Red Soviet Union #1-100
Author: 华东之雄
Date: 2026-01-01T07:30:10+00:00

Chapter 1: Recovering from a Spin

“032, eject, 032, eject immediately!” The voice of the base commander crackled urgently through the headset.

Perhaps it was the noise in the headset, or maybe the vibrations of the aircraft, but Lei Tian, who had just been on the verge of blacking out from the 9G overload, suddenly found his vision clearing again.

But the instrument panel before him was completely different from the fighter he had been piloting!

Originally, Lei Tian was a test pilot for the Shenyang Aircraft Corporation, the “eldest son” of the Republic and a pillar of China’s old industrial base. Every newly manufactured J-11 fighter had to undergo test flights before being delivered to the military.

Today, as he flew, he skillfully performed various maneuvers to test the aircraft’s performance. But during a loop, something went wrong—his anti-G suit failed to pressurize as usual. Relying solely on his body, which could withstand a maximum of 5G, Lei Tian blacked out. Most pilots could only handle 4G, while those who could endure 5G were test pilots. Those rare few who could withstand 6G were candidates for astronaut training. Yet, fighter jets could pull 8 or 9G, with the anti-G suit compensating for the excess.

Lei Tian remembered what had happened, but now, everything before him seemed different.

The J-11 was a domestically produced model developed by Shenyang Aircraft Corporation based on the Su-27, with its display systems already upgraded to LCD screens capable of showing multiple types of information. But now, the instrument panel before him was entirely analog, with only a single circular cathode-ray tube display—likely the radar screen.

The panel was blue, with a cold, metallic feel, and the markings were in a special alphabet—Russian?

Only the early imported Su-27s had Russian markings!

His body was still pressed tightly into the seat by the G-forces. He felt pressure on his legs, forcing blood back into his upper body to prevent blackout. Had the anti-G suit started working again?

No! This was a high-altitude anti-G suit! His vision was restricted, and instead of the usual helmet visor or oxygen mask, his entire head was encased in a sealed helmet, with only a small window to see outside.

The cockpit’s visibility was also poor. The windshield was divided into three sections, with no rear visibility—this was a classic second-generation fighter!

“Andrei, eject now!” The voice roared again in his headset: “Altitude is only five hundred meters!”

Eject? Andrei? Was he Andrei? In an instant, countless memories flooded Lei Tian’s mind.

Andrei Vladimirovich Tolstoy, born in Kiev. His father was an engineer at a power plant, and his mother was a homemaker. From a young age, Andrei had loved flying and eventually joined the Soviet Air Force, rising through the ranks to become a MiG-25 pilot!

The MiG-25—a legendary aircraft. In the Soviet Air Force and Air Defense Forces, pilots took pride in flying it, the most advanced fighter in the Soviet arsenal!

Damn it, it was only 1976! That’s right, 1976! He had time-traveled!

“Two hundred meters left! If you don’t eject now, you’ll be turned into Caspian Sea caviar!” The voice on the radio grew more frantic.

Eject? Lei Tian—no, Andrei—suddenly snapped back to reality. His plane was in a terrifying spin!

The MiG-25, a high-altitude, high-speed fighter, had an unusually large vertical stabilizer to maintain performance in thin air. Normally, it wasn’t prone to spins, but once it entered one, it was hard to recover!

Earlier, Andrei and his lead had been flying in formation over the southern training area of the base. At an altitude of ten thousand meters, after a vertical climb and dive, he had pulled the stick too hard, sending the plane into a spin!

To ensure control surface efficiency in thin air, the MiG-25 had an oversized vertical stabilizer. But at low altitudes, this caused excessive aerodynamic torque, sometimes leading to accidents! If there were fly-by-wire systems, the computer could limit stick input, but in this era, that was still a fantasy.

The aircraft spun as it plummeted. Due to the lag in the anti-G suit, Andrei’s vision darkened momentarily before clearing—he had time-traveled!

Eject? The ground was rushing up, and the altimeter spun wildly. Andrei knew he couldn’t eject now!

Damn it, he had missed the best chance to eject! This was an old Soviet plane, not a later-model Su-27 with the legendary K-36 ejection seat. The MiG-25 still used the KM-1 ejection seat from the MiG-21, with limited ejection parameters. At this altitude, ejecting would turn him into a pancake!

Recover! Recover! Andrei was an experienced pilot. In his other life, he had recovered from over twenty spins. Though this was his first time in this world, he had studied how to recover a MiG-25 from a spin.

He pushed the control stick hard in the opposite direction of the spin, then pressed the rudder pedal in the same direction. Not enough! The altitude was too low!

Lower the landing gear! Deploy the drag chute!

Andrei quickly reached with his left hand and flipped several switches. Soviet ergonomics were terrible—deploying these required flipping five switches!

Andrei had no time to complain. As he activated them, a white flower bloomed from the tail.

Only test aircraft were equipped with spin recovery chutes. Even if the pilot couldn’t recover, the chute would stabilize the plane. Now, the MiG-25 had to make do with the drag chute as a spin recovery chute.

Lowering the landing gear also increased drag.

The ground rushed closer, the altimeter spun wildly. After these actions, all Andrei could do was silently pray—Marx, save me!

Just before impact, the aircraft leveled out! The massive steel machine, a tamed beast!

“Sokolovka, 032 has recovered.” Andrei radioed: “Request to continue training.”

“031, 032, return to base immediately.” The base’s voice came through the headset.

A near-accident had just occurred. The base had canceled further training and would conduct an accident analysis upon their return.

Chapter 2: Steel Eagle

This was the Soviet Far East, the Maritime Territory. Across the sea lay the island nation, where warm sea breezes blew, and the entire region was blanketed in dense forests, its scenery picturesque. In the distance, the Ussuri River flowed quietly.

Recalling the terrible smog of the future, where the sky was perpetually hazy, Andrei found himself rather fond of this place. Though he didn’t know how he had ended up here, it seemed decent enough.

Already cruising at an altitude of eight thousand meters, Andrei peered outside through the narrow visor of his helmet. Accustomed to the flight helmets of the future, he was far from satisfied with the current one. Future helmets were half-helmets, leaving the entire face exposed. Only after donning an oxygen mask and lowering the visor would the face be fully covered. But the current helmet was a full helmet—once worn, only a small space remained to see outside. However, the MiG-25 was capable of reaching altitudes of thirty thousand meters. Even when fully armed, it could effortlessly climb to twenty-five thousand meters, the edge of space. Thus, pilots had to wear helmets akin to those of astronauts, along with high-altitude pressure suits. Otherwise, if the plane were to crash and the pilot ejected from over twenty thousand meters, their blood would instantly boil.

But the aircraft beneath him was truly impressive—it was the pride of Soviet military industry, a masterpiece from the Mikoyan design bureau, the world’s first fighter capable of achieving “double three” performance: thirty thousand meters in altitude and Mach 3 in speed!

At Mach 3, the surface temperature of the aircraft could reach several hundred degrees. Ordinary aluminum alloys used in aircraft construction would melt at such temperatures. Thus, to build such a high-speed aircraft, special materials were required.

The Americans had solved this problem by using heat-resistant titanium alloys—light yet strong. The Soviets, however, had taken a different approach: using industrial-grade stainless steel!

Yes, this was a fighter built from stainless steel! It was undoubtedly a heavy fighter, with an empty weight of fifteen tons, a normal takeoff weight of thirty-six tons, and an internal fuel capacity of sixteen tons!

Though Andrei from the future had never piloted such an aircraft, he had been given a harsh introduction to the MiG-25 upon his arrival, nearly crashing. But now, experiencing the raw power of this brutally simple yet formidable machine, he felt a subtle thrill.

“031, 032, heading 270. Unidentified target in Sector 14. Proceed to intercept immediately. Cruise at 2.4 Mach.”

Originally, Andrei’s aircraft had been malfunctioning, so he shouldn’t have been assigned such an interception mission. But their position was ideal, allowing them to quickly reach Sector 14. Thus, during their return flight, they received this new order.

“Received.” The lead pilot, Byelinko, replied, “Heading 270. Speed 2.4.”

Pushing the control stick, the aircraft carved an arc through the sky, heading toward the ground-guided direction.

The standard interception tactic of the Soviet Air Defense Forces was to operate under ground guidance. Following his lead, Andrei banked sharply, simultaneously engaging the afterburners to increase speed.

At this altitude, air resistance was minimal. The two engines at the rear spewed scorching flames. When the afterburners ignited, an adrenaline-pumping surge of acceleration pressed against his back. The R-15B-300 engines unleashed 109 kilonewtons of afterburner thrust. Fuel injected into the afterburner chamber turned into high-temperature, high-pressure gas, propelling the aircraft to accelerate further. A conical shockwave formed at the front of the aircraft. Breaking through it with a soft sonic boom, the aircraft entered supersonic cruise!

On the green instrument panel, the Mach meter’s needle slowly climbed: 1.2 Mach, 1.5 Mach, 2 Mach, finally stabilizing at 2.4 Mach.

Easing back slightly on the throttle, Andrei kept the aircraft steady at 2.4 Mach.

The two MiG-25s, flying at 2.4 Mach at an altitude of twenty-four thousand meters, rapidly closed in on the target area two hundred kilometers away. For the MiG-25, this distance would take only four minutes! An ordinary fighter would require at least ten minutes—this was the advantage of an interceptor!

Throughout the entire process, Andrei had not turned off the afterburners since takeoff, maintaining continuous afterburner flight.

Ordinary fighters, like the F-15, could only use afterburners during combat takeoff and aerial dogfights. Afterburner usage accounted for less than ten percent of their total flight time, with each use limited to no more than three minutes to avoid engine damage.

But for a pure interceptor like the MiG-25, afterburners could be engaged during combat takeoff, climb, transit to the combat zone, and even aerial combat. Afterburner usage could account for nearly fifty percent of the total flight time!

Otherwise, if the MiG-25 could only sustain speeds above Mach 2 for a few minutes, it would have little practical combat value. The MiG-25 could cruise indefinitely at 2.4 Mach until fuel exhaustion. At speeds between 2.83 and 3.2 Mach, the engines might fail, but not necessarily. During training, squadrons were permitted to fly at 2.6 Mach for up to fifteen minutes. Exceeding 2.83 Mach required battalion-level approval, and only the most elite pilots were authorized to exceed Mach 3.

However, sustained afterburner flight consumed vast amounts of fuel. To ensure the MiG-25 had a long supersonic range, the Soviets had increased its fuel capacity. The MiG-25’s internal fuel capacity was a staggering sixteen tons!

From the base, during flight training, they had always flown at subsonic speeds without engaging the afterburners. But now, after receiving the order, their remaining fuel exceeded twelve tons—enough to sustain supersonic cruise to Sector 14, complete the interception, and return at subsonic speeds!

Andrei’s unit was stationed in the Far East, primarily tasked with monitoring and intercepting U.S. forces from the island nation across the sea. They had executed such missions many times before.

Each time, it was merely a matter of driving them off. But this time, with the arrival of the time-traveling Andrei, things were destined to be different!

The rapid flight caused friction between the aircraft and the air. The canopy was absolutely not to be touched by hand, lest it burn the palm. Though the cockpit had an air conditioning system, the temperature had already risen to fifty degrees—far from comfortable. Yet all MiG-25 pilots accepted this without complaint.

Aircraft were for combat, not comfort. The Soviets, who had never prioritized human factors engineering, saw nothing wrong with this.

Chapter 3: EP-3!

Fuel consumption was the least of Andrei’s concerns. According to the basic data, the MiG-25’s supersonic interception combat radius absolutely exceeded five hundred kilometers. The later MiG-31 even reached over seven hundred kilometers. Now, they were only two hundred kilometers into supersonic interception. Under the guidance of the CGI, upon reaching the designated target’s airspace, the two MiG-25s began to descend.

A transport-like aircraft flew over the Sea of Japan near Soviet waters. Its four propeller engines spun continuously, its fuselage covered in various antennas. Below its belly, a bulky, rounded object resembled a pregnant woman’s stomach. It cruised at an altitude of eight thousand meters.

“Attention, we’re approaching Soviet airspace. Stay alert,” U.S. Air Force Lieutenant Athos said from the cockpit. “All systems online. Once we’ve collected the signals, we’ll withdraw immediately.”

Following his command, various electronic devices powered up. Signals emanating from the distant shore were continuously captured by the antennas, entering the equipment for initial collection and separation.

“Detected airborne radar signal, single pulse,” an electronic officer reported. “High power, it’s the Tornado-A radar! The Soviets’ MiG-25 is here!”

The United States placed great importance on electronic intelligence. After the Soviets developed the MiG-25, the Americans began studying this fighter, including the signal characteristics of its onboard radar, which were now well-known to the U.S. side. This aircraft, in particular, was a specialized electronic warfare plane. After comparison, they immediately identified the incoming target as the MiG-25’s Tornado-A radar!

The Soviets’ MiG-25 was coming! Instantly, everyone on board grew anxious.

The MiG-25! The Soviets’ finest interceptor, rumored to reach speeds of Mach 3! Even now, U.S. intelligence agencies were racking their brains to uncover the secrets of this fighter.

“Don’t be afraid. We’re flying over international waters and haven’t entered Soviet airspace. They can’t do anything to us,” Athos reassured. “We’ll continue the mission. Once this is done, we’ll have a month’s leave—enough time to vacation in Hawaii.”

During the Cold War, encounters between the two sides were frequent. This was just another mission. Even if the Soviets’ MiG-25 showed up, what could they do? At most, they’d fly above and below, lock onto their aircraft with radar, and try to intimidate them. They wouldn’t dare fire missiles. This was the Cold War! One wrong move, one accidental shot, and it could spark World War III!

Athos was confident. Such incidents had happened countless times before. What was there to fear?

They had an important mission. Just over a hundred kilometers to the west lay Vladivostok, the most crucial military port in the Soviet Far East! To prevent U.S. electronic interception, the Soviets frequently changed their electronic system frequencies. The American countermeasure was to continuously gather new electronic signals!

This was just a routine mission.

“They’re here!” Just then, the pilot shouted.

In the sky, two MiG fighters suddenly dove from high altitude, almost directly toward the aircraft, streaking past from above. In that fleeting moment, the red five-pointed star on the tail was dazzling.

At the same time, as Andrei caught a glimpse of the aircraft in that brief instant, his eyes sharpened.

The Americans’ EP-3!

The P-3 maritime patrol aircraft, nicknamed Orion, was developed by Lockheed in the late 1950s by modifying the L-188 Electra regional airliner for the U.S. Navy. This four-engine turboprop multi-role maritime patrol aircraft had a payload of twenty-six tons, a wide fuselage, and carried extensive electronic equipment. Its wings had ten external weapon hardpoints, and its belly housed eight internal bomb bays, capable of carrying AGM-65 air-to-ground missiles, AGM-84 anti-ship missiles, MK-46/50 torpedoes, MU-90 torpedoes, depth charges, and mines.

After its development, the U.S. used this aircraft for reconnaissance, anti-submarine, anti-surface, surveillance, and patrol missions. The Americans employed it to conduct close reconnaissance of other nations’ coastlines, exclusive economic zones, and other sensitive areas. Based on this patrol aircraft, by adding the United Technologies Laboratory’s ALQ-110 signal collection system, ALD-8 radio direction finder, ALR-52 automatic frequency measurement receiver, ALR-60 multi-channel radio communication recording device, and other specialized electronic reconnaissance equipment, it became a professional electronic reconnaissance aircraft and a vanguard on the American battlefield.

In 1969, the first EP-3 joined the U.S. Air Reconnaissance First Squadron. By 1974, it had completely replaced the EC-121 “Super Constellation” electronic warfare aircraft, becoming the U.S.’s professional electronic reconnaissance aircraft.

Now, Andrei and Byelinko were tasked with intercepting this American electronic reconnaissance aircraft!

With no equipment mounted under its belly, this aircraft was merely an unarmed reconnaissance plane! It seemed harmless, but by gathering electronic intelligence, it posed a severe threat to Soviet national defense.

Although they were still over international waters, for the Soviets, it was already too close. It had to be driven away!

“032, keep monitoring,” Byelinko’s voice came through the headset. “I’ll drive it away!”

After the two fighters passed over the EP-3, they arced through the sky and came back around. Seeing the EP-3 showing no fear, still flying boldly, the lead pilot, Byelinko, immediately spoke.

“032 received,” Andrei replied, pulling himself back from his thoughts. He climbed to a higher altitude, following behind.

Byelinko’s MiG-25 fighter approached the EP-3.

“Damn Russians, what are they up to?” The American pilot steadied the aircraft. Just moments ago, the MiG-25 had flown past from behind, its massive wake disturbing the electronic reconnaissance plane. When the MiG-25 appeared overhead, he instinctively pushed the control stick, nearly performing a fighter’s barrel roll. If he had, the EP-3 might have disintegrated.

The pilot panted, cursing.

“Don’t be afraid. They won’t dare go that far,” Athos said. “We’ll fly for three more minutes, and all the electronic data will be collected.”

“Damn it!” The pilot stabilized the aircraft, watching as the MiG-25 performed a high-G maneuver in front of them, like slamming the brakes on a highway, nearly causing the EP-3 to collide.

Who said the MiG-25’s low-altitude maneuverability was poor due to its high-altitude performance? The heavy interceptor in front of them was almost as agile as an F-16.

“Ignore him. We’ll keep flying,” Athos said, unfazed.

Of course, the maneuverability was good now! The recent supersonic cruise had burned through several tons of fuel. With the engines’ already substantial thrust and the reduced weight, it was incredibly agile. As for structural strength, a stainless steel-built fighter—what was there to worry about?

Byelinko tried various maneuvers, but none could drive away the EP-3. The Americans seemed single-minded. Did they really not fear being shot down? Climbing away from the EP-3, Byelinko grumbled to himself.

“031, 032 requesting permission to drive it away,” Andrei’s voice came through the headset.

“Granted,” Byelinko agreed.

Chapter 4: The Surgical Knife in the Sky

Americans, I’m coming for you! In an instant, Andrei’s eyes filled with madness as the scene from years ago flashed through his mind.

The American EP-3 was flying recklessly over the South China Sea, probing the mainland’s electromagnetic signals. The brave naval aviator Wang Wei, piloting the outdated J-8II fighter, had taken off with his wingman to intercept. During the confrontation, the American pilot maliciously closed in on Wang Wei’s aircraft. The massive EP-3 rapidly pressed toward the rear of Wang Wei’s J-8II. Before Wang Wei could react, the American plane’s nose and left wing struck the rear of his fighter. The left outer propeller, like an electric saw, shredded the J-8II’s vertical tail fin into pieces.

This was a deliberate collision! Hero Wang Wei’s plane, having lost its tail fin, could no longer fly. With no choice, Wang Wei ejected—but he was never found again. The Republic had lost an outstanding pilot, yet Wang Wei’s spirit continued to inspire everyone in the Republic, especially those who soared through the skies. Though Lei Tian, before his transmigration, had not been part of the frontline combat units, he had never forgotten this humiliation.

Now, facing the American EP-3 once more, Andrei’s heart burned with fury. Bullying an old J-8II is one thing, but now you’ll taste the power of my stainless steel fighter!

In this era, the pursuit of speed knew no bounds. When exceeding Mach 2.5, the “heat barrier” became a critical issue. Friction with the air generated immense heat—at Mach 3, the nose temperature could exceed three hundred degrees Celsius!

At such temperatures, aluminum alloys would soften like tissue paper. Forget maneuvering—normal flight would be impossible.

To break through this barrier, both the Americans and Soviets had developed their own solutions. The Americans used advanced titanium alloys, giving birth to the SR-71 Blackbird reconnaissance plane. Though expensive, its performance was limited—it had almost no maneuverability and could only be used for surveillance, not dogfights. The Soviets, however, took a simpler, more brutal approach: stainless steel!

Some so-called experts claimed with “irrefutable evidence” that the MiG-25’s stainless steel frame was too heavy, forcing sacrifices in structural strength to reduce weight. They argued it couldn’t withstand high-G maneuvers, relegating it to interceptor and reconnaissance roles. Pure armchair theorizing! The MiG-25’s stainless steel body was incredibly sturdy—pilots had pulled 11.5 Gs without damaging the aircraft. Others claimed the Soviets lacked titanium expertise, but in reality, the Yevgeny Design Bureau (later Sukhoi) had already built the titanium-alloy T-4 prototype. Their titanium technology was more than sufficient—they simply chose stainless steel after careful consideration.

An aluminum J-8II couldn’t stand up to an EP-3, but a stainless steel MiG-25 was a different beast!

The entire frame of the MiG-25 was stainless steel, including its towering vertical tail fins!

With flames roaring from its twin rear engines, Andrei piloted the MiG-25, rapidly closing in on the EP-3.

At this moment, the EP-3’s departure was counting down. In thirty seconds, all data collection would be complete, and the mission would end. Though the terrifying Soviet fighter had been tailing them, it hadn’t done anything—all that time spent harassing them had been for nothing.

The Russian bear isn’t so scary—they’re afraid of accidental fire too!

With this mindset, the Americans on board were no longer afraid. In fact, they were relaxed. Once the mission ended, they could head to Hawaii for vacation, find a beautiful woman, and brag about this operation!

“032, watch your altitude!” Byelinko’s voice came through the radio. He had already sensed something was off.

Normally, when driving off an enemy aircraft, you’d fly above them, pass over their nose, then push the stick forward—like cutting someone off on the highway—forcing them to follow your turn, toying with them.

But now, Andrei’s fighter was flying lower than the EP-3. What was he up to?

In the air, every second counted. The moment Byelinko gave the order, Andrei’s plane had already reached the EP-3’s lower rear. Then, under Byelinko’s watchful gaze, Andrei’s fighter swiftly passed beneath the American plane.

Damn it, that’s too close—he’s going to collide!

The MiG-25 had no rear visibility. Performing this maneuver, Andrei had to rely entirely on his experience.

To maintain sufficient lateral control in the thin high-altitude air, the MiG-25 had tall vertical tails—and a dual-tail configuration! It was the world’s first fighter with twin vertical tails, and the Americans’ F-15 drew significant aerodynamic inspiration from it.

Now, the advantage of this dual-tail design was clear—if one tail was damaged, Andrei could still bring the plane home!

Andrei’s fighter streaked past the EP-3’s left underside. To ensure the effect, as the American plane’s wing passed over his head, he deliberately pulled back on the stick.

“Andrei, push the stick—you’re going to hit them!” Byelinko saw it clearly. Andrei’s nose had passed, but the right vertical tail was about to collide with the EP-3.

Too late. Before his warning could finish, the MiG-25’s towering right tail had already sliced across the EP-3’s left wing, near the first engine!

The sharp tail acted like a knife, cleanly severing the outer section of the EP-3’s left wing! The tail continued forward, striking the propeller, sending sparks flying.

Andrei’s first intimate encounter with the American EP-3 ended there. As he throttled up and accelerated away, the EP-3 began to shudder like a leaf in the wind.

Damn Soviets—absolute lunatics! From the left observation station’s window, the observer watched as their wing was sliced off, the first engine’s propeller sparking. He shouted, “Quick, shut down engine one—our wing’s been cut off!”

Chapter 5: Emergency Landing

The EP-3 electronic reconnaissance aircraft had a conventional layout, with a cantilevered low wing and a traditional aluminum alloy structure. It was powered by four Allison T56-A-14 turboprop engines, each delivering 3,661 kilowatts of power, driving a 54H60-77 four-bladed constant-speed propeller. With ample engine power, the aircraft often shut down one engine during missions to conserve fuel and extend flight time, similar to the practices of World War II bombers. If conditions such as aircraft weight and weather permitted, even two outer engines could be shut down.

Typically, if an engine was to be shut down, it would be the left outer engine, designated as Engine No. 1. This was the only one of the P-3’s four engines without a generator, meaning it did not need to supply power to the aircraft’s electronic instruments. With the engine shut down and no exhaust, an observation window was added on the left side of the EP-3.

Now, the observer on this EP-3 witnessed a heart-stopping scene—the enemy fighter had actually sliced off a piece of their wing!

If only the engine had been damaged, shutting down Engine No. 1 would have allowed the aircraft to remain controllable and continue flying. But with a section of the wing severed, the situation was entirely different!

The left wing, now providing insufficient lift, caused the left side to drop, while the right wing, with excessive lift, forced the right side upward. In an instant, the massive EP-3 began to roll violently.

The pilot reacted swiftly, pressing hard on the control stick to the right, barely managing to level the aircraft. The altitude was rapidly decreasing, the high-pitched sound of air tearing through the cabin filling everyone with dread.

Were they about to crash?

“Steady, steady!” Athos shouted. Though he was the mission commander, he was not the pilot. Faced with the sudden impact, all he could do was shout.

The pilot struggled to stabilize the controls, but the EP-3 continued to descend. If this kept up, they would plunge into the sea!

“Come on, baby!” the pilot yelled, pulling back hard on the control stick. Finally, at an altitude of two thousand meters, the aircraft leveled out.

“Return to base! We need to return immediately!” Athos shouted. From the cockpit, he could see the MiG-25 flying past arrogantly, its red star on the tail fin starkly visible.

“No, our aircraft has been hit—severe damage. We can’t fly thousands of kilometers back!” the pilot shouted.

With part of the left wing missing, the aircraft could barely stay airborne. The pilot knew that any sharp turn would send them spiraling out of control.

They had no choice but to make an emergency landing.

But where? This wasn’t a seaplane—they had to land on solid ground! And the nearest land belonged to the Soviets!

“No, we must fly back!” Athos insisted stubbornly.

Just then, a gust of crosswind struck, causing the entire aircraft to shake violently. The cabin erupted in screams.

Athos, thrown back into his seat, paled. If they forced their way back, they would crash mid-flight. There was no other option—they had to land.

But where? There seemed to be a Soviet military airfield nearby. At least they had to reach land first!

Inside the MiG-25 cockpit, Byelinko looked out through the narrow view and shook his head. Andrei’s earlier maneuver had been deliberate—utterly reckless! But the result was undeniable.

“Sokolovka, Sokolovka, this is 032. 032 has collided with the intercept target. The target has lost flight capability and is descending into our airspace.” Andrei radioed the base. “Repeat, the intercept target has lost flight capability and is descending into our airspace.”

Ahead lay an anti-aircraft missile site. Andrei worried that the American reconnaissance aircraft might be shot down, rendering his efforts useless.

“Continue monitoring, 032. Report the damage status,” came the ground response.

“My aircraft is operational and can continue flying. The intercept target has lost one engine and a section of its wing.” Andrei reported over the radio. “It appears to be making an emergency landing at our base.”

Byelinko, also piloting a MiG-25, followed closely behind the American reconnaissance aircraft, keeping a sharp eye on its unstable flight. From his vantage point, the enemy aircraft wobbled precariously, on the verge of crashing at any moment.

Inside the EP-3, the Americans were still terrified for their lives. They had entered Soviet airspace—would the Soviets shoot them down? The Soviets were known for their fierce sovereignty; they had even shot down a stray civilian airliner before. This was a genuine electronic reconnaissance aircraft—what would happen now? Would this spark a world war?

They were now over land, seeing dense forests and distant villages. Their altitude had dropped to one thousand meters!

Where could they land? The navigation equipment was damaged—they had to rely on visuals.

“Up ahead! There’s an airfield!” Athos spotted a straight runway in the distance and shouted to the pilot.

It was indeed an airfield! The pilot maneuvered the aircraft, wobbling toward it. He knew this was his only chance—if he missed it, a go-around was impossible.

He pulled back on the control stick, trying to follow a standard descent path, but the moment he moved, the aircraft teetered on the edge of losing control, plummeting like a rock.

The cabin filled with screams as some passengers closed their eyes, making the sign of the cross.

Only the pilot kept fighting.

The landing gear was down, but the aircraft wasn’t aligned with the runway. The main landing gear struck the ground first, the left side hitting and bouncing back before touching down again. After skidding a few dozen meters, it veered off the runway into the grass. The pilot pressed the rudder pedals, using them as brakes. The aircraft continued forward, nearly crashing into the nearby trees before finally coming to a stop.

It was a landing they would never forget.

“We’ve stopped! Get out of the plane!” the pilot said, unbuckling his seatbelt and rushing toward the rear cabin.

“No! Destroy the electronic equipment first!” Athos, having cheated death, still remembered his duty.

This aircraft held too many secrets—America’s most advanced electronic technology! If it fell into Soviet hands, they would dismantle and study it.

Nothing could be left for the Soviets!

But before Athos could finish, Soviet voices rang out from outside: “Drop your weapons and come out of the aircraft immediately!”

Chapter 6: America Is Not the World’s Hegemon

Two steel warbirds approached from the distance, aligning perfectly with the runway as they entered their landing trajectory.

“031, 032, watch your attitude, don’t pull too hard on the stick, landing gear is down.” The voice of the control tower’s guide continued to come through the headset.

Though it was his first time operating this high-altitude, high-speed MiG-25 interceptor, the young man who had inherited all its wings—Andrei—calmly pushed the control stick, guiding the aircraft in its descent.

To ensure good handling at high altitudes, the MiG-25 was the first to use fully movable horizontal stabilizers and towering twin vertical tails, which made it prone to excessive control moments in dense low-altitude air. This required careful handling by the pilot. Later generations would describe it vividly: in low altitude, this thing was like a flying brick!

When the wheels touched the ground, a slight vibration passed through the metal-framed cockpit. Glancing to either side, the ground rushed past in a blur.

The front landing gear also made contact, and since the drag chute had been deployed, Andrei lightly applied the brakes. A heavy interceptor like the MiG-25 required over two kilometers of runway to land.

It was nearly at the end of the runway before the MiG-25 finally came to a stop.

Climbing down from the ladder set up by the ground crew, Andrei stood beside the aircraft, examining it carefully.

This was a towering, majestic warbird! Andrei struggled to find a better description. Its rugged lines, nearly block-like fuselage, and two massive rectangular air intakes all exuded Soviet characteristics—simple, reliable, brutal, and powerful.

Standing beside it, he felt his own insignificance. Even when he had piloted the J-11 in his past life, he had never felt this way.

Meanwhile, another ground crew member set up a ladder near the vertical tail, which was nearly two stories high. The crew member scanned it briefly.

Only then did Andrei remember—he had used the vertical tail like a blade to slice open the American EP-3 reconnaissance aircraft. Was the tail damaged?

“How bad is it?” Andrei asked.

“Not serious, just some skin damage. We’ll tow it back to the hangar and weld it up,” the crew member replied. “The very high frequency antenna inside wasn’t harmed.”

Weld it up? The front of the vertical tail also experienced friction and heat from the air, so of course it was made of stainless steel! No need for rivets—just argon arc welding would do!

Andrei couldn’t help but think of the future, where composite materials were widely used to reduce aircraft weight. If those got even slightly damaged, the entire section would have to be replaced. But with the MiG-25, a simple weld was all it took!

As he pondered, someone tapped him on the shoulder.

Turning around, he saw a young man in an anti-G suit, holding a full-face helmet in his hand.

Tall and burly, with a broad face, but his eyes carried a hint of laziness.

“Captain Byelinko,” Andrei couldn’t help but exclaim.

The man before him was the flight lead who had just returned with him—Captain Byelinko. He had come from the Salsk Pilot Training Center a year ago and was now the acting deputy commander of the 3rd Air Squadron at the Chuguyevka Air Defense Base’s 513th Regiment.

He had only been paired with Andrei for the past month.

“Let’s go, report to the commander,” Byelinko said. “Andrei, you were really bold up there. Weren’t you afraid of crashing?”

“My hand slipped, misjudged the distance,” Andrei replied.

This could be a big deal or a small one. If he admitted to intentionally ramming the aircraft, it would only bring more trouble. So Andrei decided it was better to call it an operational error.

Byelinko said nothing. Andrei then remembered that the captain was usually a man of few words, always silent.

Riding in a Kamaz truck driven by the ground crew, they had only gone a short distance when Andrei’s eyes lit up. In the distance stood a massive four-engine aircraft! Its wing looked like it was missing a piece—why did it seem so familiar?

Wasn’t that the EP-3? What a small world—it had actually landed here! Andrei’s heart leaped with joy.

Soldiers from the Sokolovka Base, wearing steel helmets and carrying short-stocked AK-74 rifles, stood guard around the aircraft. The Americans inside were reluctantly stepping out.

“Stop, let’s go take a look!” Andrei shouted.

The truck stopped, and Andrei jumped out, heading toward the aircraft. Byelinko, following behind, shook his head. What was there to see?

The disheartened Americans descended from the plane and were immediately escorted by armed soldiers toward the base’s buildings.

That’s right—escorted. To the Soviet soldiers, these Americans had violated Soviet airspace and even flown their aircraft to their base. If not for orders from above, they would have shot it down with missiles long ago.

Americans were the most despicable enemies! With this mindset, the soldiers naturally had no goodwill toward them.

“Move, move faster!” Seeing them slow down, one soldier swung his rifle and struck the slowest American hard in the back with the butt.

The American staggered forward a few steps, right in front of Andrei. Seeing the Soviet pilot still in his anti-G suit, the American’s eyes suddenly burned with fury.

“You Russian bastard! Ramming our aircraft in the air violates basic international law!” This was Athos. He had seen the Soviet pilot disembarking and suspected he was the one who had rammed them. He shouted, “The U.S. government will never tolerate this!”

Andrei’s gaze turned sharp in an instant. “You Americans aren’t saviors, nor are you the world’s police. Coming to stir trouble in our Soviet waters—this is what you get! This time, I only sliced your wing. Next time, if I see you, I’ll fly right through and cut off what’s in your pants!”

As he spoke, Andrei gestured toward Athos’s crotch, his sharp flight knife in hand. A chill ran through Athos’s body.

The surrounding soldiers burst into laughter. Even in the tensest moments of the Cold War, Andrei’s hatred for the Americans was undiminished.

The Americans lowered their heads and walked away. Andrei watched their retreating figures, and suddenly, a heroic name flashed in his mind.

Wang Wei—the Chinese pilot who had been struck by an American EP-3 and ultimately perished at sea. He was a fellow aviator Andrei had admired before his transmigration. Now, he had avenged him in his own way.

America was not the world’s hegemon! They couldn’t just strut around everywhere! The red Soviet Union was the only superpower that could stand against America!

Chapter 7: Kozhdoob

The warm currents of the Pacific Ocean swept into the Maritime Territory, a region blessed with a temperate maritime climate. Though somewhat humid, it was an ideal place for human habitation, with dense forests and crisp, fresh air. Unlike the bitter cold of the vast Soviet lands, here, the tension of the Cold War lingered just the same.

As the Soviet Far East, this region lay across the Sea of Japan from Hokkaido, with Honshu to the southeast. In this era of Cold War, it was undeniably the front line, where conflict could erupt at any moment, turning the cold war hot.

To counter the encirclement by the United States-led NATO, the Soviet Union had built a formidable military presence. The southern part of the Maritime Territory was home to Vladivostok, the primary port city of the Soviet Far East, where the Pacific Fleet, the backbone of the Soviet Far Eastern Navy, was stationed.

To the north, in the small town of Chuguyevka, the Sokolovka Base housed the 513th Regiment of the Soviet Air Defense Forces, equipped entirely with the latest Soviet MiG-25 interceptors. In the event of war, these interceptors would be the first to scramble into action. For now, intercepting American EP-3 electronic reconnaissance aircraft was just another routine mission for Sokolovka Base.

But this time, the mission had gone horribly wrong! In an office adjacent to the base’s control tower, Base Commander Kozhdoob Doglayev stared at the American EP-3 reconnaissance plane that had made an emergency landing in the grass near the runway, then at the two MiG-25s that had just touched down. His eyes burned with frustration.

Kozhdoob—a name that evoked the legendary Soviet ace. The real Kozhdoob had joined the fight in March 1943 and seen Germany’s surrender in May 1945. In between, he had fought in 120 aerial battles, shooting down 62 enemy aircraft, making him the Soviet Union’s top ace.

But this was not that Kozhdoob. The base commander shared only the name.

At forty years old, Kozhdoob had been just a child during World War II. He had graduated from flight school at twenty, starting with the MiG-15 before rising through the ranks at this very base. Five years ago, he had been promoted to base commander, and since then, he had remained here.

Arrogant, proud, with a streak of violence and a tendency to assume he was always right—when people heard his name and thought of the war hero, he never corrected them, basking in their admiration. Perhaps it was a trait shared by all leaders of his time. Still, he took care of his subordinates, especially those who knew how to flatter him.

During his last trip to Moscow, he had pulled some strings. If nothing went wrong, in a few months, a position would open up in the Air Defense Command in Moscow, and he would be promoted. But now, this interception had blown everything up!

Intercepting an American reconnaissance plane was supposed to be routine—just a radar lock, some close escort, and the Americans would back off. During the Korean War, Kozhdoob had flown the MiG-15 on multiple interceptions, thrilling but never escalating to actual combat.

But this time? A collision! And the American plane had even made an emergency landing at their base!

Kozhdoob couldn’t hide something this big. As soon as the control tower reported the incident, he had informed his superiors. Now, watching the American plane on the tarmac, he knew a team of electronic experts was already on the way. Sokolovka Base was about to become a powder keg, ready to explode at any moment.

The Americans wouldn’t let this go. They would accuse the Soviets of a deliberate collision, and this could spiral into a full-blown confrontation!

“Report,” a voice called from outside.

“Enter,” Kozhdoob barked. His gaze shifted to the door as two pilots, still in their flight suits and carrying their helmets, walked in.

“What happened?” Kozhdoob demanded.

“Reporting, the American pilot deliberately closed in on our aircraft, causing the collision,” Byelinko said before Andrei could speak.

After all, Byelinko was the lead pilot and acting squadron commander for this mission.

Andrei was taken aback. The man was quick on his feet.

So the Americans were to blame! Kozhdoob’s mind raced. The report would have to say the same—this was all the Americans’ fault! If things escalated, he wouldn’t be held responsible.

“Reporting, the American reconnaissance plane has landed here. The Americans might take action. We need to be prepared,” Andrei said. “They could send a large formation to pressure us.”

“Moscow has already issued orders. The entire base is on high alert,” Kozhdoob replied.

“Yes, sir. We’ll prepare immediately,” Andrei said.

“Andrei, your plane was damaged in the collision, and you’ve already had a spin incident. It needs repairs. Byelinko, your engine is due for an overhaul—it needs replacing,” Kozhdoob said. “You two won’t be participating in this alert.”

Kozhdoob didn’t trust Andrei. With tensions this high, one wrong move could spark a fire. Better to keep him out of it.

Andrei tried to protest, but Byelinko silenced him with a pat on the back and led him out.

“Damn it, my plane’s fine! Just needs a little welding. What’s the commander thinking?” Andrei grumbled.

“Andrei, you know how the commander is,” Byelinko said. “Think about how you’re going to write your report. Still… what you did today was thrilling.”

Chapter 8: Drinking

No matter the country, flying was a noble profession, and pilots enjoyed the highest status. In the Soviet Union, the most respected in civilian life were KGB personnel, followed by military officers.

At Sokolovka, a frontline base during the Cold War, the pilots lived in a dedicated dormitory with twenty-four-hour hot water, two to a room, each with its own bathroom. There was even a television in every room.

After removing his anti-G suit in the pilot’s duty room beneath the control tower and changing back into his clothes, Andrei and Byelinko headed toward the dormitory.

Pushing open the door, Andrei hurried to the bathroom first. Inside, he caught a strong whiff of alcohol.

Stepping out, he saw Byelinko, a tall and imposing figure, sitting by the window, pouring something from a bottle into a glass. The sharp scent of alcohol filled the room.

“Captain Byelinko, are you drinking pure alcohol?” Andrei exclaimed in shock.

This man was known for his love of drink. Now, with no proper alcohol available, he had resorted to stealing industrial alcohol and diluting it with water!

This was industrial ethanol, not grain-based—it contained traces of methanol, which could cause blindness!

At the base, obtaining industrial alcohol was easy because the MiG-25 “drank” it.

The MiG-25’s engine required massive airflow, but large intakes increased drag. To boost air density, they cooled the intake air. The MiG-25’s air ducts had a showerhead-like spray system that cooled the air with a water-ethanol mixture. The ethanol enhanced evaporation, improving efficiency. So, besides carrying vast amounts of fuel, the MiG-25 also had a 250-liter tank for the water-ethanol solution.

“The vodka around the base is sold out,” Byelinko said. “I got this alcohol. Come, have a sip.”

Andrei shook his head. Most Soviets enjoyed heavy drinking, often leading to domestic violence afterward.

“The base is on high alert. Combat could break out at any moment,” Andrei said. “I need to stay sharp.”

“Andrei, here, being too sharp isn’t necessary. A little fogginess is better,” Byelinko replied. “I never expected the frontline units to be like this—just like the test center. Where is there any pure land left? Oh, and the flight report—you handle it.”

Byelinko was clearly troubled, dissatisfied with the current state. Andrei understood his frustration.

This was no longer the era right after the Great Patriotic War, when the nation was filled with optimism. Now, in 1976, the Soviet Union appeared powerful, even leading in its rivalry with the United States. Brezhnev was aggressive, but the flaws of the system were becoming apparent—bureaucracy, entrenched interest groups, and Brezhnev’s policy of lifetime appointments for officials had turned the Soviet Union into a nation ruled by the elderly, devoid of vitality. In the end, the vast red empire would crumble.

Andrei knew all this. If he had been reborn as a high-ranking official in a republic or Moscow, perhaps he could have changed things. But now, he was just a lowly pilot.

Only fifteen years until the Soviet Union’s collapse. Lost in thought, Andrei watched Byelinko drink cup after cup of diluted industrial alcohol. “Captain Byelinko, stop drinking that. Let me take you out for a drink!”

“Out for a drink?” Byelinko said. “There’s no alcohol left around the base.”

“We’ll go to a bar,” Andrei said. “I know there’s one in Chuguyevka. Let’s go there and drink our fill!”

A bar? Byelinko put down the cup he was diluting. The last one had too little water, making the alcohol burn fiercely.

“Fine, let’s go drink our fill! But Andrei, I remember you didn’t drink before?”

…

Chuguyevka was an ordinary town in the Far East, with no heavy industry. The residents mostly worked in collective farms, and the town was filled with low, single-story houses. Only in the town center could one see two or three-story buildings, with the hammer and sickle emblem everywhere.

Originally just a small village, Chuguyevka had prospered after the establishment of the Sokolovka base. Its other main purpose was to serve the consumption needs of the base’s personnel.

In the planned economy of the Soviet Union, the concept of consumption seemed almost redundant. From pilots to ground crew, even underwear was issued uniformly. But people had needs beyond basic survival—material and spiritual.

Chuguyevka had a cinema, shops, a theater, a bookstore, and a bar.

Soviet men loved to drink—it was a necessity in the cold climate.

A GAZ-69 jeep pulled up in front of the town center’s bar. Andrei and Byelinko jumped out.

Just as Byelinko’s foot touched the bar’s steps, he suddenly stopped.

A girl was walking down the street ahead of them.

She wore a black tank top, her curves accentuated, her chest so full it seemed to strain the fabric. Below, she had on shorts so brief they nearly reached her upper thighs, her bare legs sensual. She wore high-waisted boots, and her figure alone made her a vision of beauty.

Her face was even more exquisite—long lashes framed her expressive eyes, a high nose, a small mouth, and wavy hair cascading down her back. Every smile and frown made her seem like a goddess untouched by mortal concerns, noble and breathtaking.

Any man would be captivated by such beauty. Andrei couldn’t help but stare. In his past life, his aesthetic had been shaped by Chinese standards, but now, he found Russian girls had their own unique charm.

“Ouch!” Before reaching them, the girl suddenly cried out. The heel of her boot, just a few centimeters high, had gotten stuck in a hole in the iron manhole cover. As she bent down, the neckline of her tank top revealed the swaying curves beneath.

The handbag she carried flew from her hand, landing right at Andrei’s feet.

Before Andrei could react, Byelinko had already snatched up the bag and rushed to her side. “Comrade, your bag. Do you need help?”

The girl gave Byelinko a grateful smile. “I think I twisted my ankle. Could you unzip my boot so I can take it off?”

