Chapters A Red Star Over Equestria
CCCP Chapter One
A Red Star Over Equestria
A knock rang from the door as an old mare sat by the fireplace on a rocking chair in a small room, which so happened to be the entire house. Some cracked windows were boarded up and tatters remained of the curtain. A bed barely big enough for one lay in a corner of the room. She strainfully got up from her rocking chair with an obvious lump in her belly to open the door. The wind blew a hard, cold wall of frigid air into the house as a near-frozen stallion in a military uniform wielding a rifle entered the house, gingerly taking off his shoes that by now had no soles.
He had for months been away fighting on the Western front, and now what remained of his regiment was too little to provide much more than cannon fodder, so he was dispatched home, arriving on the bleak snowy night in late October, 1917. His wife hugged him and began crying on his shoulder. She had been forced to plow their field and sow like two stallions, and clearly came up short. Her rations were down to bare bones and knew she couldn’t take this any longer. The stallion, no longer feeling any loving emotions, held tighter to his rifle as a frown descended on his face. He couldn’t take this any longer either, and he was going to do something about it.
★
A nationwide crisis had developed in Equestria affecting social, economic, and political relations. Disorder in industry and transport had intensified, and difficulties in obtaining food and provisions had increased. Gross industrial production in 1917 had decreased by over 36 percent from what it had been in 1916. In the autumn, as much as 50 percent of all enterprises were closed down in Manehattan, Fillydelphia, and other industrial centers, leading to mass unemployment. At the same time, the cost of living increased sharply. The real wages of the workers fell about 50 percent from what they had been in 1913. Equestria's national debt in October 1917 had risen to 50 billion bits. Of this, debts to foreign governments constituted more than 11 billion bits. The empire faced the threat of financial bankruptcy.
Like many princesses before her, Trixie thought she was invincible. She wished her country prosperity like it had under Celestia and Luna before her, except she lacked the competence to be a good ruler that they had. Under Trixie, Equestria was suffering and she barely even noticed, never leaving Canterlot’s royal palace, and anypony who dared tell her that she was doing something wrong was swiftly and forcibly silenced. Her palace was surrounded by some of the richest and most well-off ponies in all the lands, amounting for a good half of a percent of Equestria’s total population, almost all the rest being dirt poor tramps and penniless peasants. She went to bed that night in a large, lavish bed, and slept like a queen.
★
The stallion walked over a black bridge over a bayou through the heart of the city he lived in and stopped once he came across his destination. The stallion in the decrepit military uniform knocked three times on an iron door to a large concrete structure with no windows. “Никого нет дома!” Replied a harsh voice. “Go away!”
“It is I, comrade, Tycovich of the 34th infantry!” The stallion replied in a calm but gravelly voice. There was a short pause, then the door swung open, he quickly trotted in, and the door slammed shut again. The room was dimly lit by an incandescent bulb at the center of a table, around which sat 4 other stallions, also in military uniforms, of various stages of decay.
“Maxim Tycovich! A hundred years comrade!” A white earth stallion with a large scar from his left ear to his cheek cheered. Next to him sat a 3 legged orange pegasus, Corporal Korminsky, who had the unfortunate luck of having it dip into the river and be frozen solid while under fire by the attacking German ponies. One stallion was sitting in a dark corner of the room. As he stood up, it was revealed in reality he, or rather she, was no stallion at all but rather a tan mare with blonde hair, with 3 big red stars on her flank. “Ah reckon that Trixie is a buffoon, and so is the rest of the upper class!” she said, slamming down a small but thick brown book on the table, with a big red star on it, and slid it to the group. The purple earth pony sitting next to the orange pegasus, being the only literate one, other than the mare, began to read aloud the book.
Two hours later, the book finally concluded, and still the faces of the stallions remained stern, gripping their rifles tight at their sides. The white stallion stood up, seeming angry to the verge of tears, lifted up a forehoof to fix his cap, and immediately slammed it to the table, causing the lamp to bounce into the air.
The white stallion lifted a hoof to signify he is going to speak, and began a clam speech. “An intolerable atmosphere has been created, in which you, as well as we, are choking. They are throwing dirty accusations at Applejack and me. Applejack has fought thirty years for the revolution. I have fought for twenty years against the oppression of the people. And we cannot but cherish a hatred for Trixie . . . I have been sentenced by a court to eight months' imprisonment for my struggle against royalty. This everybody knows. Let nobody in this room say I am a traitor.
He cleared his throat, showing that was just a warning, indicating what he was about to say might sound as treason.
He was suddenly interrupted by the orange pegasus. “I agree with comrade Applejack. The working class is superior in every way to the bourgeoisie!” He turned around and circled the date on the calendar. October the 25th. We have been oppressed for so long- so bitterly long! This regime cannot be ended with paper and ink. It must die at the hooves of the rifles! The time for revolution is ripe!
The whole room began nodding, and the white stallion unlocked the door as they flooded the streets of St. Poniesburg. Stealthily recruiting an army of twenty more stallions, Applejack led the revolutionaries onto a train titled “Aurora” and an intense conversation began about what to do with the princess, what to do with the people, and how to properly execute the revolution.
★
5 months had passed, and April had just sprung forward. Snow still piled the ground, however thousands stood in St. Poniesburg in the streets rallying in peaceful protest to the princess’s reign. Tycovich was excited that during the meeting, despite pleas for violence by many, the decision was made to organize a parade through the streets pleading the princess to right her wrongs.
Trixie in the royal court sat high on her gold-plated throne, having a hooficure done. A royal pegasus pony hastily brought the princess a letter and backed off, not daring to say what the letter is of. She handed the letter to the nearby guard who read the letter to her, suddenly sweating bullets as he got to the middle.
“...and so the citizens of St. Poniesburg are openly uhhh... revolting in the streets demanding a change in your regime, your highness. What are your orders?’
“Oh, these peasants think they can stand up to ME !?! I am the ruler of 1/6 of this planet's landmass and they are revolting against the Great and Powerful Trixie?”
“Yes...” the guard said sheepishly.
“Very well. Open fire.”
“I’ll deliver the order at once, your highness.” The guard said, flying away to the military outpost from which the message shall be relayed.
★
Stallions of all races and colors marched in a line into the center of St. Poniesburg, dressed in pressed military uniforms and clean white officer caps. They were armed with high-caliber rifles and marched in a menacing trot. “STOP!” yelled the lead officer, and the whole column stopped and trained their rifles at the peaceful crowd.
“Sir!” yelled Tycovich, ripping away from being held back by his comrades. “This protest is peaceful, we wish not to hurt, but to appease the masses of this fine Equ-“
“FIRE!” the officer ordered, and a volley of hot lead flew from the men in neat uniforms. After a few more rounds, the men about-faced and marched away. Hundreds upon hundreds of bleeding stallions leaned against walls in the street. Tycovich, among over a dozen others, lay lifeless in the road.
The white stallion, orange pegasus, and tan mare looked at the cold body of their comrade. The orange pegasus opened his mouth to talk, but closed it again at a loss of words. The mare started instead. “We cannot give up on peace, no matter how deadly of a force is propped up against you.” Now the orange pegasus somberly spoke. “However, peace is not always the best strategy. Trixie fired upon her own people. The only thing that can stop this freight train to hell is if the people fire upon Trixie. Gentlemen, I believe a coup d’état is in order.”
★
Crowds all around the Equestrian empire buzzed about, sharing the latest issue of Izvestia to those who can’t read. A mutual cry of outrage ensued as the masses heard about the hundreds upon hundreds wounded and the 20 or so dead from the army’s assault on the peaceful demonstration, vehemently labeled “St. Poniesburg Massacre!”. Within minutes, another detachment rolled through Canterlot, confiscating and destroying any newspaper and burning the headquarters of Izvestia .
