Emergency

The next solemn act was the laying of flowers at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. Yanayev, accompanied by the representatives of the six allied nations, made his way to the Martyrs' Garden in Alexander Garden. At the marble slab before the tombstone, Yanayev placed a cluster of flowers with deliberate reverence. One by one, the others followed suit, their footsteps tracing a quiet procession of tribute along the sacred stone.

"This military parade is truly inspiring, President Yanayev. I hope the Soviet Union can sustain this momentum," said Jan Strasky, leader of Czechoslovakia, stepping beside Yanayev with a cautious smile. "Our great socialist movement has suffered devastating blows since 1985."

"Indeed, President Strasky," Yanayev replied gravely. "What is the situation now in Czechoslovakia? Gorbachev's errors cost us many allies."

Strasky sighed deeply. "The outlook is grim, President Yanayev. Since political democratization and open reforms, the Communist Parties across Eastern Europe have been losing power. Even ours struggles to survive. Czechoslovakia now stands at the crossroads of a democratic transition."

A flicker of concern crossed Yanayev's face. If Czechoslovakia fell, the Soviet Union would soon be the last socialist bastion in Europe.

"Is it too late to strengthen the Communist Party's rule now?" he asked quietly.

Strasky shook his head bitterly. "Pandora's box is open. Once the democrats tasted power, they will not relinquish it easily. Democratic reform is the tide sweeping through the region. If we resist it, the Communist Party risks total extinction as a ruling body."

Yanayev's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Do you recall how these democrats began their rise?"

Strasky looked at him, puzzled.

"Remember their slogans?" Yanayev continued. "Freedom, opposition to bureaucracy and corruption. They took to the streets, intimidating the military police, who hesitated. The democratization movement only grew fiercer. Moscow's passive stance and the populists' assault left the Communist Party isolated and eventually defeated."

Strasky's expression hardened, awaiting a blunt explanation.

"Since democrats seize power through street politics, why can't communism adapt—change its skin—and maintain rule through revolutionary force?" Yanayev's voice rose slightly, touched with fervor. "If we can expose the corruption of these democrats, the uninformed masses will rally to the true cause."

The leader from Czechoslovakia frowned, struggling to grasp the implication. "Change the skin and keep ruling? Would it still be socialism then?"

Yanayev gestured toward the Chinese delegate nearby, conversing with Defense Minister Yazov in fluent Russian. "The essence of socialism is to liberate productivity, to develop it fully, to eliminate exploitation and polarization. Look at the thriving socialist country in Asia. Can anyone claim it is not socialist simply because it allows multiple ownership economies?"

Strasky shook his head in reluctant acknowledgment.

"A country that combines strong administrative control with economic freedom is the best model for socialism's future. I have pointed the way forward. Now, it is up to you to decide what to do next."

Yanayev had become a guide amidst the fractured socialist camp. The West's infiltration had split the movement, and now he sought to steer Eastern Europe through the chaos. But such ideological restoration was a long, arduous process—especially when socialism itself had lost much of its vitality.

As long as the Soviet Union stood, Yanayev believed patience would serve them. Yet those new oligarchs, greedily mining their nations' resources, might not have the luxury of time. When inequality reaches a breaking point, the flame of violent revolution would surely ignite in Eastern Europe.

As Yanayev continued exchanging words with other leaders, the somber Minister of Internal Affairs approached and leaned in, whispering urgently, "General Secretary Yanayev, I must report something grave. Thirty-eight Chechen terrorists have infiltrated Beslan, North Ossetia. They have stormed a middle school and taken hundreds of students hostage."

Yanayev's smile froze mid-motion. "You mean—Chechen terrorists have entered Beslan and are holding unarmed children hostage?"

The minister nodded grimly. "Yes, General Secretary. I thought you should know before the celebration concludes."

A cold dread settled over Yanayev. This was a horrific echo of the Beslan tragedy in 2004—a catastrophe he had hoped to avoid. Yet the early end to the Chechen War had caused a devastating butterfly effect. The incident, originally destined to occur twelve years from now, had been thrust forward, disrupting the very day meant to celebrate the anti-fascist victory.

Yanayev's words hung heavy in the air, colder than the Moscow wind outside. Pugo's face tightened, eyes reflecting both shock and grim resolve. This was no longer just a crisis — it was a declaration of total war.

"Understood, General Secretary," Pugo said quietly, swallowing hard. "The Alpha Team is already preparing for deployment. We'll mobilize every available unit and tighten intelligence operations immediately. No one connected to this will escape."

Yanayev nodded slowly, his gaze dark and unyielding. "Good. Report to me directly every step of the operation. No mistakes."

As Pugo turned to leave, Yanayev paused, staring out the window at the Kremlin's crimson flag snapping sharply in the wind. His mind raced with the cost—both human and political—but the Soviet Union's survival, in his eyes, demanded ruthless action.

The once-celebratory mood of the day had vanished, replaced by a grim determination that this terror would be crushed utterly—root and branch.