Byelinko bent down, his hands trembling slightly as he faced her smooth, white legs. Slowly, he unzipped her boot.

Damn, this guy had a wife and kids! Why was he acting like a virgin who had only ever watched anime and now found himself face-to-face with his dream girl?

Chapter 9: Notorious

Inside the boot was a leg clad in black silk stockings. As the stockings were removed, the ankle beneath appeared slightly reddened.

It’s nothing, just a sprain. A few days of rest will do, Andrei thought, but before he could speak, Byelinko said, “Comrade, where do you live? I’ll take you back. Your foot is injured; you shouldn’t move around too much.”

Take her back? Women and alcohol—it seems women are the more dangerous of the two. Andrei glanced at Byelinko’s flushed face and realized this guy was the quiet type, usually silent, only interested in drinking. But now, seeing a woman, he was like a boar in heat.

“It’s fine, I live in the hotel across the street,” the girl said. “I can walk back myself.”

“That won’t do. I have a car; get in.” Byelinko pointed to the open-top GAZ-69.

The girl looked at the car and finally nodded.

Smelling the alcohol on Byelinko’s breath, Andrei knew he would have to be the driver again. Once in the car, Andrei started the engine. Byelinko, sitting in the back, began chatting with the girl: “Comrade, why are you staying in a hotel? Where’s your family?”

“I’m a student at Berlin University, majoring in geography. I’m in my fourth year. I love it here, so I chose to come to the Soviet Far East for an internship. I arrived a week early and got bored in Vladivostok, so I decided to explore,” the girl said.

A university student? From Berlin University, no less—a prestigious institution. Byelinko became even more interested: “Great! There are many interesting places in the Soviet Far East. I can show you around.”

“My name is Annie,” the girl said. “You can just call me by my name; no need to call me comrade.”

“Comrade”—a term heard everywhere in the Soviet Union—didn’t seem quite right for the girl in front of them. Hearing her words, Byelinko immediately followed up: “Annie, I’m Byelinko, a soldier in the Soviet Union.”

A soldier? Annie’s eyes filled with curiosity: “You’re a soldier here—you’re not in the air force, are you?”

Just then, a roar echoed overhead as a MiG-25 flew by.

Byelinko looked seriously at the girl: “Not the air force, the air defense force. Actually, I’m a MiG-25 pilot.”

“Squeak.” At that moment, Andrei, up front, inconsiderately stepped on the brake: “Student Annie, we’ve arrived at the hotel.”

Watching the girl limp up the stairs, Andrei said, “Comrade Captain, are you going up with her?”

“Comrade Captain?” Andrei raised his voice.

“Let’s go, we should go drink,” Byelinko said, taking one last reluctant look before getting back in the car.

The bar was very clean, with wood taken directly from the nearby mountains. Split open, the wood’s grain was used to make the bar counter. A middle-aged man in his forties, with a beard, watched as the two sat down.

“What would you like?”

“Two bottles of vodka.” Facing the glasses the bartender brought out, Byelinko pushed them aside with his hand, took the bottle directly, bit off the cap, tilted his head back, and took several swigs from the bottle.

Vodka—a strong liquor! Apart from its aroma, it was all spice. A sudden gulp sent a burning sensation through his stomach.

Soldiers could drink, and Andrei, before his transmigration, could hold his liquor too. But the kick of this vodka was still too strong. After just one sip, Andrei felt the air he exhaled from his nose was spicy.

“Andrei, do you know? You’re the first person in the unit to buy me a drink,” Byelinko said after a few swigs of alcohol.

In the Soviet Union, alcohol was a necessity for every man. Men drinking together was commonplace. But now, Byelinko was saying this was the first time someone had bought him a drink?

“I was sent for a psychiatric evaluation in my previous unit because I argued with my superior. After coming here, no one wanted to talk to me. Andrei, do you know? I hate all of this. My wife came with me to Chuguyevka, but she despised how remote it was and kept asking for a divorce. Two months ago, she took our son, Kimka, and went back to Moscow.”

“I feel like my life has no meaning under the current system, but I’m powerless to change or overthrow it… I have no home. I haven’t heard from my mother in 25 years, and I haven’t seen my father in 8 years. Now, my relationship with Lyudmila is over. My son, Kimka, even if I see him a few more times in my life, he’ll be a complete stranger to me. I need to find a new path in life…”

Andrei suddenly felt his eyelid twitching. He finally remembered who this guy was!

Victor Ivanovich Byelinko—a man infamous in history. He had flown the pride of the Soviet people, the MiG-25 fighter jet, to the island nation and handed it over to the Americans!

Before his defection, the Americans had feared the Soviet MiG-25, believing it was a top-secret aircraft built with titanium alloys and advanced technology. But once they got their hands on it, they discovered it was made of stainless steel—a low-quality fighter. In the eyes of the Americans, this aircraft held no secrets. The Soviet Union had to replace all its identification friend-or-foe systems, and the once-feared aircraft lost its deterrent power. The consequences of this incident were severe—no exaggeration!

Byelinko must not be allowed to defect! Andrei had to stop this from happening! Although the Soviet system had many problems, it was still the motherland of the Soviet people! No matter the reason, defection was unforgivable!

At that moment, Andrei wanted to rush back to the unit and report Byelinko’s defection plans to his superiors. But then he hesitated.

Even though Andrei was certain Byelinko would defect, his drunken ramblings alone wouldn’t be convincing. Byelinko would feel wronged, and without concrete evidence, he wouldn’t admit to anything. If Andrei reported him now, at most, it would lead to a verbal confrontation between him and Byelinko once he sobered up, in front of the commander or even KGB agents.

It seemed he needed another approach…

…

Island nation, 45 kilometers west of Tokyo, in the town of Fussa, Tama District.

The American flag flew overhead. As the victorious nation, the United States had arrogantly stationed itself in the island nation, achieving its goal of stationing troops to counterbalance the Soviet Union and China. This was the location of the U.S. Forces Japan headquarters and the Fifth Air Force headquarters—Yokota Air Base.

Chapter 10: F-4 Prepares to Strike

The Fifth Air Force was one of the four air forces under the command of the U.S. Pacific Air Forces. Its predecessor was the U.S. Army Air Corps Philippine Command, established in August 1941, which was renamed the U.S. Far East Air Force in October. In January 1942, the U.S. Army Fifth Air Force was formed on this basis, with Major General Brereton as its first commander. After the island nation provoked the Pacific War, this air force unit participated in various battles, such as the Marshall Islands, New Guinea, Palau Islands, Mariana Islands, and Philippine Islands campaigns. In 1944, it was subordinated to the reconstituted U.S. Far East Air Force. In July 1945, it was stationed in the island nation’s Okinawa, participating in support operations for the landing on the island nation’s mainland. After the outbreak of the Korean War, this air force participated in the Korean War, engaging in multiple battles with the volunteers from the Central Plains. Even after the smoke of the Korean battlefield had cleared, the Fifth Air Force remained stationed in the island nation.

This air force had three wings under its command. The 18th Wing was stationed at Kadena Base in Okinawa; the 35th Fighter Wing was stationed in Misawa, the island nation; and the 374th Airlift Wing was stationed at Yokota, the island nation.

In later years, to contain the rising Central Plains, the main force of the Fifth Air Force was deployed in Okinawa to prevent the Central Plains’ military from breaking through the first island chain. However, during the height of the Cold War, the main force of the Fifth Air Force was deployed in Misawa to guard against the invasion of the polar bear.

The headquarters of the Fifth Air Force was located in Yokota. At this moment, the commander of the Fifth Air Force, who was also the commander of the U.S. Forces in Japan, Lieutenant General Paul James, was frowning deeply.

One of their EP-3 electronic reconnaissance aircraft had encountered two Soviet MiG-25 fighters in the northern Sea of Japan, near Vladivostok. During the confrontation, an aerial collision occurred, severely damaging the EP-3, which was forced to make an emergency landing at a Soviet air base near Chuguyevka!

Upon receiving this news, General Paul slammed his fist on the table. Damn it, were the flight crew idiots? Even if they had to make an emergency landing at sea, it would have been better than landing at a Soviet base!

If they had landed at sea, their air force and navy could have quickly mobilized to rescue the personnel in distress! But now that they were in Soviet hands, the situation was different!

Now, night had fallen, and the day was almost over, yet their side had remained silent, doing nothing!

“Ring…” Just then, the phone on the desk rang. Paul picked it up, and a voice from across the ocean came through: “General Paul, diplomatic efforts are not going well. The president has ordered that pressure be applied to the Soviet Union starting tomorrow! Note, do not initiate fire!”

Pressure on the Soviet Union! This was the peak of the Cold War, and any misstep could trigger a world war. Therefore, after receiving the news of the EP-3 collision, General Paul had not immediately ordered a strike but had been waiting for orders. Now, with the president’s command, Paul could finally take action!

On one hand, there was diplomatic pressure to make the Soviets return the aircraft and personnel as soon as possible. On the other hand, there was military pressure!

“Yes!” Paul put down the phone and issued his command: “Misawa Base, prepare for combat. Starting tomorrow, launch a large formation immediately, Plan Three!”

Plan Three! The greatest threat to the U.S. Forces in Japan was the Soviet Union. To counter the Soviet Union, the U.S. Forces in Japan had long since formulated multiple plans. The current Plan Three was a deterrence operation against the Soviet Union’s Vladivostok region!

With the president’s authorization, the war machine of the U.S. Forces in Japan quickly sprang into action.

644 kilometers northeast of Tokyo, in Misawa City, Aomori Prefecture, at the northern tip of Honshu Island, lay Misawa Base.

Originally just a remote and backward village, before World War II, the island nation built a coastal railway and established a station here, marking Misawa’s entry into modern civilization. Later, the island nation’s navy built a military base here, gradually developing it into a military stronghold in the northern region of the island nation. After World War II, the United States established Misawa Base here. Due to its suitable geographical location, it became the most important military base for the United States to counterbalance the Soviet Far East region and was also a military base for gathering Soviet electronic intelligence. The EP-3 had taken off from here.

Inside the hangar, aircraft were undergoing maintenance in preparation for the sortie.

The pointed nose drooped slightly, followed by a tandem two-seat cockpit. The massive air intakes on both sides extended almost to the rear, forming two chrysanthemums. Above the chrysanthemums, the tail extended backward, especially the horizontal stabilizers on both sides, which were folded downward, and the vertical stabilizer was unusually wide, giving it no aesthetic appeal, resembling a clown.

Even the Americans thought this aircraft was not very attractive, so they gave it the nickname “Phantom.”

This aircraft was the mainstay of the U.S. second-generation fighters, the F-4 Phantom. Initially designed as a carrier-based aircraft, all models were two-seaters. Later, the U.S. Air Force found it satisfactory and equipped it in large numbers, making it the famous second-generation aircraft of the United States.

At this time, the U.S. Air Force’s third-generation aircraft were still in their early stages. The F-15, which would later flaunt its prowess, had only just delivered the first batch of a few aircraft to the U.S. Air Force and was impossible to equip the U.S. Forces in Japan. The most produced F-16 fighter was still in the prototype stage and had not yet flown, let alone been equipped to the troops. The mainstay of the U.S. Air Force was these F-4 aircraft.

Now, these aircraft belonged to the 13th Fighter Squadron of the 35th Fighter Wing of the U.S. Fifth Air Force stationed at Misawa Base. All were F-4 aircraft, preparing for deployment. The hangar was brightly lit, with ammunition carts moving back and forth, loading missiles. According to the air superiority configuration, four AIM-7 Sparrow missiles and one auxiliary fuel tank were mounted under the fuselage, and four AIM-9 Sidewinder missiles were mounted on the wings. This was the standard air combat loadout.

The entire base was mobilized. The flight preparation room was also brightly lit, with U.S. pilots conducting tactical analysis, preparing for the morning sortie.

The pilots were in high spirits. They had all heard that an EP-3 electronic reconnaissance aircraft that had taken off from this base had been coerced by Soviet aircraft to land at a Soviet air base!

This filled them with righteous indignation. At the height of the Cold War, they held extreme disdain for the Soviets, seeing them as demons from the North Pole.

“Note, we must exert maximum pressure on the Soviets, but we must not initiate fire,” the wing commander said to his subordinates.

Chapter 11: Reward

Thump, thump, thump. A distant sound of rotor blades cutting through the air echoed across the sky.

By the time Andrei returned from the bar, night had already fallen. After dumping the drunk Byelinko onto his bed, Andrei found himself unable to sleep. Out of habit, he began jogging around the runway. Just as he completed half a lap, the sound of the approaching aircraft reached his ears.

Andrei looked up. First, he spotted the navigation lights, then the silhouette gradually came into focus—a bulky fuselage, a four-bladed rotor on top, and cabin windows at the front lower section. It resembled the Mi-171 he had seen in his past life. With just a glance, Andrei recognized it as the Mi-8 Hip, the predecessor of the Mi-171. The massive fuselage indeed looked like a hippopotamus.

The Mi-8 was practically the Kalashnikov of the helicopter world, boasting the highest production volume globally. The Soviets had developed the Mi-17 from the Mi-8, and the Mi-171 was the export variant of the Mi-17.

This particular helicopter was painted in military camouflage. As it slowly descended, before it had even fully landed, the side cargo door opened, and a group of technical experts rushed out.

It seemed the United States had already exerted diplomatic pressure on Moscow. Uncertain whether they could retain the electronic reconnaissance aircraft, the Soviet authorities were now racing against time to study the EP-3 reconnaissance aircraft. These technicians weren’t from Moscow but from Komsomolsk-on-Amur in the Khabarovsk Krai.

In later years, Komsomolsk-on-Amur would become well-known among military enthusiasts as a key production site for Russia’s Su-27 fighters. It was a distinctive industrial city.

At present, Factory 126 in Komsomolsk-on-Amur, also known as the Gagarin Far Eastern Machine-Building Plant, was already mass-producing military aircraft for the Soviet Union. The factory primarily manufactured products from the Sukhoi Design Bureau, such as the Su-7 and Su-17. Moreover, earlier this year, Factory 126 had significantly upgraded its production equipment to prepare for manufacturing the new T-10 prototype for the Sukhoi Design Bureau. Many engineers from the bureau were stationed there.

Upon receiving the news, technicians from the Sukhoi Design Bureau and Factory 126 immediately boarded a helicopter and rushed to Sokolovka Base.

Watching these technicians, Andrei felt a deep respect. In his past life, he had been a test pilot and knew full well that these aircraft designers and engineers were the backbone of national defense. Their selfless dedication was what made a strong defense possible!

“Lieutenant Andrei, the commander is looking for you everywhere.” Just as Andrei was watching the helicopter land, a ground crew member’s voice reached his ears.

The commander was looking for him? At this late hour? What could it be? Surely, they didn’t find out about him drinking with Byelinko? But even if they did, the commander had already canceled their combat readiness duty, so drinking wasn’t exactly a violation.

“Alright, I’ll go right away.” Glancing once more at the distant EP-3, Andrei got into the car the ground crew had brought.

“Reporting!” Andrei shouted loudly at the door of the commander’s office.

“Come in.” Kozhdoob’s voice came from inside. From the tone, Andrei could tell the commander was in a good mood.

Pushing the door open, Andrei saw Kozhdoob smiling at him. “Andrei, Moscow has issued their decision. Due to your and Byelinko’s brave interception of the American EP-3 reconnaissance aircraft, you are both awarded a Third-Class Merit. Additionally, in recognition of your exceptional flying skills, the Far Eastern Military District has awarded you a bronze flight badge.”

A reward! When Kozhdoob had submitted the report, he had been somewhat anxious. This incident had caused quite a stir, and if higher-ups had questioned it, the responsibility would have fallen on Andrei since he was the one who had collided with the American aircraft. But instead of blame, they had received praise, and Andrei had even been awarded a flight badge!

This made Kozhdoob extremely happy. Such an act of merit was an honor for the entire 513th Regiment!

“Sir, does this mean I can resume combat readiness duty tomorrow?” Andrei asked. As an ambitious pilot, flying and executing missions was the greatest honor. This cautious Kozhdoob had actually deprived him of that right!

“Of course,” Kozhdoob replied. “Today, the ground crew discovered a fault in the engine of aircraft 032. That’s why your MiG-25 experienced a stall and entered a spin during your flight.”

An engine fault! No wonder Andrei, with his extensive flight hours on the MiG-25, had ended up in a spin! But even if he could resume combat readiness tomorrow, would there be a plane available for him? Did they have a spare engine to replace it?

As if reading Andrei’s mind, Kozhdoob said, “This afternoon, a brand-new production model MiG-25PD arrived from the Mikoyan design bureau. This aircraft has already been marked with the 032 designation—it will be your new plane from now on.”

A new MiG-25! Andrei was taken aback. “What about my old one?”

“It’s been marked for scrapping,” Kozhdoob said. “The ground crew has given up on repairs. It’s waiting to be sent to Leningrad for smelting.”

Andrei was speechless. This vast empire, with its planned economy, was so wasteful! There must be countless other areas of waste in society.

The MiG-25P Andrei had been flying was the earliest production model, also known as the 1971 production model, or Product 84, with the NATO designation “Foxbat-A.” Compared to the design model, it had larger vertical stabilizers and ventral fins, removed wingtip stabilizers, expanded the electronics bay, and lengthened the nose.

Although called the 1971 production model, it had actually been produced in 1972 and had only been in service at Sokolovka Base for four years. Now, it was being scrapped!

Andrei thought back to his past life, where even in the twenty-first century, the air force still had old J-6 fighters in service. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of emotion. The Red Empire was truly wasteful!

Here, in the Far East, just across the sea from the American forces, during the height of the Cold War, it made sense for frontline units to receive new aircraft. After all, Andrei was still just an ordinary pilot. He sighed briefly before immersing himself in joy once more.

The new MiG-25PD—what improvements did it have over the original MiG-25P? Hopefully, they had replaced the Hurricane-A radar, which was powerful but lacked other capabilities. If only they had the Tomcat’s AWG-9 radar!

Andrei couldn’t help but complain about the Soviet electronics industry.

“Reporting, the technicians from Factory 126 have arrived.” Just then, a ground crew member entered to inform Kozhdoob.

Chapter 12: Simonov

Upon receiving orders from higher-ups, Kozhdoob had the ground crew tidy up the rooms and instructed the mess hall to prepare dinner, ready to host the technical personnel from Factory 126 with food, rest, and a good night’s sleep to recharge for tomorrow’s work. He had even prepared a welcome speech.

But to his surprise, these people didn’t even enter the base command center—they headed straight for the EP-3!

A frustrated Kozhdoob had no choice but to leave the command center, riding in an open-top Gaz jeep toward the end of the runway. In the back seat was an excited Andrei.

Andrei didn’t really need to go welcome the technical personnel from Factory 126, but he was eager to see how the EP-3 would be dismantled and studied. After a quick request, Kozhdoob agreed.

When they arrived at the EP-3 reconnaissance aircraft, the technicians had already climbed aboard. Following Kozhdoob through the narrow cabin door, Andrei sensed the base commander’s excitement.

“Comrade Simonov, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I am the base commander, Kozhdoob.” Kozhdoob beamed, extending his hand.

This was a technician in his late forties, slightly overweight with high cheekbones. He reached out and shook Kozhdoob’s hand. “Commander Kozhdoob, thank you to the comrades of the 523rd Regiment for allowing us to study this advanced Western electronic technology. This will make a significant contribution to our technological progress.”

No wonder the higher-ups weren’t angry but instead pleased, even awarding a Third-Class Merit. This aircraft must be of great help to their side! Kozhdoob suddenly understood.

Simonov! The man before him must be the leader of this team. Behind Kozhdoob, Andrei was overcome with excitement. The man standing before him was none other than Mikhail Petrovich Simonov, the father of the Su-27!

Simonov’s resume was impressive. He graduated from the Novocherkassk Polytechnic Institute and later attended the Kazan Aviation Institute in the Urals. In 1953, he and his classmates from the Kazan Aviation Institute founded the Student Design Bureau, designing and building world-leading all-metal structures. This bureau eventually became the State Design Bureau.

In 1970, Simonov joined the renowned Sukhoi Design Bureau under the leadership of Pavel Osipovich Sukhoi. Highly regarded by Sukhoi, he led the development of the Su-24 fighter-bomber. Overcoming numerous challenges, he completed the design, greatly satisfying Sukhoi. Later, he participated in the Sukhoi Design Bureau’s efforts to gather and analyze data on the F-15, determining the specifications for the Soviet Union’s next-generation fighter.

The prototype of the Su-27, the T-10, had been in design since 1969. Unfortunately, in 1975, the weathered Pavel Osipovich Sukhoi passed away, and the T-10’s design was taken over by the first deputy chief designer, Ivanov. A few years later, the chief designer became the man now standing before Andrei—Simonov. It was Simonov who, against all odds, nearly scrapped the T-10 design and started over, resulting in the Su-27, a fighter that outperformed the F-15 in every aspect!

Last year, Sukhoi passed away, and the man before them, Simonov, became the chief designer of the Sukhoi Design Bureau. This time, he led a team to Komsomolsk to inspect and guide the improvement work at Factory 126. Upon receiving the news, he came straight to Sokolovka.

Although the T-10 prototype was still in design, preparations for mass production had already begun. The new fighter’s structure and technology were vastly different from the Su-17 currently in production at the factory. Simonov came to help Factory 126 improve, meeting the technological and technical conditions required for producing the new aircraft. This would allow for rapid mass production once the new fighter was finalized.

The West’s most advanced electronic reconnaissance aircraft! Studying this aircraft could advance Soviet electronic technology by a decade! After all, the Soviets had been developing independently without any reference points.

This American electronic reconnaissance aircraft must contain the most advanced American electronic technology. The gap in electronic technology between the Soviets and the Americans was indeed significant.

Seeing the base commander of Sokolovka come to welcome him, Simonov merely shook his hand and exchanged a few words. At this moment, he also noticed the tall man following Kozhdoob, his eyes sharp and bright. With just a glance, Simonov knew he must be a pilot.

The pilot was looking at Simonov with admiration. Simonov smiled. In the Soviet Union, military personnel and technicians were respected, especially someone like Simonov, the chief designer at the forefront of Soviet aviation technology, who was truly admired.

“How are these all transistors?” In this short time, the technicians were still working, dismantling the internal equipment. When the screws on the control panel were removed, revealing the circuit board inside, one technician exclaimed in surprise.

“That black lump has so many leads. Could it be an integrated circuit?”

“Why don’t I see any vacuum tubes?”

Originally, they planned to dismantle the circuits to see the internal structure, hoping to quickly map them out and determine how these reconnaissance devices operated. But after dismantling, they found it wasn’t what they expected—not various glass-bulb vacuum tubes, but transistors and integrated circuits! Especially the integrated circuits, whose internal structure was unknown, making it difficult to analyze the circuit structure and replicate them.

Vacuum tubes were based on Edison’s discovery of the thermionic effect, creating electronic diodes and triodes in evacuated glass bulbs, which had gating and amplification functions, forming various complex electronic circuits.

Later, in 1948, Americans at Bell Labs invented crystal diodes and triodes using semiconductor materials, which consumed less power, were smaller, and had lower failure rates. Then, in 1958, they produced integrated circuits, combining numerous diodes and triodes into a single chip, further reducing size and failure rates.

Now it was 1976, and the Americans had rapidly advanced in the application of transistors and integrated circuits, widely using them in military fields. However, the Soviets had never been interested in transistors and integrated circuits—they only favored vacuum tubes.

“What are the Americans thinking? In the event of nuclear war, the intense electromagnetic radiation would destroy all these transistors and integrated circuits.” One technician began to worry for the Americans.

“The Americans are on the right track.” Just then, a voice came from behind.

Chapter 13: Integrated Circuits Are the Future

At times, the Soviets could be quite stubborn. For instance, they remained indifferent to the Western electronic revolution, continuing to rely heavily on vacuum tubes—bulky, limited in function, and power-hungry, with excessive heat generation. Yet, they pushed the boundaries of performance with these tubes, demonstrating remarkable integration capabilities. If they had access to the same electronic technology as the West, they would undoubtedly develop even more advanced systems.

In truth, the Soviet Union did possess transistor technology. As early as the 1950s, they had transistors. In May 1953, the Soviet Union established the specialized semiconductor factory НИИ-35, later known as the “Pulsar” consortium, which mass-produced semiconductor devices. By 1955, the “Svetlana” factory in Leningrad had also set up a transistor production line. By the 1970s, they had even developed supercomputers like the Elbrus using integrated circuits.

However, the Soviets still believed that vacuum tubes held untapped potential. In 1953, the rod-core vacuum tube emerged, significantly reducing size while being used in the first artificial satellite, surpassing the power of American transistor-based satellites.

Due to departmental interests, conservative Soviet electronics experts resisted transistors, reinforced by a military perspective that transistors could not withstand powerful electromagnetic pulses and would be useless in nuclear warfare.

Thus, the Soviet military-industrial complex remained dominated by vacuum tubes. Take the MiG-25, for example—its radar’s immense power was a point of pride, boasting it could “roast a rabbit,” but in reality, it was just a large oven, far inferior to contemporary American radar.

It wasn’t too late. If they recognized that transistors and integrated circuits were the true future, and made a concerted effort in this direction, Soviet electronic technology could reach—or even surpass—American standards. After all, the Soviet system had its advantages! A planned economy meant that as long as funding was allocated, there was no need to worry about market demand.

Now, this American-made EP-3 electronic reconnaissance aircraft was mostly built with transistors and integrated circuits. This was also the first time Soviet experts had encountered a dedicated American military electronic jamming device, and their American counterparts’ methods left them astonished.

Transistors and integrated circuits? Could this really work?

Just then, a voice from behind made them turn their heads. It was the comrade who had arrived with the base commander, solemnly presenting his views: “Electronic systems built with transistors and integrated circuits are far smaller and lighter than those using vacuum tubes, with lower power consumption and greater functionality. Look at this American EP-3—it can detect all Soviet naval and air force frequencies, recording various electronic signals. If we tried to build this with our own vacuum tubes, it wouldn’t even fit in an An-22 transport plane. Integrated circuits are the future of electronics. We should focus our efforts there.”

This circuit board provided signals to the output screen. Integrated circuits could easily handle D/A conversion, but with vacuum tubes… this single board would require an entire large cabinet.

“Andrei, what are you talking about? These are all experts here,” Kozhdoob said, his face twitching.

Wasn’t this a case of teaching fish to swim? Andrei was just a pilot—how could he know so much?

Mikhail Petrovich Simonov’s eyes, however, lit up.

“But what if there’s a nuclear war? Won’t these circuits be destroyed?” a technician asked.

“We don’t fear nuclear war, and we are prepared for it. But I believe large-scale nuclear war is unlikely. After all, if it does happen, even if we win, what remains will be a ruined world. We know this, and so do the Americans,” Andrei said. “I suspect future wars will be fought with high technology, with electronics—not nuclear weapons.”

No nuclear war? Future wars will be high-tech? Were the decision-makers in Moscow fools? A engineer almost scoffed.

“Take our MiG-25, for example. Its radar may have high power, but most of it is wasted as heat. The limited processing capability of vacuum tubes means our radar has few functions—it can’t even filter out ground clutter using pulse-Doppler. That’s why the MiG-25 can only intercept high-altitude targets. If an enemy aircraft penetrates at ultra-low altitude and high speed, we won’t detect it. Meanwhile, the Americans’ latest Tomcat fighter, equipped with the AWG-9 radar, can already guide six missiles simultaneously to attack six targets.”

Vacuum tubes? A computer made with vacuum tubes would be enormous. Integrated circuits are the future! The MiG-25’s Hurricane-A radar weighed half a ton, with an inverted Cassegrain antenna aperture exceeding one meter, yet its functions were rudimentary. Its peak power was claimed to be 600 kilowatts, but most of it was lost as heat. Its detection range for typical bomber targets was only 100 kilometers. It could only perform simple air search in single-pulse mode, and after acquiring a target, it would switch to single-target tracking mode to lock on and guide missiles for an attack.

Andrei was entirely correct. The Mikoyan design bureau was also aware of these technical shortcomings, which was why the Tikhomirov Instrument Design Bureau had begun developing pulse-Doppler radar based on the MiG-23’s high-altitude Skylark radar.

“Andrei, how do you know all this?” Simonov asked with great interest. Meeting such a pilot at the Sokolovka base made him feel as if he had found a kindred spirit. Thinking of the series of problems facing the T-10, perhaps it was time to change their approach.

“Before becoming a pilot, I audited electronics courses at the Kiev Polytechnic Institute,” Andrei said. “Actually, influenced by my father, I’ve been interested in electronics since childhood and even built a crystal radio on my own. After joining the air force, I collected domestic and foreign air force materials.”

Andrei thought of his father in this world—a power station engineer with deep electronic knowledge. Growing up around such expertise, Andrei had always loved tinkering with things. Now, the technical specifications of the American Tomcat were no longer a secret, and tests of simultaneous interception of six targets had already been conducted.

Chapter 14: MiG-25PD

“Andrei, it’s getting late. You should go back and rest. You have combat duty tomorrow.” Kozhdoob, the old hand, noticed that Andrei’s words were rubbing some of the technical staff the wrong way. To avoid any further incidents and keep the experts from getting upset, Kozhdoob immediately ordered Andrei to leave.

“Young man, you have some interesting ideas. If you ever get the chance, come to Moscow for a talk,” Mikhail Petrovich Simonov said just as Andrei, under Kozhdoob’s stern command, was about to leave.

Andrei had many more thoughts. In the future, the Su-27 would be weighed down by its monstrous radar, which exceeded a ton. If they had adopted integrated circuits earlier instead of wasting time on vacuum tubes, they could have shaved off hundreds of kilograms. The Su-27’s excellent aerodynamics wouldn’t have been caught in an endless cycle of weight gain and reduction, ultimately suffering from a congenital weakness.

After all, it was only 1976. The Su-27 wouldn’t be finalized for another ten years. With the Soviet Union’s planned economy, once they set their sights on a direction, progress would be swift.

But Andrei was just a pilot. If he started talking about the T-10 now, the KGB would surely drag him into a black room and question how he obtained those performance figures.

Hearing Simonov’s invitation, Andrei felt a surge of excitement. “Alright, if I get the chance, I’ll definitely go!”

Walking away from the reconnaissance aircraft, Andrei knew he had done something significant. By exposing the most advanced American electronic technology, he had given Soviet electronic experts a wake-up call. He hoped they would broaden their horizons and not remain stuck on the path of vacuum tubes.

Especially the radar manufacturers for the next generation of fighters—whether it was NIIP or NIIR Design Bureau—they should take inspiration from this advanced American electronic reconnaissance aircraft.

Back in the dormitory, Byelinko was snoring loudly. Alcohol could make one forget all worries. Andrei knew that while there were ways to compensate for lagging electronic technology, the man before him was a ticking time bomb.

What should he do? Try to reason with him? He recalled that when he first arrived in this world, Byelinko had been his lead pilot. Even though the man was a traitor, he had covered for Andrei’s mistakes in front of the commander. That was decent of him. Unless absolutely necessary, Andrei should try to save him.

Lying in bed, Andrei tossed and turned, unable to sleep. How had he ended up here? And on his first day in this world, he had already changed history. What would happen next?

The next day, the sky was clear. When Andrei stepped out of the dormitory, the EP-3 was gone. It must have been dismantled the night before and taken somewhere—perhaps to a hangar on the base, or maybe to the Sukhoi or Mikoyan factories.

After breakfast in the base cafeteria, Andrei headed to the hangar. A brand-new fighter came into view.

The MiG-25PD, a deeply upgraded version of the MiG-25P, with a focus on radar!

The massive nose no longer housed the Hurricane-A radar system. The 339 Factory had improved the Sapphire-23 radar from the MiG-23, using a 90 cm diameter antenna. The maximum range had increased to 115 kilometers, and it featured a new scanning system and fire control computer. The new radar could scan 52 degrees upward and 42 degrees downward, giving the MiG-25 basic look-down/shoot-down capability. Its independent target search ability had also improved significantly. This radar was named the Sapphire-25, with the NATO codename “Foxfire.”

This radar used a pulse-Doppler and continuous wave system, a significant improvement over the Hurricane-A’s single-pulse system. While it couldn’t compare to the U.S. Navy’s Tomcat fighter with its AWG-9 radar and slotted planar antenna, it was still a major step up from the previous model.

Andrei also noticed new equipment at the front of the nose—the TP-26-SH1 forward-looking infrared search and track system (IRST)!

In the future, this system would be widely used on various aircraft, especially the Su-27 and MiG-29. Now, though the system was still immature, Soviet engineers had already put it to use. While Soviet electronic technology lagged behind, their ability to integrate various rudimentary systems was unmatched, even leaving their American counterparts in awe.

This system compensated for the shortcomings of Soviet radar, with a search range of 45 kilometers. It could provide stable and reliable target search capabilities even in strong electronic interference. Additionally, the aircraft’s fire control system had been upgraded, allowing it to launch R-60 close-combat missiles.

The aircraft had already been serviced. Under its wings hung two R-40 and two R-60 missiles.

Looking at his new aircraft, Andrei felt a surge of excitement. If it weren’t for his performance yesterday, he wouldn’t have been the one to pilot this aircraft. While all their fighters would eventually be upgraded to the same level, he was the first to fly this improved model!

Climbing the ladder into the cockpit, Andrei checked the instrument panel against the manual, noting the improvements.

In the future, Western critics would condemn Soviet cockpit ergonomics, arguing that their designs forced pilots to adapt to the machine, with buttons placed haphazardly and inconveniently. While these were valid criticisms, there was an upside: pilot retraining was straightforward. Once a pilot could fly one Soviet aircraft, the instrument layouts for others were consistent. Unlike Western fighters, where each new model brought a completely redesigned cockpit.

This upgraded MiG-25PD had almost the same cockpit layout as the original, with just a few additional knobs on the radar panel.

As Andrei eagerly fiddled with the controls, a sharp air raid siren blared outside—an emergency!

Chapter 15: Scramble

When the EP-3 made an emergency landing at Sokolovka Base yesterday, the entire base was placed on high alert. Every aircraft capable of flight had completed all pre-flight preparations and was ready to scramble at a moment’s notice.

Now, hearing the alarm, Andrei closed his canopy and immediately signaled the ground crew to check the lock status, remove the ladder, and tow the MiG-25 out of the hangar.

On the runway, two MiG-25s were already positioned and ready. Over the radio, Andrei heard the voice of Commander Kozhdoob: “All squadrons, scramble! Prepare to engage the enemy!”

Through the automated air defense system, long-range radar had detected a large number of aircraft taking off from the island nation, approaching from the southeast and already crossing the midpoint of the Sea of Japan.

From the radar intercepts, the enemy had launched twenty aircraft. In this situation, their side must also commit fully—this was the mission of Sokolovka Base!

The 513th Aviation Regiment had twenty-four MiG-25s in total. Excluding those undergoing maintenance, only eighteen were operational, putting them at a numerical disadvantage. Therefore, they had to engage with everything they had!

In the Cold War, such aerial confrontations were extremely dangerous, but they had to demonstrate their capabilities! The Americans were coming in with such force; they could not afford to show weakness! Last night, Moscow had issued orders! If they could bring glory to the nation this time, the entire regiment would be awarded a first-class merit, and Kozhdoob would be promoted and transferred to Moscow.

Engage the enemy!

The MiG-25’s tail erupted in flames, propelling the aircraft down the runway. One after another, they took off. Since the base’s establishment, this was the first time nearly the entire aviation regiment had scrambled to meet the enemy!

In fact, the entire Maritime Territory bore the brunt of the frontline combat against the U.S. Forces in Japan. The air forces were not limited to Sokolovka Base alone. In the southern military stronghold of Vladivostok, there was the important Soviet air base of Nakhodka in the Far East, home to the elite 47th Regiment, entirely equipped with MiG-23s.

In the Soviet Union, the military branches were divided differently from Western nations. Those who took to the skies were not just the air force but also the air defense forces.

The Soviet Air Force’s primary mission was to seize air superiority, strike enemy land and naval groups, destroy key military-industrial and transportation targets, eliminate the enemy’s war potential, attack command and communication facilities, support land and naval operations, conduct airdrops, airlifts, and aerial reconnaissance. Like other nations’ air forces, it was a powerful offensive fist.

The Air Defense Force emerged after World War II. The successful strategic bombing of Germany and Japan by Allied bomber fleets during the war deeply shocked Soviet leaders. Post-war, as the Cold War began, the U.S. Air Force heavily armed itself with airborne nuclear weapons and long-range strategic bombers, posing a severe aerial threat to critical targets deep within Soviet territory. Thus, in the late 1950s, the Soviet Union established an independent Air Defense Force, comprising radar troops, anti-aircraft missile troops, various specialized branches, and dedicated interceptor aircraft, forming a three-dimensional national air defense system. Its primary mission was to guard against long-range reconnaissance and bomber aircraft from Western nations. Given the vast Soviet territory, specialized interceptors needed to reach their targets quickly, using their own missiles to complete the mission without requiring the same dogfighting capabilities as fighter jets.

In simple terms, the Soviet Air Force’s main task was external strikes—offensive. The Air Defense Force’s main task was protecting the vast Soviet land from enemy air strikes—defensive.

Now, with the detection of a large number of aircraft taking off from the island nation, the Air Defense Force was the first to receive the mission! The MiG-25 had the advantage of rapid acceleration, allowing it to reach the interception position quickly. It was also equipped with high-power radar and medium-range missiles, enabling long-distance interception. The Soviet Union had already deployed an automated air defense system, allowing the MiG-25 to actively engage the enemy under the guidance of the system’s CGI.

Meanwhile, the air base in Vladivostok was also bustling, ready to join the battle at any moment.

Wearing a flight helmet that nearly covered his entire head and a high-altitude pressure suit, Andrei, with gloved hands, adjusted the various switches on the control panel.

The two R-15BD-300 engines at the tail quickly started, emitting a tremendous roar. These massive turbojet engines were so large that ground crew could crawl directly into the tailpipe. With an afterburner thrust of 112 kilonewtons, they were the most powerful engines of the era, and combined with the aircraft’s aerodynamic design for high-altitude sprints, they could reach speeds exceeding Mach 3.

Releasing the brakes, Andrei taxied onto the runway and glanced to the side. He was the lead aircraft, but Captain Byelinko was not there.

Byelinko’s aircraft had a malfunction and was still under repair. He wouldn’t be able to return to the skies for at least a week. Thinking of Byelinko, Andrei felt uneasy. He shook his head, pushing aside thoughts of how to handle the traitor, and focused on the interception mission.

“Sokolovka, 032 requesting takeoff,” Andrei called over the radio.

“Take off immediately. Follow the second squadron to maritime zone fourteen.”

“Understood.” Andrei responded calmly as he engaged the afterburner.

The tail erupted in flames as the two engines unleashed their maximum thrust. The MiG-25 accelerated rapidly down the runway before lifting into the sky.

Later-generation aircraft, like the J-11 Andrei would eventually pilot, had a thrust-to-weight ratio exceeding 1, allowing for steep climbs after takeoff.

But now, although the MiG-25’s engines were powerful, the airframe was heavier. Fully fueled, the MiG-25 weighed a staggering thirty-six tons! A steep climb was out of the question. However, the aircraft’s overall design was still excellent, as evidenced by its minimum takeoff speed of just over three hundred kilometers per hour.

Through the narrow visor of his flight helmet, Andrei watched the horizon recede rapidly. Then, he pulled back on the control stick, lifting the nose wheel. After two more seconds of rolling, the aircraft suddenly lightened and left the runway.

The exhaust from the tail traced a line in the sky as Andrei accelerated while climbing, following the contrails of the second squadron ahead. He quickly caught up with them and joined the formation.

This improved variant of the aircraft was also equipped with larger engines than the MiG-25P, showing a noticeable improvement in climb performance. Although he was the last to take off, Andrei quickly caught up with the second squadron and joined the formation.

Chapter 16: Look-Down/Shoot-Down

Climb! Keep climbing! Soon, the airflow was no longer visible—they had entered the stratosphere.

Fly, keep flying higher! Faster! This was the ultimate goal pursued by fighter designers of this era!

As Andrei continued to ascend, his heart swelled with excitement. The altimeter in front of him had already reached twenty-four thousand meters!

At this moment, no fighter in the world could reach such an altitude—except the MiG-25! And, of course, the SR-71, if the Americans insisted on calling the Blackbird a fighter.

Gently pushing the control stick forward, Andrei leveled the aircraft. The voice of ground control came through his headset: “Attention, heading two-four-zero, cruise at Mach 2.4.”

“Copy that.” The squadron leader of the second flight responded over the radio: “Heading two-four-zero. Speed Mach 2.4.”

Pushing the stick, the fighter traced an arc through the sky, following the ground-guided direction.

The standard interception tactic of the Soviet Air Defense Forces relied on ground guidance. Andrei followed the four-ship formation ahead of him, banking sharply while continuing to increase his speed.

At this altitude, air resistance was minimal. The two engines at the tail spewed scorching flames, propelling the fighter to accelerate further. As the conical sonic boom cloud appeared, the aircraft swiftly pierced through it, entering supersonic cruise.

The acceleration was brief yet seemed endless. When the Mach indicator on the green instrument panel reached 2.4, Andrei slightly reduced the throttle, stabilizing the fighter at Mach 2.4.

The temperature inside the cockpit kept rising, and his hands gripping the control stick began to sweat. Breathing in the oxygen from the respirator, Andrei started adjusting the radar panel in front of him with his fingers.

The other fighters in the formation were still equipped with the outdated Hurricane-A radar. Although its inverted Cassegrain antenna had a diameter exceeding one meter, it was quite primitive. Since its scanning line was almost aligned with the aircraft’s axis, it completely lacked look-down/shoot-down capability. Its detection range for typical bomber targets was only one hundred kilometers.

At such high-altitude sprints, aircraft at low altitudes were impossible to detect with the Hurricane-A radar.

But now, the fighter Andrei piloted was equipped with the improved RP-25M pulse-Doppler radar, capable of a forty-two-degree downward scan. Recalling the manual he had just reviewed, Andrei activated the radar.

The radar’s vacuum tubes had been preheated during takeoff, so after flipping the main switch, the radar began emitting pulse-Doppler signals. Simultaneously, through the automated interception system, it exchanged combat information with the ground command station. The radar’s scan was purposeful.

Radar activated!

At the fighter’s nose, the ninety-centimeter inverted Cassegrain antenna radiated powerful electromagnetic signals downward and forward. The peak power of hundreds of kilowatts instantly dimmed the cockpit instrument lights.

“Report, 032 has detected targets. Distance one hundred kilometers, speed zero point eight, altitude thirteen thousand meters, quantity twenty.” Andrei, observing the dots appearing on the screen, spoke into the radio.

This Sapphire-25 radar was truly impressive! Andrei gazed at the dots on the screen, feeling satisfied.

The I-band scanning signals flooded the airspace ahead. Almost simultaneously, the E-2 Hawkeye early warning aircraft circling over western Hokkaido detected the incoming MiG-25 interception fleet.

The Soviets were coming in force—nearly twenty MiG-25s, almost the size of an entire air regiment!

“Siren Squadron, Siren Squadron, be advised, targets detected. Eighteen MiG-25s, distance one hundred kilometers.” The E-2 relayed the message to their own fleet.

The 13th Fighter Squadron of the 35th Fighter Wing, nicknamed the Siren Squadron, had taken off from Misawa Base at dawn. An E-2 had also taken off to provide early warning support. After flying for over half an hour, they had reached the median line of the Sea of Japan. Meanwhile, the intercepting MiG-25s had only flown for ten minutes.

Now, the distance between the two sides had closed to one hundred kilometers. With a relative speed exceeding Mach 3, this distance would be covered in less than one hundred seconds.

“Copy that.” Squadron Leader Major Dick Houston shouted over the radio: “Attention, jettison drop tanks, engage afterburners, climb, and prepare to lock on!”

The two J79 turbojet engines at the tail suddenly flared crimson as the afterburners engaged, unleashing maximum thrust, and the fighter began to accelerate.