The demands which the workers and soldiers took to the streets with in the April Days were influenced by the Workers Party. “All Power to the Workers” and other slogans put forth by the lower class, taking up the political affiliation of the “Union Party” were taken up by the workers and soldiers on the streets. The demonstration was organized by the Ponie’s Liberation Army without authorization from the princess after pressure from rank and file soldiers. During the afternoon of April 9th, the Committee of Pony Public Affaris (КСОЛ) with the support of Ponineyev, Trottingsky and Horsiev decided to take action to restrain the developing situation.
Under the pressure of what seemed like a developing mass demonstration of workers and soldiers in the streets, the leadership of the Ponie’s Liberation Army, and later the КСОЛ, reversed their decision, coming out in support of the street demonstrations. Both Trottingsky and Horsiev persistently argued that the street protests remain peaceful. After this decision, the Ponie’s Liberation Army actively organized and supported the demonstration, mobilizing reinforcements from the front lines and dispatching armored carriages to capture key posts including bridges and the Eastern Outpost Fortress.
Trixie ordered the arrest of Applejack and the other leading Unionists, accusing them of inciting revolt with German financial backing. Applejack successfully fled and went into hiding in Finland, but many other Unionist leaders were arrested, including Trottingsky and Surpriskiy who were apprehended on 22 July. They remained in prison until Trixie released them in response to General Korminsky’s attempted coup.
The government crisis was intensified by Kerensky becoming leader of the КСОЛ. A defected cult under the leadership of the Equestrian Regime proclaimed the Unionists acknowledged it to have “unlimited powers.” The КСОЛ became a powerless appendage of the government. The suppression of the demonstrations marked the end of dual power. The peaceful development of the revolution was seen as impossible.
★
It was a bleak June midnight outside of Canterlot. Even at the late hours, the sky was still bright as early evening. Trixie new full well that her white army was deserting by the thousands daily, and that an armed attack on the antagonizing belligerents was the only way to assure her regime would not fall to them. The red army, however, led physically by Korminsky, the orange 3 legged pegasus, politically by the now freed Trottingsky, and ideologically by the brilliant Applejack, was well prepared for such event. Standing 3 million strong, the ragtag army of peasants stood barely formidable had it not been bound by the powerful hate towards the Empire’s regime.
Meanwhile back at the small cottage, a mare was being accompanied by two other mares, comforting her still over the loss of her husband one month ago in the massacre. Her belly was sticking out to its full extent, meaning something was about to give. The two mares dared not leave her side at this point in time, a foal was just about guaranteed to come that day.
Trixie gave the executive order: “Kill any Unionist”. The white army lurched forth, crossing the bridge from the palace, killing 3 earth ponies congregating at its side, themselves sustaining no casualties. Then the White Army split in 3, one battalion headed for Manehattan, one for St. Poniesburg, and one to remain in Canterlot. The whistle on the Aurora squealed a deafening shrill. Stallions all across the countryside grabbed their weapons; they knew what it meant. As the three armies parted across separate bridges, the army remaining in Canterlot about-faced, but then suddenly everypony, despite rigid discipline, instinctively turned to see what had happened behind them. A giant plume of smoke rose from the bridge to the road to Manehattan, as the great arches tumbled inwards, and the bridge was reduced to rubble. Half of the regiment that did not yet cross the bridge plummeted to their demise.
The mare gasped. “The foal’s coming! I can feel it!”. One mare rushed into the kitchen and set a pot to boil.
A wall of lead flew at the regiment headed to St. Poniesburg. The first lines tumbled, as their green-blue uniforms faded to a dark red. Out behind two hills that lined the road, an onrush of Unionist PLA soldiers charged at the unsuspecting army, cheering “For the Red Army! Death to the princess!”. Although the majority was unarmed, the strategy was well-set. The front was composed of armed ponies, and as the regiment retreated, more weapons “became available” both from fallen comrades and the enemy. Although not outnumbered by much, the Red Army successfully caught the White Army regiment by surprise and had critically flanked them. Within half an hour the whole regiment of one million strong lay before them, dead. The Red army had suffered a crippling casualty of half their stallions, amounting to 700,000, however that did not stop the remainder in the least from marching on to Canterlot.
“GAH!” the mare screamed, as her two companions laid her down on her bed.
The remainder of the army bound to Manehattan had not even gotten far enough to no longer see Canterlot before they came across a small concrete bunker with windows covered in makeshift retractable iron shutters. Inside was a small army of 50 ponies, guns trained at the White Army. No reinforcements were prepared for a counter-attack, so they knew this would be a battle to the death, to buy the Red Army precious minutes to set up their entrenchment not much farther down the road. The officer yelled “FIRE!” and a whiff of grapeshot spattered against the concrete walls, everypony inside was able to close the shutters in time before any shots made it in. Fierce return fire ensued, until the stallions inside could see the whites of the enemy’s oversized eyes. More fire battered the building, one unicorn inside getting hit square in the forehead, and a fine red mist tore out the exitwound.
Though suffering improportional casualties, eventually the White Army successfully tossed enough grenades in to paint the walls with the opposition’s internal organs. Two scouts raided the bunker, taking a half-empty bag of lead ammunition they found in a pocket of an unidentified torso at the door. Unsuccessful at finding anything useful, they rejoined the battalion, now in the sights of the amply prepared Red Army, who to the White Army’s dismay had set up sandbag walls and even a machine gunner. The fighting had died down within minutes, and the battalion surrendered.
One of the mares rushed to the pregnant mare’s side, holding a pot of sterile water and towels. “Not much time left.”
Both Red Armies converged at the bridge to Canterlot on St. Poniesburg’s side and crossed, suppressing fire from the garrisoned White Army. “ONWARDS TO THE PALACE!” cried General Korminsky, and the Red Army held their bayonet points out and charged. The White Army division crossed around a corner and also charged, but both armies stopped a block away from each other.
“FIRE!” screamed Status Quo, the colonel of the White Army in Canterlot. After a pause there was an impromptu cough. He turned around, his face red, veins popping out of his forehead. “FIRE YOU SHITS!”. A first sergeant stepped forward, saluted, and informed him that the division wished to surrender. The colonel now was well and truly pissed. He took out his flintlock pistol and held it up the sergeant’s chin. There was a clicking and a White Army soldier held his rifle to the colonel’s forehead. The anger left his face and was now replaced by sincere shock. After a long and awkward pause another soldier lifted his rifle to the colonel’s head. Then another. Eventually half the army proceeded to point their rifles at the colonel. Even though most did not by any means have a clear line of sight at the colonel, each refused to point at the Red Army in one way or another. The colonel lowered his pistol and sighed. After a hasty minute-long speech, he finished with decreeing the masses are in control now, and resigned his post. A captain stepped forward towards the Red Army and proceeded to surrender, agreeing to fight on the side of the revolutionaries.
General Korminsky ordered the army to charge at the heavily defended fortress, all except for 20 brave stallions who volunteered to storm the defense headquarters some blocks away. The Red Army backed off, letting the artillery front and center. After some fire taking out the turrets firing back, the cannons turned and took out the cross-woven iron gate at the palace. Relatively few guards dared to fire back at the Army as it entered the fortress. They knew all was lost.
