Sorry about the overly long A/N at the end of last chapter. Thanks for the Reviews, Tabvadisch..es? (Well, it's phonetic...)

---Moscow, Soviet Union, February 14th, 1954---

The final acts of the Great Second World War. Allied troops closed in on the last bastion of resistance against the advancing forces of the Capitalist sons of bitches (and bitch), as the Soviet Commander looked out of his T-80 at the modified Chronosphere; the device would send his forces to an alternate time line, along with a Mobile Construction Vehicle that would aid him in the conquest of the Earth chosen.

His landing zone was an area known locally as "Gallia," though for the intents of the operation, it was "Landing Area 1," or LA1.

The MCV's diesel engine roared, as did the turbines of the trio of T-80's and the GAZ-AA supply trucks laden with infantry. Once he was on the other side, he would have the build patterns and training abilities for even the most secretive additions to the Soviet Arsenal.

The constant "Boom-boom" of the twin 105mm guns of other Heavy Tanks drowned out the otherwise calm and cold Siberian wasteland. Comrade Winter was doing nothing to slow the Allied advance, and in fact, seemed to be aiding it. Traitorous swine...

The Whirring sound from the Chronosphere. His troops glowed blue, and the nigh-trademark sound of the device activating marked the end of their time in this era...

---Randgriz, Gallia, March, 1935---

...and the beginning of their time in another. The Commander looked around... they'd been dropped in a city park, and thus, he didn't have enough room to deploy his MCV. The other Heavy Tanks had come down in bad places... one of them was on it's top, having been placed in a precarious balance atop a building. The other, was wrapped around a jungle gym.

Civilians looked on in awe at the remaining Heavy Tank, plus the GAZ-AA trucks, and the large truck that was the MCV. He felt that he needed to get out before he drew too much attention to himself. The tank's engine roared to life, the low-pitched whine of the turbine and the grumbling of the MCV and Supply Trucks clashing with the awed looks of the civilians. He knew the common policy against them, but at the moment, he focused on getting a base up. The Soviet vehicles formed into a column, with the tank at the front.

---Damon's office---

The commander of the Gallian military was absolutely dumbfounded. Supposedly, a large black tank, similar colored trucks, and one particularly large one. All these vehicles bore a strange mark... a Red Star. He figured, it was just peasants making things up, until he heard the sound of a foreign engine... a low-pitched whine.

Damon looked out his window. A black tank, trailed by black trucks, plus a large one. All had red stars.

Hm... probably some militia prick playing a gag of some sort.

---Present---

The Soviet Commander looked at the charred remains-of-remains of a high ranking officer's body. The MiG strike had done it's job. After praising the Mikoyan-Gurevich design bureau, he set to work converting the left of the building into his personal command post. Undoubtedly, he would have to defend it.

The Commander questioned one of his soldiers about the identity of the dead officer. The soldier responded that the name on the door suggested that it was a General by the name of Damon. The Commander ordered everything salvageable be taken and pressed into Soviet service...

He needed a new name for his forces. To his knowledge, the Soviet Union had ceased to exist.

His troops would henceforth be known as the Pact. But first, he needed to pick his friends. Supposedly, an "East Europan Imperial Alliance" lay both to Gallia's south and east. Such a Nation would be a useful friend, though he eventually hoped to turn them from 'friend' to 'satellite state'.

He commanded the soldier to get him a method of communication; a phone, a telegraph, a homing pigeon, anything. The soldier came back with a common telephone. The commander picked up the receiver.

"Number please."

"Connect me to the EEIA's Emperor."

"Sir... I can't..."

"Listen. You will do so, or I will send out Operatives for you personally."

"Sir? What do you mean?"

"Get me the Emperor, or I will have you killed. Clear?"

"Yes sir."

"Also, don't try to call the police, or law enforcement, or whatever you call it. They have a distinct lack of antiaircraft and antitank weapons."

"Yes, sir!"

"Good tabvadisch. But make it quick."

---End Chapter 3---