The Rocket Pioneers
The Fyodorov Armory *** Had they already created something like this? Wasn’t this far too futuristic for people of this era to produce? For a fleeting moment, I wondered if this man had also come from the future like me, but I quickly chalked it up to my own lack of knowledge and cautiously approached Tsiolkovsky.
“Did you truly make all of this yourself?”
If this was real, it would be incredible.
“My ears aren’t very good. However, I absolutely want to pursue this rocket research! With everything I have left in my life, just once!”
His ears aren’t good? Ah, that explained why he only seemed to hear what he wanted to say. Still, if this was true, it was believable. If Konstantin Tsiolkovsky really worked together with Goddard, what astonishing things might they produce? My heart was already pounding with excitement.
This must be what it feels like to create history with my own hands.
I showed the documents filled with theories on space travel directly to Goddard as well.
“Mr. Goddard. What do you think?”
Goddard, who had received Konstantin Tsiolkovsky’s theories from me, had a sparkle in his eyes. He kept glancing at Tsiolkovsky with the look one might give to a truly rare and exotic creature. Of course, as the Tsarina, this was the extent of my own knowledge. Maybe I should have studied a bit more about space-related theories.
No matter how much I had studied out of boredom in the library, I wasn’t going to space anytime soon, so why would I have bothered learning about it? Even if I had, it would have been nothing more than basic information about the universe and nothing beyond that. My role was simple: I would provide the funds, and they would make it happen.
So, Goddard. Can you do it?
“There is potential here. It may be impossible within our lifetimes, but if this thing called a rocket continues to develop…”
Then it was worth attempting. I had never dreamed there would be someone like this in Russia. There was still so much knowledge I didn’t possess. Though, even if I had stayed buried in the library, I couldn’t have known everything. He was probably one of history’s great figures whom I simply hadn’t known about. It felt too subtle to assume he was a transmigrator like me. In that case, it was safe to view him as a genius of this world.
“Please give me some paper and a pen.”
If this man was truly what he seemed, he was worth believing in. And so, I decided to recruit a figure who might very well accelerate Russia’s progress in the field of space. After all, the Russia of this world had to stand tall as a benevolent Russia.
On the paper given to me by the Black Baron, I wrote a message to be delivered to Tsiolkovsky and handed it to him.
Our Russia values each and every talented individual. If you can truly produce results in the field of rockets, I shall grant you permission.
I wanted to believe he would succeed without fail. If rocket technology was properly developed, couldn’t we crush Germany in the coming war? As long as we didn’t have to resort to nuclear weapons, that would be ideal.
“I will definitely succeed!”
Konstantin Tsiolkovsky. And Robert Goddard. I was incredibly curious what this combination would achieve.
“Wouldn’t this be a waste of the budget?”
On the way back, Minister of Finance Mikhail Vladimirovich Vernadsky spoke in an uneasy voice. Yes, from that perspective, it certainly looked like a waste of budget.
“There seems to be potential, but I’m not sure if this is something Your Majesty must personally invest in.”
The other ministers didn’t seem particularly enthusiastic either. Of course, right now it probably looked that way. Still, the investment was worth it, which was why I was pushing for it. In this era, presenting such advanced space theories was something only a truly exceptional—or completely mad—person could do.
“Just by looking at these theories, can’t we see that Mr. Tsiolkovsky is quite the genius?”
No matter how I looked at it, this man only appeared to be an extraordinary figure. Perhaps my ignorance of history played a part, but he might also be one of those unfortunate geniuses whose achievements were overshadowed by others. He was probably one of those figures who only received proper recognition posthumously. If I returned to the modern era and looked him up, his name would likely appear. Perhaps the Soviet Union’s space technology had originated from this man’s theories.
“That may be true, but…”
He still didn’t seem convinced. Well, from the perspective of this era, it must look rather strange. Especially now, when rockets hadn’t even properly emerged yet. But once the technology was weaponized and produced tangible results, the ministers would surely acknowledge it. Besides, I planned to draw in funding from Duke Yusupov for this rocket project as well. In short, it wouldn’t rely solely on the national budget.
“Let’s observe for now. If this yields results, we will have a field in which we lead ahead of other nations.”
A technology that surpassed everyone else. We might be able to stay a little ahead before America caught up. We could even launch artificial satellites decades earlier than in the original timeline.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“It would be troublesome if other countries like Britain and France learned of this.”
Since even America hadn’t shown much interest, I wasn’t sure if Britain and France would be able to replicate it even if they found out. Still, there was no harm in being cautious.
“We will be careful.”
Hmm. Come to think of it, there was something else I wanted to try. Since we were already out, perhaps I should do a bit more. For example…
I had wanted to tour a factory at least once. After all, I was the leader of this country. Well, I was mostly a figurehead, but still.
“Ahem. While we’re out, I’d like to tour a factory as well.”
“A factory, you say?”
I wasn’t doing this simply because I wanted to play around.
“Haven’t you seen the newspapers? About those Germans.”
Looking at the German newspapers, it was clear. While communism had been established, there were also workers who found communism unpleasant. What this meant was that, conversely, there could be people in our Russian United States who wanted to rebel against the current regime. Yes, it was that simple. The will of the people must always be monitored. Especially since Russia was vast—immensely so. There might be those who harbored dissatisfaction toward me. To identify such people, this much was necessary.
“Yes, that is true.”
“That’s why I want to see our factories as well.”
It was a simple reason. It definitely wasn’t because I just wanted to sightsee. After all, as the Tsarina, I had been holding back my desire to go down to the provinces and check things myself.