At the same time, under the control of the radar operator in the rear cockpit, the AN/APQ-120 in the nose also began operating, scanning the airspace ahead for targets. Thanks to transistors and integrated circuits, this radar was compact and lightweight yet highly capable. The continuous wave scanning signals flooded the airspace ahead, and soon, the radar began tilting upward—it had detected the high-altitude targets!

“Attention, prepare radar lock-on!” Major Houston ordered.

Locking on didn’t mean they were going to shoot—it meant they had the capability to do so. In reality, compared to targets flying at over Mach 2 in high altitude, the Sparrow missile couldn’t even reach that height. Only the Navy’s F-14 Tomcat’s Phoenix missile could pose a threat to the MiG-25.

Now, activating the radar to lock onto targets was a show of force. During the Cold War, such silent confrontations filled with hostility between the U.S. and the Soviet Union had played out countless times—one wrong move could spark a war.

“Attention, prepare to dive, lock on targets!” Almost simultaneously, the MiG-25 fleet received ground control’s guidance signal.

Due to the lack of look-down/shoot-down capability, for the MiG-25’s Hurricane-A radar to lock onto targets, they had to dive down to at least twenty thousand meters or lower to successfully lock on.

Dive? Hearing this command, Andrei couldn’t help but roll his eyes in the cockpit. The MiG-25’s main advantage was high altitude and high speed. Now, descending to low altitude to engage in mid-to-low altitude dogfights was not a good idea.

Since his onboard radar already had sufficient look-down capability, Andrei didn’t follow the formation’s dive. Instead, he flipped the radar switch and entered lock-on mode.

“Report, 032 has achieved lock-on, requesting permission to fire.” Andrei called over the radio.

Fire? Don’t fire the first shot! On the ground, Kozhdoob broke into a sweat upon hearing this. Damn it, he hadn’t intended for this guy to participate in the standoff yesterday. He hadn’t even been invited to the high alert meeting—didn’t he know the order not to fire first?

“Attention, no counterattack unless under attack!” Kozhdoob shouted into the radio.

Near the edge of the atmosphere, Andrei’s face broke into a smile. The show was about to begin!

Chapter 17: The Sky is High, Birds Fly Free

Beep beep. Byelinko honked the horn, gazing up at the hotel window.

Soon, a head poked out from behind the window, messy hair framing a youthful face. Recognizing the man below, the girl blushed slightly. “Wait a moment, I’ll be right down.”

Before long, a girl in jeans and a white blouse appeared before Byelinko. Her previously disheveled hair was now neatly pinned back with a white hair clip, simple yet radiating the unique confidence and beauty of a young woman.

“Pilot comrade? Can you take me flying today?” the girl asked Byelinko.

“No flight missions today,” Byelinko replied smoothly. He had taken extra care with his appearance before coming out—his hair was neatly combed, and his beard was cleanly shaven. “Besides, my plane is a single-seater. I can’t take you up. It’s a shame, really. If I could, I’d show you the view from the edge of space. It’s absolutely breathtaking.”

“You fly fighter jets?” the girl asked, her eyes widening. “That’s so cool!”

“Of course,” Byelinko said. “Come on, get in. I’ll take you around town today.”

The girl confidently took the passenger seat. As Byelinko drove the base’s rumbling jeep, his heart raced with excitement.

The girl before him was a university student, old enough to marry. Students like her often admired military men, and pilots like himself were the objects of many young women’s fantasies. If he could win her over, his days at the base would no longer be lonely.

The town wasn’t large, and they soon finished their tour.

“Where does this mountain road lead?” Annie asked as the car stopped at a crossroads.

“To the base,” Byelinko replied. “That’s where I came from. Come on, let’s take this road up the mountain. The view from the top is spectacular.”

If they went up now, it would be dark by the time they came back down. His car had a tent—if the girl agreed to spend the night outside, perhaps he wouldn’t have to be alone tonight. With that thought in mind, Byelinko started the car and drove up the mountain road.

Lush white birch trees lined the path, and birds sang all around. Annie seemed to enjoy it all. She spread her arms wide, standing up to embrace nature. The swell of her chest nearly made Byelinko lose control.

Creak. The car stopped at the mountaintop. Annie got out and sat on a rock, her eyes scanning the horizon before brightening. “Is that the airfield where your base is?” she asked Byelinko.

“Yes, Annie. You have good eyesight. Maybe you could fly a plane too!” Byelinko said. “Come, I’ll teach you how to fly.”

With that, Byelinko sat behind Annie, naturally taking her hands in his. “This is the throttle, this is the control stick, and these pedals control the rudder. Now, let’s start the engine and prepare for takeoff…”

He savored the unique scent of the girl, knowing he couldn’t be too forward. First, he needed to win her affection.

“How fast does the plane have to go to take off?” Annie suddenly asked. “On TV, they always seem to go really fast.”

“Not that fast,” Byelinko continued. “Look at the front instrument panel. Once we reach over three hundred kilometers per hour, we can take off. Now, we’re taking off!”

With that, Byelinko leaned back, and the girl in his arms followed suit. Suddenly, the two of them tumbled off the rock, rolling together.

Those big eyes were so alluring…

…

The radar operator on the E-2 Hawkeye stared intently at the screen. The blips represented friendly and enemy aircraft. At the moment, their side was climbing while the enemy was diving, both sides appearing ready for battle. They locked onto each other with radar, warning signals blaring, but no further action was taken.

It was a silent standoff. Over the median line of the Sea of Japan, both sides postured aggressively, yet neither dared to fire the first missile. The confrontation would end when one side turned away—whoever did so first would be admitting defeat.

Of course, if the enemy actually launched a missile, their side wouldn’t back down. Sparrow missiles and Sidewinders would be sent in response.

The Soviets were being unreasonable. They had collided with their EP-3 reconnaissance aircraft, forced it to land at a Soviet base, and now refused to acknowledge it. They wouldn’t return the plane or the crew. Such shameless behavior was an embarrassment to a great nation!

At times like these, they had to assert their dominance. They had to make the Russians understand that refusing to return the reconnaissance aircraft and its crew meant war!

The prewarning aircraft’s screen continuously refreshed the air situation data. Suddenly, the radar operator noticed something amiss.

Eighteen MiG-25s in total—seventeen of them were diving from high altitude, but one remained cruising at high altitude!

What was going on? Had that Russian fallen asleep?

The MiG-25 was an interceptor, primarily used for beyond-visual-range interception. Its loadout made that clear—four R-40 missiles, the MiG-25’s signature weapon.

These missiles were less than six meters long and weighed half a ton, setting the record for the largest air-to-air missile in the Soviet arsenal. There were two variants: the infrared-guided R-40D and the radar-guided R-40R. Though classified as long-range air-to-air missiles, their maximum range was limited by Soviet rocket engine technology to no more than forty kilometers. The infrared variant’s rounded nose created more drag, reducing its range to just over twenty kilometers. Later improvements, including a more aerodynamic seeker head, extended the effective range beyond fifty kilometers.

The missile’s slender body featured a canard aerodynamic layout, with four sets of aerodynamic surfaces arranged in an X-X configuration. The large, swept-back trapezoidal wings provided excellent high-speed directional stability, though the missile’s G-force tolerance was limited. Designed primarily to intercept American bombers, this was the air defense force’s main combat mission.

The MiG-25 was not equipped with short-range dogfight missiles. Among the aircraft in the sky, only Andrei’s modified plane carried R-60 dogfight missiles. Thus, the primary mission of the MiG-25 squadron was to engage the enemy at long range using radar, locking onto them and forcing them to retreat. If the enemy did not retreat, they would engage in a standoff at the median line of the Sea of Japan.

But now, the MiG-25 at high altitude had disrupted their battle formation. Andrei skillfully maneuvered his MiG-25, climbing further to an altitude of twenty-seven thousand meters, maintaining a speed of 2.6 Mach.

The steel warbird roared across the median line of the Sea of Japan, heading toward Hokkaido.

The sky is high, birds fly free. Come on, Americans, try to catch me!

Chapter 18: A Daring Flight

Andrei piloted the MiG-25PD fighter, swiftly crossing the median line of the Sea of Japan at high altitude. The 13th Fighter Squadron hadn’t even had time to react before they spotted the Soviet aircraft—it had already breached their interception line!

In wartime, this would have been an unforgivable oversight. Crossing the interception line meant potential devastation for the rear, especially if the aircraft carried nuclear weapons. But now, both sides were merely engaged in a standoff, exerting psychological pressure. The Americans never expected a Soviet plane to cross from such high altitude!

At nearly thirty thousand meters, the aircraft was already in the stratosphere, making it nearly impossible to spot even when looking up. The MiG-25’s speed was astonishing, and the F-4’s AN/APQ-120 radar lacked track-while-scan capability. With the single-pulse locking signal active, it had no ability to search the surrounding airspace.

Thus, the MiG-25 boldly slipped past the F-4’s interception line, heading straight for the Japanese mainland. Its course pointed directly toward Hokkaido.

After sustained afterburner flight, the MiG-25’s fuel burned at an alarming rate. Of the sixteen tons of fuel loaded before takeoff, over eight tons had already been consumed. As the fuel decreased, the thrust-to-weight ratio improved, making the aircraft more agile.

“Damn it, he’s coming straight for us! What’s this crazy Ivan up to?” Inside the E-2 Hawkeye, the radar operator stared at the blip on the screen, moving at 2.6 Mach.

“Green Vine Team, Green Vine Team, intercept at nine o’clock! Siren Squadron, return for support!” the Combat Information Center Officer (CICO) called out.

“Green Vine Team, roger.” The two F-4s escorting the E-2, their intakes and wings marked with red ovals, banked sharply toward the nine o’clock position.

After the United States occupied the island nation, they began supporting its armed forces for certain purposes. Though not officially a military, the Self-Defense Forces were a powerful and tightly controlled extension of U.S. command. This provocation was carried out by two F-4s from the Air Self-Defense Force, escorting the E-2.

The lead pilot of Green Vine Team, Warrant Officer Yamada, accelerated while ordering his radar operator to activate the radar. The Air Self-Defense Force’s aircraft were slightly outdated compared to the U.S. models. The AN/APQ-72 airborne interception radar at the nose still used a parabolic antenna, with many internal circuits relying on vacuum tubes. It was still warming up and would take several minutes to become operational.

Meanwhile, the MiG-25 continued its relentless advance like a blade through the sky.

During the Cold War, though both sides engaged in silent confrontation, they adhered to certain principles to avoid accidental nuclear war. For instance, the 513th Regiment had never crossed the median line of the Sea of Japan.

But now, Andrei’s MiG-25 had not only crossed the line—it was heading straight for Hokkaido, with only two hundred kilometers left!

As the aircraft soared through the high altitude, Andrei had already prepared his excuse: a navigation system malfunction, a wrong turn. For now, he just wanted the thrill of the flight.

He had no idea that an E-2 Hawkeye was hovering over Hokkaido, nor that the enemy was in a panic, scrambling all available aircraft to intercept him, assuming he was on a special mission.

The MiG-25 lacked advanced electronic equipment and couldn’t detect the strong electromagnetic radiation source. The target two hundred kilometers away was beyond the Sapphire-25 radar’s maximum search range.

Two blips appeared on the radar screen—altitude fifteen thousand meters, speed 1.2 Mach!

Were they coming to intercept him? Andrei cut the afterburner. At extreme speeds, the MiG-25’s maneuverability suffered. Though sheer altitude and speed could ignore the enemy, this was a moment to showcase Soviet might. He decided to toy with the approaching aircraft.

First, he locked onto them. Andrei flipped a switch, and the Sapphire-25 radar’s inverted antenna emitted a continuous I-band signal, locking onto the lead aircraft.

A sharp warning tone blared in Yamada’s headset. His AN/APQ-72 radar had just finished warming up, but the screen still showed no clear return signal.

“Distance eighty kilometers, twelve o’clock, speed 1.8, altitude twenty-two thousand meters, target decelerating.” The E-2’s warning came through the headset.

Eighty kilometers! The Soviets had locked onto him from eighty kilometers away! Yamada gritted his teeth and continued flying level.

Damn Soviets and their bluffing! They didn’t have air-to-air missiles that could engage at eighty kilometers!

What was there to fear? So what if it was the Soviets’ most advanced MiG-25? His own aircraft was one of America’s finest!

Yamada maintained his speed as the radar operator in the rear cockpit reported, “Target locked! Sparrow missile ready!”

Yamada nearly shouted the command. The Soviets had gone too far, approaching Japanese airspace. If they came any closer, he would fire the missile and attack.

The rear radar operator quickly locked onto the target, the blip on the screen now firmly in the crosshairs.

The distance between them had closed to forty kilometers.

When the radar warning receiver screeched in his headset, Andrei pushed the control stick and pressed the rudder. The MiG-25’s control surfaces responded instantly, executing a smooth barrel roll. The radar warning tone abruptly cut off.

Chapter 19: The Flower’s Position

Initially, when the Americans got their hands on the MiG-25 that Byelinko had defected with, they concluded that its maneuverability was quite poor based on the fact that it was made of steel. In reality, this was completely wrong.

Even by the time of the Gulf War, the MiG-25 could still engage in one-on-one combat with American aircraft and had even shot down American planes. This steel-built fighter, powered by its robust engines, still delivered impressive performance.

Moreover, the high strength provided by the stainless steel allowed the aircraft to perform high-G maneuvers. At this moment, Andrei felt his body pressed against the seat as he executed a roll, pulling 4 Gs.

While this maneuver had shaken off the enemy’s lock, it also meant the distance between them was increasing. The solution was simple—execute another turn! These two lateral turns formed an S-shaped path, the most basic snake maneuver in aerial combat.

The MiG-25 had slowed to subsonic speeds, and the recent turn had traced a one-kilometer radius in the sky.

In later years, many criticized the MiG-25 for only being able to fly straight, even earning the nickname “straight-line fighter.” Indeed, at maximum speed, the MiG-25 required a turning radius of several dozen kilometers. But now, with reduced speed, the required turning radius shrank rapidly. Especially with the MiG-25’s differential horizontal stabilizers, which provided additional turning torque, this already sufficiently maneuverable fighter could complete turns even faster.

To adapt to high-altitude maneuvering, the MiG-25’s control surfaces were exceptionally large. In the denser air of lower altitudes, the torque from these surfaces was further amplified, sometimes even causing overcontrol. From another perspective, this also meant that with proper handling, the fighter could achieve remarkable agility!

It was worth noting that even among second-generation fighters, the F-4 required a turning radius of one thousand five hundred meters!

Let those armchair experts cool off! Andrei maneuvered the massive steel fighter, its large control surfaces allowing him to complete two turns. Meanwhile, his altitude dropped from twenty-two thousand meters to eighteen thousand. Glancing outside, he spotted two bright dots in the clear sky.

They were within visual range!

The newly installed TP-26-SH1 forward-looking infrared search and track system (IRST) displayed a signal indicating the targets had been acquired. In such clear skies, the system’s detection range could reach forty kilometers!

The Soviets’ individual electronic technologies were inferior, but when these not-so-advanced systems were integrated, they could produce formidable results. This was the Soviet advantage!

Andrei flicked a switch, and the R-60 missiles under the wings began to warm up. The infrared missiles of this era lacked head-on attack capability and could only pursue from behind. For now, there was no need to worry about the enemy launching missiles to intercept him.

Both sides were rapidly closing in. As they passed each other, Andrei’s pupils caught sight of the striking red circle.

It was the islanders! Those shameless dwarves! Andrei pushed the control stick to the right while pressing the right rudder pedal. The massive vertical stabilizers of the twin tails turned, the differential tails and wing control surfaces all moving in unison as the steel fighter swiftly executed its turn.

Almost simultaneously, Andrei engaged the afterburner. Turning would cause a loss in altitude and speed, both of which needed to be compensated for by the powerful engines.

Eleven tons of fuel had already been burned, and with the missiles, the aircraft’s current weight was around twenty-five tons. The two engines, each providing over eleven thousand newtons of thrust, combined for twenty-three thousand newtons, giving a thrust-to-weight ratio exceeding 0.92—nearly the same as the lightweight and agile J-7. The engines, bursting with powerful thrust, continuously supplied energy to offset the losses from the turn, further increasing the fighter’s speed.

Meanwhile, the two F-4 fighters were also turning. Their mission was to intercept this terrifying intruder. Having evaded the lock in beyond-visual-range combat, they now, after a head-on pass within visual range, began their rapid turn.

Warrant Officer Yamada’s body was pressed tightly against his seat by the immense G-forces. He strained to turn his head, looking toward his rear. He needed to complete his turn first, then point his nose at the enemy’s rear hemisphere!

Though the head-on pass had lasted only an instant, he had clearly seen the large twin-engine, twin-tail fighter adorned with a red star—the Soviets’ latest weapon, the MiG-25!

When this fighter first appeared in the Moscow parade, and the commentator mentioned it could fly at three times the speed of sound, the West was gripped by an inexplicable panic. To say there was no fear of this fighter was impossible.

And now, though they had encountered this fighter, to protect the AWACS behind them, Warrant Officer Yamada had no choice but to intercept it!

As he turned, the sky in his vision rotated with him. But where was the target?

“Captain, six o’clock position, he’s behind you!” Almost after turning two hundred seventy degrees, Yamada heard his wingman’s voice over the radio.

The two fighters had approached in formation, turning in different directions. When the wingman completed the high-G maneuver and nearly recovered from the blackout, he saw that the MiG-25 had already flown behind his leader’s tail!

Six o’clock position! This was a position to be exploded from behind! How could the enemy’s fighter be so agile?

Having used the afterburner for only a few seconds, Andrei already regretted the fuel burned. However, seeing the F-4 in front of him, its two J79 turbojet engines spewing hot flames, the R-60 missile he carried had already locked onto its target. With just a press of the button on the control stick, he could blow the F-4’s rear to pieces.

Islanders, I’m the attacker, you’re the beast!

Suddenly, the flames from the F-4’s rear became even hotter. Clearly, the enemy had engaged the afterburner, trying to escape.

This was an inexperienced pilot! Still using the afterburner at a time like this, afraid my missile lock wasn’t stable enough? Andrei looked through the narrow visor of his helmet at the fighter. Since that was the case, he would play along!

Chapter 20: Locking Onto the E-2

Climbing, diving, banking, rolling—every maneuver combined into a dizzying display, almost like an aerobatic performance. Yet, Warrant Officer Yamada in the cockpit was far from calm.

No matter what he tried, he couldn’t shake the enemy fighter behind him. There was only one conclusion: the opponent’s maneuverability was even better than his own! Their flight skills far surpassed his! Right now, it was just a standoff. If they actually engaged, he would have been hit by a missile long ago!

Sweat drenched Yamada’s flight suit, and the weapons operator in the rear was on the verge of vomiting from the constant spinning. Still, they couldn’t break free!

What do I do? What do I do? Sweat dripped from Yamada’s forehead, blurring his vision. The relentless high-G maneuvers had drained his strength, leaving him on the brink of collapse.

The islanders’ physical endurance was no match for the polar bears. Andrei had maintained the upper hand all along. Even when the wingman behind him tried to ambush, they found no opening.

The enemy, panicked and directionless, fled toward Hokkaido. Andrei felt today’s dogfight was going unusually well.

It wasn’t their fault. The F-4 had been designed with high-altitude, high-speed dominance in mind. Back then, the “missile supremacy” theory had even emerged, suggesting future air combat would rely entirely on air-to-air missiles, reducing fighters to mere missile platforms. The F-4 had even been built without a cannon. But the Vietnam War shattered that illusion—the near-zero hit rate of the Sparrow missile left the F-4, with its poor dogfighting capabilities, helpless.

Though the MiG-25 was also built for high-altitude, high-speed performance, it was already a prototype of a third-generation fighter. Its twin-engine, twin-vertical-tail design gave it decent maneuverability—far from the “terrible” reputation some had given it. Against an F-15, it might struggle, but against a second-generation F-4, it was sheer domination, even in dogfights!

“032, 032, return to base immediately! Enemy aircraft are heading toward your airspace! Repeat, twenty enemy aircraft attempting to cross the border are heading toward your airspace!”

They were already near Hokkaido’s airspace. The Americans took this very seriously, especially to protect their E-2 Hawkeye. The entire Siren Squadron had turned back in an emergency.

The 513th Regiment had already completed their interception mission, and since the Americans had retreated first, they had upheld their national dignity. After receiving guidance from CGI, they began their return, disengaging from the enemy.

But then, ground control noticed one aircraft was missing—032 had not returned! Further scans with long-range radar revealed that the plane was actually flying toward Hokkaido! The American aircraft had turned back not to retreat but to intercept their own 032, which had intruded into Japanese airspace!

There was a world of difference between a standoff over the Sea of Japan and entering Japanese airspace! Andrei, that reckless fool! Back at Sokolovka Base, Kozhdoob was furious. If they got shot down in Japanese airspace, it would be their fault, and his position as base commander would be in serious jeopardy.

Andrei had always been quiet and never caused trouble before. What had gotten into him lately? Kozhdoob cursed under his breath as he ordered him to return immediately.

Twenty enemy aircraft, all coming for him? Andrei froze. What was going on? He glanced down—no more shimmering blue waves, only lush green forests.

Oh no, I’ve flown into Japanese airspace! He immediately radioed, “Received, returning to base at once!”

“032, 032, return to base immediately!” The radio crackled with Kozhdoob’s frantic voice. Andrei suddenly realized—his radio couldn’t transmit that far!

Back then, aircraft didn’t have satellite communication data links. They relied solely on radio, which, within their own airspace, could be relayed through an integrated air defense network. But over the sea, unless accompanied by an electronic warfare aircraft for signal relay, the limited power of the radio meant that once they flew too far, they lost contact with base.

Time to head back! Andrei checked his fuel gauge. The recent dogfight had burned through half a ton of fuel. He needed to conserve what was left, or he wouldn’t make it back.

But why were the Americans chasing him just because he crossed the border? Twenty aircraft seemed excessive. Andrei broke off the pursuit, accelerated, and climbed, then scanned the airspace ahead with his Sapphire-25 radar. Suddenly, he spotted a suspicious target.

Altitude: nine thousand meters. Speed: six hundred kilometers per hour.

What is that? A chill ran down Andrei’s spine. Could it be an E-2 Hawkeye?

This was America’s primary early warning aircraft. The more advanced E-3 was still in testing, while the E-2, though designed for carrier operations, was widely used by land-based air forces.

So that’s why the Americans are in a panic! I’ve stumbled upon a fat goose! A new plan formed in Andrei’s mind.

Let’s go scare the Americans a little!

Normally, the E-2 should have retreated south to Honshu, but the F-4 sent to intercept had been chased all the way here, forcing the E-2 to fly east instead. With its massive radar dome, the E-2 was slow, and before long, it had been caught!

The crew, realizing their defenseless early warning aircraft was being targeted by a MiG-25, panicked. The radar operator stared nervously at the screen. “Damn it, that Russian’s coming for us!”

A sharp alarm blared inside the cabin—the sound of being locked on! Damn it, is that MiG-25 really going to shoot us down?

“Descend! Descend!” the combat controller shouted, suddenly remembering that Soviet radars were poor and lacked look-down/shoot-down capability. If they dropped to low altitude, they could use ground radar clutter to evade the lock.

The pilot pushed the controls, and the E-2 began a slow descent. The spinning propeller tips let out a high-pitched whine, adding to the tension.

The lock-on alarm continued to blare!

Chapter 21: Single-Engine Return

“He’s going to shoot us down!”

“He’s coming straight for us! Damn it, he’s already past Mach 2—he’s definitely going to fire a missile!”

“God save us!”

The cabin was filled with screams. If it weren’t for the compact structure of the aircraft making it impossible to bail out, they would have already abandoned the doomed AWACS, which was about to explode into a fireball.

When the locking tone finally disappeared, everyone was drenched in sweat. The air traffic controller, still seated in his chair, burst into sobs.

Not everyone could endure such a brush with death, and they wouldn’t always be this lucky. The pilot of that MiG-25 was nothing short of a demon!

Three seconds later, Andrei satisfiedly shut off the radar, pulling the control stick to the left. Time to head back!

He had just used afterburner again, and the fighter had already exceeded the speed of sound. By the time he finished the turn, he was almost out of Hokkaido’s airspace, reaching the southern skies of Sakhalin Island. At such high speeds, the turning radius was unacceptably large.

Andrei kept the afterburner engaged. More than half of the internal fuel had been consumed, but the aircraft’s performance continued to improve. Soon, he climbed to twenty-six thousand meters, reaching a speed of Mach 2.6.

On the other side, the incoming F-4s could only watch helplessly as the altitude gap made them powerless to intervene!

The MiG-25 was a massive threat to the Americans. The Sparrow missiles carried by the F-4s were nearly incapable of engaging targets above twenty thousand meters. And in a head-on pass exceeding Mach 3, the Sparrow’s hit rate was practically zero.

The only real threat to such an aircraft would be the Navy’s F-14s armed with Phoenix missiles.

Flying triumphantly over American heads, dismissing the intercepting F-4s as nothing, Andrei had thoroughly showcased Soviet might this time.

But aside from worrying about the scolding—and punishment—he’d face from Kozhdoob upon return, Andrei’s biggest problem now was fuel!

The MiG-25 was a highly controversial aircraft. In later years, experts would have all sorts of opinions—some claiming its combat radius didn’t exceed three hundred kilometers, making it little more than an airfield guardian like the MiG-29, while others called it a flying brick with no maneuverability.

But those who hadn’t flown it had no right to comment. Andrei knew those claims were wrong.

The MiG-25 had ample internal fuel, with a maximum range exceeding three thousand kilometers. In air combat configuration, its combat radius surpassed one thousand kilometers—typical specs for a heavy fighter.

Of course, these figures were for cruising without afterburner. In a mission like this—rapid interception—the afterburner was engaged almost from takeoff. By the time he reached the interception point, roughly four to five hundred kilometers out, half the fuel was already gone. Even after ten minutes of combat in the designated airspace, there was still enough fuel to cruise back at Mach 0.8.

But Andrei had “strayed” into Japanese airspace, chasing F-4s and harassing E-2s. On the way back, he had faced off against a formation of F-4s with a ten-thousand-meter altitude difference. By the time he flew away in style, the fuel gauge made his face turn green.

Only a little over two tons left! And several hundred kilograms of that were sludge at the bottom of the tank, unusable. He had less than two tons to work with!

The base was still eight hundred kilometers away. There was no way this much fuel would get him back!

What now? If this were two years later, after the MiG-25’s next upgrade, he could refuel midair. He could call the base, have them send a tanker, and he might just make it. But right now, that wasn’t an option.

After shutting off the afterburner, his speed began to drop, but the altitude didn’t fall much.

The higher the altitude, the thinner the air, and the less drag. If he wanted to make it back, he couldn’t lose altitude! Andrei reminded himself.

After another minute of flight, he recalculated the fuel. Still not enough to return safely!

What to do? Was he supposed to ditch in the sea and wait for a rescue helicopter from the base?

No way! Andrei suddenly remembered something. If he wanted to save more fuel, he’d have to take a risk!

Wearing thick gloves, his fingers flicked switches on the panel. When he flipped the fifth one, the aircraft shuddered, and the speed dropped. The altitude began to fall.

If someone were behind him, they’d see that one of the MiG-25’s engines was still spewing orange flames, while the other had gone dark.

Shutting down one engine! Cruising on a single engine!

This was Andrei’s desperate measure. The two R-15 engines were like fuel-guzzling monsters—even without afterburner, they burned through fuel rapidly.

The only solution was to shut one down!

With the sudden loss of power, the MiG-25 began to lose altitude.

Andrei carefully maneuvered the aircraft. Shutting down one engine reduced fuel consumption by thirty to forty percent, but if he descended into denser air, that advantage would vanish. He couldn’t let the altitude drop too much!

Fortunately, when he leveled off at twenty thousand meters, the MiG-25 stabilized. The Mach meter showed around 0.7—single-engine cruise power wasn’t bad.

“032, 032, report fuel status.” The voice from Sokolovka Base came through the headset.

As he flew back, radio communication was finally restored. Andrei glanced at the fuel gauge. “032 reporting, fuel at one point five tons.”

One point five tons! The radar showed at least four hundred more kilometers to go. That fuel wouldn’t get him back! Kozhdoob clenched his fists. “032, you’re flying our regiment’s newest equipment. Even if you die, you die on the way back!”

Hearing Kozhdoob’s roar over the radio, Andrei knew he’d get an earful when he landed. Sigh, the bureaucracy was brutal.

But looking at the fuel consumption, he should make it back!

“032 received.” Andrei responded over the radio, continuing to flip switches, shutting down unnecessary equipment to save power.

The wait was agonizing. Kozhdoob stared fixedly at the radar screen, terrified the plane might suddenly drop out of the sky—surely out of fuel.

Chapter 22: No Brakes

Closer, even closer—finally, the coastline came into view! Andrei felt lucky today. As he descended further, he caught a favorable air current blowing from east to west. With the wind at his back, he saved even more fuel.

He was back, finally back! From the control tower window, Kozhdoob watched through binoculars as the distant fighter entered its landing approach. Had that guy been lying to him? One and a half tons of fuel to fly hundreds of kilometers? How was that possible?

But according to calculations, the plane that had ventured into Hokkaido’s airspace couldn’t have much fuel left.

The mystery was soon solved. His partner, Colonel Ivanov, commander of the 513th Regiment, had led the entire air group on this mission and returned. After landing, he rushed straight to the tower to check on his reckless subordinate.

Now, standing at the railing outside the tower, Ivanov noticed something unusual about the MiG-25—one of its engines was out!

Mechanical failure? Unlikely. If it were, Andrei would have reported it. The only other possibility was that he had deliberately shut down one engine to extend his range!

Lately, Andrei had been acting strangely. These tactics didn’t match the impression the regiment had of him. Ivanov frowned, but he had to admit—what Andrei had pulled off was impressive.

Flying with one engine shut down made the aircraft harder to control. Cruising at high altitude was one thing, but landing was another matter entirely.

Even under normal circumstances, takeoff and landing were dangerous phases of flight. With one engine off, the risks multiplied. And while shutting down an engine was easy, restarting it midair was far from simple. Andrei had no choice but to handle the controls with extreme care.

After several flights, Andrei had mastered the technique. The MiG-25’s design prioritized high-altitude performance, which made its low-altitude aerodynamic forces excessive. The result was similar to pilot-induced oscillation (PIO)—if the control input was too large, the aircraft would maneuver in the opposite direction. Correcting it would only worsen the shaking, turning the fly-by-wire system into the pilot’s worst enemy.

The solution? Handle it gently.

Andrei nudged the control stick bit by bit, carefully aligning with the descent path. He knew he had only one chance—the fuel gauge was nearly empty. There might not even be enough left for a go-around.

Descending, descending—finally, the aircraft jolted as the main landing gear touched the runway!

Relief washed over him. Andrei exhaled deeply.

The nose remained raised, and the plane skidded forward a few more seconds before the front landing gear made contact. At that moment, the roar from the tail vanished entirely.

The other engine had cut out too! The fuel was completely exhausted. This mission had been thrilling, to say the least.

Andrei sat in the cockpit, watching the aircraft continue its forward slide. He pressed both feet onto the rudder pedals, preparing to brake the wheels.

In the air, pressing one pedal controlled the rudder. On the ground, pressing both would engage the hydraulic brakes on the main landing gear.

But when he pressed down, the pedals felt stiff—unresponsive.

No! The engines were dead! Only then did Andrei realize his oversight. In an era before widespread fly-by-wire systems, aircraft controls relied on hydraulics. The engines powered the hydraulic pumps, pressurizing the system. Without that pressure, his feet alone couldn’t activate the brakes!

Even the drag chute at the tail was hydraulically deployed! Helpless, Andrei watched as his aircraft sped forward like a car on a highway.

The base’s runway was three kilometers long—usually more than enough. But now, with the brakes failing, three kilometers was far too short for a plane still moving at over two hundred kilometers per hour.

The aircraft slowed, but the runway shrank just as fast. By the time Andrei saw the end of the runway, the plane was still moving at least fifty kilometers per hour.

No way to stop now! Beyond the runway lay a forest. A collision there would mean major repairs—and a severe disciplinary action.

Bang. A sudden noise from below. Andrei’s heart sank. Just my luck. A tire had blown!

The aircraft lurched violently, bouncing up and down. Though strapped in and wearing a helmet, Andrei’s head still slammed into something. His vision darkened, and he blacked out.

……

Where was he? When Andrei woke again, everything was white. A dim yellow bulb hung from the ceiling, and beside him stood a large, weathered blue oxygen tank. On the other side, a yellow-painted table held an old green metal instrument, its wavy lines flickering across the screen.

His head ached. The smell of antiseptic filled his nose. He was in a hospital. And that heart monitor confirmed it—he was still in the Soviet Union, in 1976.

Sitting up, he tore off the electrodes from his chest, revealing a patch of dark chest hair. A wave of helplessness washed over him.

The night of the crossing had been so sudden. That evening, Andrei had barely slept, consumed not just by thoughts of the traitor Byelinko, but by a deeper unease.

He hadn’t wanted to come here. He wanted to return to his original world! It all felt like a dream.

His recent actions—slicing through the EP-3’s wing and engine with the MiG-25, then circling Hokkaido—had been reckless, as if he didn’t value his own life. But deep down, it was all subconscious resistance.

Perhaps, at some level, he had believed he could cross back during extreme maneuvers?

Pinching himself hard, Andrei confirmed he wasn’t dreaming. He had truly crossed over—into the Soviet Union, as a MiG-25 pilot defending its skies!

Chapter 23: A True-Blooded Russian

Andrei sat up from the sickbed, taking in his surroundings before glancing down at his exposed thighs, covered in thick black hair. A bandage was wrapped around his left calf.

This body is only twenty-three years old? he mused. No wonder they call them hairy Russians—already covered in fur at such a young age. It’s like evolution forgot to finish the job. With a wry smile, he resigned himself to his current form. For now, I’ll have to embrace being a Russian. And if I’m going to be one, I’ll be the best damn Russian there is—soaring through the skies in a steel war machine, blasting the Japs out of the air, and kicking Uncle Sam’s ass until NATO trembles at the sound of my name!

Recalling the battles of the past few days, a surge of adrenaline coursed through him. In the future, things were so frustrating…

Just then, a white pigeon fluttered down, landing on the windowsill. It hopped closer, tilting its head as if greeting him.

Andrei tested his legs, finding his calf still had some strength. Bracing himself against the wall, he shuffled step by step toward the window.

Outside, lush green grass stretched beneath towering white birch trees. The hospital was nestled in a quiet corner of the city, where the spires of a church pierced the skyline. Crisscrossing streets and countless buildings painted the scene of a bustling metropolis.

If I’m not mistaken, this must be Vladivostok—the capital of the Soviet Union’s Maritime Territory and the largest city in the Far East.

His hometown, Chuguyevka, was just a small town. After his crash landing and subsequent injuries, he had been transported to this major city’s hospital. If the Soviet system mirrors China’s, this should be an air defense medical facility.

The pigeon cooed again, hopping closer to Andrei’s hand as it rested on the windowsill. Its beady eyes darted, beak opening as if demanding food. Seems like it’s used to begging for bread crumbs here.

Creak.

The door behind him swung open, and a doctor in a white coat entered. Seeing Andrei leaning precariously out the window, she exclaimed, “Captain Andrei! What are you doing?!”

Andrei turned to see the female doctor—her curves subtly outlined beneath her coat, long lashes framing bright, intelligent eyes. Golden hair cascaded from beneath her cap in loose curls, resting on her shoulders.

She hurried forward, scolding, “Your leg is injured! Moving too soon will hinder your recovery. As a pilot, you should think about your career—your future—”

Before she could finish, Andrei’s leg buckled. The pigeon, denied its snack, pecked his hand in frustration. With his injured leg, Andrei relied entirely on his arms for balance. The sudden pain caused his grip to slip, and he lurched forward.

The doctor lunged to catch him, but Andrei’s weight was too much. Off-balance from her rush, she teetered backward—risking a dangerous fall.

In that split second, Andrei acted. As he fell, he wrapped his arms around her waist, steadying her.

His hands landed on her firm backside—summer attire meant little beneath the coat. The doctor’s eyes fluttered shut as his body pressed against hers.

So cute…

She felt his strength shift her upright, a jolt of warmth surging through her.

Thud.

Andrei hit the ground hard. The force of pushing her up had worsened his fall. A sharp crack echoed as his right hand, meant to brace his landing, twisted painfully.

Of course—touching where I shouldn’t gets me punished. Sweat beaded on his forehead.

The entire ordeal had lasted mere seconds. The doctor’s eyes reopened, cheeks flushed beneath her mask. She realized he had saved her from falling—at the cost of reinjuring himself.

“Let me see your hand,” she said, kneeling beside him.

“Just a dislocation,” Andrei grunted, struggling to sit up.

Her soft fingers probed his wrist. As she worked, the neckline of her coat gaped slightly, offering a fleeting glimpse.

Snap.

His wrist popped back into place. Pain lanced up his arm, sweat dripping down his back. This doctor knows how to set bones!

“There,” she said. “Come on, let’s get an X-ray.”

“No need,” Andrei insisted. “It’s fine now. Doctor, your skills are impressive. But right now… I’m starving. Any food?”

His stomach growled on cue. The doctor chuckled. “Alright. Let’s get you back to bed first.”

She helped him up, her breath quickening as they moved. For a moment, Andrei’s mind wandered.

Chapter 24: The Great Hero

The enamel lunchbox, adorned with a hammer and sickle, held a delicate porcelain spoon. Half-reclining on the hospital bed, Andrei watched as those slender, tender hands scooped a mouthful of porridge, blew on it gently, and brought it to his lips. The sight of her red lips was utterly captivating.

“Open up,” the female doctor said, bringing the spoon to Andrei’s mouth. As he parted his lips, the thick, sweet porridge flowed in, warming his heart.

Soviets loved their porridge. Though they grew grain, their cuisine was simple—either dark, toasted bread or thick porridge, a staple of their tradition. This porridge was much like the congee back home, a dietary mainstay for the Soviet people.

The female doctor helped Andrei sit up in bed and brought him food. Remembering how his hand had been dislocated earlier, she took it upon herself to feed him.

Andrei felt a wave of heat rush through him. After a few spoonfuls, he said, “Doctor, just leave the food here. I can feed myself.”

“No, your wrist is injured. You shouldn’t move it too much,” the female doctor replied. “You’re the great hero of the Far Eastern Military District. You’ll be flying the skies again soon. If your injury doesn’t heal properly, it could affect your career.”

A great hero? Andrei was puzzled. Though he was a rising star, the Far Eastern Military District had many pilots. How had he become a great hero? Then he remembered—when he first saw this female doctor, she had called him “Captain Andrei.” But he was sure his rank was lieutenant.

Suddenly, it dawned on him. The lunchbox was spotless, and the spoon was far too delicate to be from the mess hall. Had the female doctor brought this meal from home, only for him to eat it?

“Dr. Yekaterina, Dr. Yekaterina! There’s an emergency in Room 16!”

“I’ll be right there,” the female doctor called back, placing the lunchbox on the bedside table. She hurried out but paused at the door, glancing back at Andrei with a look that promised she would return after checking on the patient.

Yekaterina—pure in Russian. What a beautiful name! Andrei picked up the spoon. Doctors were busy; he shouldn’t trouble her further. Though part of him hoped she would come back, he began eating heartily.

“Andrei, you’re awake! That’s wonderful!” A voice came from outside. Andrei turned to see none other than Colonel Ivanov, the regiment commander.

“Commander!” Andrei called out, attempting to stand and salute.

“Andrei, sit down!” Ivanov said. “I came to the Vladivostok Air Defense Command to report on work and thought I’d check on you. You’ve been unconscious for two days—you scared us all.”

Unconscious for two days? Andrei wondered. The impact must have been worse than he thought. What about the Americans across the strait? Had they made any new moves?

“Commander, have the Americans continued crossing the median line, pressuring us?” Andrei asked.

Hearing this, the nearly forty-year-old Ivanov laughed heartily. “Andrei, this is all thanks to you. Last time, you took our MiG-25 all the way to Hokkaido, chasing their E-2 Hawkeye. The Americans were terrified—they think none of their active models can match our MiG-25. They’ve stopped their military provocations. To honor your achievements, higher-ups have decided to award you the First-Class Medal for Service to the Homeland in the Soviet Armed Forces and promote you to captain. You’re a great hero now—even Pravda put you on the front page!”

The First-Class Medal for Service to the Homeland in the Soviet Armed Forces was established on October 28, 1974. It was awarded to those who excelled in military-political training, maintained high combat readiness, mastered new weapons technology, performed outstanding service, completed special assignments with bravery, and demonstrated selfless dedication in their military duties. As it was newly established, only a little over a hundred had been awarded so far—a great honor indeed.

So that’s how it was. Andrei realized that his two days of unconsciousness had spared him a scolding. Otherwise, after landing, Kozhdoob would have surely given him an earful, maybe even made him write a self-criticism. But now, with this honor and promotion, he was safe from reprimand.

It made sense. His actions had brought glory to the nation. In the Cold War, the Soviet Union was gaining momentum over the United States. The Americans had just extricated themselves from the Vietnam quagmire, humiliated and demoralized.

Moreover, his MiG-25 had proven its dominance. Before Byelinko’s defection, the U.S. Air Force had feared the MiG-25 greatly.

Byelinko! Thinking of him, Andrei felt a pang of anxiety. As long as the Americans hadn’t obtained the MiG-25’s secrets, they would still believe it was a formidable titanium alloy machine, far surpassing any of their models. They wouldn’t act recklessly.

“Now, the Americans are still pressuring us diplomatically, demanding we return the EP-3. But Moscow seems determined to study its technology thoroughly before handing it back. We must stay vigilant—they might try something. If they do, our 513th Regiment will be on the front lines.”

“Commander, what about Lieutenant Byelinko?” Andrei asked. “I remember his plane had issues last time and didn’t join the mission.”

“Yes, his plane is still in the hangar for repairs. He won’t be able to fly for at least a week,” Ivanov said.

Good. As long as his plane was still under repair, he couldn’t take to the skies. There was still hope. Andrei felt relieved.

Ivanov said a few more words of encouragement before leaving in a hurry. Andrei’s mind began to race.

The Americans wouldn’t give up so easily. This was the first time during the Cold War that an American plane had landed on Soviet soil. There was no precedent for how to handle it. Moscow might even keep the EP-3 to study its electronics thoroughly.

He needed to recover quickly and return to his unit. Especially with Byelinko’s situation—if he defected with a MiG-25, it would be a disaster.

Then Andrei remembered Annie, the girl he had met in Chuguyevka, the one from Berlin University. What a coincidence. She was suspicious.

Without solid evidence, he couldn’t report her to the KGB. But he couldn’t just stand by and watch. As he reached for his Dnieper cigarettes, he was about to light one.

“Hey, pilot comrade, no smoking for your health!” The female doctor’s voice came from outside.

Chapter 25: The Pressure of the MiG-25

Fussa, Tama District, U.S. Forces Japan headquarters.

Above this place, the American Stars and Stripes fluttered proudly. As the victor, the United States had arrogantly stationed its forces in Japan, achieving its goal of maintaining a military presence to counterbalance the Soviet Union and China. This was the location of the U.S. Forces Japan headquarters and the Fifth Air Force headquarters—Yokota Air Base.

“The MiG-25 is the Soviet Union’s latest fighter jet. We previously underestimated its capabilities,” said Colonel Lasfield, the intelligence chief of the U.S. Pacific Command, standing beside Lieutenant General Paul James, the commander of U.S. Forces Japan and the Fifth Air Force. “After our investigation, we discovered that this aircraft not only excels in high-altitude, high-speed performance—capable of flying at altitudes of around thirty thousand meters at speeds exceeding Mach 2.5—but also possesses formidable close-quarters combat abilities. Through our analysis of the Green Vine Squadron’s dogfight with the Soviet MiG-25, we found that the F-4 Phantom is severely outmatched in all flight performance aspects. In terms of maneuverability, acceleration, and climb rate, it cannot compete with the MiG-25. Even with an excellent pilot, the performance gap between the aircraft is significant.”

After the previous defeat, the White House decision-makers did not recklessly order continued military pressure. Instead, they quickly dispatched technical personnel to investigate the cause of the failure, focusing primarily on diplomatic efforts to recover the EP-3.