“And so ve have minor rrrebellions heah, heah, und heah” an officer said, holding a hoof to Manehattan and surrounding areas. There was a polite knock on the door, followed by 2 stallions bucking the door to shrapnel. Of the officers inside, 10 lifted their flintlock pistols, and were met with 20 rifle barrels. The first sergeant stepped forward and ordered their arrest. After a bit of embarrassing shuffling and mumbling, it was determined no one was literate enough to produce any arrest papers, which made for an even more awkward situation when the enemy officers were forced at bayonet point to write their own arrest papers.
A majority of the Red Army stood outside the gates, for the simple reason was that there was no way everyone could participate in the storming. Korminsky and a few other elite soldiers entered the palace, following a detailed map they received from a captured guard, and followed the instructions to the room where Trixie was sleeping in. The door burst open, giving Trixie a rude awakening from her peaceful slumber, as the soldiers flipped her bed over, forcing her to jump off and stumble on the floor. Korminsky pulled a sharp serrated knife out of his pocket. “I’m sorry...” he said, lying. The royal blood spilled onto the floor as Trixie fell sideways, blood gushing from her neck.
“It’s a filly!” one mare proclaimed, as she handed the newborn filly to the mother. It was a small orange pegasus with purple hair and big purple eyes.
“What shall we name it?” asked one of the mares.
The mother looked at her filly for a moment, then spoke again. “It must represent the blood that was spilled for her liberties, and she will be the first to help a friend like a bullet.” she said. I’ll name her Crimson Tracer. And so she craned her neck and kissed her newborn.
CCCP Chapter One
The Birth of a Union
With the calendar page flipped past the year of the revolution, concern grew over the fate of the former Equestrians. Many cities, such as St. Poniesburg and Las Pegasus had already declared the city and its surrounding area a new nation, contrary to Applejack’s pleas of a centralized union of republics. For political purposes, Applejack changed her name to Vladimare Lenin.
Lenin decreed that, in order to fight off capitalism and corruption, there shall, for the time being, be only one allowable party; the Unionist party. Lenin, of course, was the head of the party. She set Stallion as the head of the Worker’s and Peasant’s Inspection Committee, to insure that everypony was treated equally and fairly under the new regime. Setting up the government was a backbreaking task, after all one-sixth of the planet’s landmass had just been freed of rule by rebellious forces, to get them back under rule without inciting more rebellion was incredibly daunting.
The National Board of Unionist Action was based in St. Poniesburg. Due to the fact that this name was largely inspired by the previous czar, Lenin took the liberty in renaming it after himself; Vladimaregrad. After debate and negotiations, a treaty was signed among the Manehattanians, Vladimaregraders, and Canterlotians, as well as certain smaller villages farther out in the barren East who had representatives, to create Lenin’s dream- A collective republic based on the communist ideas of Mare Karlx.
Crimson Maximovna Tracer was a growing filly. She had not yet learned to talk nor fly, but has shown great potential. A sturdy young filly, she was very quiet for the most part and liked playing in her own little corner of the room, rarely venturing out.
★
The year was 1924, 7 years after the revolution. Crimson was playing in her favorite corner under watchful eye of her mom, reading the latest issue of Izvestia . "Mom, I don't feel so good" she said weakly, then suddenly she fell over. Her mom rushed to her side, picking her up and laying her on her bed. She felt aweful, she could barely move except for straining to throw up in a small bucket by the bed.
The next morning everyone in the center of St. Poniesburg was in a very somber mood. When Crimson’s mom bought a new issue of Izvestia , it became clear why. Vladimare Lenin had suffered a stroke last night. Lenin is dead.
★
“I read before you...” an official in a bright red uniform said. “The last testament of the great Vladimare Lenin!”. A few muffled applauses echoed throughout the hall. “I would like to congratulate my fellow Unionist leaders in the formation of this great new union which will leave a trail to prosperity that generations of ponies around the world will follow; however I refuse to do so. The Unionist party has ruled for but 7 years, and already our party is corrupting. I would especially like to call out Joseph Stallion and Leon Trottingsky, both who believe they have, and exercise, unlimited authority ; especially my appointee to head of the party, Stallion. He has shown unquestionable and undeniable personal rudeness, unnecessary roughness, lack of finesse; flaws intolerable in a Secretary-General.” He finished, and locked the paper in a tube for storing scrolls. All eyes had turned to Trottingsky and Stallion.
Trottingsky began his own, spontaneous speech, declaring Lenin’s testimony not a last will but rather a suggestion, and that neither he nor Stallion, to his knowledge, sought after total power. The committee believed his story and in a close vote, determined they may stay in their positions of the Unionist party. Joseph Stallion, being the Secretary-General, flexed his power, making sure the head of the Unionist party also became the Premier of the Union.
★
In the center of Manehattan, millions lined up mourning at the newly created Red Square, where Lenin’s body was sealed in a glass coffin. Among the guests were two distinguished foreigners, a white unicorn with a winding purple mane, and a purple unicorn, with two highlight stripes through hers. Behind a wall of Red Guard soldiers, there stood a podium with microphones.
“... our Unionist referendum! And now I wish to call to the podium the Premier of neighboring China!” the stallion in the red uniform said. The purple unicorn stepped up to the podium and cleared her throat. “Through the ages of world history, thousands of leaders and scholars appeared who spoke eloquent words, but these remained words. You, Lenin, were an exception.” She said, pointing a hoof to the glass coffin below her. “You not only spoke and taught us, but translated your words into deeds. You created a new country. You showed us the road of joint struggle... You, great mare that you are, will live on in the memories of the oppressed people through the centuries.”
There was a roar of applause from the crowd, and the white unicorn was called to the podium for her thoughts. After her refusal and a small argument few could hear, she finally stepped up to the podium, with a short but concise message. “He alone could have found the way back to the causeway... You were left floundering in the bog. Your worst misfortune was his birth... your next worst his death.” She marched off the podium, stomping her hooves, through the column of stunned Red Guardsmen, and into a carriage, riding off in the direction of the sunset. The purple unicorn also said her good-byes, and climbed into a different carriage, and rode in the direction from where the sun rises.
★
Crimson went to school as usual. She didn’t have many friends, though. The kids of West European descent, like the children whose parents were German or French, looked down upon her. Only a few scrawny children ever played with her, even though she was much bigger and stronger than they were. The American parent’s filly didn’t even pay attention to her, she was much too busy playing with her British friends and flying.
One day she decided today was the day she would make a friend. During lunch she got her tray of food, but instead of sitting with the scrawny kids she decided to sit at the popular table. Almost immediately the German colts started cursing her off, and the British ones sliding away. However, the American filly just sat there. She was a lot like Crimson. She was a strong, young pegasus, who liked being alone. Neither Crimson nor the filly said a word, and just ate together, not even sharing glances. Eventually Crimson mustered the courage to speak up, and possibly fulfill her promise to herself to make a new friend. “Hey...” Crimson said. The filly just flicked her rainbow hair and kept eating, trying not to pay attention. Crimson felt hurt.
★
The year was now 1928. Stallion, the head of the Union party, sat on his chair like a stone wall, not even blinking.
“Is there a problem, comrade General-Secretary?” the stallion in the red uniform asked.
“Yes, there is. We are the greatest power on the planet, yet we are fifty or a hundred years behind the advanced countries. We must make good this distance in ten years. Either we do it, or they will crush us. So, I have come up with a plan. I will impose very high quotas- almost impossible to meet quotas. I will make the country work double time. And just so that no one thinks my plan isn’t serious, I will send anyone who fails to meet the quotas to Siberia.”
“But sir, you will send nearly all the workers and peasants to Siberia?”
