Moscow

August 23
rd
, 1939

Unlikely Allies

Joachim von Ribbentrop checked himself in the mirror one last
time. Any blemish on the surface was a blemish on the face of the Third
Reich, and the Fuhrer didnt allow for blemishes. Satisfied with his
appearance he stepped out of the car, and into the musky Russian air.
He took in his surroundings, noting the grandeur of the Kremlin,
juxtaposed with the dejected looks of the workers who occupied it.
Ribbentrop smiled to himself. Although he had come here to
finalize the treaty with the Soviets he couldnt help but think of the
future; Moscow under German control, the prisons full of Communist
scum, forgotten by the Russian citizens, rotting while they watched their
perfect society torn to the ground and replaced by the Third Reich.
Soon. Ribbentrop reminded himself. Remember the task at
hand.
The German is ushered into the building by a Russian soldier.
Ribbentrop hid his feelings of contempt with a nod and a smile;
following the oaf several paces back, not wanting to associate with him.
The halls are dimly lit, casting long shadows more fitting for a medieval
prison than a bastion of power. Intrigued by a tapestry, the
ambassador slowed to a stop.
The tapestry stretched from floor to ceiling and was the length of
several cars. It depicted several scenes from the recent overthrowing of
Czar Nicholas in great detail. Most notable was a section that
illustrated the surrounding of the palace. Leagues of revolutionaries
clothed in red surround the last holding on the dictatorship, calling for
his surrender. Nicholas himself, clothed in simple clothes of white,
stood on the balcony, fear in his eyes.
Beautiful, isnt it?
Ribbentrop turned quickly, coming face to face with the Russian
foreign minister, Vyacheslav Molotov. Molotov was a portly man, his
wide face taken up by a large mustache and his large nose. His
appearance would lead anyone to believe he was a jolly man, akin to
Saint Nicholas, but he acted otherwise. In Ribbentrops previous
encounters with Molotov he had proven to be a cold-hearted and
stubborn man, deeply devoted to the cause of Communism. In a way,
Ribbentrop respected his fire, and his dedication to his leader.
A masterpiece, I would venture to say. Although, of course, I am
somewhat biased. Molotov gestured to a scene in the middle of the
tapestry, which illustrated the race for power between Trotsky and
Stalin. A Hammer and Sickle divided the two and their lackeys.
Among the men on Stalins side was Molotov, albeit a thinner, more
handsome one.
Its very nice, the German replied, I believe the Fuhrer would
love it. Hes a very big patron of the arts.
The Russians smiled, a rare event for the mean-spirited
ambassador, and gestured down a nearby hallway.
We have more, spanning the whole of Russian history. Would
you care to look?
Ribbentrop hesitated, then nodded. While he could care less for
the tapestries, or for the history of what he viewed to be an inferior
nation, but it was best to keep the Russian happy if he wanted to
succeed in his mission.
The wheels of history havent been kind to Russia. Since the
unification of the nomadic tribes we have faced many trials. Famine,
disease, Mongols, the enslavement of the lower classes; all of these have
hurt us, but we have overcome them. We have established a society in
which none of this can occur. We are finally at peace. Molotov
stopped walking and turned to Ribbentrop. Amazing isnt it?
Thousands of years, and we are the product, the pinnacle of Russian
history.
The German didnt reply, instead gazing at the tapestry that
showed the fall of the Golden Horde.
I notice that this is very similar to the overthrowing of Nicholas.
One man surrounded by an opposing army, realizing he has no hope.
Ribbentrop began to walk, leaving Molotov behind. Amazing how
history is so cyclical, isnt it?
The portly Russian began to follow Ribbentrop, thoroughly
confused.
What do you mean?
A regime climbs to power, abuses its citizens, and is overthrown
by a different party, which then repeats the process. The history of
Russia hasnt changed, only the people.
Mr. Ribbentrop, what are you implying?
Merely making an observation Mr. Molotov, nothing more.
Molotov had stopped smiling, and his eyes closed to a squint.
You offend me Mr. Ribbentrop. Your lack of faith in our
government does not bode well for our alliance.
On the contrary my friend, unless we had faith in your
establishment we wouldnt even think to make dealings with a country
with such a poor history. I believe that you are very capable, and will
be an important ally in the coming years, as does the Fuhrer.
Ribbentrops soothing voice calmed the Foreign Minister somewhat,
though it was clear he was still upset.
Perhaps we should begin the negotiations?
Of course Mr. Molotov, please, lead the way.



The peace talks were going well, but Ribbentrop was bored. He
didnt care for economic sanctions and other such discussions; he was
more inclined to talk of war. He had always hoped to be made a
general, but was assigned instead to be an ambassador. He felt no
resentment though, as the Fuhrer didnt make mistakes, so he was
obviously meant to be in this position.
Neither side will attack the other for a span of at least ten years,
at which time, according to relations at the time, negotiations will or will
not occur. Germany will not interfere with Russias advances in the
East, and Russia will not interfere with Germanys advances in the
west.
Eventually it was time to sign the pact, which Ribbentrop did with
a flourish, before approaching Stalin himself.
Mr. Ribbentrop, are you prepared for our meeting? Stalin
asked. Stalin exuded control. It was obvious to anyone in the room that
he was undoubtedly in charge. Although he was shorter than several
people in the room he appeared much taller than all of them. Few men
had this affect on Ribbentrop, and any man with the same authority as
the Fuhrer demanded his respect, no matter his views.
Of course Comrade, please lead the way.
The two men entered Stalins office alone and Stalin gestured for
the German to take a seat. Ribbentrop cautiously sat down in the chair
opposite Stalins enormous desk and took in the office. It was obvious
the Soviet leader had a taste for the finer things in life. Grand windows
adorned with velvet drapes covered the wall, revealing the somewhat
underwhelming view of the Moscow skyline. His desk, polished pine
trimmed with gold, dominated the room. The desk was covered with
neat stacks of paper, several of them marked confidential. Ribbentrop
noticed a blueprint for a large blimp, marked project Valkyrie. He
leaned forward to investigate, but Stalin flipped the paper over.
That is not for you ambassador. The Russian walked to a bar
in the back of the office and poured two glasses of vodka. He walked
back to his desk and handed him one of the glasses. You have a
proposal for me?
Ribbentrop smiled and pulled a folder out of his briefcase.
He stood and handed Stalin a piece of paper and looked at his own.
As you know, we both want to build vast empires, but our
prospects clash. So, the Fuhrer has drawn up this plan. We capture
West Poland and you invade the East. Without a way for the Allies to
reach you without going through us, you will conquer Asia unopposed.
Meanwhile we will capture Europe. The United States will remain
neutral to avoid another Great War, thus we will become the strongest
nations in the world. Then, in ten years, when we have conquered the
whole world between us, we will see if our partnership is still
necessary.
The Russian leaned back in his chair, twirling his glass and
examining the write-up of the plan. After a moment of silence he smiled
and looked up. I like it.
Excellent! Shall we sign? Once the Russian leader had signed
the treaty Ribbentrop shook his hand and smiled, his voice dripping
with faux-pleasantry. All ways a pleasure, Comrade.