Now, the investigation results had surprised the Americans. The MiG-25 posed a tremendous threat to their air force.

“Our Sparrow missiles cannot reach altitudes of thirty thousand meters. Additionally, once the enemy accelerates beyond Mach 2, due to the reaction time of our electronic systems, we cannot guarantee reliable head-on interception,” Colonel Lasfield continued. “This puts us in a very difficult position. We cannot intercept them, allowing them to fly freely over our heads. When we attempt to pursue, our missiles cannot keep up with their speed.”

“What’s even more terrifying is that this fighter has an enormous range. It can fly supersonic all the way from the Soviet Far East bases, circle over our land, and then return! If the Soviets use this plane to drop bombs, we have no countermeasure other than using nuclear missiles.”

“Yes, this aircraft places immense pressure on our air defense system. We cannot deploy air defense positions across all of Japan,” General Paul said.

Now, the others had come to investigate, and the results aligned almost entirely with what General Paul had already known.

Of course, they had no way of knowing that all of this was a smokescreen. The range was not as exaggerated as they thought. The pilot, Andrei, had flown back on a single engine and even had an accident during landing.

As for dropping bombs, unless they were internally mounted, the increased air resistance would prevent the aircraft from exceeding Mach 2.

“Gentlemen, take a look at yesterday’s Soviet Pravda,” said a gaunt, middle-aged man with a grim expression, placing a newspaper on the table.

“Lock, does the CIA gather intelligence from Soviet newspapers?” Colonel Lasfield sneered. Could newspaper reports really be considered intelligence?

This middle-aged man was the CIA’s Far East director, who had also come to Tokyo to coordinate the handling of the EP-3 incident.

Actually, the question was not unreasonable. The CIA obtained most of its Soviet intelligence from Soviet newspapers.

There was no other way. Under the Soviet system, intelligence work was extremely difficult. No matter how many CIA directors were replaced, Soviet intelligence was still primarily gathered from newspapers. Although the reports were often exaggerated, after analysis, they still held some practical value.

For example, this issue of Pravda featured a large front-page article about a Soviet Air Defense Forces captain named Vladimir Andrei, who had defended his country’s airspace in the most advanced MiG-25 fighter. While there might be some exaggeration, it likely referred to the same pilot who had flown over Hokkaido.

Especially since there was a photo. It showed the pilot, Andrei, climbing the ladder to board the aircraft. The helmet he wore was designed for high-altitude flight, almost identical to an astronaut’s helmet. The massive rectangular air intakes of the aircraft were visible, as were the missiles mounted under the wings with their rounded infrared-guided warheads—medium-range missiles!

All of this was valuable information.

General Paul picked up the newspaper, reading it while listening to Lock say, “The CIA does not rely solely on newspapers for intelligence, General. For this, we have activated an agent who has been undercover in the Soviet Union for four years. If things go smoothly, we can turn a MiG-25 pilot, who will defect and fly the MiG-25 to us. Then, the EP-3 issue will be resolved naturally.”

Turning a MiG-25 pilot to defect and fly the aircraft to them! Upon hearing this, General Paul was instantly tempted.

If they could successfully turn a pilot, that would be perfect! No matter how much they analyzed now, it was all after the fact. If they could get their hands on a MiG-25, dismantle it, and study it, they would understand why the Soviets had developed this almost alien-technology aircraft. If possible, the United States could even replicate a batch. Then, they would no longer face such immense pressure!

At the same time, the United States would not lose face. The Soviets would surely immediately offer the EP-3 in exchange, and then it would be up to the U.S. to decide. It was a perfect solution! Activating an agent who had been undercover for four years was worth it!

“Lock, this is a major operation. How can we assist?” General Paul asked.

“Secrecy,” Lock replied, leaving those two words before walking away. He could not stand Colonel Lasfield’s attitude.

General Paul continued reading the newspaper. A great hero? This man had flown solo over Hokkaido. Was this part of a high-level Soviet plan? Why had the other MiG-25s turned back at the median line of the Sea of Japan?

Moreover, according to Soviet standards, the MiG-25 should be an interceptor. What was the difference between an interceptor and a fighter?

It seemed that all the answers would come from the CIA. If they could turn a Soviet pilot and get their hands on a MiG-25 for close study, they would finally understand.

Chapter 26: Prove Your Worth

“Byelinko, tomorrow I’m returning to Vladivostok. My teacher and classmates have already arrived. We’ll be conducting a three-day survey in the Far East before heading back to Berlin.” Annie lay quietly in his arms, gazing at the star-studded night sky, her voice tinged with reluctance.

“Annie, I love you. I want to be with you!” On the first night, when they had come camping together in the wilderness, Byelinko had fallen deeply in love with Annie. These past few days, since his fighter jet hadn’t been repaired anyway, he had spent every moment with her. Tonight, they had come to the outskirts again to spend the night together. Though they hadn’t crossed the final line, holding such a beautiful girl in his arms, Byelinko felt he had found his true love. This girl was a hundred times more beautiful than his ex-wife, Lyudmila.

At this moment, Byelinko wanted nothing more than to follow Annie to the ends of the earth.

“Byelinko, I like you too,” Annie said. “But you know, we can never be together.”

“Why?” It was as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over his head. Byelinko cried out, “Is it because I’m older than you?”

“Age isn’t the problem,” Annie replied. “But Byelinko, you know I never intended to stay in the Soviet Union forever, nor did I plan to marry a Soviet man.”

Hearing this, Byelinko recalled their conversation from two nights ago about family. Annie had mentioned that her father was in East Germany, while her mother had remained in West Germany before the Berlin Wall was built. For years, her family had been separated. Annie and her father hoped to go to West Berlin to reunite with her mother.

If Annie married in the Soviet Union, especially to a Soviet Air Force captain, she would never be able to go to the West to reunite with her mother.

The Berlin Wall had caused so many families to be torn apart!

Byelinko was stunned. Annie genuinely liked him, but she couldn’t marry a Soviet man, especially a Soviet military officer!

What should he do?

Annie gently disentangled herself from Byelinko’s arms, stood up, and walked a few steps forward, looking at the birch trees ahead.

“Byelinko, these past few days with you have been wonderful,” Annie said. “But I really can’t continue being with you. Let’s just be each other’s memories.”

With that, Annie covered her face and turned to leave.

“No!” Byelinko chased after her. “Annie, you can’t marry a Soviet man? Then I won’t be a Soviet man either. I’ll go to West Germany with you!”

“No,” Annie shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. “Byelinko, in the Soviet Union, you’re a respected military officer, a captain and pilot. But in the West, what could you do? You’re used to this world. In the West, you wouldn’t be able to do anything. You don’t have any other survival skills. Moreover, your identity would make the Western world distrust you. My parents still wouldn’t agree to let me marry you unless… unless…”

“Unless what? Tell me!” Byelinko looked at Annie, his heart in agony.

“Unless you can prove your worth,” Annie said. “Your existence must bring a shocking sensation to the Western world, making them accept you.”

With that, Annie quickly ran away. “Byelinko, don’t follow me. You can’t do it. We’re like two parallel lines that will never intersect…”

Watching Annie’s figure disappear down the road, Byelinko pondered her words. Unless he could prove his worth and make the Western world accept him!

Having briefly tasted the sweetness of love, Byelinko’s hope for life had been reignited. He didn’t want to lose Annie. He had to find a way! What should he do?

…

“Be careful, take it slow.” Andrei moved cautiously around the hospital room, his lower leg occasionally sending waves of pain. He had to persist.

In his past life, it was said that injuries to muscles and bones required a hundred days of rest. If one had a fracture, they would need to stay in bed for at least a hundred days. But this was actually a misconception. Prolonged bed rest could prevent tissues from healing properly. For example, tendons, tendon sheaths, fascia, and joint capsules—these injuries could recover in one to two weeks. Ligaments, joint capsules, and cartilage took slightly longer, about three weeks. As for fractures, they could fully heal in about fifty days. Prolonged bed rest could cause these tissues to heal but not regain their original resilience and strength. Exercise was necessary!

Andrei’s lower leg injury was primarily due to overexertion during landing, causing a torn tendon, which had been sutured. Now, only three days had passed, and Andrei had already started recovery exercises. If he couldn’t return to his previous level, he would have to bid farewell to flying for the rest of his life.

Now, watching Andrei insist on walking for recovery training, Yekaterina stood by silently, her eyes filled with concern behind her mask.

“Be careful!” Seeing Andrei stumble after a few steps, Yekaterina shouted and rushed toward him.

“I’m fine.” Andrei leaned against the wall, pushing Yekaterina back with his hand. “I can do this.”

With that push, his hand touched something soft. Andrei panicked internally—it wasn’t intentional! He quickly withdrew his hand, as if nothing had happened.

At this moment, he couldn’t let Yekaterina realize he had touched the wrong place! No, he had pushed the wrong place! Andrei turned his head to look back at Yekaterina.

Hidden beneath her golden hair, her ears, as if carved by a master sculptor, were slightly red. A fleeting thought crossed Yekaterina’s mind—she knew Andrei hadn’t done it on purpose. At this moment, she couldn’t say anything.

“Comrade Andrei, sit down and rest for a while.”

“No! I didn’t back down when I fought the Americans, and I won’t back down now!” Andrei continued walking, circling the hospital room. Sweat beaded on his forehead.

He couldn’t take it anymore. Andrei plopped down on the bed, panting.

Yekaterina gazed intently at Andrei, hesitated for a moment, then sat in the chair across from him. “Comrade Andrei, tell me about when you fought the Americans.”

She still liked hearing battle stories? Did she have a thing for war heroes? The beautiful young female doctor in front of him—could she have developed feelings for him? Andrei couldn’t help but think. And he didn’t seem to mind her either.

“At that time, it happened at an altitude of eight thousand meters…” Andrei began to speak eloquently.

Chapter 27: Requesting a Backup Engine

“Report.” A voice came from outside the commander’s office at Sokolovka Base.

“Come in.” Kozhdoob called out, recognizing Byelinko’s voice.

“Byelinko, what’s the matter?” Kozhdoob asked.

“Reporting, Commander, I’d like to ask when my 31st fighter jet will be repaired,” Byelinko inquired.

“Byelinko, your engine has reached its overhaul period. It’s been disassembled and sent to the overhaul factory in Vladivostok,” Kozhdoob said.

Following the Soviet Union’s typical robust approach, the MiG-25’s R-15 engine had a flight life of only a little over one hundred hours. Once it reached that limit, it required a major overhaul. Sokolovka Base couldn’t perform such overhauls, so they were sent to a specialized factory in Vladivostok responsible for maintaining the air force’s MiG-23 and the air defense force’s MiG-25 engines.

“But it’s been over a week now,” Byelinko said. “By rights, my engine should have been returned.”

“That’s something you’d have to ask Vladivostok,” Kozhdoob said. “Byelinko, what’s gotten into you today?”

“Commander, we have backup engines in our warehouse. Please install a backup engine on my fighter!” Byelinko said.

Recalling Annie’s tearful farewell, Byelinko felt a surge of urgency. He was eager to pilot his fighter to the island nation across the sea and deliver the MiG-25 to the West. This would be a heroic act, earning him acceptance in the Western world and, more importantly, acceptance from Annie’s parents.

Once in the island nation, he would find the American intelligence agency and ask them to rescue Annie and her father from East Germany, bringing them to the free world of the West!

Over the years, Byelinko had grown increasingly disillusioned with the Soviet Union’s corruption. Back in flight school, he had spent his years in a daze, only to be labeled as mentally unstable by the school’s leadership. Finally, he got his wish and was sent to the frontline flight unit, piloting the Soviet Union’s most advanced MiG-25 fighter to defend the motherland.

But what had he seen? The same filth as in flight school! The base commander, Kozhdoob, was a master of abusing his power for personal gain. The logistics manager was Kozhdoob’s relative! Just coming from the hangar, Byelinko discovered that his engine had only been removed and not yet sent for overhaul! At a time when war with the Americans could break out at any moment, these people were still slacking off, secure in the knowledge that the base commander would protect them from any consequences!

When Byelinko’s wife, Lyudmila, left him with their son, Byelinko had no more attachments to this place. The seeds of hatred had long since taken root in his heart. He hated this world!

The entire flight regiment didn’t get along with him either. When they heard that he had been diagnosed with a mental illness in his previous unit, the other pilots of the 513th Regiment looked at him strangely and never drank with him.

Except for Andrei.

Thinking of the young man, Byelinko felt a pang of regret. Andrei was a good kid, but it was a shame. Staying in this corrupt unit would only taint him. It would be better to take him along.

This thought flashed through Byelinko’s mind, but he didn’t dwell on it. This operation was for Annie. If he failed, so be it, but he couldn’t implicate Annie!

“The number of backup engines is limited. They need to be reserved for the excellent pilots’ fighters,” Kozhdoob said. “Byelinko, as a soldier, you must learn to obey orders.”

Reserved for excellent pilots’ fighters! Hearing this, Byelinko felt a surge of anger. He could no longer control his emotions and, just like in his previous unit, began to fight back.

“For excellent pilots? Since I started flying the MiG-25, I’ve never had a flight accident. I’ve executed thirteen interception missions, all completed successfully. If I’m not considered an excellent pilot, then who is?” Byelinko said. “Commander, there are some things I didn’t want to bring up, but your favoritism will eventually lead to a major accident! Don’t think I don’t know that my engine was overlooked and not sent for overhaul. And don’t think I don’t know how Andrei’s fighter ended up in a spin during flight training. It wasn’t Andrei’s operation that was the problem. During the last maintenance, when the hydraulic oil system was replaced, welding slag fell into it, causing the control surfaces to jam during operation! Andrei was lucky enough that the reverse flow of hydraulic oil flushed the slag back into the reservoir. At the time, Andrei was flying this faulty fighter on an air interception mission, which is why he made an operational error and collided with that EP-3! And that’s why, when the military district’s rewards arrived, you hastily gave that new fighter to Andrei and scrapped his old one, afraid that the accident’s hidden dangers would be exposed, leading to a batch of people being court-martialed, right?”

Byelinko blurted out everything. It was a coincidence that he had overheard the ground crew, who were also secretly drinking industrial alcohol mixed with water, talking about it that night. These people’s slight negligence could cost pilots their lives.

Andrei really thought that new fighter was a reward for him? Kozhdoob was in such a hurry to scrap that plane for a reason! If the higher-ups found out the cause of the accident, Kozhdoob would be in trouble!

Hearing these words, Kozhdoob’s face darkened. He looked at Byelinko and said, “Byelinko, what exactly are you trying to do?”

“I just want a backup engine for my fighter. I haven’t flown for over a week. You know, for a pilot, flying is their life!” Byelinko said.

“Alright, since that’s the case, I’ll have the ground crew get to work. Within three days, the 032 will be back in the sky,” Kozhdoob said. “Byelinko, you’re an excellent pilot. Flying is your life. I’m proud that our motherland has pilots like you.”

“Thank you, Commander.” Byelinko turned and left, feeling the murderous gaze Kozhdoob was giving him.

This time, he had offended Kozhdoob again. But since he was planning to defect to the other side of the sea, he had no more attachments here. Confronting Kozhdoob was inevitable. Next, he would go to the hangar to supervise, making sure they carefully installed the backup engine on his fighter. There could be no mistakes!

Chapter 28: Little Brat Ivan

“An eagle should soar through the skies, its wings painting rainbows across the heavens,” Andrei said to the female doctor, Yekaterina, beside him. “My leg is healed. I can be discharged now.”

In the hospital office, Yekaterina, wearing a mask, showed no expression. She held a steel pen, filling out her name on the discharge record. “Comrade Andrei, your leg injury has recovered, but when you were brought in, your head also suffered an impact. You must monitor your condition. If you experience dizziness or nausea, come to the hospital immediately.”

With that, Yekaterina handed the discharge certificate to Andrei. In just one week, this man was leaving the hospital. A faint sense of loss stirred in Yekaterina’s heart.

Andrei took the certificate but did not leave.

Sensing the strong heartbeat of the man beside her, Yekaterina looked up. “Is there something else, Comrade Captain? You just need to take this to the director’s office for a stamp.”

“There’s one more personal matter,” Andrei said to Yekaterina. “During my stay here, I recovered so quickly thanks to the care of a medical staff member. Especially since I got to eat her delicious homemade food every day. Before I leave, I want to thank her for her care and invite her out for a meal. May I ask what time she gets off work?”

Hearing Andrei’s words, Yekaterina replied coolly, “Saving lives and caring for patients is our duty as doctors. I appreciate your kindness, but as for the meal, let’s forget about it.”

“No,” Andrei insisted. “Once I return to the unit, I don’t know when I’ll have time to come back. There are things I’ve wanted to say to this medical staff member. I must take her out for this meal.”

Andrei’s intentions were clear. As a man, he had to take the initiative. What was the worst that could happen? Rejection?

“Mama, Mama, why are you still at work? It’s already time for the early shift to end!” Just then, a little brat burst in, wearing a trendy October Revolution military cap, suspenders, and a T-shirt. His golden hair matched Yekaterina’s.

Andrei already knew Yekaterina was on the early shift and should have finished at eleven in the morning. That was why he had come to see her for the discharge paperwork and to take her out to eat.

But now, this sudden little boy, who looked about three years old, full of energy, made Andrei’s heart tighten. Good heavens, who was this brat calling “Mama”?

“Ivan, why did you run out?” Yekaterina asked the little boy.

“Mama, I’m hungry! I want food!” Ivan clutched his stomach, pleading with Yekaterina.

Mama? Yekaterina, this nineteen-year-old intern, was already a mother to a three-year-old? Though Andrei knew the Soviet Union encouraged childbirth, and girls could marry and have babies at sixteen, this still shocked him, leaving him speechless, a faint sense of loss in his heart.

Wait, he had asked other nurses, and they said Yekaterina was unmarried. How could she have a three-year-old child? Had she married and divorced? Or was it an out-of-wedlock pregnancy? Or had those nurses, seeing his interest in Yekaterina, lied about her being unmarried to mock him?

In that single second, countless thoughts raced through Andrei’s mind, but he had no idea which one was correct.

Watching the tall, handsome Air Force Captain Andrei’s expression shift from shock to embarrassment upon seeing little Ivan, Yekaterina’s eyebrows curled into a smile. She suppressed her amusement, keeping her tone neutral. “Ivan, this uncle just said he wants to take us out to eat. Shall we go with him?”

“Yes! Yes!” Little Ivan clapped his hands, turning to Andrei.

Yekaterina removed her mask and said to Andrei, “Captain Andrei, is that alright?”

Accustomed to seeing the female doctor in a mask, Andrei now saw her rosy lips and the elegant curve of her nose. His heart raced. Why hadn’t he met her sooner?

“Of course, it would be my honor,” Andrei replied.

“Then wait a moment. I’ll go change,” Yekaterina said, turning toward the inner room of the office, leaving Andrei alone with Ivan.

“Ivan, how old are you?” Andrei asked the little boy.

“Three! I’m already a grown-up!” Ivan declared, flexing his tiny arm to show Andrei his “muscles.”

“Ivan, where’s your father?” Andrei pressed, this question crucial. It would determine how he should conduct himself during the meal with Yekaterina and Ivan.

But with this little brat around, even if Yekaterina was divorced, could he really confess his feelings in front of the child? Andrei was torn.

“I’m ready. Let’s go,” Yekaterina said, stepping out before Ivan could answer.

Changing clothes was simple—just removing the white coat and putting on something else. The Far East summer was hot, so beneath the white coat, she wore only undergarments.

Andrei’s eyes lit up. The white-clad angel had transformed into a noble goddess.

The blue-and-white checkered dress accentuated Yekaterina’s graceful curves, her golden hair blending perfectly with the outfit. Her fair, delicate arms, slender fingers, and long, slender legs…

Seeing Andrei’s dazed expression, Yekaterina smiled. “Captain Andrei, where shall we eat?”

“You choose,” Andrei quickly regained his composure. What was that just now? Too embarrassing.

“Let’s go to the Pacific Economic University cafeteria. It’s close, and the food is cheap and tasty, especially the meat pies and kimchi soup,” Yekaterina suggested.

All universities in the Soviet Union were free, providing students with meal tickets for the cafeteria. These cafeterias also served the public. The university was near Vladivostok’s Third Hospital, so doctors often ate there.

“No! I want Japanese food! Mama, there’s a new Japanese restaurant on Svetlana Street. I want to go there!” Ivan interrupted.

Chapter 29: Fans

In this era, there were no angry youth like in later years who would smash their compatriots’ cars out of hatred for the rich.

The Soviet Union and the West were indeed in a state of Cold War, especially in the Far East, where the Americans had stationed a large number of troops in Japan. The two sides faced each other across the sea, ready to erupt into war at any moment.

Yet, even in such times, civilian exchanges continued. The islanders were particularly skilled in business. In Moscow, they had opened many offices, selling various civilian products from their homeland. Many islander merchants had even established good relationships with high-ranking officials in Moscow.

In Vladivostok, there were also businessmen from the island nation, but this was the first time an islander restaurant had opened.

This little brat, Andrei didn’t know where he had heard about it, but now, saying he wanted to go out to eat, he actually wanted Andrei’s wallet to bleed.

Although it was a rented room in a pointed church-like building, the islander restaurant was quite nicely decorated, with a Western cultural atmosphere.

Sitting in the booth, a yellow-skinned, East Asian-faced waiter said to Andrei, “Honored sir and madam, what would you like to eat? We have family set meals here.”

Family set meals? The other party obviously mistook Andrei’s group for a family. Andrei felt like a cheap father, as if he had been taken advantage of.

“Mom, I want to eat sashimi!” Ivan shouted, as if responding to the other party, making it seem like they were a family.

Sashimi was a tradition of the islanders. Andrei looked at Yekaterina across from him and said, “Dr. Yekaterina, today is my treat. You order.”

“I think this teppanyaki is good,” Yekaterina said. “Ivan, we can’t eat sashimi, it will make us sick.”

Teppanyaki was grilling various foods on a heated iron plate. The islanders also liked to eat grilled foods.

“Okay, let’s have teppanyaki,” Andrei said to the waiter. “Also, bring a portion of sashimi for little Ivan to try.”

“Andrei, do you drink?” Yekaterina asked. In the Soviet Union, there were very few men who didn’t drink.

“No, after eating, I have to go back to the unit,” Andrei said. “Dr. Yekaterina, thank you very much for taking care of me during this time.”

“This is what I should do. By the way, Andrei, you said in the hospital that you had something to say to me at dinner?” Yekaterina looked at Andrei with her light blue eyes, wanting to hear what he had to say.

At that time, he had a stomach full of words he wanted to say to the goddess-like female doctor in front of him. But now, Andrei had nothing to say. After Ivan appeared, Andrei was like a deflated balloon, all his courage gone.

Now, hearing Yekaterina’s words, Andrei lowered his head, not daring to look at her seductive eyes again. This made Andrei even more conflicted. “There’s nothing else, just mainly to thank you…”

“Come, let’s toast our mentor. He led us to complete the geological survey in the Far East, accumulating materials for our graduation theses.” At this moment, a voice came from a round table next to them.

The voice was so familiar that Andrei couldn’t help but look over. He saw a beautiful face, a devilish figure, white suspenders, and jeans. At this moment, the other party was holding up a wine glass in a very tomboyish manner, with several male and female classmates beside her, and a teacher in his forties across from her.

Annie! Looking at this girl, Andrei immediately recognized her. At the same time, he remembered Byelinko. It was with Byelinko that he had met this girl. Later, Byelinko had launched a crazy pursuit.

What was the outcome? Now, looking at this scene, it seemed that Annie’s classmates had all come, finished the survey together, and were about to leave, so they were having a meal here. What about Byelinko?

In this moment of daze, Andrei felt a pain in his foot. It was the feeling of being stepped on by a high heel. Looking up at Yekaterina across from him, Andrei didn’t know what to say.

“That girl, do you know her?” Yekaterina asked, her voice seemingly filled with jealousy.

“Sir, madam, please move aside.” At this moment, the teppanyaki iron plate arrived. The waiter, speaking unskilled Russian, said, “Watch your child, be careful not to get burned.”

The meat on the iron plate was sizzling, emitting steam. In the hazy steam, Andrei looked at Yekaterina’s expressive eyes in front of him, as if blaming him for looking at another girl just now.

What to say? Say he knew her or didn’t? Andrei was thinking when he heard Annie’s surprised voice from over there: “Huh, Andrei?”

This was bad. Now he couldn’t say he didn’t know her. Andrei looked up at Annie over there, who was holding a wine glass and coming over, while saying to the other classmates around her, “Teacher, classmates, let me introduce you to a hero. The pilot who, as reported in Pravda a few days ago, drove the Iron Eagle and punished the invasion of the U.S. Air Force is our comrade Andrei in front of us!”

Damn it, not only did she know his name was Andrei, but she also knew his deeds! It must have been Byelinko who told her. Andrei remembered clearly that at that time, Byelinko had been flattering him, but he hadn’t said much, not even his name.

Hearing that the person eating at the next table was the hero they had just read about in the newspaper a few days ago, the students from the Geography Department of Berlin University were immediately excited.

The teacher also stood up and said to Andrei, “Comrade Andrei, you have struck down the arrogance of the Americans. You are a hero of our Soviet Union!”

Due to World War II, Germany was divided into two countries, and Berlin University was also split in two. At that time, many German professors, due to various problems, shouted slogans of academic freedom and no borders, and fled from East Germany to West Germany. Berlin University had no teachers left!

The Soviets, of course, would not sit idly by. So, many professors from Moscow University were transferred to Berlin University to educate German students to love socialism and the Soviet Union.

Now, this teacher was a Muscovite, and his stance was completely consistent with that of the Soviet Union. Naturally, he showed respect to the hero in front of him.

Andrei stood up, looking at his fans, not knowing what to say.

The first to come over was Annie. Looking at Yekaterina sitting on the other side and Ivan, who had already started eating the grilled meat with a knife and fork, she said to Andrei, “Is this your wife and child? What a happy family.”

Chapter 30: A Family

Oh no! The pain from the high heel stomp still lingered on Andrei’s foot. He knew Yekaterina was already displeased with him for staring at her earlier, and now this girl Annie had recognized him, rallying her classmates and teacher to call him a great hero. A fan club had sprung up out of nowhere, and Andrei had no idea how to explain himself.

And now, Annie had clearly misunderstood the situation. Seeing the three of them—two adults and a three-year-old child—she had assumed they were a family. Everything was spiraling out of control!

How would Yekaterina react? Andrei glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and said to Annie, “Yes, we came out to eat together.”

She admitted it! Was this Yekaterina’s way of retaliating for his earlier stares? And what would Ivan say? Children spoke without filter—if he denied being the father, wouldn’t that make things awkward?

Andrei looked at Ivan. The boy was completely absorbed in eating. Half of the large platter of meat was already gone. His appetite was completely disproportionate to his small body.

“Sister-in-law, you’re so beautiful. Even after having a child, your figure is still perfect. It makes us all envious. Everyone, let’s drink to our great hero!” Annie’s eyes flickered with doubt after hearing Yekaterina’s response, but she quickly recovered, flattering her before turning her attention back to Andrei.

Drinking? Andrei wasn’t afraid of alcohol—he was a Soviet man, after all. How could he not drink? But he had just been discharged from the hospital. He wasn’t supposed to drink.

Just as Andrei hesitated, Yekaterina took the glass Annie offered. “Everyone, Captain Andrei needs a clear mind to fly his fighter jet, so he can’t drink. I’ll take this one for him.”

A flicker of disappointment crossed Annie’s face. Yekaterina tilted her head back and downed the entire glass. Soviet women were indeed formidable!

Annie had no choice but to follow suit and drain her own glass.

The vodka was strong. After drinking, Yekaterina’s face flushed red.

This wasn’t good. Yekaterina couldn’t actually hold her liquor. She was just annoyed with Annie, so she was drinking out of spite!

“That last glass was for our great hero. This one is for the hero’s wife. Behind every great man, there is a great woman.” Annie poured another glass of thick vodka. The smell of alcohol was so strong that Andrei could smell it from a meter away.

“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.” This was the opening line of Pride and Prejudice, which translated to: any wealthy single man must be in want of a wife. This had evolved into the saying that behind every successful man, there is a woman. Now, Annie had adapted it into a drinking toast.

She couldn’t drink any more! Andrei wanted to stop her. After all, Yekaterina wasn’t his wife—she belonged to someone else. If she got drunk pretending to be his wife, what would happen when her husband found out? If word got back to Sokolnova, how would he ever show his face there again?

As if sensing Andrei’s intentions, the proud goddess Yekaterina stopped him with a glance, picked up the glass, and downed it in one gulp.

“Students, let’s give the heroic couple some time alone. Don’t disturb them.” The professor was the first to realize that Annie had gone too far. Drinking with the hero’s wife? How uncouth.

At the professor’s urging, the students reluctantly returned to their seats and continued their conversation.

“Yekaterina, are you alright?” Andrei whispered to the goddess across from him.

“I’m fine, of course.” Yekaterina said, “You just recovered from your injury and still have a mild concussion. You absolutely can’t drink, but we can’t lose face in front of these students. Sigh, Andrei, I never thought that even after leaving the hospital, I’d still have to take care of you.”

Take care of me for the rest of my life! The words almost slipped out of Andrei’s mouth, but he looked at Ivan, whose lips were greasy from eating, and held back. What if she already had a husband who was just away on business? Wouldn’t he become the third wheel ruining someone else’s happiness?

The students at the neighboring table continued their noisy chatter, but Andrei’s table remained quiet. Yekaterina carefully cut the grilled meat with her knife and fork, placing each piece in her mouth and chewing thoughtfully. She must have eaten Western food often before!

“Open up.” Suddenly, Yekaterina smiled at Andrei from across the table.

Startled, Andrei opened his mouth. He watched as her delicate hand held the fork, placing a piece of grilled meat into his mouth. It was as if a clear spring had flowed into his heart.

What was going on? Why was she suddenly so affectionate? When Andrei turned his head, he saw Annie looking their way. He instantly understood—Yekaterina was putting on a show for Annie. This woman’s intuition was too sharp!

They had only planned to stay for half an hour, but the meal dragged on for over two hours. Only when the people at the neighboring table had left did Yekaterina signal Andrei.

“Come here, help me. I’m a little dizzy.” Yekaterina said to Andrei.

No wonder she didn’t want to leave—she was afraid of making a fool of herself in front of Annie. This woman had a strong will, but she had chosen the wrong man. All of this could have been avoided. After all, he and Annie weren’t even that familiar.

“Mom, why did you drink? The meat is so much better!” Ivan didn’t seem concerned about Yekaterina at all. He watched as Andrei helped her up, her legs unsteady, and she leaned against Andrei’s solid chest.

Feeling the softness against him, Andrei felt a surge of affection. God, was this a test?

Supporting Yekaterina, they left the restaurant. A Moskvich taxi stopped right in front of them at the perfect moment.

Chapter 31: Misunderstanding

The Third Hospital of Vladivostok, also the logistics hospital for the Air Force and Air Defense, had its main building adjacent to the residential apartments for the hospital staff and employee dormitories.

Under Ivan’s guidance, Andrei helped Yekaterina out of the taxi and into the employee dormitory behind the residential building—a typical Soviet-era communal apartment.

The room was small but tidy, with a one-bedroom layout. Andrei laid Yekaterina on the bed, where she had already fallen into a deep sleep, her breathing steady.

Her chest rose and fell gently, her blue-and-white checkered dress damp with sweat. Andrei waved Ivan over and said, “Ivan, help your mother take off her clothes so she can sleep comfortably under the covers. She’ll feel better tomorrow.”

The bedroom had a large bed, while the living room had a small one—clearly where Ivan slept. There was no sign of any man’s belongings in the entire room. Andrei was curious about Yekaterina but knew he shouldn’t stay any longer.

Sleeping in clothes was uncomfortable. After giving his instructions, Andrei was about to leave when little Ivan piped up, “Uncle Andrei, I’m not strong enough. Can you help me?”

Yekaterina was Ivan’s mother, and he was only three years old. It wasn’t a big deal for him to help his mother undress. But Andrei had forgotten—though Ivan ate a lot, he still wasn’t strong enough.

Help? This wasn’t something he could just help with! If Andrei helped Yekaterina undress, she would surely skin him alive when she woke up tomorrow! No, absolutely not! Even if he closed his eyes and had Ivan as a witness, it still wasn’t acceptable!

Just then, footsteps echoed from outside. Andrei’s heart pounded. “Ivan, is that your father coming back?”

“Dr. Yekaterina, are you back?” A high-pitched voice called from outside—it was a girl.

Relieved, Andrei went to the living room and opened the door. Standing there was a tall girl with familiar eyes—one of Yekaterina’s colleagues from the hospital. She had been smirking earlier when Andrei had been pestering Yekaterina for a discharge certificate.

Seeing Andrei there, the colleague was startled. “Captain Comrade, you’re here too?”

“Yeah, I took Yekaterina and little Ivan out for lunch. She had a couple of drinks and got a little dizzy, so she’s sleeping inside,” Andrei explained. “She’s uncomfortable in her clothes. Could you go in and help her undress, then cover her with a blanket? Thanks, I’ll be going now.”

Andrei turned to leave, but Ivan grabbed his hand.

…

The soft silk blanket was cool and comfortable. A evening breeze rustled the curtains as Yekaterina slowly opened her eyes.

Her lips were dry, her throat parched. She reached out, and with a click, the bedside lamp flickered on, casting a gentle glow over the room.

She picked up the enamel cup from the nightstand and gave it a shake—there was water inside! Perfect. Yekaterina sat up, leaning against the headboard, her slender arms lifting the cup to her lips.

The silk blanket slipped off, revealing her bare skin.

Normally, Yekaterina wouldn’t have minded—she often slept like this. But when she turned and saw her blue-and-white checkered dress lying on the side of the bed, alarm bells went off in her mind.

She had been helped back by Captain Andrei! Then she must have fallen asleep… and someone had undressed her, even turned her over, and unhooked her bra. Who could have done that?

Andrei? The thought made her wide awake. She sat up abruptly, completely naked beneath the thin straps of her nightgown. Her hair was a mess as she stumbled out of the room, shouting, “Ivan! Ivan! Get up, you little brat!”

She flung open the door and saw Ivan on the small bed, hugging a toy airplane, his head buried under the blanket, fast asleep. On the sofa nearby, a tall man had just been jolted awake by her shouting. His eyes were still bleary, and he held a screwdriver—clearly, he had been fixing Ivan’s toy.

Andrei!

Andrei blinked, taking in Yekaterina’s disheveled appearance—her thin silk nightgown leaving little to the imagination.

Unaware of her exposure, Yekaterina glared at him, her voice low with fury. “Captain Andrei, how could you—how could you—”

“How could I what?” Andrei was confused. He had planned to leave earlier, but Ivan had insisted on playing with the airplane models, and before he knew it, he had dozed off.

Now, Yekaterina was accusing him of something, and he had no idea what was going on.

“You—you peeked at me!” Yekaterina finally blurted out, her face flushed with embarrassment. Helping me back was one thing, but undressing me? Even with Ivan here, that’s going too far!

Andrei looked at her, then lowered his gaze, muttering, “I didn’t peek. I looked openly. You’re standing in front of me—isn’t that why you’re here?”

Yekaterina glanced down at her nearly transparent nightgown and realized he had misunderstood. She grew even more flustered. “I’m not talking about now! I mean earlier, when you brought me back—how could you undress me?”

The last few words came out in a furious whisper, her face burning with shame and anger.

“I didn’t do it,” Andrei said.

“Then who did? Ivan? My body was moved—don’t think I don’t remember! Ivan isn’t strong enough!” Yekaterina snapped. “I despise men like you—taking advantage of a drunk woman!”

She turned to Ivan, who had just woken up and was looking at her with wide, innocent eyes.

“Ivan, tell me—did this man undress your mother?” Yekaterina demanded, having kept her voice down earlier to avoid waking him. Now that he was awake, she had no such concerns.

“It was Aunt Diana,” Ivan pouted. “Uncle Andrei was teaching me how to fly the plane.”

Chapter 32: 031 Loses Contact

Little brat Ivan, though only three years old and having been here for just a few months, had already made himself at home. He knew everyone in the building, and Aunt Diana often gave him sweets.

Now, hearing his mother mention taking off clothes, Ivan immediately acted as a witness. “It has nothing to do with Uncle Andrei! Uncle Andrei was holding a plane model, teaching me how to fly and even how to dogfight! Uncle Andrei is a good man!”

Yekaterina’s accumulated anger instantly vanished. She knew she had wronged Andrei. It was late at night, and she had acted too impulsively.

“Sorry.” Yekaterina stuck out her tongue, an adorable gesture, then raised her hand to scratch her head. “I just—”

Oh no! The moment Yekaterina raised her hand, the strapless nightgown she had been wearing suddenly slipped down. The silky fabric was so smooth that by the time she reached out to pull it back up, it had already slid to her waist.

“Ah, no, quick, turn around right now, don’t look!” Yekaterina said, clutching her nightgown as she hurried into the room. How embarrassing!

Andrei obediently turned away, but he caught a glimpse of the dressing mirror, where a slender and lovely woman was almost crawling into the room.

After closing the door, Yekaterina felt her heart pounding. Damn it, what was wrong with her nightgown? How was she going to face Andrei tomorrow?

Hiding in the room, Yekaterina didn’t dare come out until dawn. She continued to pretend to be asleep, covering herself with the blanket, thinking, “So embarrassing, so embarrassing, how can I face Andrei?”

When the clock struck nine, Yekaterina finally sat up in bed. She had to be at work by nine-thirty and needed to quickly prepare some food. She wondered if Ivan was hungry.

Tiptoeing to push open the door, Yekaterina saw Ivan at the dining table, holding a large flowered bowl and drinking porridge. Seeing her come out, he said, “Ms. Yekaterina, you’re finally up. Uncle Andrei made breakfast, but he couldn’t wait for you to wake up and left.”

Left? Looking at the breakfast on the table, Yekaterina’s heart suddenly felt empty.

No farewell, and he was already gone?

“Slap.” Yekaterina patted Ivan’s forehead. “Ivan, I told you to call me Mom.”

“That’s when there are people around.” Ivan picked up a piece of black bread, eating as he spoke. “When there’s no one, I call you Ms. Yekaterina. If you dare hit me, I’ll tell everyone what you did last night!”

This kid was practically a little demon! Yekaterina smiled. “Ivan, I’ve been taking care of you these past few months, right? Are you grateful?”

“Mhm, I want a MiG-25 plane model today. Ms. Yekaterina, I hope you bring it back when you come home from work.”

……….

“Creak.” The GAZ-69 jeep came to a stop. Andrei stepped out, looking at the flat runway and the steel warplanes gleaming in the sunlight on the tarmac. He couldn’t help but let out a sigh. He truly loved flying.

When flying at an altitude of thirty thousand meters, gazing at the beauty of the edge of the atmosphere, Andrei was truly intoxicated. He realized that during this time, he had grown fond of the powerful MiG-25 fighter.

Carrying his luggage, Andrei entered the dormitory building. At this time, the pilots were either training or on combat duty, so the dormitory was empty.

Opening the door, he threw his luggage onto the bed and saw discarded papers on the floor. Next to the bed, several empty bottles were placed.

Byelinko, that guy, had been drinking again! Taking advantage of his absence, he had left the dormitory in this state!

Andrei picked up the papers from the floor and saw that it was a map. The winding shape was unmistakably the map of an island nation. At this moment, a location on the map was circled in red.

Hokkaido, Futami District, Yakumo Town, Yakumo Sub-Base! A Japanese Self-Defense Force airbase!

Damn it! Byelinko must have completed his plan and was planning to defect!

Thinking this, Andrei rushed towards the control tower.

There was no time to hesitate. He had to report to Kozhdoob and first control Byelinko! His leg injury had completely healed, and Andrei ran very fast.

When he opened the door to the control tower, he heard Kozhdoob shouting inside, “031, respond, 031, respond!”

031 was Byelinko’s code!

“Reporting.” Andrei shouted, “Captain Andrei of the 513th Regiment’s Third Squadron, having completed recovery, requests to rejoin!”

Hearing this, Kozhdoob turned his head and glanced. “Andrei, you’re back?”

“Yes, Commander, what’s the matter?”

“Two minutes ago, Captain Byelinko’s MiG-25, during a test flight after engine replacement, suddenly lost altitude. Now, radio contact is also lost.” Colonel Ivanov of the 513th Regiment said beside him.

A sudden loss of altitude, undetectable by radar, and no radio contact—generally, this meant a crash. For the base, this was not good news. Once the investigation was complete, someone would have to take responsibility.

But Andrei frowned. There was another possibility: Byelinko had entered ultra-low-altitude flight, entering the radar’s blind spot, and had turned off the radio, creating the illusion of a crash! Moreover, based on the information he had, the latter possibility was more likely!

Kozhdoob was already cursing in his mind. Byelinko had insisted on installing the stock engine and even confronted him, saying the logistics personnel were negligent. This crash might have been caused by those logistics people. Damn it, this crooked wind had to be stopped!

“Reporting, I request immediate takeoff to search and rescue!” Andrei said.

“What use would you be?” Ivanov said. “We already have two MiG-25s on duty flying to the incident area, and they found nothing.”

“Reporting, my plane’s radar has downward visibility. Maybe I can find debris in the sea. Before the Tu-142 maritime patrol aircraft reaches the incident area, maybe I can be the first to find it and provide coordinates to our navy.” Andrei said.

Chapter 33: Byelinko’s Defection

A few minutes later, Andrei, now dressed in his flight suit, settled into the cockpit of his 031 fighter jet.

Andrei’s previous actions had been truly astonishing. Thanks to the Soviet media’s propaganda, he had become a household name—a hero. And heroes, of course, received special treatment. Even though Andrei had been recovering in the hospital for over ten days, his aircraft had been meticulously maintained, kept fully fueled and ready.

Leaving the hangar, taxiing onto the runway, and engaging the afterburner, Andrei felt the immense acceleration as he took off, surging forward!

Byelinko, was your aircraft really lost in an accident? Or did you defect?

If Byelinko’s defection succeeded, the threat to the Soviet Union would be enormous. The MiG-25 would be dismantled before the eyes of the West, all its secrets exposed, and its deterrent power would vanish.

Especially the primitive radar made of vacuum tubes—once the West learned of the Soviet Union’s backwardness in electronics, they would no longer fear it.

This could not be allowed to happen!

On August 6, 1976, a full month earlier than Byelinko’s historical defection, and unlike the historical account, Byelinko was not acting alone. The reason he had made this bold decision so quickly was because of Annie! Encouraged by her, determined to be accepted by the Western world, Byelinko had finally mustered the courage to defect!

The day before, he had secretly gone to Vladivostok and told Annie that he would pilot a MiG-25 and defect to the island nation! Annie had passionately kissed him for five minutes, giving him immense encouragement. She would also return to East Germany, waiting for the chance to join her father in the West.

Moreover, Annie had promised Byelinko that she would inform the Americans through special channels that Byelinko would be flying his fighter to the free world today! If the message was received correctly, two F-4 fighters would be waiting for him over Hokkaido. As soon as he crossed the midpoint of the Sea of Japan, they would come to escort and protect him!

Today, as he sat in the cockpit, Byelinko’s heart raced with excitement. He had had enough of this place! In his old unit, he had been treated like a madman, and here, he had witnessed the same dismal state. His wife and children had even left him. What was the point of staying? Thinking about spending the rest of his life with Annie filled him with boundless joy. After all, having a beautiful wife was a man’s pursuit in life.

After insisting on replacing his engine with a stock one, Byelinko had finally secured this opportunity. Without a wingman, he took off alone, flying solo to test the engine’s performance.

The only regret was that, since he was flying under the pretense of testing the engine, the ground crew had not filled his fuel tanks completely—only six tons of fuel. Thus, Byelinko could not engage the afterburner and sprint at full speed to Hokkaido. He had to fly as he was now.

He engaged the afterburner for one minute during takeoff before shutting it off, climbing to an altitude of eight thousand meters. Once over the sea, Byelinko simulated a crash, diving downward until he was below one thousand meters before leveling out and cutting off all radio communications.