“No, that’s just the plan. I won’t actually send everyone who fails the quota to Siberia, that would be catastrophic to the Union. I will just send the lowest performing 1% every year to Siberia just to show I am serious. I will likely begin with the intellectuals who don’t work for crap, all they do is think and think and say they move mountains as the clouds drift by. An unbelievable waste to our food and clothing supplies. I want wood supplies up 100%, food supplies up 150%, and rubber and oil up 275%! Only then can we have the unstoppable juggernaut that will make Eastern Europe see that their dictators aren’t in their best interest, assimilation is.”
“Sir Comrade, is that ethical?”
“The death of one man is a tragedy. The death of millions is a statistic.” He said, with no emotion in his voice.
The man in the red uniform paused, then remembered his original question. “I must ask, what were you thinking so deeply about?”
“I am wondering why in the name of mother Russia I haven’t thought of this sooner.” He said, and then froze back into his pensive thought. A fly landed right on his pupil, and he did not move a muscle.
★
A large crowd had gathered at Las Pegasus. Stallion had said that the decrepit town shall be completely transformed into a bustling city. After long anxious hours of waiting, Stallion finally made his speech dedicating the town to the savior of the CCCP, himself, and renamed it Stalliongrad. A curtain fell, and everyone gasped. The city was full of brilliant skyscrapers and apartments, large factories with smokestacks, soon to be pouring the black clouds of industrialization. Oil derricks lined the eastern end, spraying glorious black gold into the parched pipes.
Stallion then proceeded to order much of the population of Vladimaregrad and some of Manehattan to move into this city. Among them, Crimson Tracer, who was separated from her mom for the sake of efficiency. She was a grown mare by now, and really deserved to live independently anyway. Stallion proceeded to climb into the fuselage of one of the Union's first passenger aircraft, one that could hold no more than 5 ponies, and flew off Northward back to the capital of Vladimaregrad.
★
A magenta pegasus with light pink hair and green eyes with 3 flowers as a cutie mark was dragged along the ground, thrashing her hooves around. The Red Guard pegasi dropped her hind legs and she fell onto the ground, creating a small dust cloud. Joseph Stallion walked up to her and leaned over, staring her down condescendingly.
“Why do you defy my authority?” he asked monotonously.
“Look!” she said hysterically, sobbing a bit. “I wrote down plans to increase the efficiency of our wells by 50%! You can get much more oil with the same amount of stallions!”
“You know what I see?” he asked. “I see a piece of paper with ink on it. I demanded oil; I got paper with ink on it. Your argument is invalid. Red Guard, as you were.”
The Red Guard continued dragging the kicking and screaming intellectual, and threw her into the wagon of a train, along with many other ponies, some confused, some crying, some just accepting their predicament. Stallion looked at the paper, trying to decipher it, but then handed it to an engineer. He does work, he thought. He should be allowed to do the thinking; on his free time, of course. He chuckled and continued on, congratulating many others for their hard work and sacrifice for the state. This was correct. This was how things should be.
“Oh, and guards?”
“Yes Comrade Stallion!” two Red Guard stallions replied.
“Please escort this engineer back.”
The engineer was surprised by this order. “You don’t trust me with these plans?” he asked, hurt. Stallion batted an eye at him and replied simply “I trust no one, not even myself.”
In the next 10 years, the CCCP made huge leaps in technology and industry, and the Union was prospering.
My Eastern Europe: Alliances are Magic
CCCP Chapter Three
My Eastern Europe: Alliances are Magic
Crimson walked home from her day job as an aircraft riveter. She had been building cargo planes for the state, to increase efficiency in supply distribution. She walked along the sidewalk, which by now was starting to crack faster than repairs could be made. She was accompanied by 3 scrawny ponies, who followed her like ducklings follow the mother. She could see across the street the American cyan pegasus with the rainbow mane who kept to herself also walking along, trailed also by some scrawny ponies, most of whom looked Latino. Far behind her walked another mare who spoke with a heavy British accent. She tried to disguise the fact that she, too, had been following the pegasus mare.
“Psssst!” came a voice from behind her. Crimson turned around to see a hoof coming out of a dark alley, asking her to come over. She walked over, instructing the ponies following her to keep walking, and was greeted in the alley by a pink mare with crazy pink hair. She remembered her from school back in Vladimaregrad, one of the German ponies who ridiculed her because of her dad’s political affiliation as extremely Unionist. However, she claimed to only want to make peace. They made a deal that they would not get in each other’s way as long as she surrendered one of the ponies following her, and in return would get plenty of bits in commission. She reluctantly agreed and continued on her way, not thinking too much about what happened.
The next day Stallion, for unknown reasons, declared that Germans are no longer Unionist enemies and removed all anti-German propaganda from Izvestia , saying that in reality they are and always will be neutral.
★
The next day Crimson walked through town again, but this time saw the pink pony threatening another pony with a box cutter until she surrendered her money, after which she ran off. She decided to stick by her word and decided not to do anything about it. She also saw the rainbow-maned pony also watching the action, however, she too turned around and continued doing her business.
Another day has passed and Crimson walked home as usual. This time she saw a mare getting mugged. This time a French mare interrupted the pink mare, and slapped her square in the snout. The pink pony by now was furious, and clocked the French mare with an uppercut to the neck, knocking her out instantly. The British mare saw this, and immediately held her hooves up. A bloody fight ensued, with the British mare taking a beating while the pink mare was taking barely any hits at all. She cried for help, but the American mare lifted a hoof, but then placed it right back where it was. Bleeding all over the street, the British mare fought to remain conscious.
“Where’s my cut of the profits?” Crimson shouted. The pink mare looked back. “I asked, WHERE’S MY CUT?” The pink mare withdrew a box cutter. “Oh, you’ll be seeing plenty of cuts soon!” she replied, charging at the mare, cutting her cheek open and then stabbing her in the arm. Crimson ran home, bleeding and crying. The rainbow-maned mare frowned, spitting at the ground. The pink mare called a Latino unicorn that was following her over. “How about we make things a bit sweeter?” she asked. “You help me kill the cyan pegasus, and we split the profits of her property 50/50. Deal?” The little unicorn ran off, and so did the British unicorn, stumbling away to inform the pegasus of what she has just heard.
★
The next day, Izvestia printed a new issue, with worse anti-German propaganda than ever. The streets were lined with anti-German posters, and when she came to rivet cargo planes, Crimson was informed she has been reassigned to rivet bombers. More of her other colleagues riveted other war technology, such as tanks and MiG fighters, and the Red Army was scrambled to defend the Eastern Front. The following issue of Izvestia confirmed rumors, the Union was under attack. The army was taking heavy losses, however Stallion said he plans on burning down for the most part Western CCCP. Just like in the previous great war, the germans would be unable to sustain themselves. He knew the winter, he knew its strength. He refused to underestimate it. The opposing army refused to accept it. He smiled. “If the opposition disarms, well and good. If it refuses to disarm, we shall disarm it ourselves.”
Months later, Crimson met up with the cyan pegasus. They headed their normal way, knowing they will be in for trouble, but doing it anyway out of personal pride and dignity. The cyan pegasus refused to fight the pink mare, saying it is not her fight, but slipped something into Crimson’s hoof. The pink mare was standing there as usual, mugging an unsuspecting foal. Suddenly she saw Crimson and withdrew her boxcutter. She charged at crimson with her box cutter, missing her by less than a millimeter. Crimson thrust her back hoof out, tripping her. As she scrambled to get up, Crimson stabbed her in the flank with a pocket knife, with the initials RD inscribed into the wood. She kicked her, and the pink mare ran off yelping into an alley. Suddenly a shell flew over their heads.
