ukraine was a nation floating on the sea you would have been Hetman instead of my father." "Aye, your Highness, but I have no children besides my ships so you would still be my successor, no doubt in my mind." Vadym laughed along with them at this exchange, and then let the door close behind them as they arrived at the navigation room of the Kagul, the now flagship cruiser of the Ukrainian Royal Navy. "However, we must now attend to business," Anastasiya began as they seated themselves. "I have called you both here today in light of the foreign policy agenda called for by the Senate and nobility. I recognize that as a military man, your place is not in the intricacies of politics. But I hope that you will both recognize my ideas and cooperate with me for the sake of Ukraine and its people in the coming years.” Both men leaned forward, seemingly willing to listen. “The Senate has called for, after the cleanup of remaining East Ukrainian resistance forces, an immediate invasion of Belarus. They believe that it is necessary for Ukraine to consolidate as much of Russia as we can, lest the Imperials take it first, and that we aspire to become the new dominant race in some kind of Ukrainian Empire.” Leonid furrowed his brow, but Vadym looked positively appalled. “There’s no way that would ever pass in Parliament, even if it goes through in the Senate. Goodness knows the Ukrainian people have had enough of war, after the ten or twenty thousand dead and injured we’re sending back to their families in the next month or two. If all you were asking for was my opposition, you already had it. The Ukrainian National Democrats’ platform is for peace and stability, not more endless conflict.” Anastasiya shook her head. “Regrettably, that’s not enough. Word has it the nobility are buying MPs from your party. They expect to have a good couple over the majority they need. I would find the ones responsible, but they’re so well networked into the system that it’s like asking a wolf to find the ones responsible for the disappearance of sheep.” “I’ll get the whip on them. Thank you for bringing this to my attention, I’ll do the best I can. They should know better, they’ll lose their jobs next cycle if this goes through. And I’ll report it to Vashchenko if I find out who’s doing it.” The admiral took the pause to cut in. “That’s all well and good, but I don’t see what I’ve got to do with it.” Anastasiya’s eyes lit up. “You’re everything to do with my alternative proposal.” “Alternative?” Vadym looked confused. “You yourself were puzzled at the lack of ships in the Ukrainian Royal Navy, no?” Vadym gestured for her to continue. “At the time of the secession in 1954, the Russian Imperial Black Sea Fleet was stationed at its usual port of Sevastopol, which as you know styles itself the capital of “Tartaria.” The only ships stationed in Ukraine that were seized by my father’s forces were the Black Sea submarine fleet and a small group of two cruisers and three destroyers. This cruiser, in fact, was one of the two since Leosha here defected.” “So where exactly are the rest of the ships?” “Still in Sevastopol.” The admiral gruffly responded with an irritated look on his face. “When the Empire started falling apart once and for all, they docked the ships and all the men went home to their families. They’ve been gathering dust for four years, and it’s a damn shame.” Vadym turned to Anastasiya, a look of dawning comprehension on his face. “You want my support for an invasion of Sevastopol, no?" “Excellent, Vadym Stepanovych. I knew I was going to enjoy this little chat.” Anastasiya swiveled her chair to the left, and stood up, the sea roiling out the window behind her back. “I’d like you two to support my plan to invade Crimea instead of Belarus, Vadym in political circles and Leonid in military ones. If we block their vote, they’ll have no choice but to at least support that one, many less lives will be lost, and Ukraine’s coast will be safer against pirates and any naval Russian invasion alike.” She extended her hand towards them both. “So we both benefit, and you get to show those stuffy old nobles that you have a trick or two up your sleeves. Not a bad job for a little girl.” The admiral chuckled, shaking his head, and shook Anastasiya’s hand. “Perhaps the little girl has grown up, Leosha.” “Maybe she has,” he replied, lighting a cigar from his pocket. “I’d better get going hiring up new officers. We’ll need every old sailor we can find.” Anastasiya shook Vadym’s hand as well. “I look forward to working with you further, your Highness. It’s not every day you get to be the heroic man who averted sending another hundred thousand men to war.” Anastasiya smiled and nodded. “I’d be happy to.” [b]~Potemkin Military Base, Poltava, Ukrainian State~[/b] Khrystyna crept forward in the underbrush, the sound of bullets cracking over her head. She gestured toward her comrade to follow, since she had found a safe path through the mines. There were two ones that were awfully close, though, so if she wasn't careful... Her shoulder twinged, and she fell to one side, hitting the top of the mine. "Damn it!" she shouted as an alarm rang out, the sound of bullets ceased, and the lights turned back on. She got back up and dusted herself off. "Khrystyna, you okay?" The other soldier looked concerned. "Just my [i]chert[/i] shoulder bothering me again. I hope it heals up soon." A new figure approached. "Maybe if you would let it heal instead of training constantly it would." "With all due respect, Colonel Ruda, no." Khrystyna turned to face her direct superior, the man in charge of the Pryznyach. "I can't just sit here and rest as men keep dying for our country." "A laudable attitude, but not one that's good for you. Anyway, there is someone important here to see you. They didn't tell me who." "Some stuffed-up general here to pin a medal on me, no doubt. Roger, I'll go." With that, she slung her rifle behind her back and strode out. "Has she always been like that? asked the other soldier. "Can't say she would be her if she wasn't. There's a reason she's the best." The colonel shook his head, but he was still grinning. --- "Major Khrystyna Antonenko, reporting as ordered." She saluted the guard at the door to the firing range. "Major, welcome. May I have your weapon?" Khrystyna raised an eyebrow. "It is a firing range." The guard shook his head. "Just hand it over, Major." Khrystyna sighed exasperatedly, and pulled it off her back. They opened the door. When she made her way inside, she noticed a woman in a general's uniform taking shots at a target. This cast her off her stride, she didn't