After setting his course, Byelinko flew at an extremely low altitude of three hundred meters above the sea.

At this height, even if his “crash” was discovered and Sokolovka sent other aircraft to search for him, they would never find him! The complex echoes caused by the waves would mask his signal among the clutter. As for visual detection, spotting a low-flying aircraft over the vast ocean without radar guidance was nearly impossible. If he were spotted, Byelinko could only lament his luck being as bad as the Mariana Trench.

In later years, to promote the power of the MiG-25’s radar, a widely circulated but disputed claim emerged: the Hurricane-A radar was equipped with an altitude lock, preventing it from activating below a certain height to avoid harming ground personnel with radiation. There were even stories of it killing rabbits. In reality, these claims were false.

The MiG-25 did have an altitude lock, but not to prevent radiation harm to people on the ground. The Hurricane-A’s vacuum tube-based integrated circuit processing system simply could not effectively handle the multitude of ground radar echoes. Activating it at low altitudes would quickly overwhelm the radar’s processing system, drowning it in a sea of data. The single-pulse radar could not effectively filter out ground clutter—this was an inherent flaw of vacuum tube radars.

As an actual MiG-25 pilot, Byelinko knew that the aircraft’s strength lay in high-altitude operations. The search teams would not be able to find him effectively! If he could just hold out for half an hour, he would be living the life he wanted!

Byelinko did not know that just five minutes after he had completed his “crash” performance, a MiG-25PD had taken off from the base to search for him! And this aircraft was equipped with the Sapphire-25 pulse-Doppler radar!

After taking off, Andrei had already plotted a line in his mind—from the “crash” site to the base in Futami District, Yakumo Town, Hokkaido. If his guess was correct, Byelinko must be on this route!

Since he had taken off with a full fuel load, Andrei did not hesitate to keep the afterburner engaged, flying at 2.6 Mach until he reached the airspace over Byelinko’s “crash” site. Then, aligning his course, he activated his Sapphire-25 radar.

The nearly one-meter-diameter radar antenna at the nose of the aircraft, moving on its gimbal, tilted downward by 42 degrees, scanning in elevation. The radar, with a peak power of six hundred kilowatts, continuously emitted radar waves downward, reflecting off the sea surface and back to the antenna. The processing system constantly filtered out sea clutter, and on the cockpit screen, a rotating bright line appeared.

Fifty seconds later, Andrei spotted a faint echo on the screen—distance one hundred, altitude three hundred!

Let’s go take a look! Andrei disengaged the afterburner, pushed the control stick forward, and the massive steel war machine dove from the high altitude. On the radar screen, the echo became clearer and clearer.

Flicking a switch, Andrei activated the TP-26-SH1 forward-looking infrared search and track system (IRST). Now in pursuit, this system easily detected the aircraft’s exhaust plume, providing him with a more precise lock.

As he dove, his speed continued to increase. Watching the Mach meter nearly reach 3 Mach, Andrei’s heart felt as if it were soaring like a rocket.

Descending below ten thousand meters, the denser atmosphere caused the 032 to slow down.

Chapter 34: Treason, Unforgivable

The TP-26-SH1 forward-looking infrared search and track system (IRST) display showed a clear target ahead. Through the narrow front of the cockpit, Andrei saw a glint on the sea surface—sunlight reflecting off the canopy!

Finally, he had caught up! Andrei eased off the throttle, carefully closing in from behind, while reporting over the radio: “Sokolovka, Sector Seven, target spotted, suspected to be Aircraft 031.”

“032, pursue immediately and confirm the target!” Kozhdoob’s voice quickly came through the earpiece.

Sector Seven was already two hundred nautical miles west of Hokkaido! If Aircraft 031 was there, Byelinko’s motives were highly suspicious!

“032 calling 031, 032 calling 031,” Andrei called over the radio. He hoped Byelinko would hear him and be persuaded to return. That was the best outcome.

But there was no response in the earpiece. Just like in history, Byelinko, flying at extremely low altitude, had turned off his radio. With the MiG-25’s limited cockpit visibility, he would never see Andrei following behind.

Pushing the throttle, Andrei slowly closed in from behind—twenty kilometers, fifteen kilometers, ten kilometers, five kilometers…

The twin-engine, twin-tail fighter soared over the sea. Byelinko felt his palms sweating. As time passed, he drew closer to Hokkaido, and closer to his moment of successful defection.

The free world of the West, here I come! Annie, I will become a hero of the Western world!

Byelinko looked down at the sea. The vast blue ocean seemed clearer than the Soviet coastline. Thinking of Annie made him even more impatient.

Just then, something appeared behind him, slowly emerging from his left. Could the Americans have already detected him and come to protect him?

With that thought, Byelinko turned his head to the left and saw another steel eagle appear in his vision—the rectangular air intakes were unmistakable.

It was another MiG-25, and it definitely wasn’t here to defect with him! Byelinko saw the “032” painted on the nose and knew it was his wingman, Andrei.

“Byelinko, Byelinko!” Andrei shouted over the radio, waving his hand from the cockpit, signaling Byelinko to turn on his radio.

Byelinko shook his head. What was Andrei trying to do? Persuade him to return? Once he had made this choice, there was no turning back!

With his right hand, he flipped the switch. The two R-15 engines at the tail spewed purple flames as the MiG-25, now in afterburner, shook violently and began to accelerate.

Fuel was running low, and Byelinko had no other choice. He had to quickly enter the island nation’s airspace and climb higher so they would detect him, a defector. Only with their air support could he drive away Andrei behind him.

This flight was a test of the engine, so Byelinko’s wings carried no R-40 missiles. Now, he had no means of counterattack—only speed!

Any other aircraft might have been able to escape, but not against another MiG-25, especially the upgraded MiG-25PD with improved engines. Catching up was effortless.

Seeing Byelinko’s aircraft accelerate, Andrei also engaged the afterburner. A surge of power propelled Aircraft 032, quickly closing the gap with Aircraft 031 ahead.

As the wingman, Andrei was even more familiar with the lead pilot’s every move. Following Byelinko, he could anticipate his actions in advance. The exhaust nozzle at the tail was clearly visible, and the R-60 missiles under the wings were ready for launch.

If Andrei pressed the red button on the control stick now, a burst of missile flames would send the MiG-25 ahead to its doom. But Andrei hesitated, still waiting.

After arriving here, the first person Andrei met was Byelinko. At the time, Byelinko had left a decent impression on him. Besides, his wife and children were gone—this guy seemed to have had a rough time.

“Andrei, what are you doing?” Just then, Byelinko’s voice came through the earpiece. He had finally turned on the radio!

“Byelinko, turn back immediately. You’ve entered the island nation’s air defense identification zone,” Andrei said.

If Byelinko turned back now, they could explain it as a navigation error to Kozhdoob. That was the only way Andrei could show loyalty.

“Andrei, I can’t go back,” Byelinko said. “I’m sick of the Soviet Union. I want a new life. Andrei, give me a chance.”

“Byelinko, treason is unforgivable!” Hearing Byelinko’s words, Andrei became even more resolute, his gaze firming. “No matter your reasons, don’t betray your country. Come back with me!”

“No, Andrei, you don’t understand. From childhood, you’re taught to love your country, to love your motherland. But when you grow up, you realize reality is nothing like what you were taught. Our country is rotten—bureaucrats are corrupt, nepotism is everywhere. Honest people get nowhere and are slandered as mentally ill! Oh, and do you know the real reason your plane malfunctioned last time, nearly killing you in a spin? It was because of Kozhdoob’s nephew, the maintenance chief Akim, who was negligent! This country is beyond saving, Andrei. Why don’t you come with me to the West? That’s where heaven is, where there’s democracy and freedom!”

Andrei’s near-fatal spin was caused by maintenance negligence? He was stunned.

The two planes continued to accelerate and climb, now detectable by the long-range early warning radar far behind on Sakhalin Island.

Just as Andrei hesitated upon hearing Byelinko’s words, a command came through the earpiece: “032, Captain Byelinko has been confirmed as a traitor. Shoot him down immediately! Two targets are rapidly approaching from Hokkaido’s airspace, altitude twelve thousand meters, speed Mach 1.3!”

Byelinko, confirmed as a traitor, shoot him down immediately! The rear command had clearly heard their radio exchange.

Treason! No matter the reason, treason could not be forgiven! And with two targets approaching from ahead, they were surely the island nation’s fighters. If they interfered, Andrei might fail his mission!

Setting personal feelings aside, Byelinko’s defection would bring immense loss to the entire Soviet Union. It must not happen!

With that thought, Andrei calmly responded over the radio: “032 understood!” Then, he pressed the missile launch button on the control stick.

Chapter 35: Downing Byelinko

The MiG-25 was designed as a specialized aircraft, and the R-40 missile was developed specifically for it. Setting aside the missile itself, even the launch rack had to be specially designed to function normally under the high temperatures caused by Mach 3 speeds. Early models of the MiG-25 could only carry R-40 missiles, which, due to their large size and weight, only granted the MiG-25 mid-range interception capabilities. With limited overload capacity and no ability for close-range dogfighting, the MiG-25 interceptor almost never engaged in close combat with its opponents.

It wasn’t until the improved MiG-25PD, the very aircraft Andrei was piloting, that significant upgrades were made. It featured a new radar and fire control system, and it gained the ability to carry the short-range R-60 missile.

This was a third-generation air-to-air missile developed by the Soviet Union’s Triangular Flag Mechanical Design Bureau in the late 1960s to meet the demands of future air combat. It entered production in 1973 and was deployed in 1975. NATO designated it as the AA-8 “Aphid.”

According to previous tactical analyses, this new missile should have excellent maneuverability. Thus, it departed from the previous bulky design, becoming compact and lightweight. The four rectangular fixed stabilizers at the front, along with the trapezoidal tail fins, ensured the missile’s flight stability. The four triangular control fins at the front of the missile body controlled its flight direction. Weighing only sixty-five kilograms, this lightweight missile had a maximum range of just over ten kilometers. In the dense lower atmosphere, its effective range was reduced to two kilometers. Essentially, this missile was designed for kills within the range of the aircraft’s cannons.

With its new guidance system, the missile’s target acquisition capability surpassed any previous air-to-air missile. After Andrei pressed the button, a thick plume of smoke erupted from under the wing, and an R-60 missile streaked toward the rear of the MiG-25 ahead.

Amid the scorching tail flame, the R-15 engine of the MiG-25, still in afterburner acceleration, emitted a massive amount of heat—a clear thermal signature. The R-60 missile effortlessly struck one of the engines. The six-kilogram high-explosive fragmentation warhead detonated, sending shrapnel flying in all directions. Instantly, the R-15 engine belched thick smoke—it had been hit!

But it was only hit, not destroyed! The Soviet defense industry, known for its extremes, had produced a lightweight R-60 missile. While its maneuverability had significantly improved, its drawbacks were equally pronounced—its range was too short, and its warhead too light, limiting its lethality!

The MiG-25, now with only one engine, continued to fly! Byelinko struggled to control the aircraft ahead, still accelerating.

Why weren’t the Americans coming? If they didn’t come to pick him up soon, he wouldn’t make it to the American base!

Could it be that Annie hadn’t passed the intelligence to the Americans? Wait! There was a problem! At the last moment, Byelinko suddenly realized something—how could Annie have easily connected with the Americans? What secret channels did she have? Unless she herself was an American intelligence agent! Over the past few days, Byelinko had been so infatuated with Annie that his mind had short-circuited. He had been obsessed with the idea of being with her. Only now did he sense something was wrong. Although he had previously considered defecting by air, he had never actually acted on it. Now, almost entirely under Annie’s guidance, he had taken real action!

But at this point, he had no room for regret. He could only hope that Annie had notified the American government so they would come to protect him. Oh, right! When Kozhdoob had ordered Andrei to shoot him down, he had mentioned two targets rapidly approaching! They must be here to protect him!

Just a moment ago, during the escort flight, he had seen four missiles under Andrei’s wings. Andrei wouldn’t let him go—there were still three missiles left. Would they continue to attack him?

In the instant Byelinko hesitated, he felt the aircraft shudder violently, followed by the sudden disappearance of the massive roar from the tail.

Damn it, the fuel was exhausted!

The aircraft hadn’t been refueled with much fuel before departure. To evade radar detection, Byelinko had been flying at low altitude in the dense atmosphere, where drag was high and fuel consumption was greater. If he had continued flying at low altitude, he could have made it to Hokkaido. But Andrei’s pursuit had forced him to engage afterburner and climb.

With afterburner engaged, fuel consumption skyrocketed. Thus, less than one hundred nautical miles from Hokkaido, he had already exhausted all his fuel!

Losing one engine, the MiG-25 could still fly. But if both engines lost power, there was only one outcome—crash!

Seeing the fuel gauge read zero and the rear engine shut down, Byelinko had no choice but to eject.

He lowered the visor of his full-face flight helmet, tucked in his legs, and pulled the control stick to level the aircraft. After completing these actions, he checked the altitude and speed—both met the ejection conditions. Taking a deep breath, Byelinko pulled the ejection handle.

“Bang.” As the cockpit canopy was jettisoned, the rocket of the KM-1 ejection seat beneath him ignited, propelling Byelinko out of the cockpit and away from the aircraft. Two seconds later, the seat separated from him, and the parachute deployed.

Behind him, Andrei had already prepared another R-40 missile. He had realized the limited lethality of the R-60 missile and knew that to down this steel war machine, he would have to use this heavy missile.

Due to the limited range, Andrei needed to increase the distance from the MiG-25 ahead before firing the R-40 missile. Just as he delayed for two seconds, the MiG-25 ahead suddenly had its other engine shut down.

What was going on? With his hand on the launch button, Andrei didn’t fire the missile. He saw Byelinko eject from the cockpit. The MiG-25, meanwhile, continued to lose altitude and quickly plunged into the sea.

“032, return to base immediately. 032, return to base immediately. Two targets, distance twenty, altitude twelve thousand, heading 190!” came the voice over the radio.

From the long-range radar in the rear, they could see that Andrei’s aircraft had launched a missile. Although it was a few seconds late, the defecting aircraft ahead had already crashed. Thus, Kozhdoob assumed Andrei had completed his mission and immediately ordered him to return.

The two American aircraft were rapidly approaching. Andrei, that hothead, might end up engaging them. Shooting down a defecting aircraft was one thing, but engaging enemy aircraft was another. Kozhdoob didn’t want to escalate the conflict.

Chapter 36: The Head-On Intercept of the Sparrow Missile

The United States placed great importance on Byelinko’s defection, and Annie was precisely a CIA intelligence operative deployed in the Soviet Union. To operate in the region, she had been undercover for four years.

Planting intelligence operatives in the Soviet Union was extremely difficult. The population was tightly controlled, and vigilance was high. Unless the situation was critical, the United States would not activate these agents.

The Soviet MiG-25 fighter jet, an advanced aircraft capable of reaching “double three” performance, had placed heavy pressure on the United States. Combined with the EP-3 “lost navigation” incident, the Americans desperately needed to reverse their passive position. Turning a MiG-25 to defect had become the CIA’s most urgent task.

Annie had performed exceptionally well. After investigation, she selected Byelinko as the breakthrough point. Disillusioned with the Soviet system and having lost his wife and children, he was the most likely to defect. After a swift and passionate romance, Annie had won Byelinko over.

The final step of the defection—Byelinko piloting the MiG-25 to Hokkaido—was the most critical. The United States had dispatched two F-4 fighters to circle over Hokkaido, awaiting his arrival.

But at this final stage, problems arose.

When Major Dick Houston and his wingman detected the low-altitude target, they initially assumed it was the defector they were waiting for. However, as the two F-4s flew westward to intercept, they discovered there were two aircraft!

Two MiG-25s? What was going on? Just as the two F-4s roared in, their onboard radar detected one MiG-25 firing at the other! Clearly, the Soviets had discovered Byelinko’s defection!

Protect that MiG-25! The two F-4s quickly prepared for combat. The AN/APQ-120 radar emitted continuous waves, locking onto the attacking MiG-25.

Only by taking down the pursuing MiG-25 could they protect the defector. In that instant, the two F-4s locked onto the leading MiG-25. Without hesitation, despite the risk of escalating into a world war, the wings of the F-4s flared with fire as each launched two Sparrow missiles!

But it was too late. By the time they locked onto the pursuing MiG-25, the defector’s aircraft had already crashed into the Sea of Japan!

Andrei, who had received orders to return, heard the sharp warning of the radar alert receiver in his headset—he was locked on!

He was still one hundred nautical miles from Hokkaido, yet the enemy dared to fire missiles at him in international waters! Andrei was relieved he had followed orders and shot down Byelinko. Otherwise, entangled by these two F-4s, he might not have been able to stop the defection.

What did it feel like to be locked on by enemy radar and have missiles launched at you? In later years, with air-to-air missiles capable of over forty Gs, being locked on almost meant being shot down. Even evasion was a matter of luck, especially with medium-range interceptors using active radar homing and short-range combat missiles with infrared focal plane arrays. Relying on decoys and maneuvering to escape was extremely difficult. When locked on, pilots instinctively felt panic.

But in the 1970s, missile accuracy was abysmal!

The AIM-9 Sidewinder missile still lacked head-on interception capability. Since the enemy was firing head-on, it had to be the AIM-7 Sparrow missile.

The development of the Sparrow missile dated back to the late 1940s when Douglas Aircraft began researching airborne anti-aircraft weapons. By 1969, the missile had evolved to the AIM-7E-2, but its performance was still unsatisfactory. During the Vietnam War, U.S. Air Force pilots often exhausted all their missiles in a single engagement, hoping to hit the enemy. By the war’s end, the missile’s hit rate was only slightly above zero percent.

It wasn’t until this year that the latest variant, the AIM-7F, achieved stable performance and became usable. However, since it had just been developed, it was unlikely to be deployed to Japan first. The U.S. military prioritized Europe for its advanced equipment. In later years, the AIM-7M, with its new guidance system, became a formidable weapon for the U.S. Air Force.

Now, facing the incoming missiles and the piercing alarm from the radar warning receiver, Andrei remained calm. He accelerated, continuing forward.

Although he had received orders to return, turning back now would expose his rear to the enemy. At his current altitude and speed, reaching 2.4 Mach would take several minutes. Thus, Andrei chose to continue flying head-on.

The four Sparrow missiles approached head-on. In the clear sky, Andrei spotted them three kilometers away.

Closer, even closer. Through his helmet visor, his pupils were filled with the sight of the four missiles hurtling toward him like javelins.

It was time! Andrei abruptly engaged the afterburner and pulled back on the control stick.

The massive metal fighter instantly reared up like an enraged cobra, climbing sharply.

Having already consumed half its internal fuel, the aircraft’s thrust-to-weight ratio exceeded 0.8. Though it couldn’t effortlessly climb vertically, compared to the Sparrow missiles—now flying purely on inertia after burning their propellant—the MiG-25 had far superior maneuverability.

Two Sparrow missiles failed to keep up with Andrei’s ascent. They continued forward, their semi-active radar guidance antennas receiving no return signals. Instantly losing guidance, they self-destructed after flying for a few more seconds.

The other two Sparrow missiles followed the MiG-25 upward, but their speed slowed. When they were still a kilometer away from Andrei’s aircraft, they had lost all kinetic energy and began to fall.

With a simple climb, Andrei evaded all four missiles. Though not as impressive as the later J-11 with its thrust-to-weight ratio exceeding 1, it was still quite remarkable. Leveling his aircraft, Andrei’s eyes gleamed with the light of battle.

If the Americans hadn’t fired missiles at him, they could have each gone their separate ways. But since they had provoked him, he wouldn’t hold back. “An attack unanswered is an insult!”

Chapter 37: An Eye for an Eye

Two F-4 fighters launched Sparrow missiles, not intending to actually shoot down the opposing MiG. Their greater purpose was to drive it away—once the enemy was gone, they could protect the defecting MiG-25.

Unfortunately, they had no idea they had provoked the wrong man.

Andrei executed a sharp climb, relying on his superior engine thrust to evade the missiles. Then, pushing the control stick forward, he sent his fighter into a steep dive.

Meanwhile, the two F-4s were closing in at high speed. The bulky F-4s, propelled by their twin J79 engines, accelerated to Mach 1.4.

Major Dick had just surged forward when all four Sparrow missiles missed their mark. Had the MiG-25 climbed higher?

Looking up, Dick spotted a glint in the sky—a speck descending from the heavens.

“Nine o’clock, MiG!” his wingman shouted, alerting him.

Dick watched the speck grow larger. If he continued flying straight, the enemy could easily maneuver behind him into the deadly six o’clock position. Gritting his teeth, he pulled back on the stick, engaged the afterburner, and climbed to meet the threat head-on.

At this stage, short-range combat missiles couldn’t intercept a head-on target. This maneuver was merely to position himself for the next engagement.

His wingman followed suit, climbing alongside him. As the MiG drew nearer, they could even make out the red star on its wing during the near-miss.

A MiG-25! Up close, they also saw the Soviet pilot inside the cockpit—who flipped them the middle finger as he passed.

Americans dare fire missiles at me? Then taste my wrath! Andrei pressed forward relentlessly. As the two sides crossed paths, he pulled back on the stick, sending his fighter climbing upward.

The two F-4s, having climbed, now banked sharply after the near-miss—a standard engagement tactic. Whoever turned faster could get behind the enemy and take the six o’clock position, ready to blow their tailpipe to pieces.

The crushing G-forces pinned them to their seats. Both pilots and their weapons officers strained to twist their heads, desperate to catch sight of the MiG.

But the sky was empty. After completing their turn, the F-4s found no trace of the MiG that had just passed them.

Where was it? Behind them? Dick pushed the stick, stepped on the rudder, and continued his turn. “Red Dragonfly, break formation!” he called to his wingman.

The wingman, codenamed Red Dragonfly, had flown with him long enough to understand. With two against one, if the enemy was hiding behind them, splitting up was the only way to cover each other’s tails and check for threats at six o’clock.

Their flight paths twisted—any straight line longer than ten seconds in a dogfight was a death sentence.

The two F-4s split apart, arcing gracefully through the sky. Both pilots craned their necks, scanning each other’s tails. Nothing. Six o’clock was clear.

Where had the MiG gone? Dick was baffled. Had it fled?

“Foxhound, Red Dragonfly, be advised—target at sixteen thousand meters, diving!” Just then, the E-2 Hawkeye’s controller crackled over the radio.

After detecting the erupting dogfight, the hastily scrambled E-2 had activated its radar before reaching cruising altitude. It caught the MiG-25 preparing to ambush and immediately issued a warning.

Andrei, having just engaged his afterburner, had climbed from eight thousand meters to sixteen thousand before diving back down.

The first dive had only allowed a head-on pass—no chance to fire. But this time, as he plunged downward, he was lined up perfectly with the enemy’s tail.

Altitude bled into speed. The MiG-25’s cockpit grew hot again as the Mach meter surpassed 2.0!

Five kilometers away, at ten thousand meters! The enemy was at eight thousand—perfect firing conditions!

The R-40T missile’s infrared seeker locked onto the F-4’s exhaust. Andrei pressed the launch button.

A searing flame trailed behind the half-ton R-40 as it streaked away, homing in on the glowing tailpipe.

Worried the R-60’s warhead might not be enough, Andrei had chosen the R-40 without hesitation.

Though its maneuverability was limited, its 38-kilogram warhead packed a devastating punch!

“Red Dragonfly, climb! Release flares!” Dick had just finished another turn. His wingman was flying in the opposite direction—a tactic they’d used to check each other’s tails.

Now, the MiG-25, hidden in the high altitude, was diving straight for Red Dragonfly’s tail. The enemy fired without hesitation!

Hearing Dick’s warning, the wingman climbed urgently—but it was too late.

The R-40 had a head-on range of thirty kilometers and could chase a target for over ten. At five kilometers, still in its powered flight phase, the F-4 had no time to react before the missile closed in!

As the wingman pulled back to climb, his tail erupted in flames—the infrared countermeasures activated!

Flares burst forth, their solid fuel burning fiercely, creating a massive infrared decoy far stronger than the aircraft itself. If the missile took the bait, the plane would be safe!

Dick watched as the incoming missile veered toward a flare. Relief washed over him—his wingman had dodged it! The flares had been released late, forcing the missile dangerously close before turning, but as long as it was distracted, the threat was gone.

BOOM! The R-40T, fooled by the decoy, detonated in a furious explosion.

Its 38-kilogram high-explosive fragmentation warhead could take down a heavy bomber. After all, the Soviet Union’s unique interceptor was designed primarily to stop bombers—its warhead was overkill, its power monstrous.

Chapter 38: Downing the F-4

Now, though still some distance from the carrier, the explosion sent the F-4 fighter into a violent shudder. A plume of black smoke erupted from its tail before a deafening boom turned the entire aircraft into a fireball.

To maximize lethality, air-to-air missiles are designed with fragmentation warheads. Upon detonation, the shrapnel becomes a deadly weapon. Even a bird strike can down a fighter—let alone the razor-sharp fragments slicing through it.

The F-4 had released its infrared flares too late. The deceived R-40 missile exploded dangerously close to its tail, and the sheer force of the warhead proved fatal. What should have been a successful evasion turned into a catastrophic failure.

The two crew members had no time to eject before the fireball consumed them. Major Dick, meanwhile, had no time to mourn his wingman. The warning blared in his headset—another missile from the MiG-25 was streaking toward him!

The enemy moved fast!

Before takeoff, Andrei’s fighter had been armed with four missiles: two R-60s and two R-40s, one with an infrared seeker and the other with a semi-active radar homing head.

In practice, due to the Soviet Union’s lagging electronics, the semi-active guidance was unreliable. Later models of the R-40 with semi-active radar homing were phased out.

Andrei had already fired the infrared-guided R-40. Now, he locked onto Dick’s F-4 with radar and launched the radar-guided R-40R. He didn’t expect it to score a kill—just to force the enemy to flee, leaving their tailpipe exposed.

Dick didn’t panic. A head-on intercept, with the radar warning receiver blaring, confirmed it was a semi-active radar missile. Given the Soviets’ outdated electronics, the hit probability was low.

Learning from the earlier example, Dick rolled his aircraft while deploying chaff. The chaff created a storm of radar reflections, overwhelming the enemy’s radar and breaking the missile’s lock. Rolling was an effective way to evade pulse-Doppler radar.

Wait—didn’t the MiG-25’s Tornado-A radar lack pulse-Doppler capability? Under strict secrecy and Byelinko’s failed defection, the U.S. knew little about the MiG-25. They assumed the Soviets had caught up—or even surpassed—them in many areas, including pulse-Doppler. Maybe they even had slotted planar array antennas by now.

But Dick was in luck. The MiG-25PD he faced did have pulse-Doppler radar.

As Dick rolled and deployed chaff, Andrei’s radar screen filled with static. The target vanished.

Andrei hadn’t expected the radar-guided R-40R to work. Seeing Dick’s evasive maneuver, he pushed the stick forward and gave chase.

Steady! Let the R-60 lock on. Close the distance! Andrei tailed the F-4, creating an opportunity for the missile to acquire its target.

The F-4 ahead seemed to realize it was being pursued. Without engaging afterburner, it nosed down, descending rapidly.

If Andrei had the R-73 with its high off-boresight capability, he could have fired and retreated. But the R-60’s infrared seeker had a narrow 5° detection angle. Only after locking on could the seeker track the target within a 30–35° search cone.

Andrei had to keep the enemy within five degrees of his aircraft’s centerline for at least two seconds to achieve a lock!

Amid the intense pursuit, Andrei remained sharp. The F-4 was luring him into low altitude. Though designed for high-speed, high-altitude performance, the F-4 still had decent low-altitude capabilities—far better than his MiG-25. The dense air at low altitudes risked excessive aerodynamic torque, demanding extreme caution.

After cautiously tailing for twenty seconds, with altitude dropping below seven thousand meters, Andrei abandoned the chase. He engaged afterburner and climbed.

Time to return.

The MiG-25, like a lone wanderer of the skies, sought no equal.

If the MiG-25 wanted to leave, no one could stop it!

Andrei’s retreat was timely. Four F-4s from the U.S. airbase were already racing toward the area, ready to ambush his lone fighter. By the time he reached over twenty thousand meters, they gave up the pursuit.

Dick, now skimming low over the sea, was drenched in sweat. Only when the E-2 Hawkeye confirmed that the pursuing MiG-25 had climbed and turned back did he level his aircraft, remove his oxygen mask, and gasp for air.

The enemy had clung to him relentlessly. Several times, Dick had been certain a missile was coming. Out here over the ocean, even ejecting would have made rescue nearly impossible.

Now, the MiG-25 was finally gone. It was over. That Soviet pilot was terrifying!

As Dick caught his breath, the four F-4s arrived, flanking him. He pulled back on the stick and joined formation. The interception had failed!

They had planned to exploit the MiG-25’s defection to uncover its secrets. But who could have predicted the Soviets would give chase—and even fire missiles to down the defecting aircraft?

Another failure. The U.S. Forces in Japan had suffered defeat after defeat.

The news reached Yokota. Facing this near-miss, Lieutenant General Paul flew into a rage.

“What was Major Dick doing? Why didn’t he go earlier to intercept the defecting plane? And the E-2 Hawkeye—why wasn’t it airborne sooner to monitor the airspace?” Paul roared. “Who came up with this terrible plan?”

Paul’s fury was terrifying. His subordinates didn’t dare breathe, let alone remind him that the plan had been his idea. The Soviets might have set a trap. Sending the E-2 Hawkeye could have been dangerous—just like last time. Two F-4s should have been enough!

Now, with the plan in ruins, Paul had forgotten his own reasoning.

“Actually, we haven’t failed yet.” A voice came from the corner.

Chapter 39: KGB Investigation (Part One)

“Andrei, you did great!” After crossing the midpoint of the Sea of Japan, two MiG-25s flew toward them. To counter any potential danger, Sokolovka scrambled two more aircraft for support. Upon meeting Andrei, the three planes formed up and returned together.

Andrei glanced at the two aircraft beside him—both were old comrades from the 513th Regiment: Captain Alexander 027 and Lieutenant Antonio 029.

“All for the Motherland,” Andrei replied over the radio. But deep down, a sense of loss gnawed at him.

Shooting down Byelinko had left Andrei unsettled. Though the man was a traitor, he had been Andrei’s flight leader after his transmigration and the person Andrei had interacted with most over the past few days. Now, having personally taken Byelinko down, Andrei felt a shadow creep into his heart.

Perhaps to vent his frustration, Andrei had engaged those two American planes in a dogfight. Now, he had downed one and damaged another. Including Byelinko’s plane, that made him a half-ace.

With mixed emotions, Andrei returned to Sokolovka. He wrote a detailed report and submitted it to Kozhdoob. Andrei knew Kozhdoob would never take responsibility for anything. With Byelinko’s defection and Andrei’s subsequent action, the situation had been somewhat salvaged. After reporting, there might even be merit in it. As for how Kozhdoob would report to higher-ups, Andrei didn’t care.

Back in his dormitory, the floor was still littered with empty bottles, but the man was gone. Perhaps out of sympathy, Andrei had omitted Byelinko’s parachute jump from his report. In the vast sea, hundreds of kilometers from shore, jumping would be nearly a death sentence.

Climbing into bed without even eating, Andrei drifted into a restless sleep.

“No, Andrei, you wouldn’t understand. From childhood, you were fed ideals of loving your country, but when you grow up, you realize reality is nothing like what you were taught. Our country is rotten—bureaucrats corrupted, nepotism everywhere. Honest people are stifled, even slandered as mentally ill! Remember when your plane malfunctioned and nearly sent you into a fatal spin? The real cause was Kozhdoob’s nephew, the ground crew responsible for your aircraft’s maintenance! This country is beyond saving, Andrei. Why not come with me to the West? That’s where true paradise lies—democracy and freedom!”

A voice suddenly echoed in Andrei’s mind.

Come to the West, where there’s paradise, democracy, and freedom!

No! Democracy and freedom were the very tools that destroyed the Soviet Union. Those Westerners, waving the banners of democracy and freedom, peacefully overthrew the Soviet regime. Did the Soviet people find happiness? No! Only a few benefited while the majority were left in poverty!

In his dream, Andrei seemed trapped in agony. He clutched his head, unable to escape the nightmare.

Suddenly, the scene shifted. A radiant girl appeared, dressed seductively, her gaze so alluring it could ensnare souls.

“My name is Annie.”

Full chest, curvaceous figure, round hips—she was undeniably beautiful. Andrei stared at her face, but it began to distort. Her lips darkened, fingers elongated, and she transformed into a witch!

The witch lunged, gripping Andrei’s throat. “Come with me to the West! Or meet Marx!”

“Andrei! Captain Andrei!” Just then, someone shook him violently. Andrei’s eyes snapped open.

A man in a gray military uniform stood before him. The insignia on his shoulders didn’t match any branch of the armed forces. On his left sleeve was an emblem—a sword piercing a red star over a hammer and sickle.

Only one organization bore such a symbol: the Soviet Committee for State Security, known as the KGB.

Originally founded by Dzerzhinsky as the Cheka and later part of Stalin’s NKVD, the KGB had become one of the most feared intelligence agencies in the world, rivaling the CIA and MI5. At its peak, it employed over five hundred thousand people.

A joke circulated in Moscow: A woman on the subway asked the man next to her, “Excuse me, do you work for the KGB?”

“No.”

“Do any of your relatives work for the KGB?”

“No.”

“Good. Then move your foot—you’re stepping on mine.”

Though just a joke, it reflected the KGB’s immense power. Some said its chairman could even overshadow the General Secretary, seize all authority, or stage a coup.

Many Soviet leaders had risen from the KGB’s ranks.

Ordinary citizens avoided any dealings with the KGB—it meant serious trouble.

The man who woke Andrei was a low-ranking KGB agent. Seeing Andrei awake, he said, “Comrade Andrei, we need your cooperation in an investigation. Please come with me.”

Still groggy, Andrei noted the man’s friendly demeanor—he didn’t seem to be arresting him. Behind the agent stood a base soldier, which eased Andrei’s concerns. After washing his face in the bathroom, he followed them to headquarters.

There, he saw Kozhdoob’s forced smile and, beside him, a KGB major with a professional scowl.

“Comrade Andrei, I am Major Sherov from the Second Chief Directorate of the State Security Committee. We’ve learned of Captain Byelinko’s defection and need to conduct a thorough investigation. Your cooperation is required.”

The KGB had many directorates. The Second Chief Directorate handled counterintelligence, its importance evident from its name—second only to the First Chief Directorate, which focused on foreign intelligence.

Byelinko’s defection was a major incident. Even Kozhdoob couldn’t hide it, especially since he had reported the order to shoot down Byelinko. The Second Chief Directorate had swiftly dispatched agents from Moscow to handle the case.

Chapter 40: The KGB’s Investigation (Part 2)

“Andrei, you must cooperate fully with the Second Chief Directorate’s investigation,” Kozhdoob said with a smile. Though the visitor was only a major, he represented a powerful department—even Kozhdoob had to curry favor, surrendering his own office to them.

“Commander Kozhdoob, please step outside. I’d like to speak with Comrade Andrei alone,” Major Sherov said.

Kozhdoob’s smile froze, his expression turning ugly. He had assumed this would be a routine conversation where he could interject, but now he was being dismissed.

“Yes, of course. I’ll leave you to it,” Kozhdoob said, knowing better than to interfere with the Second Chief Directorate’s work. He pushed open the door and left.

Once the door closed behind him, Major Sherov’s face remained stern. “Comrade Andrei, we’ve reviewed your report, the accounts from Commander Kozhdoob and others, and analyzed your flight path after takeoff. We noticed you flew directly toward Hokkaido. It gives me the strange impression that you already knew Byelinko was going to defect.”

KGB officers had the keen instincts of bloodhounds. When Andrei had discovered Byelinko’s escape, he had been frantic, taking off in his fighter and indeed flying eastward. Yet this Major Sherov had detected the anomaly in Andrei’s actions.

How did he know Byelinko was flying east—to defect to the island nation?

“Byelinko had complained before about his dissatisfaction with our base and our entire system,” Andrei said. “At the time, I didn’t think much of it. After my injury and hospitalization, when I returned, I found a map on the dormitory floor. It marked several island nation air bases. That’s when I realized the severity of the situation. By the time I reached the control tower, I learned Byelinko’s plane had crashed. I deduced he was trying to defect to the island nation.”

There was no point in hiding anything now. The entire account was plausible, and the map was still in the dormitory—KGB could verify it.

Andrei looked at the men before him, feeling uneasy. They wouldn’t suspect him of being Byelinko’s accomplice, would they? Impossible! He had only shared a dormitory with Byelinko, and now he had exposed Byelinko’s defection and even shot him down. How could he be an accomplice?

“Anything else?” Major Sherov pressed.

Anything else? Andrei’s mind raced, and suddenly, a name surfaced.

“Yes. Before Byelinko defected, he met a girl named Annie, a geography student at Berlin University. They seemed to be in a passionate relationship,” Andrei continued. “Annie is highly suspicious. You should investigate her.”

Andrei had always found Annie’s sudden appearance odd. He had suspected she might have a hidden identity, and now, with Byelinko’s defection, he felt Annie had played a significant role in pushing Byelinko to take such a risk.

Otherwise… Andrei simply couldn’t believe that a sensual young woman like Annie would be interested in someone as gloomy as Byelinko.

“Is this her?” Major Sherov asked, producing a photograph.

Andrei was startled. The woman in the photo wore a white tank top and blue jeans—wasn’t this the Annie he and Yekaterina had seen yesterday, or the day before? She had even made Yekaterina drink two glasses of wine, clearly jealous, though Andrei had done nothing wrong.

But now, the woman in the photo had a large bloodstain on her back, her face covered in blood, her features unrecognizable. The background suggested a train station.

“Yes, that’s her. Who killed her?” Andrei asked.

“That’s what we’d like to ask you,” Major Sherov said. “At three o’clock this afternoon—just an hour after you returned from your flight—this Berlin University student and her classmates were at Vladivostok Station, preparing to board a train back to Berlin. She was killed with a silenced pistol, and the assassin escaped in the chaos.”

Dead? The Americans were ruthless. Byelinko had been shot down, his defection failed, and now Annie, the girl involved, had been eliminated. The CIA showed no mercy to its pawns.

But what did this have to do with him? Andrei sensed the shift in Major Sherov’s tone—it had become accusatory.

“I don’t know. Probably the CIA,” Andrei said. “Annie had been in frequent contact with Byelinko recently. Now that she’s dead, the Americans can wash their hands of the whole affair.”

“Washing their hands of it isn’t just the Americans’ style, is it?” Sherov said. “Comrade Andrei, you were recently hailed as a hero, but now we have the unfortunate discovery that you are a traitor to our great nation!”

“Major Sherov, accusations require evidence. Without proof, even if you’re from the KGB, you can’t slander someone and fabricate charges,” Andrei said coldly.

Perhaps because he hadn’t been in this world long, Andrei didn’t fear the KGB as much as others. He had given everything for the Soviet Union, risking his life time and again. Each mission was a testament to his loyalty. How dare they accuse him of treason?

The KGB reminded Andrei of the Jin Yi Wei from the Ming Dynasty—once in their grasp, even the most absurd cases would be twisted into “truth.”

“We’ve investigated. Annie didn’t just meet Byelinko first—she met both of you, Andrei and Byelinko, together. And the day before yesterday, before you were discharged from the hospital, you met Annie again. Then, yesterday, Byelinko defected. In truth, Annie didn’t just incite Byelinko—she recruited both of you to defect to the West together!”

“Ridiculous! If I wanted to defect, why would I have shot down Byelinko?” Andrei retorted. Their logic was flawed.

Chapter 41: Suspected of Treason

“Because you’ve already been exposed!” Major Sherov declared. “Don’t think the KGB only just got involved. We discovered Annie’s suspicious activities half a year ago! She came to the Far East specifically to turn you and Byelinko. Two days ago, on August 5th, Annie gave you a note, instructing you to meet her at the Red Flag Street Hotel. During that meeting, she should have told you that the situation on the American side had changed and that you should delay your actions. She also asked you to notify Byelinko. Unfortunately, by the time you returned, Byelinko was already on his way to defect. To prevent Byelinko’s defection from implicating you, you quickly took to the skies and shot him down, silencing him!”

Andrei was speechless at this absurd line of reasoning. Were all KGB personnel this delusional?

“The note?” he demanded.

“It’s in your coat pocket. Our people have already found it.” Sherov produced the note and showed it to Andrei before continuing, “Actually, you’ve been planning this for a while. Last time, you flew over Hokkaido, but since other MiG-25s were following you, you couldn’t defect without being shot down. That’s why you didn’t act then.”

“What kind of nonsense is this? Do you KGB agents enjoy framing people? Using such methods to earn promotions? I never went to see Annie the night before last!” Andrei finally lost his temper. He realized how despicable that woman named Annie was. Even in death, she had set him up. That note must have been slipped into his pocket when he was having dinner with Yekaterina. Damn her!

“Then where did you spend the night before last? You were discharged from the hospital but didn’t return to your unit,” Sherov asked.

“At…” How should he answer? At Yekaterina’s place? An unmarried man spending the night at a woman’s home didn’t seem appropriate.

Thinking this, Andrei didn’t continue. His hesitation only made Sherov more convinced of his guilt.

“Captain Andrei, your treasonous actions require further investigation in Moscow. Please come with us,” Sherov said, signaling to the men beside him.

The two burly agents, like wolves, moved to restrain Andrei and put handcuffs on him.

Damn it! Once he reached Moscow and entered a KGB secret prison, he would be forced to confess even if he was innocent!

“I haven’t betrayed my country! Just yesterday, I shot down and damaged one American F-4 fighter each! I personally shot down the defecting Byelinko. Earlier, I even collided with an American EP-3, securing electronic secrets for our country. I’m innocent!” The two KGB agents were clearly experienced in such matters. They firmly held Andrei down, trying to put the handcuffs on him.

Clang. At that moment, the door was pushed open. Colonel Ivanov, commander of the 513th Regiment, stood in the doorway with an icy gaze, looking at the people inside.

“What are you doing?” Colonel Ivanov asked.

“Captain Andrei is suspected of treason. We need to take him back to Moscow for a detailed investigation. Anyone who obstructs us will be considered a traitor,” Major Sherov said. Although his rank was lower, the KGB’s reputation was formidable, and few dared to offend them.

Behind Ivanov stood Kozhdoob, who clearly didn’t want to get involved. Offending the KGB would make it difficult for him to advance in Moscow.

“Captain Andrei is our 513th Regiment’s most capable pilot and the first half-ace to emerge in our regiment since World War II. He is the pride of the 513th Regiment. I don’t believe my soldier would betray his country,” Colonel Ivanov said. “If you want to investigate, do it here at the 513th Regiment, at Sokolovka Base. We will all cooperate.”

Seeing Ivanov’s stance, with his right hand resting on the grip of his issued Makarov pistol, ready to draw at any moment, Andrei felt a surge of gratitude.

Confronting the KGB’s Second Directorate at this moment was like gambling with one’s career. The fact that the colonel was willing to stand up for a pilot in his regiment and uphold justice made Andrei feel warm inside.

But because of this, Andrei felt he couldn’t let the colonel’s career be affected. This matter had nothing to do with the colonel; it was all the Americans’ doing!

“Colonel, I believe our State Security Committee won’t wrong someone who loves his country as much as I do. This is just a misunderstanding,” Andrei said. “I’m willing to go with them to Moscow for the investigation.”

He couldn’t implicate the colonel or the other members of the 513th Regiment. This situation was suspicious. Andrei glanced at Kozhdoob, who was cowering in the back, unwilling to step forward. He couldn’t stand the sight of him anymore.

“Andrei, everyone in our regiment believes in your innocence and takes pride in you,” Ivanov said, seeing Andrei’s determination to leave. “I will report to our superiors on behalf of the regiment, telling them how bravely you’ve fought for us.”

Andrei looked at him gratefully and followed the agents out. The two men who had tried to put handcuffs on him ultimately failed. Andrei walked out with his head held high. Outside, many pilots had gathered.