Earlier that day the Germans had dug in on the outskirts of town. They knew if they could capture Stalliongrad, then the Union’s massive oil supplies would be cut off, ready for German use. However, most of the citizens had dug in. At work, Crimson was given a small, long wooden box and ordered not to open it until she got home. The box had the Unionist insignia burned on it. She got home and opened the box. At one end was two halves of a makeshift iron helmet that clicked together and held tight, and below it was a rifle, with an American flag etched into the stock. She loaded it with ammunition, and not a moment too soon. Two army lieutenants knocked on her door; they requested her immediate assistance. She and a throng of other ponies garrisoned themselves in the gleaming modern buildings of Stalliongrad.
A stallion in a red uniform walked up to Stallion and told him the news. “Should we order the citizens of Stalliongrad to a tactical retreat and destroy our oil wells so they will not be used by the invaders?”
Stallion sat for a few seconds, even though he had already made up his mind. “In the CCCP, it takes far more courage to retreat than to advance onto the enemy.”
★
The winter was cold, and food was scarce. Every week a truck full of enough supplies for everypony was destined to come to their aid, but every so often their hopes would be crushed as a giant explosion rocked the land, and a plume of smoke rose from the road as the hungry, freezing German soldiers rushed over, running back into their trenches holding charred blankets and lumps of bread. The one thing that improved their morale was the desperate looks on their faces as they ran for the supplies. They knew they were suffering just as much as they are. Shells tore through buildings, and bombers from both sides made regular passes, bombing different key targets. Panzers rarely made it far into the city, and even less than soldiers. Charge after charge failed, because the freezing soldiers were used to open field combat, and the Unionists knew well how to fight close-quarters. At one point Germans made it to the floor below Crimson and began firing into the wooden floor with their machine gun. Crimson managed to make it out of the room unhurt, and quickly descended the stairs where she and another pony garrisoned on the floor below charged into the room. The Germans, still reloading, were helpless. She pulled out her pocket knife and carved away at the Germans. Now she had a proper gun and a nice iron helmet, albeit unnecessarily heavy.
★
Bombers made regular runs now at the German trenches, and reinforcements were being gunned down before they could aid the Germans. Stallion smiled at the latest Izvestia telling the story of every German wiped out in Stalliongrad and the citizens themselves holding off the Germans without the army with just household weapons. He turned to the stallion in the red uniform and asked him. “Comrade, do you know what was the same mistake that led to Alexander the Great’s death, Napoleon Bonaparte’s downfall, and now the end to the war we are in?”
The stallion in the uniform looked puzzled. “No Comrade General Stallion.”
“I’ll tell you what” Stallion replied. “Those mother beeches dared to attack Russia.” The two let out a hearty, twisted laugh. “Just make sure Stalliongrad doesn’t get this issue of Izvestia . Freedom of the press is slavery. You see, the press is the sharpest point of our party, and the ultimate goal is to make sure the ponies are happy, and if they believe they are single-handedly defeating a great enemy, not only will they be proud of themselves, they might actually try it, and those who succeed will share their stories of greatness. Don’t worry about those who fail. They won’t be telling anyone anything.” Stallion returned to reading the letter and smoking his pipe. “Fascism is just capitalism in decay” he muttered to himself. “If we decide to hang them, they would sell us the rope.”
★
The Germans began their retreat back, with the Red Army in close pursuit. Crimson smiled as she returned her war supplies to the soldiers, and went back off to work. By now, however, the gleaming city of Stalliongrad was reduced to rubble. She remembered one concrete shell of a building used to be the general store. A pile of bricks used to be the bank. The mass of rebar over the river at one point was a mighty bridge. She passed through town square, this time confronting the pink pony again. She now too had a pocket knife, and slowly circled around her in tightening circles. Suddenly she fell flat on her face. A cyan pegasus came in from behind her and slammed her into the ground. She retaliated, cutting one of her wings deeply. The pegasus then pulled out a large Rambo-style knife out of a concealed spot. The pink pony shrieked and began defensively backing up. Then her flank hit a wall. She realized the pegasus had cornered her. Crimson, in her rage, bucked her square in the face. Teeth littered the concrete sidewalk as her eyes rolled into the back of her head. She collapsed with a thud, blacking out.
She woke up with a knife being held up to her neck by the British pony, the cyan pegasus, and Crimson. “Who are you?” the British pony interrogated.
“I am just a mare who wanted the best for her foals. Both of their parents had died in the war, and I needed the money to take care of them” she replied, pointing at 2 mares shivering in a corner, and began to cry. “That one’s name is Osten, and the other Westen, both with the surname Berlin.” Then she collapsed. She no longer responded; she didn’t wake up again. The 3 mares looked at each other with disappointed looks. They circled around the two children. “I feel absolutely aweful” said the British mare, lying onto a lavish sofa that seemed to appear out of nowhere. “Also, my name is Rarity” she said. “Rainbow Dash”, the pegasus replied. “Crimson Tracer” the orange pegasus added. “I think it’s only right that we take them in” said Rainbow. “I’ll take Westen.” “I guess I’ll take Osten then” Crimson said, petting Osten.
“It’s a shame all this time we have been ignoring each other when we’re not so different after all” Rainbow said. “I agree. Let’s not keep to ourselves anymore and tackle life head on whatever it may dish out!” Crimson added. Rainbow and Crimson locked lips, sloppily making out. “From now on let’s agree never to fight each other” Crimson said. “I’ll always be by your side if you need it” Rainbow affirmed, kissing her again, and flying off back to wherever she was going.
★
Stallion exited a meeting hall in Berlin, whose swastika was hammered out and replaced with a flag with a hoof and plow, wiping his lips off against his hoof. “How did it go Comrade General?” the stallion in the red uniform asked.
“Swimmingly. We got control of East Germany, including half of the capitol, and we agreed to be completely open with each other from now on to prevent any hostilities.”
“You trust them, even after our ally betrayed us and attacked us?”
“I trust nopony, not even myself. I told you this already. However, capitalism is unionism’s greatest enemy, and if we are to expand unionism, we must make sure capitalism won’t stand in our way.”
CCCP Chapter Four
The Cold Shoulder
The CCCP and allied belligerents of the recent war disagreed thoroughly about how the map should look, and how borders would be drawn following the war. Each side held dissimilar ideas regarding the establishment and maintenance of post-war security. The western countries desired a security system in which democratic governments were established as widely as possible, permitting countries to peacefully resolve differences through international organizations. However, given the Equestrian historical experiences of frequent invasions and the immense death toll (estimated at 27 million) and the destruction the Union sustained during the war, the Union sought to increase security by dominating the internal affairs of countries that bordered it.
Following the Union’s May 1945 victory, the Unionist party effectively occupied Eastern Europe, while strong US and Western forces remained in Western Europe. In occupied Germany, the CCCP, United States, Britain and France established zones of occupation and a loose framework for four-power control.
During the opening stages of World War II, the CCCP laid the foundation for the Eastern Bloc by directly annexing several countries as Unionist Republics that were ceded to it by Germany. Countries such as Ponyland and Horsegaria lined the western edge of the CCCP, creating a shield from every possible side, insuring no such sneak attacks will happen in the future as did during the war.
★
Crimson strutted down the street, proudly showing off her medal, which read “ЗА ПОБЕДУ НАД ГЕРМАНИЕЙ; НАШЕ ДЕЛО ПРАВОЕ! (For the victory over Germany; our cause is just!)” She was surrounded on all sides by a new and increased number of little ponies, sticking to her like the loyal fans they were, which arose some suspicion among her friends, particularly Rarity, who was concerned that she was plotting something rotten.