think there were any female generals. Maybe she was from the air force? She only just noticed the sixth star when the woman turned to look at her. "Major Khrystyna, I presume? It's lovely to meet you at last. I meant to earlier, but I had some other duties to attend to." Anastasiya smiled warmly at the dumbstruck officer. "Your Highness!" Khrystyna instinctively bowed, but a slender hand reached towards hers to pull her back up. "Now, now, none of that formality is necessary. I greet you as a thankful officer to her subordinate." Anastasiya saluted, more sharply than Khrystyna expected, and she followed suit. "So I'll start with that. Thank you, Khrystyna. With your effort, though it may not have been the most honourable, you have saved many tens of thousands of Ukrainian lives that would have otherwise fought and died, and our country will be reunified once and for all." "It was an honour, Your Highness." Khrystyna tentavely opened her mouth, then closed it again. Making up her mind, she asked, "If you don't mind, your Highness, where did you learn how to shoot like that?" She gestured towards the target riddled with holes near the bullseye. Anastasiya chuckled. "Don't tell anyone, but I was always a warrior princess type. It's a good thing the Admiral isn't here to tell that story again." Khrystyna's eyes widened, but Anastasiya waved her off. "Anyway, I have two other duties here. Firstly, I came to ask you something. It would be my pleasure for you to serve as Commander of the Royal Guard, under my personal command. I know that you are passionate about your duties here, but I am in need of a skilled soldier in light of... well." Seeing the light fade from Anastasiya's eyes gave her all the information she needed. "I would be honoured and happy to accept. You've been an inspiration to me and to all women in the military. I believe that you care for Ukraine, and I will protect you with my life." She knelt and looked up at Anastasiya. The Hetman smiled and nodded. "Then that leads me to my third and final duty here. She drew the ceremonial saber from her left hip, and then rested it on Khrystyna's right, then left side. "I hereby dub thee knight of the Hetmanate, and I grant you the title of Hero of Ukraine." She took out a small gold medal with the Ukrainian royal lion and pinned it to her uniform. "Rise." Khrystyna rose to look at Anastasiya, a new fire of determination burning in her eyes. [b]~"Little Vladimir" Refugee Camp, Odessa, Ukrainian State~[/b] Delov Vissarion made his way through the crowded, dilapidated streets. He could hear some Ukrainian men jeering at him from the corner, but he just ignored them. He kicked a trash bag someone had just thrown out on the street out of his way. "Disgusting. I feel like I've been living in an animal pen." Delov was the prodigal son of an old noble family. He was pampered and well cared for on his estate near Perm, until the empire collapsed and everything went to hell in a handbasket. "Damned commies ought to go to hell themselves." He pulled out a cigarette and lit it up. Blowing it for the first time gave him some well needed stress relief. The wind rustled the sheet metal roofs of the nearby temporary dwellings, and Delov felt it through the couple of holes in his ragged suit. It was hardly the epitome of class, but it was far better than anything else he had on hand. He needed it today more than ever, because he had heard about the opportunity offered nearby. His wife had told him about it. Open lands, plenty of it to farm. Peace and security. A warm and temperate environment. It was far away and alien to him, but it was the best chance his family had to start over. Rhodesia was the name of the place. At the very least he could speak the language to some degree, he had learned English at university- Some drunken sailor types coming out of a bar interrupted his thoughts. They ambled out into the sidewalk, cheering and laughing. "Might as well be another bag of trash," Delov mumbled under his breath as he tried to walk around. "You said somethiiing, mate?" One of the sailors, evidently of a keen ear, called out to him in Armenian-accented Russian. "No. Leave me alone." Delov tried to get away, but an arm was thrust in front of him. "You got a problem, big shot? Somethin' against Armenians? Too used to pretendin' you own us?" The three men surrounded him, and his escape route was quickly cut off. Before he knew it, he was on the ground, kicks bouncing off his ribs, his legs, his everything. Other Russians passed by, silently and unsympathetically watching the beating. Delov was close to losing consciousness when he heard a whistle and the sound of hooves. "On the ground! Stop at once and get on the ground!" were the last things he heard before everything went black. --- Delov opened his eyes to a cot in what looked like a makeshift hospital tent. He was wearing some kind of gown. He rubbed his eyes and was about to call for someone when a woman in a uniform with the letters MP on her arm walked in. "So you're awake. You recovered fast, I was afraid you wouldn't be up by tomorrow!" The lady sat next to him. "Good afternoon, I'm Mariya Yevgenievna, Ukrainian Military Police." Delov straightened up. "Were you the one who cared for me? Thank you, I'm-" "Delov Vissarion, age 32, Russian. Yes, we know. We even washed your suit, figured it was the least we could do." Delov nodded and started changing, but then his eyes widened. "What time is it? I have somewhere I need to meet my family." Mariya checked her watch. "1500 hours." Delov practically jumped off his cot when he finished. "I need to go, now!" He stumbled a bit, and Mariya went to help him up. "Hey, it's okay, just take it slow, alright?" Mariya walked with him to the door. "Just relax, I'm sure they will still be there." Delov breathed in and out, standing at the door. "Thank you again. I will." With that, he made his way out of the complex. On the way out, he heard some of the other MPs talking. "Didn't you know they were Armenians? Were you trying to start a diplomatic incident?" "They were beating a man to death, what should I have done?" 'Did I do that?' Delov wondered to himself, then shrugged. Soon enough he made his way to the building, Rhodesian flag hung over it. He scanned the... absurdly long line. Were they there anywhere? "Daddy!" A small child's voice rang out, and he followed it to near the very front of the line. His wife was waving to him. He slightly limped over and embraced them. "What happened?" she asked. "Don't worry," Delov reassured them as he smiled. "That's all the past now. We're headed towards the future."