Although he had only been here for less than a month, and much of that time was spent in the hospital, in the military, merit was the most respected. Andrei’s recent performances in the air had been outstanding, earning him the admiration of the entire regiment. They all glared at the KGB agents with anger.

Andrei left the headquarters and stepped outside. The sky was already bright. In the east, a red sun was slowly rising from the horizon, turning the entire sky crimson.

The vast land, the great union—such a powerful nation wouldn’t last even a hundred years. Thinking about the infighting between the two major powers after the dissolution, Andrei felt a pang of sadness. After coming here, he had hoped to change the fate of this country with his own strength, but now it seemed ridiculous. The Soviet Union under Brezhnev was already on the path to corruption and decline. And now, he was being taken to Moscow under false charges.

How laughable. Gazing at the brilliant dawn, Andrei’s lips curled into a sneer.

“Move it!” Sherov said unfriendly.

Not far away, an Mi-8 helicopter was waiting. Andrei knew that once he boarded that helicopter and left Sokolovka, he would be completely at their mercy.

Just then, in the distance, Andrei saw a white ambulance speeding toward them. With a sharp brake, it stopped beside Andrei and the others.

The door opened, and a female doctor in a white coat stepped out. She wasn’t wearing a mask, and her face was filled with anger.

Chapter 42: Love Arrives So Suddenly

Yin Tao’s lips parted slightly as she spoke directly to Major Sherov across from her, “Major Sherov, what are you doing?”

“This is KGB business, none of your concern. Yekaterina, you’d best not ask too many questions. Mind your discipline.” Sherov’s tone was all business, but his gaze kept drifting—whether intentionally or not—to the female doctor’s chest.

Yekaterina! Andrei was stunned. How had she ended up at the base? And how did she know this KGB major standing beside him? Judging by their tone, they seemed quite familiar. Otherwise, how could the man so casually call her by name?

“None of my concern?” Yekaterina said. “The man you’re trying to take away is the hero recently praised in Moscow’s Pravda. He dared to face the enemy with bayonets, dared to spill his blood for the motherland. You’re making a mistake, Major Sherov. Do you have an arrest warrant signed by the Committee for State Security?”

Sherov’s momentum faltered at her question. He looked at Yekaterina and said, “The KGB operates on evidence. We have sufficient proof that Captain Andrei conspired to commit treason. He must be taken in for questioning.”

Many pilots from the 513th Regiment had gathered around them. Sherov felt the longer he stayed, the worse his position became. And the woman before him was someone he couldn’t afford to offend. A slow anger began to simmer within him.

After saying this, Sherov turned to continue escorting Andrei toward the helicopter. Yekaterina quickly stepped forward, blocking his path again. “What evidence do you have?”

KGB business is none of your concern! Sherov wanted to push her back with those words, but he knew that without presenting concrete evidence, he couldn’t convince Yekaterina. So he said, “We have evidence that on the night of August 5th, Andrei was with the American female spy Annie!”

Andrei with an American female spy! At these words, the expressions of the 513th Regiment pilots shifted, as if Andrei truly had dealings with American intelligence.

Hearing this, Yekaterina froze. She glanced at Andrei, and their eyes met. In Andrei’s gaze, she read everything.

Idiot, why don’t you say something? What can they do if you tell the truth? Yekaterina’s eyes softened as she looked back at Sherov, sneering. “Major Sherov, you must be mistaken. Captain Andrei was not with any American female spy on the night of August 5th!”

Yekaterina’s voice was loud enough for everyone to hear. Sherov sneered in return. “Yekaterina, how do you know? Do you have proof?”

“I am the proof!” Yekaterina declared. “That night, Andrei was with me! He didn’t leave until after dawn.”

Sherov’s body trembled slightly, his gaze turning icy. “Yekaterina, are you certain that on the night of August 5th, Andrei was with you?”

“Yes, I’m certain.” Yekaterina said. “My colleague Diana can vouch for me, and so can my son Ivan. They can both confirm that Andrei was in my dormitory all night and never left.”

“Andrei, were you with Yekaterina that night?” Sherov turned to Andrei.

Andrei nodded.

“Then why didn’t you say so when I asked you earlier?”

“Because it concerns Dr. Yekaterina’s reputation.” Andrei said. “I didn’t want to say.”

“Oh, didn’t want to say, did you?” Sherov gritted his teeth, glaring at Yekaterina, then at Andrei, as if challenging him to a duel.

“This matter will be thoroughly investigated by the KGB! Andrei, don’t think that just because someone is vouching for you, I won’t find evidence of your treason!” With that, Sherov turned to the agents who had come with him. “Let’s go!”

As the men boarded the helicopter and left in disgrace, the pilots of the 513th Regiment whistled at the sky.

“Yekaterina, thank you.” Andrei said to the woman before him. “If it weren’t for you, I’d be taking a one-way trip to Moscow.”

“Andrei, you’re such a fool. What’s there to be embarrassed about being with me?” Yekaterina said. “If they had taken you away, what would I have done?”

Andrei lowered his head, looking at Yekaterina. Her large eyes were fixed on his rugged face, filled with tenderness.

Moved, Andrei didn’t speak. He simply reached out and pulled Yekaterina into his arms.

Applause broke out around them. Andrei knew his comrades were congratulating him. Several doctors were present, and in front of so many people, Andrei held the slender and alluring Yekaterina, feeling the softness of her skin against him, an experience that delighted every sense. He didn’t want to let go.

Love had arrived so suddenly. At that moment, Andrei no longer cared that Yekaterina was a woman with a three-year-old son.

No one knew how much time had passed before the crowd at the airfield dispersed. Andrei took Yekaterina’s hand and sat with her in the grass beside the runway. “Yekaterina, from the first time I saw you, I liked you. I just never had the chance to tell you.”

Yekaterina held Andrei’s hand, leaning against his shoulder. “Really? I thought it was just me with a one-sided crush. But you’re a good man. That night at my place, you stood guard outside. Didn’t you have any thoughts?”

The question was so direct that Andrei didn’t know how to respond. After a moment, he said, “Yekaterina, even though you have a three-year-old son, I don’t mind. We can be together. I’ll treat him like my own son.”

To love someone is to love all of them. Andrei’s thinking came from the East; he was a traditional man.

Hearing this, Yekaterina suddenly laughed. “Silly, I’ve never been married, never been with any man. Ivan isn’t my biological son.”

“And then how does he call you mother?” Andrei was taken aback.

Chapter 43: New Developments

“Ivan is the son of my best older sister, so I took him in as my godson,” Yekaterina explained. “Two months ago, his mother came to the Far East to visit me. Little Ivan didn’t want to leave, so he stayed here for these two months. In a few more days, his mother will come to take him back.”

So he was her godson! Andrei suddenly understood. In the Soviet Union, there was indeed a tradition of adopting godfathers and godmothers, which was not the same as the godfather-daughter relationships of later times. Even in post-Soviet Russia, some families had more than one goddaughter. Of course, many Orthodox believers disliked this practice. However, such beliefs conflicted with materialism, and staunch communist warriors did not believe in the Orthodox Church.

This kind of relationship was especially popular among young people. Young couples without children often liked to adopt the children of their friends who already had kids as their godchildren.

What a misunderstanding! Andrei looked at Yekaterina and continued, “Yekaterina, how do you know that man, Sherlov? He’s from the KGB!”

At the mention of Sherlov, Yekaterina’s expression grew complicated. She said, “I met him in Moscow, Andrei. I don’t want to hear that man’s name.”

Clearly, Yekaterina had more secrets. Andrei knew that if she didn’t want to talk about it, he shouldn’t press further. Trust was the most important thing in a relationship. However, there was one question he couldn’t help but ask: “Yekaterina, how did you know I was in trouble? Did you come specifically to rescue me?”

“You?” Yekaterina looked at the self-satisfied Andrei and said, “Andrei, you’re really lucky. Today is the day when we from Vladivostok’s Third Hospital come to Sokolovka Base to conduct physical examinations for the pilots. If it weren’t for today, you would have been taken away by those KGB men.”

Physical examinations? Only then did Andrei remember that as a pilot, he needed to undergo annual physicals. If his body wasn’t fit, he wouldn’t be allowed to fly. In his past life, military bases had their own doctors, but Sokolovka was too remote. The unit only had two doctors who handled minor ailments like headaches and fevers. Systematic physical examinations were conducted by the Vladivostok Third Hospital under the Air Defense Forces.

“Then, let’s not stand around,” Andrei said. “Yekaterina, we can’t delay your work.”

Yekaterina playfully stuck out her tongue, the gesture so adorable.

Andrei quietly watched Yekaterina, who seemed to realize something. She slowly closed her eyes, preparing to experience her first kiss. What would it feel like when their lips touched?

“All pilots of the 513th Regiment, cease physical examinations immediately and report to the operations briefing room.” Just then, a loudspeaker on the airfield broadcasted the announcement.

“I’m sorry, Yekaterina, there’s a situation,” Andrei said, his lips already close to Yekaterina’s but not kissing her. As a Soviet soldier, he knew what this broadcast meant.

Ever since Andrei had shot down the EP-3, the Far Eastern Military District had not had a single peaceful day! Now, even the commander of the Far Eastern Military District in Khabarovsk was on high alert, ready to respond to threats from the East.

Just after dawn, a Tu-142 maritime patrol aircraft from the Far Eastern Military District was patrolling over the Sea of Japan. As it approached the median line of the Sea of Japan, it was intercepted by F-4 fighters from the island nation. To avoid conflict, the patrol aircraft immediately turned back. However, as it prepared to return, it detected anomalies on the sea surface. In the waters one hundred nautical miles west of Hokkaido, American oceanographic survey ships and salvage vessels were spotted!

When Andrei arrived at the operations briefing room, all the pilots of the 513th Regiment were already present. Colonel Ivanov, the regiment commander, turned on the projector, inserting a film strip just issued by the military district.

On the calm sea surface, several special vessels could faintly be seen.

“Today, our brother unit conducted a maritime patrol and discovered Americans searching in the area where Byelinko’s aircraft crashed yesterday,” Ivanov said. “Higher-ups analyze that the Americans want to salvage Byelinko’s downed aircraft.”

Salvage it? Hearing this, Andrei’s eyelids twitched violently. This was bad—he hadn’t done a good job yesterday, leaving behind consequences!

Due to the limited power of the R-60 missile, Andrei had only damaged Byelinko’s aircraft. He had seen Byelinko parachute and the plane crash into the sea, but there had been no explosion.

After entering the water, the aircraft must have sunk like a ship, resting somewhere on the seabed. Yet the Americans hadn’t given up—they wanted to salvage it!

“We can’t let the Americans salvage it! We can’t let them obtain the secrets of our MiG-25!” Andrei couldn’t help but say. Although he had almost been slandered as a traitor, the entire 513th Regiment, especially Colonel Ivanov, had been willing to offend the KGB to protect him. This moved Andrei deeply.

The occasional appearance of scum was inevitable given the vast population. One couldn’t change their worldview just because of that.

Now, the MiG-25 posed a deterrent to the West. No Western aircraft could match it. If the West discovered it was made of steel, their fear would greatly diminish.

“Yes, we absolutely cannot let the Americans’ plot succeed,” Ivanov said. “Therefore, we will conduct a reconnaissance mission, dispatching one MiG-25R reconnaissance aircraft and one MiG-25P interceptor to carry out a joint reconnaissance operation.”

The biggest problem was the location—close to Hokkaido and far from the Maritime Territory. One could even say it was American territory.

“I’ll go!” Andrei said. “My aircraft is the latest improved model, with advanced radar and combat missiles. If the Americans cause trouble, I can protect our reconnaissance aircraft. Moreover, I already have multiple combat experiences. I guarantee I will complete the mission!”

Hearing that a reconnaissance mission was needed with an interceptor escort, Andrei immediately volunteered.

Chapter 44: High-Ranking Military Officials

The CIA’s plan to have MiG-25 pilot Byelinko defect ultimately failed due to Andrei’s intervention. The MiG-25 crashed into the sea, still hundreds of nautical miles from Hokkaido.

Although they hadn’t successfully obtained the defected MiG-25, it was still there! Now, all they needed to do was salvage the aircraft, and the United States could still study the MiG-25’s structure!

Thus, during the meeting, when the CIA’s Far East representative, Locke, proposed this plan, Lieutenant General Paul immediately nodded in agreement. The operation had to be swift!

While they knew the approximate location where the MiG-25 had crashed into the sea, precise coordinates were necessary for salvage. The average depth of the Sea of Japan was nearly two thousand meters, far beyond the reach of ordinary divers.

Therefore, the United States deployed two oceanographic survey vessels near the crash site. These ships were equipped with advanced surveying equipment capable of mapping the seafloor’s geological features and detecting the sunken MiG-25.

Salvage ships stood by nearby. Once the wreckage was located, they would immediately begin recovery operations!

The Soviets would never have imagined that this location, still a hundred nautical miles away, was effectively handing the MiG-25 over to them!

The survey vessels continuously emitted sonar waves to probe the seabed. The computer-generated images appeared on the ships’ screens. As soon as the outline of the MiG-25 was detected, deep-sea divers would be dispatched to confirm its presence.

This work was tedious and monotonous, often relying on luck. After hours of operation, the crew on the survey vessels were exhausted.

Suddenly, a roar echoed from the distant sky. A sailor on deck looked toward the eastern horizon—four fighter jets were streaking toward them.

F-4s! What were their own air force doing at this moment?

“Altitude twenty-eight thousand, speed Mach two-point-eight. Damn it, at that speed and altitude, we can’t intercept them!” The long-range radar detected the Soviet movement, and the U.S. Air Force scrambled four fighters to intercept.

However, faced with the high-altitude, high-speed incoming aircraft, the F-4 pilots were helpless. They couldn’t match the altitude or speed—interception was impossible.

Twenty-eight thousand meters was already the stratosphere. The air was thin here, and the edge of the Earth’s curvature was visible. Every time Andrei flew at this altitude, he marveled at the Earth’s beauty.

This time, piloting his 032 aircraft, he escorted a MiG-25R reconnaissance plane from his brother unit. The two aircraft flew toward the designated sea area at high altitude.

After crossing the median line of the Sea of Japan, both aircraft climbed to an altitude of twenty-eight thousand meters, engaging maximum afterburner to reach Mach two-point-eight.

Activating his radar, Andrei spotted four blips. Over the radio, he called the reconnaissance pilot: “032 to 462, 032 to 462. Four American fighters detected. Altitude sixteen thousand, speed Mach one-point-five. No threat.”

Due to its outstanding high-altitude, high-speed performance, the MiG-25 interceptor variant led to the development of the reconnaissance version soon after its introduction. This high-altitude, high-speed aircraft was practically born for reconnaissance. Ultimately, sixty percent of all MiG-25s produced were reconnaissance or bomber variants.

Initially, the Mikoyan design bureau equipped the MiG-25 with five “Zenit” aerial reconnaissance cameras produced by the Kazan “Dyenet” Optical Instrument Factory. Four were A70M side-view reconnaissance cameras, and one was an A/E-10 terrain reconnaissance camera. After entering service, it became the most advanced reconnaissance aircraft in the Soviet arsenal.

However, a pure reconnaissance aircraft seemed wasteful, so the Mikoyan design bureau continued to upgrade the production MiG-25Rs, adding a bombing sight system and enlarging the air intake cross-section to increase the service ceiling. They also replaced the A-70M and A/E-10 cameras with two newer A-72 cameras featuring 150mm lenses. Additionally, they could be optionally equipped with SRS-4A/B/V electronic reconnaissance devices and the SPS-141 “Alert” electronic countermeasure jammer, evolving into the MiG-25RB reconnaissance-bomber variant.

Now, the aircraft flying alongside Andrei was one such plane. Their mission was to conduct reconnaissance and photography of American maritime operations.

Upon detecting the two incoming aircraft, the Americans immediately scrambled to intercept. Unfortunately, they were powerless against the high-altitude intruders.

Swooping down from the stratosphere, the two aircraft began photographing the American salvage ships below before turning back. They barely skirted the edge of Hokkaido’s airspace before returning to base.

The reconnaissance photos were sent for development. Andrei, having just changed out of his flight suit, was summoned to Kozhdoob’s office.

“Reporting,” Andrei called out. Hearing a response from inside, he pushed open the door and entered.

Inside, besides base commander Kozhdoob and regiment commander Ivanov, there were two unfamiliar men. Both appeared to be around fifty, their faces lined with wrinkles but their spirits sharp.

Andrei’s gaze quickly fell on one man’s shoulder—the yellow insignia with three stars. He was taken aback. This man was a general!

The other wore the uniform of the Air Defense Forces, with the insignia of a lieutenant general on his shoulders.

No wonder Kozhdoob was acting so strangely today, grinning like he had when dealing with those KGB agents. High-ranking officials had arrived!

“Captain Andrei, 513th Regiment, Soviet Air Defense Forces, reporting,” Andrei said to the men before him.

“Captain Andrei, this is General Ivan Tretiyakov, Commander of the Far Eastern Military District, and this is Lieutenant General Konstantin Bulman, Deputy Commander of the Far Eastern Military District and Commander of the Far Eastern Air Defense Forces,” Kozhdoob introduced. “Today is the most honorable day for our Sokolovka base, as we welcome the inspection of these two distinguished officers.”

So, they were high-ranking military officials!

Chapter 45: Rapid Promotion

The headquarters of the Far Eastern Military District was located in Khabarovsk, the capital of Khabarovsk Krai, over a hundred kilometers from Sokolovka. Even Andrei hadn’t expected that the district commander would come directly to their field airbase.

What were they here for? It must be about the wreckage of the MiG-25. Andrei knew full well how serious Byelinko’s defection was—even Soviet General Secretary Brezhnev must have heard about it by now.

“Here stands the hero of our Far Eastern Military District,” Lieutenant General Konstantin said, his large, bright eyes fixed on Andrei with evident pride in having such a formidable officer under his command.

“Captain Andrei, you personally shot down Byelinko, preventing the secrets of our advanced aircraft from falling into American hands. On behalf of the entire district, I commend your intelligence and bravery—this will be announced to all troops!” General Tretiyakov declared.

Captain? Andrei froze. His rank was captain, and he had only recently been promoted. How had he suddenly become a lieutenant colonel?

“Andrei, in recognition of your heroic actions, you have been given an exceptional promotion to lieutenant colonel. Additionally, your position has been elevated to squadron commander of the 513th Aviation Regiment’s Third Squadron and deputy regiment commander,” Kozhdoob announced.

Deputy regiment commander? Squadron commander? Andrei felt as if he were dreaming. Just last night, KGB agents had arrested him, nearly branding him a traitor and dragging him to Moscow for trial. Now, he had been rocket-launched two ranks higher, becoming a lieutenant colonel!

Though Andrei was highly capable and had even shot down an American aircraft, in the Cold War era, he was the only pilot in the entire air force to have downed an American plane. From that perspective, as long as Moscow wasn’t afraid of the trouble he might cause, promoting him made sense. Still, Andrei couldn’t shake a sense of unease.

He vaguely sensed that a small figure like himself was caught in a massive whirlpool. The current situation could only mean one thing: a power struggle at the highest levels. The KGB wanted to take him down, while the military sought to protect him, using him as a pawn in their political battle.

The thought made Andrei’s head spin. As a minor player, he was at the mercy of whoever wanted to manipulate him.

“Andrei, Andrei.” Just then, a familiar voice snapped him back to reality. Kozhdoob was smiling at him. “Give the commander a recap of how you shot down Byelinko.”

“Yes, sir.” Andrei began his detailed account.

The two commanders hadn’t come just to deliver his promotion—they primarily wanted to understand what had happened and determine how to handle the aftermath. This incident affected the entire district’s strategic operations. If mishandled, either the MiG-25’s secrets would leak, or war with the United States would erupt, turning the Cold War hot.

Neither outcome was something the two commanders could afford. Under immense pressure, they had come to the front lines to gather firsthand information.

After listening to Andrei’s report, both men furrowed their brows. “So, the MiG-25 didn’t explode before crashing into the sea?”

“That’s correct. I considered firing another missile, but the Americans arrived too quickly, and I ended up tangled in a dogfight with their aircraft,” Andrei replied.

“Now, the Americans will definitely try to salvage that plane. It’s only a hundred nautical miles from Hokkaido—we’re at a disadvantage,” Lieutenant General Konstantin said. “The MiG-25 is our most advanced interceptor. We cannot let the Americans get their hands on it, not even the wreckage!”

“Reporting in—the reconnaissance photos have been developed.” A district staff officer entered and addressed the two commanders.

After the MiG-25RB returned, the film from its cameras had been sent for development. Now, the processed photos were laid out before the two commanders.

“It seems the Americans are indeed preparing for salvage operations,” General Tretiyakov said, frowning at the clear images of salvage and survey vessels.

“We’ve also observed movements from the U.S. Navy. Two ships from the Seventh Fleet, stationed at Yokosuka, have been deployed.” The staff officer continued, relaying information just discovered via satellite and transmitted to the Far Eastern Military District.

Clearly, the recent MiG-25 reconnaissance flights had made the Americans even more anxious. To prevent Soviet interference, they had even dispatched naval forces.

“Has an aircraft carrier been deployed?” Andrei suddenly asked.

Though the staff officer was annoyed by Andrei’s interruption—after all, Andrei was only a captain—with the commanders present, he had no choice but to answer: “No, the Seventh Fleet hasn’t dispatched an aircraft carrier yet. They’ve sent a Kildin-class destroyer and a frigate of unknown designation.”

For Andrei, the MiG-25’s only real threat was the carrier-based F-14 Tomcat. This U.S. Navy variable-sweep wing fighter had formidable maneuverability. With its computer-controlled variable-sweep wings, it excelled in all altitudes, unlike the MiG-25, which focused solely on high-altitude, high-speed performance. Moreover, the Tomcat could carry the Phoenix missile—a long-range, heavy missile that climbed to twenty-eight thousand meters after launch, capable of taking down a MiG-25.

Hearing this, Andrei recalled that the Seventh Fleet’s carrier was the USS Midway. This ship had barely stayed in port over the years. The Vietnam War had tied up much of America’s military strength, and the Midway had been constantly engaged in strikes against Vietnam until the war ended last year.

Commissioned in 1945, the Midway was a classic World War II-era carrier, with a rectangular, right-angled flight deck and an open bow, originally capable of carrying over a hundred aircraft, including F6F-5N Hellcat fighters, F4U-B Corsair fighter-bombers, and the post-war AD-1 Skyraider attack plane.

Though it had undergone several modernizations, including the addition of an angled deck, its fundamental design made operations difficult. By the late 1970s, the large F-14A Tomcat couldn’t operate from the Midway-class. Fortunately, it could still handle A-6 Intruder attack planes and the F/A-18 Hornet, introduced in the 1980s. Otherwise, it would have been obsolete long ago.

Unless the Americans sent a newer carrier, the MiG-25 wouldn’t face the threat of the Tomcat.

In truth, the Sea of Japan wasn’t wide enough to require carrier-based aircraft—land-based fighters could easily reach enemy airspace. And if a carrier operated in the Sea of Japan, it would be vulnerable to land-based bombers. Thus, the U.S. carriers deployed here weren’t intended to intimidate the Soviets.

With only two surface ships, the situation hadn’t deteriorated beyond recovery. There was still hope. Andrei couldn’t help but think.

Chapter 46: Two Solutions

“Andrei, what do you think we should do?” At that moment, General Tretiyakov turned his head and asked Andrei.

Asking me? Andrei thought to himself. Is this a test? It’s no wonder—it’s all because of me that this mess happened. Now, it’s up to me to clean it up.

“I’m sorry, Comrade Commander-in-Chief, but I’m just an air defense pilot. I don’t really have the qualifications to comment on this matter. The military district must already have a plan in place,” Andrei said. “But since you’re asking me, I’ll share my immature thoughts.”

At that moment, Andrei’s response was perfect. Though he felt a little sickened by his own words, he had no choice. Sometimes, flattery was necessary. Only by doing so could he secure better opportunities for himself and achieve his ambition—to prevent the dissolution of the Soviet Union!

If he remained an insignificant air defense soldier by 1991, he would have no choice but to watch everything fall apart.

“Andrei, go ahead,” Lieutenant General Konstantin said.

“I have two ideas. The simplest one is to dispatch a nuclear submarine from the Vladivostok naval base to the accident site and use a nuclear torpedo to destroy the sunken MiG-25!”

Everyone in the room froze at Andrei’s words. Even General Tretiyakov’s lips twitched slightly.

Andrei’s idea was extreme—using a nuclear torpedo! But Tretiyakov couldn’t help but admire Andrei’s bold thinking. The Soviet Union needed soldiers like him—willing to do whatever it took to defend the nation!

However, this method, though simple, was impractical. First, nuclear torpedoes weren’t ordinary weapons; they required approval from Moscow. Moreover, with American ships in the area, using a nuclear torpedo could affect them, risking global war or even nuclear conflict. If the Americans thought the torpedo was aimed at their salvage and survey vessels, things would get messy.

From the looks on their faces, Andrei knew this plan wouldn’t be approved. Only he would dare suggest such a thing. He didn’t elaborate further—like how a titanium-hulled submarine could dive to a thousand meters, slip in and out undetected, and blame any disturbances on underwater volcanic eruptions, earthquakes, or tsunamis.

One nuclear torpedo would reshape the seafloor, burying the MiG-25 under mud and debris, never to be seen again.

“What’s the second idea?” General Tretiyakov asked.

“The second idea is more conventional,” Andrei said. “We can send two warships to escort our salvage vessel and conduct operations in the same area. Let’s see who can recover the plane first.”

General Tretiyakov frowned. “That area is only a hundred nautical miles from Hokkaido’s coast but over three hundred from ours.”

“So what? We only recognize a twelve-nautical-mile territorial sea. That area is international waters,” Andrei replied.

General Tretiyakov couldn’t help but smile. The younger generation really did think faster.

The concept of territorial waters had evolved over time. Initially, it was believed that if a ship could be forced to comply from shore, that area belonged to the land. Essentially, a nation’s control depended on its effective reach. Back then, territorial waters were determined by cannon range—about three nautical miles. As cannons improved, so did the range—7, 11, even 22 kilometers. A few years ago, the standard was debated at an international conference, but no final decision was made. However, twelve nautical miles was widely accepted.

Now, at the height of the Cold War, American and Soviet forces faced each other across the Sea of Japan, with the median line serving as an unofficial boundary.

By invoking the twelve-nautical-mile rule, the Soviet Navy could openly conduct salvage operations there.

“If we get too close, the Americans will see it as provocation. It could escalate into a conflict,” Lieutenant General Konstantin warned.

Though Moscow had repeatedly emphasized that the MiG-25’s secrets must not fall into American hands, starting a conflict near Hokkaido to protect it would displease Moscow. After all, Moscow had no intention of starting a world war.

“But the Americans are afraid too,” Andrei said. “The Soviet Union is at its peak, while the Americans are still recovering from Vietnam. They don’t want a world war either. Even if we send two warships without air defense, they won’t dare sink them—that would mean war! If we want to be cautious, we can send two frigates without anti-air or anti-ship missiles. They’ll disrupt the American salvage while protecting ours. Meanwhile, we’ll keep fighter jets on standby. If the Americans push too far, we’ll push back.”

Hearing Andrei’s words, Kozhdoob nearly scolded him. Provoking the Americans? What if things escalated? Why were these high-ranking officers taking Andrei so seriously? Did he have some powerful backing?

“Andrei, you’re not telling us everything, are you?” General Tretiyakov said. “Don’t worry. Your suggestions are just for reference. If things get out of hand, we’ll take responsibility.”

“Actually, I was thinking… our salvage operation is just a cover. We’ll harass the Americans. If they start salvaging, our warships will fire anti-submarine depth charges and destroy the MiG-25,” Andrei said.

First, a nuclear torpedo, now depth charges? Kozhdoob was speechless. But what shocked him even more was that General Tretiyakov actually approved: “Andrei, that’s a good plan! We’ll proceed with this!”

Firing depth charges right under the Americans’ noses? That’s asking for war! Kozhdoob’s face paled.

“Sokolovka Base, prepare the fighter jets. Be ready to escort our warships,” General Tretiyakov ordered. “This time, we’ll show the Far Eastern Military District’s strength!”

Chapter 47: The Soviet Warships

Finding a sunken ship at the bottom of the sea was no easy task—often, it was a matter of sheer luck. But discovering a plane, far smaller than a ship, was even more difficult.

Two survey vessels advanced side by side, combing through the waters like a fine-toothed comb, searching for the MiG-25 fighter jet buried beneath the waves. Success could come in the next minute, or it might take days, even months.

The busiest crew on the survey ships were the sonar operators. This search relied on active sonar, sending ultrasonic waves into the depths. The operators, wearing headphones, listened intently.

Sonar operators were a special breed—sharp-eared and skilled at distinguishing the faintest sounds. They could tell whether the noise came from a distant fish blowing bubbles or the propeller of a ship. More than that, they could identify the type of vessel based on its acoustic signature.

While the survey ships bustled with activity, the salvage ship was idle. The Americans aboard stood on deck, basking in the sun, feeling the sea breeze, and chatting idly.

Behind them, two U.S. warships stood guard—a Kildin-class destroyer and a Knox-class frigate. They had been dispatched from Yokosuka after Soviet reconnaissance planes were detected scouting the salvage fleet.

The Kildin-class, displacing nearly four thousand tons, was an aging relic from the late World War II era, nearing retirement. Its primary armament was artillery, lacking even anti-aircraft missiles.

The Knox-class frigate, on the other hand, was a more modern vessel. The first of its class entered service in 1965, with the last commissioned in 1974. It was America’s second-generation anti-submarine frigate, equipped with advanced systems. For anti-ship warfare, it carried a quadruple Harpoon missile launcher and a 127mm gun. For anti-submarine operations, it had an octuple ASROC launcher and a twin MK-32 torpedo tube, along with a helicopter. Its air defenses included Sea Sparrow missiles, making it a well-rounded warship. Though classified as a frigate, its displacement neared four thousand tons, matching the Kildin-class.

If there was any shortcoming, it was the frigate’s reliance on steam turbines—a outdated boiler system that belched thick smoke.

The Knox-class frigate Donald B. Perry trailed at the rear of the formation. Its commander, Lieutenant Commander Davis, stood on the bridge, gazing ahead with growing impatience. They were only a hundred nautical miles from their coastline—fighters could reach them in minutes. The Soviets had sent reconnaissance planes, but unless they were insane, they wouldn’t dare do more than scout.

Would the Soviets really cause trouble here? Davis thought. If they did, it would be—

“Report! Radar contact—three echoes on the surface!” The radar room called out. “Bearing nine o’clock, twenty-five nautical miles!”

“Probably just fishing boats,” Davis muttered, raising his binoculars.

Due to the Earth’s curvature, even the most advanced naval radar could only detect surface targets up to forty kilometers away. While many anti-ship missiles had ranges exceeding a hundred kilometers, they required mid-course guidance from helicopters or other assets. Later, the Chinese would acquire the Sovremenny-class destroyers with their Monument radars, capable of detecting targets beyond a hundred kilometers—but only under atmospheric ducting conditions, sacrificing precision for range.

In the distance, smoke first appeared, then masts. Davis frowned. Not fishing boats…

As he adjusted the magnification, the shape became clear—a salvage ship? What’s going on? Are they here to help? Why wasn’t there any notification?

The vessel grew sharper in his view, and the ships behind it came into sight.

Smoke, masts… Then he saw the flag. A warship? And the flag was red, approaching from the west.

As the ships drew closer, Davis’s blood ran cold. That flag—the hammer and sickle! Soviet naval vessels!

What are they doing here? Davis barked, “Alert! Soviet warships detected! Hard to port, ahead flank! Prepare for combat!”

No one knew their intentions, but they were already within a hundred nautical miles of the coast! The frigate’s engines roared, black smoke billowing as it surged forward.

The Harpoon missiles began warming up. If the Soviets made a move, they would strike back instantly.

“Signal them! This is territorial waters—order them to withdraw!” Davis pressed the intercom, addressing the signalman on the mast.

The two forces closed the distance. Through his binoculars, Davis identified the Soviet ships—Riga-class frigates. Ancient vessels, displacing less than 1,500 tons, armed only with three 100mm guns, 37mm and 25mm cannons, 533mm torpedo tubes, and anti-submarine rockets. No missiles.

The Riga-class was NATO’s designation; the Soviets called it Project 50, a frigate design from the 1950s. The Pacific Fleet had eleven of them.

Why send these relics? Davis wondered. A provocation? The Soviets must be out of their minds!

“Sir! They respond—this is international waters!” the signalman reported.

International waters? Davis hesitated. The Soviets were right—even the U.S. only recognized a twelve-nautical-mile territorial limit, using its naval superiority to approach hostile shores at will.

“Tell them to leave! They’re interfering with our operations!” Davis ordered.

Regardless of their intentions, two obsolete frigates weren’t here to fight.

“Report! The Americans demand we withdraw and cease interference!” On the Soviet Riga-class frigate Tashkent, ten nautical miles away, the lookout relayed the message after spotting the American signals.

As expected—the Americans are cautious, Captain Illyich thought. “Signal back: We are conducting salvage operations. The Americans must not interfere!”

Before departure, Illyich had been briefed on the mission’s gravity. Even if we never return… we must complete it!

Chapter 48: The Americans Back Down First

The Soviet ships were incredibly aggressive, roaring forward into the waters of the island nation!

In the eyes of the Americans, this was undoubtedly the island nation’s territorial waters, just one hundred nautical miles from Hokkaido. Yet the Soviets dared to come here!

“Captain, they say they’re going to conduct salvage operations too!” the signalman reported to Lieutenant Commander Davis.

Salvage operations? Davis’ face darkened instantly. “No, we absolutely cannot let them proceed with the salvage!”

The downed MiG-25 lay on the seabed in this very area. The Soviets were willing to risk a conflict to come here and salvage it, and the Americans could not allow them to succeed.

“Hard to port, block the Soviets!” Davis continued.

Their own ship displaced over three thousand tons, while the enemy’s was only a little over a thousand. Davis’ plan was simple: obstruct them and prevent interference with their own salvage operation.

Meanwhile, the long-range radio had already sent the message back to headquarters. Davis eagerly awaited the swift deployment of fighter jets from the rear to drive away the two Soviet ships that had intruded into their waters.

“Report, message from Yokosuka: they request we remain on high alert and stand off against the Soviet ships.” The first officer handed the freshly received telegram to the captain.

“What? They’re not sending ships or planes over?” Davis asked.

“No.”

No! Those cowards must be afraid of escalating the situation! Davis instantly understood. He had reported that the Soviets had sent two outdated Riga-class frigates, so the higher-ups, to avoid escalation, had not ordered more ships to the scene.

They would have to handle this themselves! Davis looked at the opposing ship. Their own course and speed placed them directly in the enemy’s path. If the Soviets continued forward, they would collide. Davis hoped to see them make a hard turn to port at high speed, their hull tilting as they brushed past.

On the other side, the flag bearing the hammer and sickle fluttered high. Captain Illyich looked at the approaching American ship without a trace of fear. “Continue at full speed!”

“Captain Illyich, if we keep going like this, there’s a risk of collision.” The executive officer said, “Should we turn hard to port to avoid them?”

“No! Ram them! What’s there to fear? If the Americans want to collide, then we’ll collide with them!” Illyich replied decisively.

What was there to fear? The great Soviet Union feared nothing! Even if it weren’t a frigate of a few thousand tons, but a battleship of tens of thousands of tons, Illyich would still dare to ram it!

Moreover, he had already calculated it. If they continued forward, they would strike the American ship broadside in the middle. Even though their own ship was smaller, they wouldn’t lose out—they would definitely capsize the enemy!

Americans, come on!

“Report, they haven’t reduced speed, nor have they changed course!” Both ships had nearly reached their maximum speed of thirty knots, and the distance between them was rapidly closing. Seeing that the enemy maintained their original speed, the crew of the USS Perry panicked.

“What’s there to fear? The Soviets are just bluffing. If we turn first, that means we’ve surrendered.” Lieutenant Commander Davis said, “Our displacement is larger; we have nothing to fear.”

Three nautical miles, two nautical miles, one nautical mile… the distance continued to close. The executive officer behind Davis said, “Captain, this ship is the property of American taxpayers. You can’t risk it!”

“The Soviets will definitely turn!” Davis said, “We fight for America’s honor!”

“Attention, prepare for impact!” Illyich shouted. His adjutant suddenly remembered that this mad captain had once been a submariner!

One thousand meters, five hundred meters… Through his binoculars, Davis clearly saw a Soviet officer in the bridge of the enemy ship raising his fist.

“Hard to starboard, reverse engines!” Davis shouted. He hadn’t expected the Soviets to be this crazy!

The stern rudder was turned hard, the water flow pushing against the rudder surface, causing the stern to churn. The propellers reversed, the hull tilted, and the ship began to slow down while turning to the right.

“Hard to port!” On the bridge, Illyich’s face broke into a smile. The Americans had turned first! The Americans had backed down first!

Now, even if he didn’t turn, it wouldn’t matter. The American ship, in the midst of a high-speed turn, was already tilting. If his ship rammed them, it would definitely capsize the Americans!

But the purpose of this mission wasn’t to collide with the American ship, but to interfere with their salvage operation and use the ship’s anti-submarine rockets to destroy their own downed aircraft on the seabed. If a collision occurred and the conflict escalated, the mission would fail.

Small ships turn easily. The 1,000-ton Tashkent-class frigate tilted to the left, carving an arc on the water’s surface as it turned to the left.

But massive ships weren’t like trucks. Although both ships were turning, their bows and midsections passed each other. At the stern, where the final arcs of their turns met, the two ships still grazed each other.

Metal grinding against metal produced a teeth-jarring screech, accompanied by sparks from the friction. At that moment, every sailor silently prayed in their hearts: don’t capsize, don’t get damaged!

Fortunately, it was only a moment. As the ships separated, the sailors steadied themselves against the railings, inspecting the damage to their own vessel.

It seemed that aside from some scraped paint, the hull was otherwise unharmed?

“Damn it, they broke through our line!” Lieutenant Commander Davis watched as the Soviet frigate, trailing black smoke, continued toward their core group of two survey ships and one salvage vessel, and couldn’t help but feel furious.

“Cohen, stop them!” Davis shouted over the radio. Now, he could only hope that the Kildin-class destroyer behind them would succeed.

He didn’t have time to pursue. He had to stop the other Soviet ship! If that ship also broke through his line, he might as well take off his uniform and retire!

The Cohen, an old Kildin-class destroyer with the hull number 866, had been built and commissioned in 1945. Although it had served for thirty years, it was still in good condition. Historically, it had been decommissioned in 1982, sold to Pakistan, renamed Alamgir, and continued to serve for over twenty more years.

Now, hearing Davis’ call, Cohen’s captain, Fektler, shouted over the radio, “Cohen received. We will definitely stop that Soviet junk!”

Chapter 49: Continuous Harassment

Facing the approaching USS Cohen, Captain Illyich did not rush to break through the enemy’s defenses. At present, the distance between the two survey ships and the salvage vessel was about one thousand meters, well within the range of the RBU-1200 five-tube anti-submarine rocket launcher equipped on his warship. Once the Americans discovered their MiG-25 and prepared to salvage it, the survey ship would surely withdraw, allowing the salvage vessel to take position. In that brief window, their rockets could be launched, achieving their goal. Under the protection of their air force, they could then withdraw to base at high speed!

For now, they would play a game of cat and mouse with this American destroyer! Under Illyich’s command and the crew’s operation, the Tashkent seemed like a wandering fish on the ocean, constantly maneuvering around the American warship—sometimes left, sometimes right, sometimes accelerating, sometimes decelerating—staging a chase on the sea’s surface.

Time passed little by little, and the sky grew darker and darker.

“Captain, it’s getting dark. What should we do?” the executive officer asked Illyich. Night navigation was fraught with risks. If they truly collided with the American warship, it would be extremely disadvantageous for them.

“We’ll keep our navigation lights on and follow the Americans, maintaining a safe distance,” Illyich said. “Also, turn on our active sonar. Release a sonar pulse every minute.”

Although the Riga-class was built at the end of World War II, as a frigate, it had been retrofitted with the latest sonar technology of the time. Now, this active sonar was certainly meant to annoy the Americans.

For various reasons, when the Americans discovered that only two Soviet frigates had come to cause trouble, they did not dispatch more warships to interfere. The reason was simple: if the Americans increased their warships, the Soviets would send more as well. In the waters near Hokkaido, a gathering of warships would not only risk escalating into war but also make it impossible for the Americans to conduct their seabed surveys.

Now, the Soviets had certainly noticed and come to stir up trouble. However, the two American warships were fully capable of handling them and controlling the situation. Under these circumstances, the American survey ships continued their seabed measurements.

The sonar operators worked in shifts. The daytime operator had gone to rest, and the night shift operator had just put on his headphones when he heard a loud pop-pop sound. Instantly, he screamed and tore off the headphones.

“Damn it!” the sonar operator cursed loudly.

Sonar operators were a special group. They had keen ears that could pick up the slightest sounds, which also meant their ears were more sensitive. Suddenly hearing a high-decibel sound had a significant impact on their ears.

Rubbing his ears vigorously, he reduced the sonar’s amplification and put the headphones back on.

The screen in front of him displayed waveforms. After a few dozen seconds, he heard that annoying sound again—pop-pop!

This time, it wasn’t as piercing, but the sound was still unpleasant. Watching the waveform on the screen jump sharply, he couldn’t help but continue cursing: “Damn Soviets!”

Underwater, electromagnetic waves attenuated rapidly, but sound traveled far through water as a medium. Therefore, the primary equipment for underwater detection was sonar. Like radar, sonar could also be jammed. Now, the Soviets were actually using their ship’s active sonar to interfere with their search!

“Good, keep harassing them continuously!” After making a round in the sonar room, Illyich was very satisfied. He also needed rest. Tomorrow, during the day, they would continue their struggle with the Americans!

It was an unsettled night.

Yokota, U.S. Forces Japan headquarters.

“Our salvage operation is not going smoothly,” Admiral Jonard Williams of the Seventh Fleet, who had also arrived at Yokota Air Base, said to the other senior officials. “To avoid escalating the conflict, we haven’t sent more warships. The two Soviet warships have been entangling our two warships.”

Now, whether the United States could save face depended on whether they could salvage this MiG-25 and study the secrets of the Soviets’ most advanced fighter. At the same time, this was also a way to exchange for their EP-3 reconnaissance aircraft and pilots. The damn Soviets had flatly denied everything and still refused to return the EP-3 and its crew. They even planned to charge the pilots with violating airspace and sentence them to spend the rest of their lives in a Moscow prison!

“Even the President called from the White House to inquire about our salvage progress,” Lieutenant General Paul said. “If the situation remains the same tomorrow, we’ll have to send more warships.”

In the Cold War, both the Soviet Union and the United States were very careful to avoid escalating the situation and direct confrontation that could lead to a world war. This was not beneficial to either side. The leaders of both sides were rational and knew that if the two major blocs went to war again, it would mean the end of the world.

“Locke, what do you think? This idea was yours,” Lasfield asked Locke, his tone accusatory.

It was your lousy idea that caused the Soviets to interfere as soon as we started the salvage!

Locke ignored Lasfield and said quietly, “I’ve been thinking, what are the Soviets here for? They sent those two outdated warships, not to fight, but to stir up trouble. We don’t know the location of the crashed aircraft, and the Soviets don’t either. They don’t have survey ships, so they can’t find the aircraft. Yet, they brought a salvage ship and said they would salvage it.”

“That’s right, they’re definitely here to stir up trouble. They’ve been disrupting our survey work all afternoon,” Admiral Williams said.

“Then, what do you think they’ll do if they find us conducting the salvage?” Locke asked.

“They’ll definitely come to cause trouble, making it impossible for us to salvage. They might ram us, use high-pressure water cannons, or even fire their guns…” Admiral Williams said. As a seasoned naval officer, he was very familiar with such tactics.

“No, I think the Soviets sent those two outdated warships for a purpose,” Locke said. “The Riga-class frigates are equipped with anti-submarine rockets, which are excellent equipment for dealing with underwater targets!”