The latest Izvestia brought great joy to all, citing how the enemy was defeated unconditionally, and the friendliness between the Union troops and their Amerikanskiye tovarishi which before was barren and unheard of, and as history would prove, one of the last times as well. There was just one dark cloud hanging over the heads of both allies: what to do with the formerly aggressing countries, and how to thoroughly and completely cleanse the corrupt minds of the German people.
Joseph Stallion sat in his Kremlin balcony overlooking Moscow, smoking his pipe, with a stern look on his face. Another pony in a red uniform once more stood at his side, waiting should he order anything. A quick puff escaped from Stallion’s black pipe.
“Nikita, I’m not going to live forever” Stallion said bluntly. “Somepony has to take my place sooner or later, and my hopes are currently riding on you.”
The stallion next to him looked back at him in surprise. “Sir, I am honored that you trust me with this fine state!”
“Damn right fine. This is the largest country in the world, and the only remaining socialist state. We are the last beacon for socialism. It is up to us to spread its wealth and prosperity to those countries that want us and need us. Do not fail me, Nikita. We cannot let capitalism or fascism defeat us. Don’t forget; our cause is just.”
★
Crimson continued down a cobblestone road, trailed closely by a group of foals, among them Osten Berlin. She was on her way to the local supermarket which had just opened, for local groceries and other such minutia. She ran her hoof across the black iron railing of a new apartment building next to her house. The streets were freshly repaved, and automobiles- an extreme rarity before the war, could be seen dotting the streets. Factories puffing black smoke and rattling with gears and rivets lined the hills, creating war amounts of rubber and planes in a setting of a new peace, which seemed almost awkward, since everypony’s mindset was stuck on the common enemy.
The new supermarket was huge, painted red, with yellow bold letters proclaiming “Walmarx”. It was a state-owned initiative, which meant prices were fixed, universal, and fair. After an unusual first encounter with automatic doors, Crimson cautiously made her way into the Soviet establishment. Inside, there was a cornucopia of foods everywhere. Turnips and onions, apples, caviar, and that was about it. The cornflakes had run out a while ago, but the thought was still there; all this food in one place. Crimson picked out some turnips for her borscht and headed for the exit, where she stumbled upon the one and only Rainbow Dash.
“Crimson, long time no see!” Rainbow said excitedly.
“A hundred years we haven’t seen each other!” Replied Crimson. “We really have to catch up”
“I agree” replied Rainbow. “How about we meet up at the park after lunch?”
Crimson nodded in agreement and went to the checkout aisle. Along the way, Osten snatched up a piece of candy. Crimson looked at him and plucked the candy out of his hand.
“Osten remember what I said? Mommy can’t buy you candy at every store, she doesn’t have enough bits!”
Rainbow walked up to the checkout aisle and slapped a few bits onto the table. Crimson returned a gaze and raised an eyebrow. “What’s this for?”
“What’s a 3 bits between friends?” she asked rhetorically, looking away and scratching the back of her head, a bit embarrassed about being so open.
“Ok, thank you...” she replied, and returned her gaze to Osten, who was smiling wide. “Just eat your borscht first” she said, booping him on the nose.
★
Crimson met up with Rainbow in the park and let Osten and Westen run off and play, while they decided to catch up on the news, possibly chit-chat innocently about where to go from here. Rainbow and Crimson sat on a bench and began discussing politics.
“It says here in Izvestia that Germany will be divided into four military districts...” Crimson began, trailing off to continue the rest of the article silently.
“Awesome, great news” Rainbow added, reaching a hoof around Crimson. “So now all of Europe can be a democracy.”
Crimson’s eyes darted open. “Whoa now, that’s a bit farfetched, don’t you think? I mean, we’re talking about ALL of Europe here.”
Rainbow looked at Crimson in concern. “What do you mean? Democracy is exactly the thing that will prevent another such war. If everyone could just-“
“Nonononono” Crimson interjected “that’s how the war started, because of decaying democracy, and the way to fix it is to centralize power in order to keep belligerents under careful eye of a responsible government”
“You mean like the Nazis?” Rainbow retorted.
“No, fascism is capitalism in decay. If every country is communist, there will be no more poverty; no more despair.”
“Because they will have nothing to lose!”
Crimson paused and looked at Rainbow.
“Look, I’m sorry” Rainbow said empathetically. “I need to go home.”
Rainbow trotted off with her platoon of ponies by her side. Some thoughts entered Crimson’s head but she waved them off. After all, how could her best friend since forever betray her country?
★
Stallion sat in the White House, gleaming a blank stare, burning a hole through Eisenhayer’s skull. Eisenhayer returned the suspense with a hoof swipe along his forehead and clicking of his lavish presidential pen.
“Mr. Stallion.”
“Comrade Eisenhayer.”
Another short pause filled the room with deafening silence.
“We are to be friends now, correct Mr. Stallion?”
“We can be the best of friends, but communism is the polar opposite of capitalism. Our countries cannot function as companions, even a great war that forced us together has shown this.”
“But we lent you weapons, we sent battleships! We met half way!”
“Let me tell you a little something, Comrade.” Stalin shot back, disgusted by what seemed to him incompetence and deceit. “You did not recognize our right to exist until YOU needed us most, in 1941. You lent Britain guns and ships and bombs and asked for only what’s left after the war in return. You demand from us cash retribution for every tank that failed and every bomb that was destroyed in its own explosion. You even kept the atomic bomb a secret from me. Sure, you wouldn’t use it against me; not if you value your life, but at least giving a heads up would be appreciated! And then when we take firm grasp of East Berlin which is rightfully ours, you undermine our government. Yet you seek from us friendship, no doubt to abuse us.”
“Let me stop you there, Mr. Stallion.” Eisenhayer replied.
“Yes, why not stop me. Why not stop my country next?”
“I have no plans to stop you, sir. I simply want to apologize to you for all the past presidents did; it was wrong of us to judge you so soon.” He said, and slipped Stallion a manila envelope. Stallion robotically opened it and looked inside.
“I didn’t expect anything more from you conniving scum. Take your ships, take your guns. You will have nothing more to do with us.”
“Sir, what was in the envelope wasn’t enough to satisfy you?”
“Nyet, comrade. It was too much for me to bear. We secede.” Stallion stood up from the table and walked out of the Oval Office.
“Secede from what, may I ask?” Eisenhayer chuckled.
“The world.” Stallion replied, completely serious. Eisenhayer chuckled, then laughed, then fell down on the floor as Stallion walked down the hall, escorted by two secret service agents.
“Sir, are you ok?” a stallion dressed in black asked Eisenhayer as he lay on the floor.
“I think we might be screwed. I just made enemies with the most powerful stallion in the world!” He said, still recovering from his fit of giggles. He took the contents out of the envelope and stuffed it in his pocket. “I was sure a check for $2,500,000 would have convinced him... odd.”
Author's Note
Sorry I haven't written much lately and that this chapter was a bit short, I pretty much gave up after I was sure no one was reading anything I was writing, so I decided to spend my days playing Minecraft and drawing fan art. Anyway now I am back to writing and cutting back on Minecraft (although I still draw art). Anyway, thank you to everyone who leaves a comment, and if you don't, please leave one. As long as it isn't trolling or flaming, I really appreciate it, I really do. Comments are what makes me want to wrtie more! Well, then again, a like wouldn't hurt either :3
CCCP Chapter Five
Comrade Horsechev
Rainbow Dash shot her eyes open at the screech of her alarm clock. 8:30 in the morning; waaaay too early. She went to the kitchen to make herself a cup of coffee only to realize her rations had just run out and there will be no more coffee for 2 more days. However, something about this day felt good, it just felt like a day worth celebrating. Maybe she’d go somewhere later today, maybe she’d even take Crimson to go with her. Yes, that is a good idea. Crimson’s phone rang, and she picked it up with her free hoof.
