"UN Resolution number eleven. Soviet Union is found to be an enemy of peace, as proven by the six countries it has attacked since 1939, plus numerous spy rings in democratic nations. The Security Council demands that the Soviet Union pays reparations to the attacked countries, commensurate to loses incurred by the innocents, such as human lives and injuries, dead animals, lost crops and forests, plus bombed buildings and economic loss due to seizures, lost work-hours by conscripted soldiers and so on. " King Carol recited while reading from a folder on his table.
Molotov blanched as the eyes of the world turned on him. The proper response would be to dare them all to come and take it from his cold dead hands. Siberia was large enough to bury even the whole Chinese army. But then again, the Mad King was barely waiting for another reason to unleash freedom via high-explosives, especially the kiloton range freedom clouds.
Comrade Mao was probably already dead, as that Romanian battleship would have targeted army concentrations first, and Mao always said the power flows from the barrel of a gun, making sure he always had enough soldiers to provide power.
"We will comply to the UN's Security Council requests, as long as my country is able to afford such reparations. I would remind the United Nations present here that my country has also suffered from war and devastation, and is much reduced in industry and population as a result." Molotov answered diplomatically. Nobody raised a hand to counter the resolution, so it was unanimous.
"Poland requests an additional clause. Since our officers were massacred by the Soviets after they surrendered, we demand an equivalent exchange. 20000 Soviet officers." the Polish delegate spoke in a cold voice.
The Mad King rose an eyebrow, but declined to comment, instead nodding towards Roosevelt.
"Poland has signed the Geneva Convention. I can understand the urge for retribution, but murdering random Soviet officers wouldn't help. I'm certain Comrade Molotov will do everything to produce the persons culpable for the Katyn massacre and they will stand trials for their war crimes, much like those in Germany, Italy and Japan will." the American President spoke with a sad voice.
Molotov could only grit his teeth. "We will comply with this request."
"Another request, from Romania. In 1917, as the Central Powers invaded my country, the Romanian treasury was transported to Russia for safety. I want it returned, or otherwise replaced with more valuable treasures, separate from the payments to repair Romanian economy and the costs of the Dacian Wall. For example, Romania could receive 100-years lease over the Soviet goldmines, while said lease could be enforced by a random organization, let's say the Archangel Michael's Legion." King Carol demanded in a shameless voice.
Molotov hesitated at the obvious trap. The tangible treasures were already spent to fuel the Soviet economy, or to purchase technology and weapons from the West. The rest of the Romanian treasury was likely radioactive ash along with the rest of Kremlin and Stalin himself. Hence why the Mad King was asking for a lease on the gold mines.
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"I think 100 years is a bit much..." Molotov muttered with a low voice. The Mad King wanted his wall payed by the Soviet Union, after it was used to massacre 2 million Soviet soldiers and thousands of tanks?
"Fine! I can be a generous man. 99 years it is." King Carol decided with a magnanimous voice.
"..." Molotov looked for signs of support among the Security Council, but since Poland and Finland were present, there wasn't much of a chance for a veto, even without the scary atomic bombs of the Romanian King. Whoever thought it was a bright idea to recall him from his perpetual vacation in Paris?
At the side of the King, Land Marshall Antonescu murmured something, and the King nodded.
"My Archangels are rather busy training for jet flights and such. Land Marshall Antonescu will organize a Gold Commission to oversee my new gold mines. Gold Commissars lording over Soviet miners in the Soviet Union, who would have thought of this, even two years ago, am I right?" King Carol asked a bit rhetorical.
The Finish delegate saluted the Mad King as if to support his madness.
Finland had already doubled its surface and gained a million Karelians, but it seemed they were not satisfied yet. "Finland has another request. Soviet Union would provide a dozen civilian factories for important necessities like clothes and cement, plus 2000 tanks in working order. Our new territory is much larger now, and the Finish army will need more tanks to defend it."
Winston Churchill grabbed his chin in deep thought, exchanging a glance with Roosevelt, then King Carol.
While Russia was certainly neutered and partly occupied now, they would recover in a decade or less, even without 3 bombed cities.
"The United Kingdom supports Finland, but only if the Imperial Russia also receives 2000 tanks from the Soviet Union. Balance must be maintained, after all." Winston spoke in a final voice.
Molotov felt himself about to faint. 4000 tanks given for free?
King Carol smiled a bit too wide. "Balance? What about Poland and China then? They should also receive 2000 tanks each, and achieve parity with Soviet Union. Just in case they decide to invade someone, right?" he proposed with a Machiavellian tone.
Molotov wanted to argue that Romania had also invaded a bunch of countries recently, but that wouldn't be wise nor safe.
The winners wrote history now, and the Soviet Union was not among the winners.
Roosevelt felt the time was right and spoke first. "Indeed. The remaining 2000 tanks will suffice for the Soviet Union to secure its borders. The Security Council will withdraw now to debate the exact amount of reparations and the time scale needed, considering the current state of the Soviet Union and its prognosticated growth over the next 20 years."
Molotov felt his blood drain away, since all those 8000 tanks would need to be in working order, meaning the remaining 2000 would be the rusted junks used for training or spare parts.
As his plane landed back home in Chita, Molotov did not receive the state parade, nor even a Party delegation.
Only a trio of NKVD brutes, that dragged him in cuffs into a marshy bog. Comrade Khrushchev was already there, loading his Makarov pistol with slow gestures.
"Comrade Molotov, you sold the country to the Imperialists. Not only our tanks, but also the gold mines! Your death might appease the party for a bit, but the gold mines were supposed to pay for our atomic program! Now, it will take us 50 years of tight belts to build the bomb too. I hope Stalin and Beria receive you with worse words in Hell..."
Bang!
'It's not fair...' Molotov thought as his stomach flared in pain.
Bang, bang!
'At least shoot me in the head...' Molotov pleaded with his mouth tied and glaring eyes.
"Bury him! Then throw a dead pig into the grave." Comrade Khrushchev ordered as he climbed in his car.
'I'm not dead yet...' Molotov muttered silently, as his body was thrown into a muddy hole, then covered with more mud.
Bang! At least they shot the pig first...