Looking at the surprised faces of the officials, Locke continued, “I think tomorrow we should turn the tables on them!”

Chapter 50: Firing Rocket-Powered Depth Charges

The eastern sky first turned white, then red, as a crimson sun slowly rose over the distant sea, heralding the arrival of a new day.

The azure sky was dotted with fluffy white clouds—it was a fine day!

The naval standoff on the sea continued. After the active sonar harassment last night, most of the crew had rested, and today, the sailors were full of energy.

Captain Illyich gazed at the American destroyer, the 866, not far off. The enemy was still tailing them closely. It seemed another passionate day lay ahead.

After finishing a tin of fish, Captain Illyich, standing on the bridge, issued his first command: “Increase speed, hard to starboard. Let’s greet our American friends with some black smoke.”

The easterly wind blew as the Tashkent accelerated. The thick black smoke billowing from its stacks drifted directly onto the American ship behind them, ensuring the enemy started their morning in a refreshing haze.

Following Captain Illyich’s order, the heavy oil boilers at the stern roared to life. As more fuel was injected, the incomplete combustion spewed dense black smoke through the stacks, spreading and growing in volume behind the ship.

“Damn Soviets!” Captain Fektler, who had just finished washing his face, felt his throat tighten. For a moment, he considered activating the ship’s NBC protection system.

Watching the arrogant Soviet vessel ahead, Captain Fektler sneered inwardly. Soviets, your true colors will show soon enough!

The survey ships continued their measurements, cruising southward at fifteen knots.

Suddenly, one of the survey ships came to a halt, as if it had detected something.

“Their sonar intensity has increased,” reported the sonar operator on the Tashkent, picking up signals from the American survey ship.

The second survey ship also stopped, conducting measurements before shifting to a new position. Captain Illyich, standing on the bridge, realized what was happening—they were performing triangulation!

“Attention! Load the RBU-1200, prepare to fire!” Captain Illyich ordered. “Set depth to eight hundred meters.”

The seabed here was eight hundred and fifty meters deep. Detonating at eight hundred meters would yield the best results. Once the two RBU-1200 launchers at the bow fired, they would cover a significant area, surely destroying any underwater aircraft!

The crew moved swiftly, loading the RGB-12 depth charges into the five-tube launchers at the front.

The Soviet Union had a long history of using rocket artillery. The Katyusha rockets of World War II had struck fear into the Nazis. The anti-submarine depth charges equipped on Soviet vessels traced their origins back to that era. To combat the Nazis, the U.S. had leased some anti-submarine ships to the Soviet Navy, equipped with “Mousetrap” anti-submarine rocket launchers.

This was a simple four-tube launcher made of parallel rails, fixed at a 48-degree angle when in use and foldable when not. The anti-submarine rockets, propelled by rocket boosters, simplified the launch mechanism. Even if they didn’t directly hit a submarine, the violent explosion would create powerful water surges and deafening noise, damaging the enemy vessel and shocking its crew. The Soviet Navy greatly appreciated this system.

After the war, the Soviet Navy improved upon the “Mousetrap” design, developing a series of anti-submarine depth charges. The RBU system, an acronym for the Russian term for anti-submarine rocket depth charge launchers, used numbers to denote range in meters. For example, the RBU-1200 had a range of 1,200 meters, though it could reach up to 1,450 meters depending on usage.

The RBU system was primarily used for aiming and launching RGB anti-submarine rockets, providing initial trajectory and direction.

The RGB was an unguided, medium-to-short-range anti-submarine rocket. It rarely hit targets directly but relied on high-explosive warheads detonating at preset depths to generate shockwaves that damaged submarines. Rapid, continuous firing could create a “carpet” saturation attack.

Later, the U.S. abandoned such rocket-based systems in favor of advanced torpedoes, while the Soviet Union and China continued developing them, using them not only for anti-submarine warfare but also for anti-torpedo defense.

Glancing at the accompanying American destroyer, Captain Illyich smirked. Americans, watch this!

“Take aim—fire!” Captain Illyich commanded.

Following his order, the five-tube RBU-1200 launcher, powered by the electrical system, angled upward. The five tubes were arranged in two layers—three on top, one on each side below—weighing 430 kilograms. Once aligned, the operator pressed the button.

Whoosh! Whoosh! With the sound of rocket ignition, black smoke billowed from the launchers as the RGB-12 rockets, trailing flames, soared into the sky.

Originally, these rockets were designed to detonate at three hundred meters, as conventional submarines rarely exceeded that depth. But for this mission, they had been modified to reach depths beyond one thousand meters. The crew had set the detonation depth to eight hundred meters during loading.

To prevent the Americans from misinterpreting the depth charge launch, the Tashkent-class frigate stood ready. Its guns were poised to swing toward the American ship. If they dared to attack, it would be the start of battle!

The two RBU-1200 systems fired ten anti-submarine depth charges, shrouding the entire Tashkent in smoke. The flaming rockets streaked forward, a spectacular sight in the sky.

After flying for dozens of seconds, the rockets plunged into the water at the designated range of 1,100 meters. By then, the American survey ships had withdrawn, and the salvage vessel had not yet arrived—it was the perfect window.

The Americans wanted to salvage our new Soviet fighter? Impossible! You miscalculated! Captain Illyich glanced at the stunned American ship beside them, his heart swelling with pride. Another blow to American imperialist ambitions!

Chapter 51: Salvage

Underwater, the RGB-12 anti-submarine rocket descended at its maximum speed of 6.85 meters per second, plunging deeper and deeper until it reached a depth of eight hundred meters. At this depth, the KDV timer detonated the warhead.

Boom! The 32-kilogram explosive charge detonated violently, churning the seawater and sending a massive shockwave toward the seabed. The area was instantly flattened, as if struck by an earthquake. If the explosion had been shallower, waves would have surged on the surface.

The sonar operator listened to the echoes, confirming that all the depth charges had detonated. It was like a Katyusha rocket barrage—a weapon of area destruction. The entire section of the seabed had been obliterated.

The Americans watched from the side, not resorting to extreme measures—no cannon fire, no torpedoes launched at the Tashkent.

“Reload and fire again!” Captain Illyich commanded loudly.

Originally, the planned tactic was to fire this round of rockets, and if the Americans retaliated, the Soviet vessel would retreat. But now, the Americans seemed stunned by the spectacle, failing to react. Seizing the opportunity, Illyich decided to launch another round.

The RBU-1200 system was compact and widely used on Soviet light warships, typically carrying four sets of ammunition.

By the time the second round was loaded, the American warship finally reacted. The enraged USS Cohen accelerated at full speed, charging toward the Tashkent.

“Fire!” Illyich continued issuing commands. As the rockets launched, he ordered a hard starboard turn.

Mission accomplished—no need to engage these foolish Americans any longer. It was time to return to port!

The furious American warship USS Perry abandoned its confrontation with another Soviet vessel and rushed to block the Tashkent.

The Soviets weren’t here to salvage the MiG-25—they were here to destroy it!

Realizing this, the Americans grew even more resentful toward the Soviet vessel that had caused the underwater explosions, determined to stop it at all costs.

“Quick, call for air support!” Illyich shouted. It was as if they had poked a hornet’s nest. The Americans, unwilling to accept defeat, might send attack aircraft against their vessel, which had virtually no modern air defense capabilities.

Air support! Four MiG-25s from the 513th Regiment, patrolling the western waters of the Sea of Japan, activated their afterburners and sped toward the area. They were here to protect their navy’s heroic vessel!

“027, 028, prepare to descend to low altitude at eleven o’clock. 034, maintain high-altitude patrol with me,” Andrei ordered over the radio.

Recently promoted to Deputy Regiment Commander of the 513th, Andrei remained humble, seeing himself first and foremost as a pilot—a warrior guarding Soviet skies in his steel war machine.

Today was his turn to lead three aircraft on a patrol mission. After receiving the distress signal, they immediately headed for the designated sea area.

Thanks to the newly developed Sapphire-25 radar, this pulse-Doppler system had some look-down/shoot-down capability. On such a calm sea, it could even detect surface vessels.

During the flight, a single scan gave Andrei the approximate location of the target. He directed two MiG-25s to descend to low altitude, preparing to escort their vessel, while he and 034 maintained high-altitude patrol to confront any incoming U.S. Forces in Japan aircraft.

The helmet was uncomfortable, so Andrei lowered his head to check the radar screen again—his eyelid twitched.

Thirty nautical miles north of the conflict zone, several ships were clustered together! They weren’t fishing boats. And this was the same area where Byelinko’s aircraft had crashed. When Andrei first detected their navy’s return route, he found it odd. The area was over twenty nautical miles from Byelinko’s crash site. Had the MiG-25 slid that far underwater? Or was something else going on? Byelinko’s aircraft had been heading east—even if it slid underwater, it should have gone east, not south.

Moreover, their mission was complete, and they were returning, yet the U.S. Air Force remained inactive. The naval confrontation seemed more like a diversion. Andrei’s suspicions grew.

“034, keep a close watch on the skies over the Japanese mainland,” Andrei radioed. “I’m going down to investigate.”

With that, he pushed the control stick, and the MiG-25 began its descent toward the newly discovered area.

The vast blue sea was calm—perfect weather for salvage operations!

On the surface, two salvage ships flying the Rising Sun flag were hard at work. They had started at dawn.

The standoff in the southern waters was just a diversion to mislead the Soviets. Sure enough, the Soviets took the bait and left the area!

There was something beneath these waters. A survey ship had discovered it late last night but kept it quiet, marking the location on the nautical chart before continuing. Today, with the Soviets tricked into leaving, the two salvage ships had arrived undetected.

First, deep-sea divers in rubber suits descended, successfully locating the aircraft and securing the cables. Then, the two salvage ships worked together to hoist the MiG-25 from the depths.

Salvage was a technical process. For large sunken ships, buoyancy was added to make them float. But for a twenty-ton aircraft, simple hoisting sufficed.

As the two cranes slowly lifted, the MiG-25 emerged from the water bit by bit. Once free from the seabed, the rest was easy.

On one of the salvage ships, Locke stood quietly on the deck, watching the steel cables rise. His meticulously planned operation was nearing its end!

Those high-ranking officers in the U.S. Forces in Japan were idiots—how had they climbed so high? Locke couldn’t help but think.

“It’s coming up! It’s coming up!” A staff officer from the Air Command, who had accompanied him, exclaimed excitedly.

Splash! Like a beauty rising from her bath, the aircraft was hoisted from the water—still intact! Apart from the missing canopy and ejection seat, the rest was perfect.

Seawater poured from the fuselage, rushing back into the ocean. The twin-engine, twin-tail, massive rectangular air intake of the Soviet Union’s most advanced MiG-25 was finally about to be deciphered by American technicians!

Chapter 52: Destroying the Fighter Jet! (Part One)

“Mind the lateral distance, Kawasaki, slow down.” The two salvage ships were now working in tense coordination.

Just moments ago, during the lifting operation, the two salvage ships had worked together to hoist the MiG-25 fighter jet from the water. Now, they needed to carefully maneuver the aircraft onto the rear deck of one of the ships. This required one ship to reduce speed so the MiG-25 could be aligned with the aft deck.

The crane arm was turning, swaying in the sea breeze. This close-quarters coordination was an extremely dangerous operation—one wrong move, and the two ships would collide.

Locke wasn’t particularly worried. His mission was already complete. If these men couldn’t even handle the final cleanup, they were simply incompetent.

Suddenly, a deafening roar echoed from the distance. Locke looked up and saw a massive fighter jet streaking across the horizon. The distinctive large air intakes and twin vertical stabilizers made him freeze—damn it, a Soviet MiG-25!

“Watch out! The Soviets are here!” Locke shouted.

To avoid detection, this salvage operation had been conducted in secret, without any military escort—just these two salvage ships. They had thought the Soviet warships had been lured away, so how had a Soviet plane suddenly appeared?

“Be careful!” The approaching fighter sent the two salvage ships into a panic. One of them lurched, its bow swinging toward the stern of the other.

If they collided, the damage to the ships would be the least of their worries—the MiG-25, still suspended in mid-air, would be smashed to pieces against one of the vessels!

In the critical moment, the two captains worked in perfect unison, as if reading each other’s minds. The ships separated again, and the MiG-25 swayed before stabilizing once more.

The Soviet MiG-25 roared past at mast height, its wake nearly knocking Locke off the deck and into the sea.

“Sokolovka, Sokolovka, this is 032 reporting—situation update! I’ve visually confirmed the Americans’ salvage operation. Byelinko’s fighter has been recovered by the Americans!” As he banked sharply after his low-altitude pass, Andrei radioed back to base.

What now? Andrei’s mind raced. Their two escort vessels had already been driven away by the U.S. Navy, at least fifty nautical miles from this area. Even if they returned, it would take at least two hours—and the Americans clearly wouldn’t give them that chance. The moment they spotted him, U.S. fighters would scramble to intercept.

They were only a hundred nautical miles from Hokkaido. American fighters could be here in ten minutes. He had to resolve this within ten minutes!

“032, 032, destroy Byelinko’s fighter!” The order crackled through his headset from Sokolovka.

“Understood!” With the command received, Andrei’s fighting spirit surged.

Climbing to a few hundred meters, Andrei maneuvered the controls. The MiG-25 transformed once more into a reaper, descending from the heavens.

Destroying Byelinko’s fighter would have been child’s play if it were still airborne. Andrei could have fired an R-40 missile and turned it to scrap in an instant.

But now, the aircraft wasn’t flying. Its engines were cold, and in its current salvage state—suspended between the two ships—it was nearly impossible to lock onto!

Andrei’s fighter carried four pylons, loaded with two R-40 missiles and four R-60 missiles. Due to their compact size, the R-60s were mounted on dual racks, allowing two per pylon—a common configuration on other fighters.

After a moment’s thought, Andrei decided to use visual targeting, treating the four R-60 missiles like unguided rockets!

Pure inertia flight made hitting the target difficult, but if he let the R-60’s seeker guide the missile, it would ignore the unpowered aircraft and instead lock onto the salvage ships’ smokestacks—the most prominent infrared signatures.

Using missiles as rockets was a tactic American pilots had resorted to during the Vietnam War when faced with the low hit rate of Sparrow missiles.

Now, Andrei had no choice but to do the same.

The MiG-25 lacked a rocket launch mode, but in his past life, Andrei had flown multiple missions in Su-27s, firing rockets during exercises when they couldn’t afford to waste missiles. Rockets were cheap, visually impressive, and perfect for show.

As the MiG-25 banked and turned back toward the ships, the crews on both vessels screamed in terror. They watched as flames flickered beneath the enemy’s wings, followed by missiles streaking toward them, trailing fire. They were certain the plane was coming to destroy them.

“Kawasaki, release the ropes!” Locke bellowed. He had already realized the missiles weren’t aimed at their ships—they were targeting the suspended fighter.

Locke knew the MiG-25 was designed for air combat—it carried no anti-ship missiles.

In their panic, if the two ships collided, the MiG-25 would be crushed. They had to separate! The rear ship had to let go of the ropes!

Locke’s voice boomed across the deck, calm and commanding. The Kawasaki responded swiftly, severing the steel cables—but it was too late.

The four missiles streaked in, trailing fire. Three of them whizzed past overhead, but the fourth barely grazed the MiG-25. Its proximity fuse detonated, sending a storm of fragmentation toward the freshly salvaged fighter.

Then, the cables snapped. The MiG-25, now missing one of its suspension lines, swung violently, pendulum-like, swaying back and forth several times.

Yet it remained intact!

“Hurry, full speed ahead! Retreat!” Locke watched the swaying fighter. There was no other choice—run! They didn’t have time to secure the aircraft on the rear deck. They had to flee, dragging it behind them on the remaining cables.

If they could hold out for three more minutes, their own fighters would arrive to provide cover. Then, they’d be safe!

Chapter 53: Destroying the Fighter Jet! (Part 2)

As expected, the attack was ineffective. The four R-60 missiles, equipped with proximity fuses, were launched by Andrei like rockets, but only one managed to get close enough to detonate. The other three missed entirely. Moreover, the warhead of that single R-60 had limited power, and the MiG-25 remained suspended from the salvage ship, now being towed back at high speed.

The scene was like a firecracker going off—no substantial damage was done.

Though the other three MiG-25s were rushing toward Andrei after receiving the message, the Americans weren’t far behind. Andrei didn’t have much time left.

At this point, he couldn’t afford to worry about collateral damage! Andrei adjusted the weapon control knob to the two R-40 missiles.

Due to the Soviet Union’s lag in electronic technology, the performance of their semi-active radar-guided air-to-air missiles was poor. So, every time he took off, Andrei carried the infrared-guided R-40T. These half-ton missiles had an effective range of no more than forty kilometers, whereas the American Phoenix missile of the same era, also weighing half a ton, had a range of over one hundred kilometers. That was the gap.

But now, that gap didn’t matter. The salvage ship below, accelerating to escape, was less than three kilometers away from Andrei. Its engines roared at full throttle, belching thick black smoke. The massive smokestack was an excellent infrared radiation source.

The crane’s boom was behind the smokestack, and the swaying MiG-25 followed just behind it. Though it rocked side to side, the margin of error wasn’t too large.

As long as the enemy didn’t change course, Andrei’s plane could follow in a straight line behind it. Aiming for the smokestack, the missile should theoretically hit the MiG-25 behind it first!

He couldn’t hesitate any longer. Once he made up his mind, Andrei’s resolve was unshakable. If these two missiles missed, he would have to ram the enemy. His own fighter still had eight tons of fuel—if he crashed into it, both planes would be reduced to ashes.

With that thought, Andrei pressed the rudder and pushed the control stick to the right. The MiG-25 carved an arc through the sky, returning to the rear of the fleeing salvage ship.

You forced my hand, you damn flag! Andrei knew that firing a half-ton air-to-air missile would damage the salvage ship as well. But that was a diplomatic issue—someone else could clean up the mess. His only goal was to destroy that MiG-25!

Carefully tailing the ship, Andrei used the TP-26-SH1 forward-looking infrared search and track system (IRST) to visually track and lock onto the target, transmitting the target’s position to the R-40 missile’s seeker. Once the missile locked on, he pressed the launch button.

A thick plume of smoke erupted from the missile’s tail as it detached from the rack, hurtling toward the target on the sea.

Three seconds later, Andrei launched the second R-40 missile.

At a distance of only two kilometers, the missile’s rocket engine hadn’t even burned out yet. The remaining fuel, combined with the warhead’s explosives, had to destroy that MiG-25!

“Hard left rudder, now!” Locke, still on the deck, watched the MiG-25 in the sky. Clearly, the enemy wasn’t giving up.

Sure enough, after seeing the second missile launch, Locke shouted, ordering the salvage ship to turn in hopes of evading the attack.

Last time, the missiles were fired without guidance, but this time, they were infrared-guided! This salvage ship couldn’t possibly perform a high-G maneuver. Before it could even complete the turn, a deafening explosion erupted behind it.

The first R-40 missile struck the smokestack dead-on!

The remaining fuel and fifty-five kilograms of explosives ignited in an instant, blasting the smokestack to pieces.

But after the shockwave passed, the MiG-25 dangling behind it was still swaying!

The sudden hard left turn had swung the suspended MiG-25 out of the way, so the second missile, which had just missed the swaying jet, struck the smokestack instead, leaving the MiG-25 unharmed.

Andrei watched the missile’s trajectory intently, growing anxious. Just then, the second R-40 missile closed in!

At that moment, the MiG-25 swung back into alignment with the smokestack. The massive R-40 missile sensed something ahead, and its fuse detonated instantly.

BOOM! Another violent explosion rocked the air. The MiG-25 was struck midsection, nearly splitting in half. Unfortunately, its stainless-steel frame was too sturdy—though severed, it remained connected by a thread. And since its skin was also stainless steel, it didn’t catch fire easily.

The second missile had hit the fighter, but it wasn’t completely destroyed!

Andrei’s heart sank. He stared at the burning smokestack and the nearly severed MiG-25. He needed to attack again!

If he sacrificed himself this time, would he be able to return? Andrei didn’t have much attachment to this world—he still wanted to go back to his original one. But then he thought of Yekaterina, with whom he had just fallen deeply in love. If he died here, she would be heartbroken.

No time to overthink it. Since this body belonged to a Soviet, he had to fight for the Soviet Union’s national interests! With that resolve, Andrei made up his mind.

He executed another tight turn, and in his sights, only the swaying MiG-25 remained!

The distance closed rapidly. A voice came through his headset: “Commander Andrei, what are you doing?”

034 had flown over and, seeing Andrei’s maneuver, immediately shouted over the radio.

“No, Commander, you can’t do this!” Watching the MiG-25 align with the salvage ship, the pilot of 034 grew even more frantic.

BOOM! At that moment, his vision was filled with a massive fireball. Below the burning smokestack, a violent explosion erupted, and in that blast, the swaying MiG-25 was instantly torn to shreds!

“No!” The pilot of 034 couldn’t believe his eyes. The fireball engulfed everything! Commander Andrei must have sacrificed himself!

Chapter 54: Soviet Hero

Suddenly, a fighter jet emerged from the fireball, soaring high into the sky!

“Regiment Commander, you’re still alive!” the pilot of 034 shouted.

“Of course I am,” Andrei replied over the radio. “All units of the 513th Regiment, return to base immediately! Two point six Mach, altitude twenty-four thousand meters!”

The MiG-25, with its afterburner engaged, climbed swiftly and joined the other aircraft. The four-plane formation returned to base at high altitude, leaving the F-4 formation that had arrived almost simultaneously to choke on dust. Only the burning salvage ship remained on the sea.

Breathing the oxygen from his helmet in the high altitude, Andrei was still celebrating his narrow escape. Just when he thought he would have to sacrifice himself to protect the secrets of the MiG-25, the salvage ship gave him a surprise. The flames from the burning funnel spread downward, igniting the ship’s engine!

The diesel-powered salvage ship, carrying dozens of tons of fuel, exploded in the flames. The rear deck was instantly blown apart, and the engine parts and scorching diesel flames engulfed the suspended MiG-25, completely destroying it.

Mission accomplished!

Andrei pulled back hard on the control stick, almost forgetting the problem of excessive torque at low altitude. If he didn’t pull up quickly, the flying debris would destroy him.

Thus, Andrei accelerated and climbed, avoiding the debris. The mission was completed perfectly!

Takayakrasva! (Russian for “Well done!”)

At this moment, the Americans were furious as they tried to put out the fire. The subsequent explosion nearly split the salvage ship in two. Fortunately, the aft compartment began to take on water, extinguishing the flames. After two days of rescue at sea, the ship was towed back to the port for repairs.

The Americans not only failed to salvage the MiG-25 but also suffered losses.

“Lieutenant Colonel Andrei, you’re back?” Kozhdoob, standing in the control tower, watched as Andrei’s aircraft slid into the hangar. Soon, he heard Andrei’s footsteps and ran to the door to welcome him.

This unusual behavior made Andrei feel uncomfortable. Looking at Kozhdoob’s smiling face, Andrei said, “The mission is completed, but we’ve stirred up trouble again. I hit a salvage ship flying a white flag with a red cross. I estimate the enemy is seriously injured, and I’m afraid there will be another conflict.”

“What’s there to be afraid of? We didn’t do it on purpose,” Kozhdoob said. “The Americans wanted to salvage our Soviet property, and this is their fate! Lieutenant Colonel Andrei, you are the most capable officer in our Far Eastern Military District. You even managed to hit their ship with an air-to-air missile.”

“Commander, you’re not going to criticize me?” Andrei asked, even more puzzled.

“Why would I criticize you? You are now the Deputy Regiment Commander, the backbone of the 513th Regiment,” Kozhdoob said. “Andrei, you are a hero of our Far Eastern Military District, raised right here at the Sokolovka base. You must always stand by our base.”

“Regiment Commander, what’s going on?” Andrei turned to Ivanov, who was standing nearby, and asked him.

“Andrei, there’s an order from Moscow. You are to go to Moscow,” Ivanov said.

Moscow? Andrei was taken aback. “My leave hasn’t started yet. Is this an order from higher up?”

“It’s not for a family visit. You’re going to Moscow to receive a medal. Andrei, you are about to be awarded the title of Soviet Hero!” Ivanov said, his voice filled with excitement and pride.

Soviet Hero! Even though it was only Andrei who received it, it was enough to make the entire 513th Regiment proud!

This award was established in 1934 when the Central Executive Committee of the Soviet Union decided to honor individuals and groups who had performed heroic deeds for the country by bestowing the title of “Soviet Hero.” The title of “Soviet Hero” was a great honor for Soviet individuals and groups and was the highest honor in the Soviet Union’s system of awards and commendations.

Later, in 1936, the Central Executive Committee of the Soviet Union passed the “Regulations on the Title of Soviet Hero.” In 1939, the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet of the Soviet Union decided to establish the “Gold Star Medal,” which was awarded to those who had performed heroic deeds for the country as “Soviet Heroes.” In 1973, the revised “Regulations on the Title of Soviet Hero” stipulated that those awarded the title of “Soviet Hero” would receive the highest Soviet award: the Order of Lenin, the special merit medal “Gold Star Medal,” and a certificate from the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet of the Soviet Union.

In other words, those who were now awarded the title of Soviet Hero would receive three things: the Order of Lenin, the Gold Star Medal, and a certificate from the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet of the Soviet Union.

Among these, the Gold Star Medal was made of gold with a purity of over 90%. The five-pointed star had a diameter of 30 millimeters and weighed 21.5 grams. The back was engraved with the words “Soviet Hero.” The star was set on a silver mount with a purity of over 90%, weighing 12.186 grams. The mount was rectangular, with a red silk cloth in the middle, symbolizing the red flag. Each “Gold Star Medal” had a number that matched the number on the certificate issued by the Central Executive Committee of the Soviet Union or the Supreme Soviet.

The title of Soviet Hero was mainly awarded during the Great Patriotic War and was the highest national honor. Later, during the ongoing Afghan War, more than sixty were awarded.

At the same time, a person could receive the title of Soviet Hero multiple times for outstanding achievements. Historically, two people in the Soviet Union received the title of Soviet Hero four times: Zhukov and Brezhnev. The latter was a man who loved vanity throughout his life. These medals were all self-awarded. After receiving four “Gold Star Medals,” he still wasn’t satisfied with his “hero addiction” and repeatedly hinted to his subordinates that he wanted to receive a fifth “Gold Star Medal,” aiming to become the “supreme” hero.

Perhaps due to the nature of the military, the title of Soviet Hero was most often awarded to pilots, including the first seven Soviet pilots led by Vodopyanov.

Now, during the Cold War, it was quite difficult to obtain the title of Soviet Hero. It could be said that fewer than five were awarded in a year. Andrei’s achievement of the title of Soviet Hero was indeed a supreme honor!

But thinking carefully, with Andrei’s performance over the past few months, the title of Soviet Hero was well-deserved.

Chapter 55: Return to Moscow

The last recipient of the Soviet Hero title in the Air Defense Forces was Yeliseyev. In 1973, during an interception of an intruding American RF-4C reconnaissance aircraft, he fired his missiles and then deliberately rammed the enemy plane with his own MiG-21 fighter jet, perishing together with the American aircraft that had violated Soviet airspace.

Afterward, the Soviet government posthumously awarded Yeliseyev the title of “Soviet Hero.” In his unit, the 982nd Fighter Regiment, his name was called first during every roll call.

Now, Andrei’s recent actions were practically the embodiment of the indomitable spirit expected of a Soviet Hero.

First, during the interception of an American electronic reconnaissance aircraft, he had employed a ramming tactic, forcing the enemy plane to make an emergency landing at a Soviet airfield. This alone would have been enough to earn him the Soviet Hero title. At that time, what the Soviet Union lacked most was advanced electronic technology. Such a rare opportunity to examine Western electronic systems up close was invaluable. That was why, even after so long, the Soviet Union still refused to return the American EP-3, sparking a series of subsequent disputes.

Then, Andrei had uncovered Byelinko’s defection from the 513th Regiment. Just as Byelinko was on the verge of success, Andrei shot him down, preventing the leakage of secrets about the Soviet Union’s most advanced double three fighter jet. This was his second major contribution.

And now, when the Americans, unwilling to give up, attempted to salvage the MiG-25 from the ocean floor, Andrei had meticulously planned the operation. He suggested that the Far Eastern Military District use anti-submarine depth charges from escort ships to resolve the issue. When a final oversight occurred, he fearlessly flew in close and completely destroyed the MiG-25, ensuring the Americans could not obtain its secrets. These three major achievements, taken together, made the Soviet Hero title a well-deserved honor.

Without Andrei, the Soviet Union would have remained stagnant in the era of vacuum tubes. But now, not only did they have an advanced model to replicate, but more importantly, the MiG-25’s secrets had not been compromised!

Historically, Byelinko’s defection had caused immense damage to the Soviet Union. They were forced to replace the IFF systems on all their aircraft. Many officials and ordinary people in the Air Defense Forces were unjustly implicated, dismissed, or even investigated. Meanwhile, after obtaining the MiG-25, the Americans dismantled it and discovered that this aircraft, which had caused them such shock and pressure, was actually a pile of stainless steel welds—a revelation that significantly reduced their fear.

It could be said that each of Andrei’s achievements was altering the course of Soviet history! The MiG-25 was the Damocles sword hanging over the Americans’ heads!

As these deeds were reported up the chain of command, Andrei was finally recognized by the Soviet government as a Soviet Hero. He would temporarily leave the 513th Regiment and Sokolovka Base to travel to Moscow to receive this honor.

At that moment, Andrei’s heart was filled with excitement. After leaving the control tower, the first thing he did was call the Third Hospital in Vladivostok to share the news with Yekaterina.

“Darling, I’m about to be awarded the title of Soviet Hero. I’ll be going to Moscow to receive it,” Andrei said, unable to hide his excitement.

“Really? That’s wonderful!” came the joyful reply. “Andrei, I happen to be going back to Moscow to visit family. We can go together!”

The good news kept coming. Just as Andrei, newly in love, had been worrying about being separated from Yekaterina for a long time in Moscow, she now told him she would be going with him. The journey would no longer be lonely.

In this era, flying on a commercial airliner was still a luxury. Unable to secure plane tickets, the two chose the most ordinary mode of transportation—the train—to Moscow.

The train from Vladivostok to Moscow took two days and one night.

The green carriages, the black smoke billowing from the locomotive, the clattering of the rails—it all gave Andrei a strange sense of déjà vu, as if he had returned to 1980s China.

Sitting in the lower berth of the sleeper car, gazing at the lush birch trees outside, Andrei was once again struck by the vastness of his country, feeling a surge of pride.

In terms of land area, the Soviet Union was the largest in the world, with much of it being endless, uninhabited wilderness. Here, green mountains surrounded them, clear streams flowed, trees were dense, and birds sang among the flowers.

“Andrei, I’m sorry we couldn’t get plane tickets. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have to take such a long train ride,” said a gentle voice behind him. Yekaterina sat beside him, wrapping her arms around him and resting her head on his chest, utterly content.

“Yekaterina, this is fine. We can enjoy the scenery of our homeland along the way. No matter where we go, as long as we’re together, I’m happy,” Andrei replied.

Hearing his words, Yekaterina’s affection deepened. She gazed at his profile, inhaling the masculine scent emanating from him. She had not been wrong about this man. Now, he was a Soviet Hero! Being the wife of a hero was the happiest fate for any Soviet woman!

“Look, an intercontinental missile!” Andrei suddenly exclaimed.

Two trains passed each other at high relative speed, the roar of the engines filling the air. Andrei watched as the other train, with only eight carriages, passed by. The middle carriages were longer than usual and had no windows—clearly a Soviet rail-mobile ballistic missile train.

Speaking of missile trains, in later years, the SS-24 solid-fueled ballistic missile train would become infamous as the Americans’ nightmare. But that was a story for the 1980s. For now, the Soviet Union’s rail-mobile ballistic missile trains were still shrouded in secrecy, carrying liquid-fueled P-9 missiles.

As soon as he said this, Andrei realized his mistake. In this era, the Strategic Rocket Forces were a closely guarded secret. If the KGB found out he could recognize a ballistic missile train at a glance, he would be in serious trouble.

“Young man, where’s the intercontinental missile?” a middle-aged man across from them asked, clearly intrigued.

Gromov, an engineer from the Dasvata Shipyard, was on his way to Moscow to verify ship data. He was a bespectacled man in his forties with a sharp gaze, whom they had met when boarding the train.

Chapter 56: Assassination Attempt

Andrei slapped his forehead. “I saw wrong. There was a flash outside, and I thought it was a ballistic missile launch.”

“Are you a soldier?” Gromov asked.

Andrei nodded. The military bearing was too strong to deny, and besides, Soviet soldiers were highly respected in the country.

“From the Rocket Forces?” Gromov continued.

“No, I’m a pilot,” Andrei said.

“A pilot, impressive. Flying fighter jets, guarding our homeland’s skies,” Gromov said. “If it weren’t for my poor eyesight, I would have applied to flight school too.”

“You work at the shipyard, also contributing to our nation’s construction. As the great Comrade Lenin said, revolutionary work knows no hierarchy,” Yekaterina chimed in from the side.

“Indeed. You two, are you returning to Moscow to visit family?”

You two? At these words, Andrei’s face flushed. “No, we’re not married yet. This trip to Moscow is…”

“Yes, we’re just visiting family,” Yekaterina said, wrapping her arms around Andrei. “Andrei, when you’re done with your work, will you come meet my elders with me?”

So soon, meeting the family? Andrei was taken aback. He wasn’t ready for that yet. And what about Yekaterina’s parents? What did they do? He hadn’t even heard her mention them before.

Andrei missed the fact that Yekaterina had said “elders,” not “parents.”

Just then, Gromov’s eyes sharpened. Andrei followed his gaze and saw a tall, shapely girl carrying a large aluminum lunchbox, clearly having just come from the dining car.

Something was off. He couldn’t put his finger on it.

Creak, creak. The train car emitted metallic scraping sounds as it swayed from side to side, slowing down—clearly about to enter a tunnel.

They had already entered the Stanovoy Mountains, where the train would pass through many tunnels.

“Andrei, what are you looking at?” Yekaterina also sensed something was wrong. Following Andrei’s gaze, she too saw the girl. Instantly, a wave of jealousy surged through her.

A small hand reached for Andrei’s sensitive abdomen, ready to pinch hard.

You can only look at me. You can’t have feelings for other girls!

When the girl heard Andrei’s name, her eyelids twitched, and her eyes seemed filled with killing intent.

In that instant, the car darkened completely as they entered the tunnel. The sudden shift from light to dark required a moment for eyes to adjust.

“Watch out!” In that split second, Andrei realized what had been bothering him. Damn it! This was the last car, and that girl wasn’t supposed to be here. Yet she was walking toward the back with a lunchbox, as if trying to hide something—it was too obvious!

In that moment, Andrei thought of Annie, the CIA-trained operative. Though their faces were different, their figures were eerily similar, as if carved from the same mold.

Realizing this, Andrei knew he was in danger!

There was no time to explain to Yekaterina. Just as they entered the tunnel, darkness enveloped them. The dim overhead lights weren’t enough to illuminate everything. Andrei pulled Yekaterina down to the floor with him.

A sharp pain shot through his abdomen. Had he been shot?

Swish, swish, swish. Soft sounds rang out, followed by a clang as sparks flew—bullets striking thick steel plates!

A silenced pistol!

Andrei knew his hunch was right. This girl was here to kill him, and the gun was hidden in the lunchbox! Now that they were on the floor, there was no escape. The assassin would keep firing, riddling them with holes.

With no other option, Andrei pressed his body over Yekaterina’s, hoping the bullets wouldn’t penetrate him.

If only I had brought my issued Makarov pistol, he thought. Then I wouldn’t be so helpless now.

Bang, bang. Just then, two gunshots rang out from the opposite bunk. The frail-looking engineer leaped nimbly from his bunk, firing at the girl.

How did the engineer have a gun? And why was he trained to use it? Everything happened in an instant—Andrei shielding Yekaterina, the assassin firing, Gromov counterattacking—all at once. Then came footsteps and the terrified screams of other passengers.

The train emerged from the tunnel, and light flooded back in. Andrei looked down at Yekaterina beneath him, her eyes fixed on him.

“Thank you, Andrei,” Yekaterina said, realizing she had misjudged him earlier. If not for his quick reflexes, they would both be dead now.

And he had even shielded her with his own body, doing everything he could to protect her. This was a man she could trust with her life!

“What’s wrong?” Seeing Andrei’s pained expression, Yekaterina asked with concern.

“I think I was shot in the abdomen. It hurts,” Andrei said.

“Let me see.” Yekaterina sat up forcefully, helping Andrei lean against the bunk. If he had been shot, the first priority was to stop the bleeding—many died from blood loss.

She looked down but saw no blood. Andrei didn’t seem to be faking it. Then she understood—she had pinched him too hard earlier, making him feel as if he had been shot.

“It’s nothing,” Yekaterina said. By now, the other passengers had fled the car. Gromov returned.

“Did you catch her?” Yekaterina asked.

“The bathroom window was already broken. She jumped out and escaped,” Gromov said. “The train will stop at the next small station. I’ve notified the local garrison to search for her. She won’t get far.”

“Are you a KGB agent?” Andrei looked at Gromov. “Were you sent to protect me? So even Soviet Heroes get this kind of treatment? Thank you.”

Without this agent, Andrei would surely be dead today. Though he had been furious with that KGB officer named Sherlov before, he couldn’t let that color his view of all KGB agents.

The man didn’t answer, only smiling.

Chapter 57: Arrival in Moscow

It wasn’t until later, when Andrei learned of Yekaterina’s true identity, that he understood the real reason behind the agent’s presence. The agent wasn’t there to protect him at all—she was there to protect Yekaterina! Of course, upon discovering this, Andrei chose to ignore it. After all, he was a celebrated hero of the Soviet Union.

Andrei was a pilot, a hero who commanded fighter jets with unmatched skill, but he wasn’t a master of all combat arts. He wasn’t a secret agent or a soldier of legendary prowess. During the recent attack, he had done his absolute best. If he had been able to swiftly draw a fruit knife and hurl it with deadly accuracy to take down the female assassin, that would have been the stuff of fiction.

After the attack, Andrei and Yekaterina decided against continuing their journey by train. Disembarking at Tengda, they boarded a Soviet Air Defense Forces Mi-8 helicopter, which took them to an airbase. From there, they flew directly to Moscow aboard an An-12 transport plane.

The An-12 was a medium-sized transport aircraft powered by four turboprop engines. China had reverse-engineered this model, creating the domestically significant Y-8 series. However, the An-12’s soundproofing was poor, and sitting in the rear cargo hold was sheer torture.

“I still prefer traveling by train,” Andrei remarked. “That American has already failed. They won’t try again, will they?”

“Andrei, one can never be too careful,” Gromov, the KGB agent who had been shadowing them, replied. “What if the Americans planted a bomb on the tracks? We’d be helpless against that.”

Gromov’s words made sense, but Andrei found it hard to believe the Americans would go to such lengths just to target him. Infiltrating a single agent into the Soviet Union was difficult enough. Exposing themselves just to assassinate him seemed like a waste.

“Andrei, how did you realize that woman was an assassin?” Yekaterina asked, still clinging to Andrei’s side, undeterred by Gromov’s presence.

“Instinct, I suppose,” Andrei answered. “And her build and posture… they reminded me of Annie.”

Annie was the American agent. If not for their different appearances, Andrei might have thought they were the same person.

“That’s possible,” Gromov agreed. “Our investigation might have missed something. The dead woman’s build and clothes resembled Annie’s, but we couldn’t confirm it was her.”

Recalling the past, Andrei’s voice grew cold. “Mr. Gromov, do you know someone named Sherlov?”

Sherlov had nearly framed him for treason. Now, Andrei was a Soviet Hero. The stark contrast between then and now made him certain that Sherlov was behind it all. Perhaps there was someone even higher up pulling the strings.

“I’m sorry, I don’t,” Gromov replied. “You know our work has its rules. Even the name Gromov isn’t my real one.”

“Fair enough,” Andrei said. He wondered if he would encounter Sherlov in Moscow. His status had changed—he was now the Deputy Regiment Commander, a Lieutenant Colonel, and a Soviet Hero. If anyone tried to slander him now, they would have to think twice.

Yekaterina remained silent, biting her lip. She knew Sherlov. In fact, she had a good idea why he had targeted Andrei.

The cabin fell quiet again, save for the roar of the engines and the hum of the propellers. Andrei could face his enemies head-on, but the ones lurking in the shadows were far more dangerous.

By the time the transport plane landed at a small military airfield near Moscow, it was already eight in the evening. The night sky was alight with stars.

“Andrei, you don’t have family in Moscow,” Yekaterina said, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, not daring to meet his eyes. “Why don’t you come stay with me?”

She felt like a shy middle school girl with a crush, afraid to look at him because she knew he would refuse.

“Andrei, I will visit your parents when I’m in Moscow,” Andrei replied, “but not now. It wouldn’t be proper. Yekaterina, wait until I receive the title of Soviet Hero and the Gold Star Medal. When I stand before your parents with the medal on my chest, they will surely approve of us being together.”

The title of Soviet Hero was the highest honor in the Soviet Union. Having such a son-in-law would be a source of pride for any family.

Yekaterina could only murmur in response, “Oh… alright then. But you must come!” She left one thought unsaid: Actually, there’s hardly anyone left in my family…

Outside the airbase, a Moskvitch car was waiting. Gromov and Yekaterina got in, and as the car disappeared from view, Andrei felt a pang of emptiness.

In the Soviet Union at that time, certain social norms were still quite strict. Though they were deeply in love, it wouldn’t be proper for him to simply show up at her home unannounced.

He caught the last bus into the city and took a seat by the window. Something felt off. Why had the KGB agent left with Yekaterina? Was he there to protect Andrei or Yekaterina?

Perhaps, now that they were in Moscow, they were finally safe. No matter how skilled American agents were, they couldn’t just waltz into Moscow. The thought brought him some comfort.

Two hours later, Andrei arrived at a hotel affiliated with the Air Defense Forces Command on Gagarin Street. After presenting his credentials, he unlocked the door to a room on the second floor.

The past few days had been nothing short of harrowing. The first thing he did was rush into the bathroom. He reeked, and he wondered if Yekaterina had been bothered by it during their journey.

The sound of rushing water filled the room as Andrei scrubbed himself clean. The hotel’s twenty-four-hour hot water supply was a luxury he greatly appreciated.

Unbeknownst to him, the door behind him creaked open.

Chapter 58: Red Square Memories

Hot water cascaded down his body, filling the bathroom with swirling steam. The mirror in front of him was already fogged over.

Taking a shower was comfortable, but looking in the mirror was unsettling. Every time he caught sight of his burly frame and the tufts of dark hair on his chest, Andrei couldn’t help but scream inwardly, I don’t want to be a Russian!

Ugh, it was like evolution had left him unfinished.

Andrei felt the water pounding against him, closing his eyes. A man must never be slovenly. If he couldn’t even keep his own house clean, how could he sweep the world? If he smelled like a beggar, how could he sit in a clean cockpit and soar through the skies?

Just then, Andrei felt a pair of soft hands wrap around him from behind. Delicate fingers brushed through the hair on his chest.

“Yekaterina?” Andrei turned his head, shocked to see the girl standing under the showerhead with him, her body fully exposed.

He turned off the water and asked, “Why didn’t you go home? How did you find this place? And how did you get through my door?”

“You didn’t lock it,” Yekaterina said. “Besides, where else would you go? I came to find you because I forgot to give you my address. When I got here and saw you showering, I figured we shouldn’t waste water. Let’s shower together.”

With that, she reached out and turned the water back on. As her alluring body slid past Andrei’s, he knew he could no longer hold back.

Lowering his head, he pressed his lips deeply against Yekaterina’s soft ones, his hands supporting her body as he pinned her against the bathroom wall.

The water continued to pour down over them.

Let the storm rage even harder.

(Five thousand words omitted here.)

“Yekaterina, are you worried your parents won’t approve of us?” After the storm had passed, Andrei lay in bed, his large hands gently caressing her smooth skin.

Just like back home, once the rice was cooked, the parents couldn’t object. Gazing into Yekaterina’s captivating eyes, her long lashes fluttering, Andrei kissed her lightly again.