“Hello.”
“Good morning comrade Crimson, how is your day?”
“Well I feel great actually, very good. How are you?”
“Very much the same. Want to do something later today?”
“Absolutely, comrade Rainbow. I just brought the new Izvestia , maybe there is a new restaura-“
...
“Comrade Crimson?”
...
“Are you there?” Rainbow yelled. No answer. She hung up the phone and ran outside. The ponies that normally follow her around stood at the door with blank faces. Behind them was a throng of ponies all in a line, marching solemnly down the streets of Stalliongrad, holding candles, and marched on to St. Poniesburg.
The line of stallions and mares, colts and fillies, lined the bridges and swarmed into the center of St. Poniesburg. Among the swarm was Crimson. The crowd was gradually forced to one side of the street behind a metal barricade as a division of soldiers marched through the main street, holding posts with portraits of Stallion. Once the parade passed, the barrier was removed and the civilians were allowed to follow the army. They stopped in front of the towering red walls of the Kremlin, upon which was a wall coated with flowers, as well as a coffin on a pedestal. A line had formed for all those who wished to give their last words to the former leader of their country for 30 years. On the coffin was inscribed a short but concise message: “The leaders come and go, but the people remain. Only the people are immortal.”
★
A stallion in a gray suit adorned in medals paced through the halls of the Kremlin. He was met by another Stallion of similar dress and greeted him.
“Comrade Nikita...”
“Please, refer to me by my last name.”
“Ok, Horsechev, why so grumpy today? Did your poor uncle Joe die?” he said, spitting at the ground.
“That’s funny, just the other day you knelt before him in his presence and kissed his hand” Horsechev replied condescendingly.
“Comrade!” he shouted, getting up close to his face. “You shall bow before my position as chairman of the counsel!”
“Oh yeah, and how many divisions do you have to make me?”
...
“Let me tell you something, counselman. Control only what you have enough steam to control. This universal mindset is not as in the past; whoever occupies a territory also imposes on it his own system. Everyone imposes his own system as far as his army can reach. It cannot be otherwise. If now there is not a communist government in Paris, this is only because the CCCP has no an army which can reach Paris in 1945. Now I know you disapprove of Stalin, as you have quite clearly shown. I knew that after his death a pile of rubbish will be heaped on his grave, but the wind of History will sooner or later sweep it away without mercy.”
“Well, you fool, Stallion said to me personally he would have me to take his place upon his death, and it is unwise to make enemies with the new Secretary-General.”
There was a clicking sound and Horsechev removed an old service pistol from a concealed location. He cupped his left hoof under the magazine and pointed the weapon at the chairman. “That same stallion you just spit upon moments ago? Please, don’t waste my time.”
“You plan on assassinating your chairman?” the chairman asked smirking, anticipating such action.
“No, but I know who will be General-Secretary, and I think you know too.”
“NEVER!” the chairman cried, pulling out a pistol of his own. “I refuse to be your subordinate!” and turned the gun on himself and fired.
★
*knock knock knock*
“Who is there?” Rainbow asked the door.
“KGB; open up!”
Rainbow’s eyes shot open from lounging on her kitchen chair. She opened the door to see 2 stallions in gray military uniforms armed with rifles and shackles. Her knees quivered.
“Ms. Rainbow Dash, you were not in attendance to Stallion’s funeral.”
“... uh, yes I was.”
“It says here on our intelligence report you indeed were not.”
“uh... I didn’t know?”
A heavy set of shackles clattered around her fetlocks and a restraining rope was wrapped around her wings.
“Now it says here you are formerly an Amareican, so I will read you your rights... done!”
The two officers laughed and hoof-fived each other, and proceeded to throw Rainbow into the back of a police carriage which was crowded with a handful of other ponies in her same position, after which she was thrown into a holding cell.
After what seemed like hours of sitting on the cold linoleum jail floor, a uniformed stallion approached her cell.
“Sir... what’s going on?”
“You failed to show up to Stallion’s funeral; pity. It says here you will await trial, which in case you don’t know can take anywhere between 5 minutes and 5 years, and then after your trial you will be carted off to Kamchatka.”
“W-wait what’s the trial for-“ Rainbow began, but the uniformed stallion moved on farther down the cell block and ignored her.
★
“And so I, Nikita Horsechev, accept the position of Secretary-General of the Communist Party.”
There was applause throughout the Kremlin’s auditorium as Stallion’s successor took his first speech as the leader of the CCCP.
“And now for my first action, I would like to denounce the regime of the late Stallion.”
And the room instantly grew silent, as shocked party members listened to what Horsechev would say.
“Stallion... is a brutal despot. He has painted a graphic picture of a regime of suspicion, fear, and terror built up under himself. He is a dictator. And now I want to break the Stallion cult that has held Union citizens in its thrall for 30 years. In his purges he ordered the deaths of many of our finest revolutionaries like Poniev. He then executed many great officers after trying them for murder of such figures. As a matter of fact, in 1937-1938, 98 of the 139 members of the КСОЛ were shot on Stallion’s orders. Despite obvious warning signs, he was oblivious during the beginning of the Great Patriotic War. As an ally of Germany, Stallion refused to believe they would invade the Union-despite warnings from the prime minister of England and the British Ambassador in St. Poniesburg at the time. When the initial attacks into our motherland were launched, Stallion ordered the Red Army not to retaliate saying the raid was merely indiscipline on part of some of Germany’s units. And as some have known but this fact was suppressed, Lenin advised against having Stallion be General-Secretary. However, what I have just said should not be revealed to the media at this time. You understand, comrades, that we could not spread this information to the people at once. It could be done either suddenly or gradually, and I think it would be more correct to do it gradually.”
A stunned audience of high-ranking officers and political officials sat, glued to their chairs, listening to their mindset of decades unravel before them.
“In another action, the country will begin a process of de-Stallionization, where we will shrink the gulags, better conditions, reduce our dependence on forced labor, and end persecution. And as so, my first action would be to officially pardon anypony jailed for political crimes committed in the Stallion era, including government officials who were found guilty of treason and ponies who failed to show up to Stallions funeral. It is so ordered.”
Finishing his speech, he stepped back and left the stage. The crowd began to murmur about themselves, and eventually left, uncertain of what will happen to the union now. And more importantly on their minds: Was Stallion a brilliant leader or terrible dictator? Was he both? And was he more good than bad, or more bad than good? A uniformed KGB officer approached Horsechev and gave him an envelope; news of the chairman.
“Oh, so that shit survived? That useless excuse can’t even shoot straight!”
★
Rainbow arrived home that night with stinging marks on her where the restraining devices were held. Crimson sat on her doorstep, looking at her when she walked up.
“Hello Crimson. Sorry I wasn’t able to return your calls, I-“
“I know you didn’t show up to his funeral, and I am disappointed.”
“What do you mean? I didn’t read the news! How was I supposed to know?”
“How about ask anypony in the streets? How about ask me?”
“I did but you just hung up!”