“There is the Fyodorov Armory in Moscow.”
The armory? It was a firearms manufacturing plant. Yes, it was about time I saw it, wasn’t it? Especially since it produced weapons, there would be a lot of preparations involved. Since we planned to sell to China and Poland, there must be no defective products.
“Very well. Shall we head there, then?”
“Yes. I shall guide you.”
Ah, wait a moment. Going there in my full Tsarina appearance didn’t seem quite right.
“Ah, just a moment.”
I raised my hand to stop the ministers who were busily moving about.
“Yes?”
“Separate from the Tsarina’s visit, wouldn’t it be better to have someone who doesn’t look too conspicuous?”
If I went to the factory as the Tsarina, the workers might not voice any complaints even if they had them. Therefore, it would be good to at least pretend to be an ordinary person. For example, posing as a journalist from America would work well. That way, under the new Tsarina’s regime flying the banner of the United States, discontented individuals might openly express their grievances.
“Is that truly necessary?”
“In the old Eastern kingdom, the king would don plain clothes and walk among the common people to gauge their hearts. It’s called an incognito inspection.”
Everyone tilted their heads as if they didn’t understand what I was saying, but I simply meant something similar. A foreign journalist reporting on the reality of the United States, and Russian workers dissatisfied with their government. With that dynamic, they would likely open up much more.
“Hmm. I understand the meaning, but I’m not sure if it will be effective.”
“It would be better if you went openly. The situation is different from before the civil war.”
“Everyone will praise Your Majesty.”
The ministers were worrying unnecessarily. That only made it more suspicious. Honestly, it didn’t make sense for everyone to praise me. All I had done was personally enter the recaptured cities and speak a few times in the State Duma. That was precisely why it was more effective this way. Who would dare voice complaints in front of the Tsarina?
“Wouldn’t it be better than the Tsarina appearing in person?”
The ministers were pointlessly trying to dissuade me. If something went wrong while I was there, these people would probably start beating the factory workers while shouting, “How dare you toward Her Majesty!” Of course, I wasn’t the factory owner, but as the Tsarina who had implemented the policies that made the factory run this way, fixing those issues was also my responsibility moving forward.
Sergei was a worker at the Fyodorov Armory in Moscow. The Fyodorov factory produced the Fyodorov improved automatic rifle, and Sergei had taken a job there after the Red-White Civil War to make a living. His tasks were surprisingly simple. Being young, he mostly did odd jobs like sorting or moving boxes full of weapons.
Before the Red-White Civil War, the factory had apparently treated workers like dogs, leading to constant strikes and chaos, but Sergei didn’t know much about that. After the civil war, the Russian United States had become a capitalist nation with mixed socialist policies. Thanks to worker-friendly measures, Sergei was able to work in a far more favorable environment than the previous generation.
“Alright, everyone. Let’s eat lunch and then get back to work.”
The man in charge of ammunition sorting, Uncle Ma, clapped his hands to gather the employees. Lunch was just bread, but the break environment was properly set up and pleasant. However, today felt a bit strange. The other workers at the factory were buzzing with excitement.
At that moment, the factory manager, who had been talking with a man in a suit, approached the spot where Sergei and the other workers were eating lunch and clapped his hands.
“Workers, listen up. Today, some important people will be inspecting the factory, so please don’t appear too relaxed.”
Important people inspecting the factory?
“““Yes!”””
Who could these important people be? In the past, when important figures visited, workers would protest demanding bread. These days, they were told not to slack off. So, who was coming?
“Who is visiting?”
Eventually, Sergei raised his hand out of curiosity and asked.
“Members of the State Duma personally wished to see if this factory is operating well. Journalists will also be coming, so please be honest with them.”
Be honest? Did that mean just acting as usual? Come to think of it, he had recently read a newspaper article claiming that German workers were being treated like slaves by soldiers. Of course, not everything in Russia was good, but at least here, break times and freedom were properly guaranteed. Even the neighbor uncle who had been conscripted by the Red Army and returned with the White Army said that compared to ten years ago, the country had become far more respectable. Seeing that, the current Tsarina truly seemed like an extraordinary person. These important visitors were probably connected to the Tsarina as well. That was why everyone was working harder than ever.
“““Yes!”””
The others seemed to share Sergei’s thoughts and answered energetically.
And a short while later, the ministers from the State Duma arrived to inspect the factory. Among them was a woman who exuded an unmistakable aristocratic grace that seemed out of place.
“I am a journalist who came from America to report on Russian factories. Are there any inconveniences you experience while working here?”
She asked Sergei while carefully watching the ministers’ reactions. Inconveniences… Well, there were some. He wished he could eat different kinds of bread, though that was asking for too much. The work itself wasn’t particularly grueling. But…
‘Where have I seen that face before?’
It was definitely a face he had seen somewhere. Yes. A few years ago, right before the civil war ended. Just before he was conscripted by the Reds—the Bolsheviks. The woman who had proudly entered Moscow on horseback after its capture. The empress on horseback. The heroine who had thrown herself into the midst of artillery fire to end the civil war. The one the French called Russia’s Joan of Arc. The Tsarina of the Russian United States, Anastasia. In public, she was celebrated as the first Tsarina of the new Russia and called Anastasia I.
Sergei prided himself on his keen eye for faces. Logically speaking, wasn’t it strange for important people to bring only a single journalist? Of course, there were some well-built men claiming to be fellow reporters standing beside her, but still. Why was the Tsarina here right now, pretending to be a journalist?