Two ponies, one from each affiliate, began arguing on the side over who is right. Eventually, punches were being thrown and a crowd of ponies on both sides circled around to see the action. Both mares, grown adults, watched the fight happen with no intent to stop, because they wanted their followers to be perceived as stronger than the others. Rainbow, seeing the fight start to look like a stalemate, pushed in another colt into the fight, while Crimson saw this and snuck the fighter on her side a sharp rock. The fight didn’t last more than a few minutes, but out of it emerged 3 ponies, bloody and bruised, hating each other and the pony the other was following. Rainbow and Crimson exchanged blank glances and went their separate ways.
★
The following spring as an act of diplomacy, Horsechev decided to visit Amareica with a meeting with Eisenhayer. No Unionist leader had ever ventured into the states, and the Cold War was nearing its peak, with fallout shelters being built all across the land and foals learning duck-and-cover drills in school. Most Amareicans knew little about Horsechev except that he had jousted with Vice President Longface Nixon in the famous "kitchen debate" in St. Poniesburg that February and had uttered, three years before, the ominous-sounding prediction, "We will bury you." Horsechev also noted that he would like to visit some cities across Amareica, and Eisenhayer reluctantly agreed.
Reaction to the invitation was mixed, to say the least. Hundreds of Amareicans bombarded Congress with angry letters and telegrams of protest. But hundreds of other Amareicans bombarded the CCCP Embassy with friendly pleas that Horsechev visits their town or their home. "If you'd like to enter a float," the chairman of the Minnesota Applebucking Festival wrote to Horsechev, "please let us know."
Horsechev landed at Hoofdrew’s Air Force base on April 15, 1955. Bald as an egg, he stood only a few inches over five feet but weighed nearly 200 pounds, and he had a round face, bright blue eyes, a mole on his cheek, a gap in his teeth and a potbelly that made him look like a stallion shoplifting a watermelon. When he stepped off the plane and shook Eisenhayer's hand, a woman in the crowd exclaimed, "What a funny little man!"
Things got funnier. The next day, he toured a farm in Maryland, where he petted a pig and complained that it was too fat, then grabbed a turkey and griped that it was too small. He also visited the Senate Foreign Relations Committee and advised its members to get used to communism, drawing an analogy with one of his facial features: "The wart is there, and I can't do anything about it."
Early the next morning, the premier took his show to New York City, accompanied by his official tour guide, Carrot Lodge, the United States ambassador to the United Nations. On Wall Street, Horsechev argued with capitalists, yelled at hecklers, shadowboxed with Gov. Nelson Rockefilly, got stuck in an elevator in the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel and toured the Equine State Building, which failed to impress him. "If you've seen one skyscraper," he said, "you've seen them all."
Twentieth Century Fox had invited Horsechev to watch the filming of the Shoulder Mounted Friendship Launcher, a jazzy Broadway musical set among the dance hall girls of fin de siècle Paris, and he had accepted. It was an astounding feat: a Hollywood studio had persuaded the communist dictator of the world's largest nation to appear in a shameless publicity stunt for a second-rate musical. The studio sweetened the deal by arranging for a luncheon at its elegant commissary, the Café de Paris, where the great dictator could break bread with the biggest stars in Hollywood. But there was a problem: only 400 ponies could fit into the room, and nearly everypony in Hollywood wanted to be there. "One of the angriest social free-for-alls in the uninhibited and colorful history of Hollywood is in the making about who is to be at the luncheon," Erin Bro-nett stated on EqD.
Everypony who was anypony wanted to be in attendance, however, the studio was determined that Miller's wife attend. At first, Marilyn, who never read the papers or listened to the news, had to be told who Horsechev was, however, the studio kept insisting. They told Marilyn that in the CCCP, Amareica meant two things, Coca-Cola and Marilyn Monroe. She loved hearing that and agreed to go; she told that the studio wanted her to wear the tightest, sexiest dress she had for the premier.
The studio swarmed with uniformed police, both Amareican and Unionist. They inspected the shrubbery outside, the flowers on each table and both the men's and women's rooms. In the kitchen, an LAPD forensic chemist named Ricky Pinkie ran a Geiger counter over the food. "We're just taking precautions against the secretion of any radioactive poison that might be designed to harm Horsechev," Pinkie said before heading off to check the soundstage where the premier would watch the filming of the play.
As the waiters delivered lunch—squab, wild rice, Parisian potatoes and peas with pearl onions—Plum Juice, who'd once played Princess Celestia, attempted to make small talk with Sergey Sputnik, the Union novelist who would win the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1965. "I have read excerpts from your works," Plum said.
"Thank you," Sputnik replied. "When we get some of your films, I shall not fail to watch a few excerpts from them."
As Carrot Lodge ate his squab, Los Angeles Police Chief Shiny Handcuffs suddenly appeared behind him, looking nervous. Earlier, when Horsechev and his entourage had expressed interest in going to Disneyland, Shiny had assured Lodge that he could provide adequate security. But during the drive from the airport to the studio, somebody threw a big, ripe, juicy, and absolutely delicious tomato at Horsechev's limo. It missed, splattering the chief's carriage instead. Now, Shiny leaned over and whispered into Lodge's ear. "I want you, as a representative of the president, to know that I will not be responsible for premier Horsechev's safety if we go to Disneyland."
That got Lodge's attention. "Very well, chief," he said. "If you will not be responsible for his safety, we do not go, and we will do something else."
Someone in Horsechev's party overheard the conversation and immediately got up to tell the Unionist leader that Lodge had canceled the Disneyland trip. The premier sent a note back to the ambassador: "I understand you have canceled the trip to Disneyland. I am most pissed."
He had a long conversation with a Greek immigrant who worked his way up to CEO of 20th Century Fox. They cracked jokes at each other, deciding who was more humbler, whose country gave the most opportunities, and how Horsechev had never seen a ballet until he was 30. He rambled on, then apologized for rambling. After 45 minutes of speaking, he seemed to be approaching an amiable closing. Then he remembered Disneyland.
"Just now, I was told that I could not go to Disneyland," he announced. "I asked, ‘Why not? What is it? Do you have rocket-launching pads there?' "
The audience laughed.
"Just listen," he said. "Just listen to what I was told: ‘We—which means the Amareican authorities—cannot guarantee your security there.' "
He raised his hooves in a vaudevillian shrug. That got another laugh.
"What is it? Is there an epidemic of cholera there? Have gangsters taken hold of the place? Your policemen are so tough they can lift a bull by the horns. Surely they can restore order if there are any gangsters around. I say, ‘I would very much like to see Disneyland.' They say, ‘We cannot guarantee your security.' Then what must I do, commit suicide?"
Horsechev was starting to look more angry than amused. His fist punched the air above his red face. "That's the situation I find myself in," he said. "For me, such a situation is inconceivable. I cannot find words to explain this to my people. If you want to go on with the arms race, very well. We accept that challenge. As for the output of rockets--well, they are on the assembly line. This is a most serious question. It is one of life or death, ladies and gentlemen." The audience was baffled. Were they really watching the 65-year-old dictator of the world's largest country throw a temper tantrum because he couldn't go to Disneyland?
Before long, Horsechev's tantrum—if that's what it was—faded away. He grumbled a bit about how he'd been stuffed into a sweltering limousine at the airport instead of a nice, cool convertible. Then he apologized, sort of: "You will say, perhaps, ‘What a difficult guest he is.' But I adhere to the Russian rule: ‘Eat the bread and salt but always speak your mind.' Please forgive me if I was somewhat hot-headed. But the temperature here contributes to this. Also"—he turned to the CEO—"my Greek friend warmed me up."
Relieved at the change of mood, the audience applauded. They shook hooves and slapped each other on the back and the two old, fat, bald stallions grinned while the stars, who recognized a good show when they saw one, rewarded them with a standing ovation.
Author's Note