“No one can stop us from being together, Andrei. I love you. You’re the only man for me in this life,” Yekaterina said.

Outside, the clock tower chimed—it was past midnight.

“Sleep now. Your ceremony isn’t until the day after tomorrow. Tomorrow, I’ll take you around Moscow,” Yekaterina said.

Moscow, the capital of the Soviet Union and the administrative center of Moscow Oblast. It was the political, economic, cultural, financial, and transportation hub of the entire Soviet Union, located in the central part of the European Soviet Union, on the East European Plain, straddling the Moskva River and its tributary, the Yauza. Moscow was connected to the upper reaches of the Volga River, a hallmark of ancient cities built along rivers.

Moscow’s earliest records dated back to 1147. In 1156, Grand Prince Yuri Dolgorukiy built the wooden Kremlin fortress, and by the early 13th century, it became the capital of the Principality of Moscow. In the 14th century, the Russians established a centralized feudal state, with Moscow as its capital.

After the October Revolution, the red flag bearing the hammer and sickle flew across all of Russia, and the world’s first socialist state was born, with Moscow as the capital of the Soviet Union.

As an ancient city with a long history, Moscow had been the capital from the time of the Grand Princes to the Soviet era, spanning over 800 years, and boasting numerous historical sites.

In his past life, Andrei had visited Moscow to meet with Sukhoi personnel. Now, it was like returning to familiar ground, though the hammer and sickle flags and era-specific slogans were everywhere.

A trip to Moscow wouldn’t be complete without visiting Red Square, the city’s center and home to its most iconic buildings.

“To the southwest is the Kremlin, to the north is the State Historical Museum, to the east is GUM, and to the south is St. Basil’s Cathedral.” Yekaterina acted as his guide, pointing out each landmark.

As Andrei looked at the spired buildings, his mood inexplicably darkened. In his past life, a tragic standoff had taken place here—a small group of conspirators had incited the masses, and weak leadership had led to the dissolution of the great Union.

“I want to see Lenin’s Mausoleum,” Andrei said.

The great revolutionary leader, the founder of the Soviet Union—without him, there would be no proletarian regime, no powerful Soviet Union.

Every Soviet citizen visited Lenin’s Mausoleum with reverence. Even though it wasn’t the weekend, they still had to queue to pay their respects.

The mausoleum stood on the western side of Red Square, a towering structure of red granite and black labradorite.

Everyone stood silently in line, entering one by one. No one spoke; every face was solemn.

Yekaterina followed behind Andrei, sensing the weight in his heart. Why?

As they moved with the crowd, Andrei entered the mausoleum. Under the soft light lay the great revolutionary leader, his face peaceful and natural, as if he weren’t dead but merely asleep. He could rise at any moment, just as he had during the storming of the Winter Palace.

His left hand was slightly clenched, his right relaxed. Both rested on a black satin cover with red trim, as if ready to clench into fists and lead the people once more.

What a shame that in the future, after the dissolution, Russia would try to erase all traces of history. Even Lenin’s Mausoleum had nearly been removed from Moscow, and the nearby tombs of Stalin, Brezhnev, Andropov, Chernenko, and Dzerzhinsky had been scorned by the authorities.

It had been an unsettling era. But now that Andrei was here, he was determined to prevent such a thing from happening.

With that thought, he clenched his fists once more.

Chapter 59: Rank Matters

“Andrei, you seem troubled,” Yekaterina said, noticing Andrei’s unusual expression as he emerged from Lenin’s Mausoleum.

Troubled? Andrei knew his lover was perceptive, especially now that she was deeply in love. Taking her hand, he smiled and said, “Yekaterina, of course not. Maybe it’s just that after staying in the Far East for so long, the peace and tranquility here feels a bit unfamiliar.”

At that moment, a young couple was taking photos nearby on the square. In Moscow, it had become tradition for newlyweds to come to Red Square for their wedding photos.

“Andrei, when we get married, I want to hire the best photographer to take our pictures here. What do you think?” Yekaterina said, her arm linked with his, her voice full of longing.

“Good,” Andrei replied, squeezing her hand. Remembering their intimacy the night before, he felt a surge of joy.

Suddenly, Yekaterina’s expression stiffened. “Andrei, let’s leave,” she urged, pulling him away.

But before they could go, a tall Soviet officer strode toward them.

“Yekaterina, long time no see,” the man said, his eyes fixed on her with a lecherous gaze. Yekaterina’s chest heaved with anger.

Andrei’s eyes narrowed, the veins in his arms bulging. He recognized this man—Major Sherlov of the KGB, the same man who had slandered him as a traitor in Sokolovka and tried to drag him back to Moscow for interrogation.

Now, Andrei understood. Sherlov knew Yekaterina, and he had designs on her. When he had investigated Byelinko’s defection, he must have learned of Andrei’s relationship with Yekaterina. That was why he had framed him!

What kind of man would abuse his power like this? How many innocent people had suffered under his hands? Corrupt, vengeful—he deserved to die!

“Andrei, let’s go,” Yekaterina pleaded, tugging at him.

“Andrei, I don’t understand how you could fall for such a coward,” Sherlov sneered. “Moscow’s finest flower, wasted on a piece of trash like you.”

“Go to hell!” Andrei snapped, his fist clenching. But Yekaterina’s voice stopped him.

“Andrei, no! If you hit him, you’ll lose your title as a Soviet Hero!”

Andrei froze, his fist just a centimeter from Sherlov’s nose. Yekaterina was right—this was exactly what Sherlov wanted.

The title of Soviet Hero was sacred. It could not be tarnished. To enemies, one must be ruthless, but to the people, one must show love.

Years ago, several soldiers had been awarded the title of Soviet Hero. Overjoyed, they went out drinking, only to get into a bar fight. The next day, their titles were revoked. Their lives were ruined.

Sherlov was provoking him, hoping Andrei would strike. If he did, the news would spread—Andrei, a Soviet Hero, had assaulted a KGB officer. His title would be stripped.

This man was not just cunning but vicious. Andrei didn’t know if this was personal hatred or something deeper, but he couldn’t afford to lose control.

Andrei forced his hand back. Sherlov smirked. “What’s wrong, you bastard? Too scared to hit me?”

“Major Sherlov, I order you to run ten laps around Red Square!” Andrei said, his voice cold and authoritative.

Sherlov blinked in confusion. “What?”

“Major Sherlov, do you dare disobey an order?” Andrei demanded. “That’s a violation of military discipline, punishable by court-martial.”

“On what grounds?” Sherlov scoffed.

“Because my rank is higher than yours,” Andrei said. “I’m a lieutenant colonel. You’re a major.”

Yekaterina smiled, stepping forward. “Major Sherlov, if you refuse to follow Lieutenant Colonel Andrei’s orders, I will report you to your superiors.”

Normally, no active-duty officer would dare challenge the KGB. They held the power of life and death. Even in Sokolovka, the base commander had to treat a KGB major with deference. Who would dare give them orders?

But Andrei had. And Sherlov had no choice but to obey—Andrei’s rank was higher. Military protocol dictated that even across different branches, rank determined authority.

“Bastard, you’ll regret this,” Sherlov growled before storming off.

As he left, Andrei turned to Yekaterina, her eyes filled with admiration. “Yekaterina, don’t worry. No matter where we are, I’ll protect you. If this had been the battlefield, I would have drawn my pistol and put a bullet in his head.”

“Andrei, I’m sorry. It’s my fault you’re in conflict with Sherlov,” Yekaterina said. “This will cause you more trouble.”

“I’m not afraid,” Andrei said, pulling her into his arms.

“Excuse me,” a voice interrupted. “Comrade Yekaterina, Comrade Irina invites you to her home. Comrade Andrei, you’re welcome to join.”

Chapter 60: The Benevolent Elder

Kutuzovsky Street, No. 26.

“Uncle Andrei!” As soon as he stepped through the gate, Andrei heard a voice, and a little boy came running out of the small building.

This little guy hadn’t forgotten him! It seemed this was the boy’s home. Following him, a woman with a warm smile emerged from inside, looking at the two of them.

Yekaterina ran over and took the woman’s hand. “Sister Irina!”

“So this is Comrade Andrei?” Irina looked Andrei up and down. “Our Yekaterina has good taste!” At that moment, Andrei had already picked up little Ivan and lifted him high.

No wonder Yekaterina had been able to drive away the KGB major with just a few words and save him. The sister she recognized must have considerable influence!

Even before entering, Andrei had known that this place must be home to someone special. There were soldiers standing guard at the entrance, and someone had checked their documents when they entered the apartment complex. The residence was a two-story house, almost like a villa, decorated in a style reminiscent of the aristocracy from the Tsarist era—perhaps it had been confiscated from a noble family.

Inside the two-story house, portraits of Marx, Engels, Lenin, and Stalin hung on the wall opposite the entrance. Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating a middle-aged man sitting on the sofa.

His hair was already tinged with gray, and he appeared to be around fifty years old. His face bore a kind expression, and he wore a pair of glasses, giving him the appearance of a scholar devoted to academic research.

“Good day, Uncle.” Yekaterina bowed respectfully to him. It seemed this elderly man was Irina’s father.

“Oh, my little Nana is back.” The man on the sofa looked up at Yekaterina. “This young man must be Andrei, then? Excellent. Our Soviet Union needs heroes like you. Yekaterina, Irina, go to the kitchen and prepare dinner. Let me have a word with Andrei. Ivan, you go help in the kitchen too.”

It seemed the man already knew his identity. Andrei glanced at Yekaterina, whose eyes betrayed a hint of unease. Clearly, the old man’s orders were not to be disobeyed, and she had no choice but to leave Andrei alone.

“Come, young man, sit here.” The man gestured for Andrei to take a seat on the adjacent sofa. “Your recent exploits have truly stirred our hearts.”

“As a pilot in the Soviet Air Defense Forces, it is my duty to uphold the interests of our nation. Under those circumstances, I had no choice but to act. I could not allow any harm to come to our motherland.” Andrei replied.

It seemed the man had already investigated his background thoroughly. Yet, until now, Andrei had never heard Yekaterina mention this family. Clearly, the man held a position of some influence in the government.

“I admire your courage most of all.” The man said. “Andrei, you dared to ram the enemy’s aircraft, punished a traitor, and thwarted the Americans’ plan to salvage our fighter jet. The title of Soviet Hero is well-deserved.”

“Thank you for your kind words, Uncle.” Andrei responded.

“Relax, young man. There are no outsiders here.” The man continued. “I have a question I’m curious about. Byelinko was a pilot we trained, with high political consciousness, and we even assigned him to fly our most advanced fighter jet. Why would he defect?”

This was a question many had. To be able to pilot a fighter jet, one couldn’t be a fool. Why would someone with such a promising future abandon it all to defect, only to end in disgrace? What had Byelinko been after?

As the person closest to Byelinko, and once his wingman, Andrei knew the answer well.

“It was all an imperialist conspiracy. The Americans used a beautiful woman as a spy to seduce Byelinko into defecting.” Andrei said. This was the official conclusion—Byelinko’s defection was an American plot!

The man shook his head. “I don’t think that’s all there is to it. That woman had only been in contact with Byelinko for less than half a month. Such a short time wouldn’t be enough to turn a pilot’s mind and make him defect to the West.”

Andrei nodded. “Yes, another reason was Byelinko’s dissatisfaction with the current state of the military. In fact, even when he was a flight instructor in Salsk, Byelinko was already unhappy with the situation. He believed the military was riddled with drunkenness, theft of alcohol, and pervasive fraud. Promotions were based on nepotism, and even a Lieutenant Lubakh who couldn’t fly was made a flight instructor, resulting in a fatal accident during a training flight due to his incorrect operations. He thought things would improve when he joined a combat unit, but he found the same problems there—many unqualified individuals were placed in positions because of their connections with superiors. For example, some ground crew members lacked the skills to maintain fighter jets but were still put in charge of maintenance.”

Byelinko’s defection was the result of a gradual shift in his thinking. After the Great Patriotic War, following the initial political struggles and a period of development, the Soviet Union’s deep-seated problems began to surface. Especially now, with the bloated bureaucracy and rampant corruption permeating the nation, and Brezhnev’s policy of lifetime appointments for officials, which had become a breeding ground for corruption!

Byelinko was an extremist, and when he met a woman like Annie, who was filled with longing for the Western world, he made this shocking decision.

Byelinko’s defection was a state secret, known only to a few. Since the elderly man before him, who appeared to be a high-ranking official, was asking, Andrei naturally shared what he knew. After all, when he had shot down Byelinko, the latter’s radio transmissions had been recorded.

“Andrei, what are your thoughts on the corruption and graft that plague our entire society?” the man continued.

In the Soviet Union, discussing this topic was dangerous. In public, everyone had to say that the Soviet Union was thriving under the great leadership of General Secretary Brezhnev, marching forward on the path of communism.

But Andrei, who had come from the future, knew that it was these very social ills that had brought down the Soviet Union. The Soviet people were no longer the same as they had been during the early days of the nation’s founding or during World War II. The leadership had become detached from the masses, squandering the people’s trust. Especially Brezhnev, who had created the spectacle of geriatric rule, it wasn’t until Andropov came to power that the situation began to turn around. Unfortunately, Andropov’s health was poor, and the reforms did not continue.

That so-called reformer, Gorbachev, was a short-sighted man whose reforms ultimately buried the Soviet Union.

Now, hearing someone ask for his opinion on these domestic issues, Andrei hesitated. He thought of Sherlov, that KGB agent, who was looking for any excuse to bring him down. If that man heard this, he would be in big trouble.

“It’s alright. It’s just the two of us here. My home is secure; there are no eavesdroppers.” The man said. “Andrei, the future belongs to you young people. Speak your mind freely. I am well aware of the corruption and graft that plague our country.”

Chapter 61: The Kremlin

Since the other party kept bringing up the issues of corruption and embezzlement, Andrei decided not to hold back. Although the KGB had a formidable reputation, it was impossible for them to have informants planted in every random person’s home. Moreover, Andrei was well aware that the Soviet Union’s collapse was due to the worsening corruption and embezzlement that began during Brezhnev’s era. The new generation of Soviet youth, who had not experienced the Great Patriotic War, were deeply dissatisfied with the current state of affairs, which eventually led to the success of the conspirator Yeltsin.

These were all recorded in history books. Having arrived in this era and being immersed in it, Andrei naturally knew that while some people still upheld the noble integrity of the Bolsheviks, many more, especially those in the upper echelons, had already begun to corrupt and degenerate. Once the entire society, from top to bottom, was infested with these “termite gates,” the nation was doomed.

In later years, when the Soviet Union collapsed, the entire ruling party did not mount a single decent counterattack. In truth, it was these high-ranking officials who completely buried the Soviet Union. Only when the Soviet edifice crumbled could they gain more benefits, turning the nation’s assets into their private property.

A powerful red nation disappeared just like that. Every time Andrei thought about this, he felt immense heartache.

Now, facing the old man before him, Andrei said, “The biggest mistake is the lifelong tenure of officials. Everyone sits in their position until they die. When a person grows old, they can no longer adapt to societal development. Their vision becomes shortsighted, and they consider personal gains and losses more than the nation’s interests. Over decades of political career, an interest group forms, and once it does, it overrides the nation’s interests.”

When did the Soviet Union begin to corrupt? During Brezhnev’s era! And the main reason was this lifelong tenure of officials! Occupying a position for decades without leaving room for successors, and sitting for too long makes them forget the people below, considering only their own interests.

“Crash.” At that moment, Andrei heard the sound of a teacup falling to the ground. Looking up, he saw Yekaterina’s face pale as she stared at him. She had come to bring him water but ended up hearing his remarks.

Andrei had only been in the Soviet era for a short time and had never stayed in Moscow. He didn’t know that this single statement was enough to brand him as a counter-revolutionary, sending him to the depths of Siberia to chop wood.

“Dad, dinner is ready. Let’s eat,” Yelena said from behind, bending down to pick up the broken teacup.

“Let’s go, young man. We’ll eat and continue our conversation at the table,” the old man stood up and said to Andrei.

“Alright,” Andrei stood up and saw Yekaterina vigorously shaking her head at him, signaling that he must not continue the previous topic.

This was clearly a patriarchal family. Only after arriving did Andrei realize that only he and the old man would be eating; even Yelena’s mother had to wait on the side. Remembering Yekaterina’s warning, Andrei wisely did not continue the previous topic. Fortunately, he knew the Soviet people’s preferences. To gain the old man’s approval, he only needed to not back down at the drinking table.

High-proof vodka was the Soviet people’s favorite.

Andrei didn’t know how much he drank; he only remembered one glass after another of high-proof vodka entering his mouth. Later, he blacked out. When he regained consciousness, he was already in a room, sleeping soundly under a soft blanket. He slept until dawn.

“Andrei, today is the day you go to the Kremlin to receive your medal. You must dress neatly. When you get there, you must not speak recklessly. Especially not like yesterday. You must not say those things,” Yekaterina got up early to make Andrei breakfast and then prepared the military uniform he needed to wear. After ironing, the air force pilot’s uniform looked sharp and spirited.

“What about yesterday’s uncle?” Andrei asked.

“He left before dawn. He rarely comes home as early as yesterday. Usually, he comes back late at night,” Yekaterina said, “His work is very busy.”

Although Andrei was suddenly very interested in the old man, it seemed Yekaterina was unwilling to talk about him, so Andrei did not ask further.

After leaving, he got into a Gaz car sent by the Moscow Air Defense Command to take him to the Kremlin.

That day, when he was touring Moscow with Yekaterina, Andrei had seen the Kremlin from the outside. It was the heart of the entire Soviet Union, commanding this vast nation.

Now, Andrei was about to enter and receive the honor of Soviet Hero. A Gold Star medal would be personally placed on his chest by Nikolai Viktorovich Podgorny, the Chairman of the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet. This was the highest honor a Soviet citizen could receive.

When Andrei entered the Kremlin, he was taken to a waiting room. As he entered, he saw several people already waiting inside.

“Andrei Vladimirovich Tolstoy?” One of them called out his name as soon as they saw him.

Andrei could only smile friendly and say, “Yes, that’s me. May I know how to address you?”

“Alexei Arkhipovich Leonov,” the man, who was not even as tall as Andrei’s shoulder, said, “These are my companions. We are all here to receive the Soviet Hero medal.”

Looking at the man’s chest, Andrei saw a shiny Gold Star medal. This was his second time receiving the Soviet Hero title. Instantly, Andrei’s mind flashed with a thought—this was the famous cosmonaut who performed the first spacewalk in history!

Born in 1934, this air force pilot was selected as a cosmonaut. In 1965, as a co-pilot with Belyayev, he completed the Voskhod-2 spacecraft mission. With incredible courage, he performed the first-ever spacewalk, spending about 24 minutes in space. Upon his return, he was awarded the title of Soviet Hero.

And this year, he served as the captain of the Soviet Soyuz-19 spacecraft, which docked with the American Apollo spacecraft. This was a great leap in space history. The Soviet Soyuz spacecraft and the American Apollo spacecraft docked in space, and the crew members from both sides exchanged visits and conducted joint scientific research experiments.

Chapter 62: Ustinov

In space, American and Soviet astronauts shook hands, earning the title of Soviet Hero. Meanwhile, in the skies, Andrei bravely engaged the Americans, even shooting down their aircraft, and was also awarded the title of Soviet Hero—a situation filled with irony.

Of course, regardless of the reason, the title of Soviet Hero was a source of pride for all Soviet citizens.

After waiting for half an hour, they finally received the summons. The group straightened their uniforms. Andrei looked at his chest, where only a bronze flight badge and a First-Class Medal for Service to the Homeland in the Soviet Armed Forces hung. He couldn’t help but feel a little ashamed as he glanced at the others around him, their chests adorned with medals, especially the dazzling Gold Star.

After adjusting his uniform, Andrei took his place at the end of the line according to rank and entered the hall.

The award ceremony was grand. This honor, bestowed by the former Central Executive Committee of the Soviet Union and now by the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet, was the highest administrative award in the entire Soviet Union.

Upon entering, Andrei saw not only the audience below but also the dozen or so high-ranking officials on the stage. The kind-looking elderly man seated in the center was Nikolai Viktorovich Podgorny, the current Chairman of the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet. A veteran Bolshevik, he would be forced into retirement by Brezhnev in just over a year due to their disagreements.

Among the officials on the stage, Andrei recognized a familiar face.

Dmitry Fyodorovich Ustinov! His face bore the unmistakable lines of resolve, and behind his dark-rimmed glasses, a cold glint occasionally flashed. He was an uncompromising hardliner in the Soviet Union! In Soviet history, he was infamous for dragging the country into the quagmire of the Afghan War. If Soviet interests were even slightly threatened, he would not hesitate to use force to resolve the conflict.

As Andrei looked at this hardliner, Ustinov happened to be looking at him as well. His gaze softened, and he nodded at Andrei.

“For the Soviet Union,” Alexei declared loudly as he received his second Gold Star, the Soviet Hero title. His voice echoed through the hall.

For the Soviet Union! The first Soviet Hero title was awarded to seven pilots who braved the extreme cold to rescue the Arctic expedition team and the crew of the icebreaker Chelyuskin from the floating ice of the Chukchi Sea. The pilot who received the medal at the time had given the same response, which later became the standard.

Soon, it was Andrei’s turn. He watched as the gleaming gold medal was pinned to his uniform. A hole had already been drilled in it, and a screw fastened it from the back.

“Comrade Andrei, you have been awarded the title of Soviet Hero. You are a hero of our Soviet Union!” Podgorny declared.

“For the Soviet Union! No one can threaten our homeland. When the motherland calls, I will be a sharp sword, piercing the enemy’s chest!” Andrei replied loudly.

“Good,” Ustinov suddenly interjected. “This is the pride of our Soviet military, Comrade Chairman. I would like to present Andrei with the Order of Lenin.”

At this moment, Ustinov was a Secretary of the Central Committee of the Communist Party and had recently become the Minister of Defense, making him a key figure in the Soviet power structure. It was his proposal to award Andrei the title of Soviet Hero, and he had personally attended the ceremony.

Ustinov knew that the Soviet Union’s greatest enemy was the United States. In East Asia, the Far Eastern Military District had dealt a heavy blow to the Americans, leaving them nearly defeated. As one of the greatest contributors to this victory, Andrei, though young, was a deserving Soviet Hero. Moreover, his attitude toward the enemy suggested he could be entrusted with greater responsibilities.

Hearing Andrei’s bold words, Ustinov was even more pleased. He immediately volunteered to present the medal.

Although Podgorny was the Chairman of the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet, his position held little real power, and he had no particular attachment to the ceremony. Upon hearing Ustinov’s request, he handed the Order of Lenin to him.

“Young man, keep up the good work. The motherland needs brave and steadfast warriors like you,” Ustinov said.

“Yes, I will remember the leader’s instructions. We will defeat American imperialism and raise the hammer and sickle flag across the world!”

The audience fell silent. This young anti-aircraft pilot, who had recently made waves in the Far East, was indeed a hot-headed youth. What era was this? Yet, they still applauded. At a time like this, such a declaration was worthy of praise.

After the ceremony, Andrei left the hall. This grand building, the heart of the Soviet Union, was where all political orders originated. In his past life, he had never entered the Kremlin during his training in Russia. Now, he had become a Soviet Hero. Andrei slowed his pace, taking the opportunity to look around.

“Comrade Andrei, Marshal Ustinov, the Minister of Defense, wishes to see you,” a voice suddenly said beside him.

Ustinov wanted to see him? Andrei was taken aback. This man was the Soviet Minister of Defense, a powerful figure in the Soviet Union, and he seemed to support him.

Currently, Andrei had no background. If nothing unexpected happened, he would end his twenty-year flying career as a captain before retiring. But now, his fate had changed. He had become a Soviet Hero and caught Ustinov’s attention. Now, Ustinov wanted to meet him personally!

Before becoming the Minister of Defense, Ustinov had been a powerful figure. He was responsible for coordinating and guiding academic institutions, design bureaus, and industrial enterprises to fulfill the Party and government’s tasks of strengthening the nation’s economic and military power. He also actively participated in research and development for space technology. In short, all military-industrial matters fell under his jurisdiction.

Now, he wanted to see him? Andrei followed the staff member through several corridors and up two flights of stairs to Ustinov’s office.

Chapter 63: Advancing Electronic Technology

“You’ve done well in the Far East, young man. You’ve made significant contributions to our national defense, especially with that EP-3, which has given us insight into Western advanced electronic technology,” Ustinov said. “And you personally shot down the traitor, preventing our latest fighter’s secrets from falling into American hands.”

“Everything is for the sake of the Motherland. The United States is our enemy, and we must remain highly vigilant. As a pilot, even if I must shed blood in the skies, I will do so without regret,” Andrei replied.

“Excellent! That’s the fearless spirit we need!” Ustinov declared. “Now, the Americans are pressuring us diplomatically, trying to force us to hand over the EP-3 and its crew. But we won’t easily compromise. However, as we continue to study these electronic technologies, the disagreements among our researchers are growing.”

Disagreements were inevitable, Andrei knew. Many Soviet technicians still clung to the belief that vacuum tubes were superior, dismissing advanced American electronic technology. Meanwhile, some scientists had already recognized the obsolescence of vacuum tubes and advocated for the rapid development of microelectronics to be applied in weapon systems.

History would later prove that the path of vacuum tubes was a dead end, and the Soviet Union’s gap in this field would only widen.

Though Andrei was aware of the Soviet Union’s lag in electronic technology, it wasn’t something he could influence. Even as a Soviet Hero, he was far from the decision-makers. “Not in the position, not in the policy,” he recalled Yekaterina’s advice and decided it was best to say less.

“Young man, what do you think of our current equipment?” Ustinov asked, clearly pleased with Andrei. As a pilot of the most advanced MiG-25 fighter, his firsthand experience was invaluable.

Since the question was directed at him, Andrei didn’t hold back: “Our fighters can reach altitudes of thirty thousand meters and speeds of Mach 3, which puts immense psychological pressure on the Americans. We can come and go as we please in the skies over the island nation—their aircraft are powerless against us.”

During the Cold War, the MiG-25 had imposed unprecedented pressure on the Western world. Andrei wasn’t exaggerating—he had entered Hokkaido’s airspace several times, and the Americans had been helpless to stop him.

“But our aircraft have weaknesses. For example, the high-thrust R-15B-300 engine only has a service life of one hundred and fifty hours. Normally, it requires a major overhaul every six months, and the engine must be replaced entirely after a year. This places a heavy burden on logistics and maintenance. If we could extend the engine’s lifespan, we could significantly improve our operational readiness.”

Soviet equipment was designed based on World War II experiences. Even the best pilots rarely survived more than a hundred hours of flight before being shot down, and the average lifespan of an aircraft was only a few dozen hours. Thus, there was no need to build planes with lifespans exceeding a few hundred hours.

But now, in the Cold War era, without actual conflict, short lifespans led to massive waste. In contrast, the American F-4’s J-79 engine had a lifespan of four thousand hours, requiring no replacement throughout the aircraft’s entire service life, drastically reducing operational costs.

Of course, in the Soviet planned economy, cost was never a consideration. Waste was everywhere.

“And our electronic technology needs to develop faster,” Andrei steered the conversation back to the main topic. He couldn’t reveal the debate between vacuum tubes and transistors, so he spoke from a pilot’s perspective about the future needs of electronic equipment.

“The old Tornado-A radar, despite its size and power, had a search range of less than one hundred kilometers. Most of its energy was wasted as heat. The improved Sapphire-25 radar finally has pulse-Doppler capability, but its processing system is limited. For example, over water, it can detect ships, but over land, the screen is cluttered with interference.”

He continued, “The R-40 missiles we use often malfunction with their semi-active radar guidance, so I always choose the infrared-guided version. According to our intelligence, the American F-14 can use its fire-control radar to lock onto six targets simultaneously and guide six missiles at once—something we can’t even imagine. In electronic technology, the Americans are far ahead of us.”

In 1973, the American Tomcat fighter, armed with Phoenix missiles, conducted a test in the Pacific Missile Range. In thirty-eight seconds, it fired six AIM-54A Phoenix missiles, targeting six drones fifty to eighty kilometers away. Four hit directly, one was discounted due to target failure, and one missed. The Soviet Union had obtained this intelligence, and all aviation units were aware of it.

Meanwhile, the Soviet Union couldn’t even reliably control one missile, let alone six!

Andrei’s point was clear: American electronic technology was indeed advanced, and their chosen path was the right one.

Ustinov nodded. The combination of the Tomcat fighter and the Phoenix missile was the MiG-25’s nemesis. Against the Phoenix missile, the MiG-25’s disadvantages were glaring.

“So, how do you think we can quickly improve our electronic technology?” Ustinov asked Andrei.

In the field of electronic technology, the Soviet Union was indeed far behind. Even if they pursued it vigorously, it would be a long process. How could they rapidly improve their electronic technology? Ustinov was also troubled by this question.

Looking at the man before him, whose eyes always carried a cold gleam, Andrei knew he was a hardened soldier. He had his own answer: “If we want to improve quickly, I have an idea—we should get it from the island nation!”

Under American domination, the island nation had quickly adapted to its role as a lackey, and its economy and scientific technology had developed rapidly. Its electronic technology was first-rate.

Chapter 64: By the Swords in Our Hands!

“Obtained from the island nation!” Ustinov’s eyes lit up instantly. “How did we obtain it from the island nation?”

“By the swords in our hands!” Andrei declared. “We’ll snatch it from the Americans!”

Andrei’s meaning couldn’t be simpler—war! Launch a war in the Far East and seize the island nation from the Americans! At that time, the island nation’s advanced electronics industry—not just electronics, but also its precision-based industries—would all be far more sophisticated than the Soviet Union’s crude industrial base. They could take it all!

If he had said this to anyone else, they wouldn’t have understood. They would have thought him mad. This was the Cold War! Starting a war with the Americans and their lackeys would turn the Cold War hot! Once both sides saw red and resorted to nuclear weapons, it would be the end of the global village.

But the man before him was Ustinov—a hardened military man! It was Ustinov’s absolute support that would lead to the Afghan War just a few years later!

Afghanistan! It could be said to be the turning point where the Soviet Union began its decline. Before the Afghan War, although domestic contradictions within the Soviet Union had begun to surface, it was still a vast empire. Moreover, with high oil prices at the time, the Soviet Union, which relied heavily on oil exports as its economic backbone, had a steady stream of foreign exchange reserves. The Soviet invasion of Afghanistan was built on the foundation of a wealthy national treasury.

Unfortunately, the Afghan War exposed the Soviet Union’s hegemonic behavior to the world. It also prompted countries like Saudi Arabia to strike back against the Soviet Union, even at the cost of harming themselves. They continuously increased oil production, causing international oil prices to plummet. In the end, with oil selling for just a few dollars a barrel, the more the Soviet Union exported, the more it lost, dealing a severe blow to its economy.

At the same time, the Afghan War became a quagmire for the Soviet Union, marking the beginning of its downfall.

What use was Afghanistan to the Soviet Union? Gaining an outlet to the Indian Ocean and breaking the Western world’s encirclement in the Pacific and Atlantic? What good was that? It would be better to thoroughly defeat the island nation and break through into the Pacific!

Ustinov was an absolute warmonger. Naturally, he would prefer Andrei’s argument. Upon hearing Andrei’s words, Ustinov asked with great interest, “Seize the island nation from the Americans?”

“Yes! Seize the island nation, and we’ll immediately have its advanced electronics industry. All the problems plaguing us will be solved!” Andrei said. “If we act quickly, we can occupy the island nation before the Americans can react. At the very least, even if we can’t hold it permanently, we can relocate those industries back to the Soviet Union—machinery, equipment, and personnel, all of it.”

Andrei was taking a crooked path. This idea had only flashed through his mind before he spoke it to the Soviet Marshal before him. After all, it wouldn’t do him any harm. Moreover, relying on Soviet technology alone to advance was too difficult. In later years, after the Soviet Union’s collapse, Russian companies like Phazotron, which could interact with the West, had expended great effort but still failed to master the technology of planar array radar. As a result, Russian radar technology bypassed planar array radar entirely and moved toward phased array radar. In precision engineering and other fields, the Soviet Union lagged far behind.

Furthermore, given Andrei’s position in the Far Eastern Military District and his impressions from his past life, he had no good feelings toward the island nation across the sea. Those dwarves on the island didn’t deserve to exist in this world!

However, starting a war just to improve the country’s industrial level seemed like playing with fire. Andrei was only making a suggestion. After all, he was just a lieutenant colonel now and couldn’t participate in any national decision-making. He was merely offering advice.

“Comrade Andrei, your suggestion is very valuable. The Supreme Committee will discuss it,” Ustinov said. “Young man, work hard. I have high hopes for you.”

The meeting ended on this note. Andrei walked out of the office, feeling quite pleased with himself. Being favored by Ustinov meant his future was limitless. However, with his current abilities, he still couldn’t influence Soviet politics. Thinking about the Soviet Union a decade later, Andrei felt a heaviness in his heart.

The blue sky was dotted with white clouds. Behind him stood a beautiful building with three rows of tall windows, topped with a purple copper dome. Glancing back at the grand Kremlin one last time, Andrei walked out.

Just then, several Volga sedans with KGB license plates drove up. Their distinctive grilles reminded Andrei of the Hongqi sedans from his past life in China.

Squeak. The cars stopped in front of the Kremlin. Several people carrying briefcases hurried out.

From the middle car, a kind-looking old man emerged, wearing thick glasses. When Andrei saw his appearance, he was taken aback.

Ilyena’s father—what was he doing here? And in a KGB car? Andrei couldn’t help but wonder.

These people were clearly in a hurry. After seeing Andrei, the old man walked over, looked at the Order of Lenin on his chest, and said, “Not bad, young man. Keep up the good work!”

“Yes, for the Soviet Union!” Andrei saluted, watching as the group entered the Kremlin.

“Andrei, you’re amazing! You even got praise from the KGB chairman!” As the group disappeared from sight, Andrei heard a voice.

The other Soviet Heroes who had received medals with him had just finished their audience with other leaders and were coming out. Seeing Andrei greet the old man, the others were envious. Alexei, wearing two Orders of Lenin, said sourly, “Andrei, you’re really something. You even got praise from the KGB chairman!”

The KGB chairman? Andrei was stunned. No wonder he had felt a sense of familiarity when he saw the old man at Ilyena’s house yesterday. Now he understood—this man was Andropov!

Yuri Vladimirovich Andropov was born in 1914 in the railway worker’s family of Guna-Zakaye Station in Stavropol Krai, Russia. After weathering many storms, in 1967, he succeeded Semyon Tsvigun as the chairman of the Committee for State Security. In 1973, he was promoted to a full member of the Politburo of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union.

And from his past life, Andrei knew even more—Andropov would become the General Secretary of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union and the Chairman of the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet after Brezhnev’s death!

Chapter 65: Andropov

In later evaluations, the only one who could have saved the Soviet Union was a great statesman like Andropov—someone with vision, experience, and a deep understanding of the common people. Later, though many saw Gorbachev as a resolute reformer who could lead the Soviet Union out of its troubles, the result was the opposite—he led it to disintegration.

Unfortunately, history gave Andropov too little time. His health was too poor, and after taking office, he was barely able to work normally.

It was still 1976, and Andropov’s health was decent, but Brezhnev still stood above him! That old man was nothing but a mediocre figure. He had been chosen because he wasn’t like Stalin—he wouldn’t threaten others. And once in power, Brezhnev did exactly that, especially with his proposal of lifetime tenure for officials, making him the savior of all vested interests!

It was during Brezhnev’s era that Soviet society began its descent into corruption and bureaucratic stagnation. The Soviet Union collapsed in the 1990s, but the seeds of its downfall were sown in the 1970s, becoming too deep-rooted to reverse.

“Andrei, what are you thinking about?” the Soviet Hero beside him asked.

Andrei shook his head vigorously. “Nothing. After receiving the title of Soviet Hero, I must return to my original unit and continue serving our Soviet Union.”

Andrei’s steps were heavy. He had realized that when he was on the train, the KGB had been secretly protecting him. At the time, he had thought it was because he was a Soviet Hero, but now he understood—they weren’t protecting him at all. They were protecting his woman, Yekaterina!

Though Yekaterina wasn’t Andropov’s daughter, she was close friends with his daughter Irina and had become the godmother of his grandson, little Ivan. That relationship was either the strongest or at least reliable.

Andrei still didn’t know that Andropov’s connection to Yekaterina went deeper than that—her background was even more secretive…

Thinking back, he hadn’t even married Yekaterina yet, but they had already slept together. That old man was the head of the KGB—he must have known everything. When Andrei had gone to Irina’s house that day, he had truly walked into a dragon’s den. And to think he had even discussed Soviet corruption in front of the old man—he must have had the heart of a bear and the gall of a leopard!

As Andropov turned to leave, he sighed inwardly. The Soviet Union’s domestic situation was stable, but crises were brewing. Having dealt with the Hungarian incident in 1956, Andropov knew that the common people were the ones who ultimately decided a nation’s fate. Now, the Soviet leadership was severely disconnected from the masses.

He pulled his thoughts back. These were not issues he, as the head of the KGB, could address yet. He had left his home last night and come to KGB headquarters because of new developments in the East.

Pushing open the door, Andropov saw the Soviet Union’s helmsman, the General Secretary of the Soviet Union, Brezhnev, sitting with his eyes closed in contemplation.

“General Secretary, things are unsettled in our East,” Andropov said.

“Yuri, are those Americans still restless?” Brezhnev asked.

As one of the first to pledge loyalty to Brezhnev, Andropov enjoyed his full trust. At one meeting, Brezhnev had publicly praised Andropov: “Here, I would like to say a few words about someone whose party work has bound us together for many years—Yuri Vladimirovich Andropov. I highly value his modest party spirit, his humanitarianism, and his pragmatic qualities. He has gone through a long and glorious journey in the Komsomol and the party. I hold such people in high regard!”

In recent years, Brezhnev’s health had declined significantly, but he still clung to the position of General Secretary. Andropov respected him deeply.

“Yes, in the past few days, Blackbird reconnaissance planes have been taking off from Okinawa every day, entering our Far East region for military reconnaissance,” Andropov said. “We suspect the Americans are planning something new. They’ve suffered many losses recently and must be looking for a way to strike back.”

The Americans seemed to be provoking them, flying their Blackbird reconnaissance planes boldly through the skies at thirty thousand meters every day. All of this was Andrei’s doing.

After Andrei had shot down that EP-3, the Americans had gone into overdrive. First, they plotted Byelinko’s defection, but Andrei saw through it and shot down Byelinko. Then, the Americans tried to salvage the sunken MiG-25, but Andrei thwarted their scheme again. The two sides even engaged in aerial combat! Fortunately, both sides showed restraint, or war might have already broken out in the East!

With these achievements, it was only natural for Andrei to receive the title of Soviet Hero. Moreover, through these events, Andropov saw something deeper in Andrei’s thinking, which made him satisfied with Andrei and tacitly approved of his daughter and Yekaterina’s involvement with him.

When Andropov had spoken with Andrei personally, he had been struck by how perceptive Andrei was about society. The Soviet Union’s domestic problems were severe. When he heard Andrei’s words, Andropov had wanted to bring him under his wing as his right-hand man.

But that would give many people an excuse to slander him. He couldn’t do that. Besides, Andrei’s rise in the military would also strengthen his own position in the future!

At this point, Andropov already considered Andrei as one of his own. After all, he was his son-in-law—he would surely side with him.

“What about our air defense?” Brezhnev asked.

“Our air defense has launched several operations but hasn’t managed to shoot down the American Blackbird reconnaissance planes,” Andropov said.

Slap. Brezhnev’s hand struck the table. “Order the Far Eastern Military District to do whatever it takes to shoot down the American reconnaissance planes! No matter what schemes the Americans have, we must foil them!”

…

“Yekaterina, you’ve kept so much from me!” Andrei said as he returned to their residence and saw her.

“Andrei, are you angry?” Yekaterina asked. “I didn’t tell you before because I was afraid you would be scared to stay with me if you knew. Andrei, I don’t want to lose you.”

Her large, affectionate eyes gazed at him, now tinged with unease.

“No, Yekaterina, it’s just that I wasn’t prepared for this,” Andrei said. “Today at the Kremlin, I saw your good friend Irina’s father, little Ivan’s grandfather, and realized he was the chairman of the KGB. My mind went blank.”

Chapter 66: Return to the 513th Regiment

No matter who it was, upon learning that their wife’s family was the head of the Soviet Union’s secret police, their brain would short-circuit instantly. From now on, if any Soviet man had the urge to hit his wife at home, he would surely be dragged from the bed straight to a KGB prison.

“Don’t worry about who is by my side. As long as we are together, that’s all that matters. We truly love each other, don’t we?” Yekaterina gazed at Andrei and continued.

Based on his memories from his past life, Andrei knew that Andropov had been married twice. His first wife was Nina Yengalycheva, with whom he had a daughter, Zhenya (a nickname for Yevgeniya), and a son, Volodya (a nickname for Vladimir). His second wife was Tatyana Filipovna, with whom he had a son, Igor, and a daughter, Irina. The first wife had not lived with Andropov and had long since divorced him. Of course, all of this was now a secret, especially after Andropov took control of the KGB. Any records of his past had been erased from the KGB archives. And the place they had visited yesterday, Kutuzovsky Street, was a residence only for the most prominent figures in the Soviet Union. So, little Ivan’s mother must be Irina, the daughter of the second wife.

Ah, that KGB Major Sherlov—the one who had slandered him before and now in Moscow had provoked him into wanting to punch him—must have known Yekaterina’s identity and that was why he was pursuing her! That man was nothing but scum. Although Andrei wasn’t very emotionally intelligent, he knew that this guy was his rival in love. Last time, it was probably for this reason that he had slandered him!

Thinking of this, Andrei asked, “What’s the background of that Major Sherlov?”

Hearing Andrei’s question, Yekaterina pouted and said, “He’s the youngest son of General Semyon Tsvigon. Relying on his father’s connections, he got into the KGB. I despise him. It’s because of him that I gave up the opportunity to work at the First Central Hospital in Moscow and went to a hospital in Vladivostok instead.”

General Semyon Tsvigon was Brezhnev’s brother-in-law. Currently, he held the position of First Deputy Chairman of the KGB. It could be said that his role was to monitor Andropov. Sitting in the position of the General Secretary of the Soviet Union, one could never fully trust anyone. The balance of power was always the most important. If the KGB lost control, who knew if another Beria might emerge.

This man was very clever and got along well with Andropov. However, his youngest son was a complete scoundrel—uneducated and unskilled, relying on his father’s connections to wear the KGB uniform and quickly rise to the rank of major. Even in Moscow, this guy was a playboy, rumored to have been involved with many women. After seeing Yekaterina at a party once, he began pursuing her, and that General Tsvigon even had the audacity to propose marriage for his youngest son!

Thus, Yekaterina at that time had no choice but to flee to the Far East. This was her first time returning home to visit her family.

How despicable this man’s character was could be seen from how he had framed Andrei back then. He must have known that she liked Andrei, so he had Andrei charged with treason! If she hadn’t appeared in time, after Andrei was taken away by this guy, he would have surely suffered all kinds of inhuman torture. A Soviet Hero, tarnished just like that!

Suddenly, her body felt warmth again. A pair of large hands pulled Yekaterina into an embrace. Smelling the familiar scent of this man, Yekaterina felt as if she was melting from happiness.

“Yekaterina, now you are mine. I will spend my whole life protecting you. No one can hurt you.” Andrei whispered softly into her ear.

With a big tree to shelter under, with Andropov around, Andrei certainly wasn’t afraid of a mere KGB major. Moreover, Andrei also knew that historically, this guy’s father didn’t have a good ending—he was secretly eliminated by Andropov.

Andrei genuinely loved Yekaterina. At the same time, a bolder plan began to form in Andrei’s mind. Perhaps this was a gift from the heavens, throwing him here. He had no choice but to seize this opportunity to prevent the Soviet Union from heading down that path of no return!

Without this opportunity, Andrei, a mere pilot, would have had no chance to influence the Soviet high command. But now, for the first time, he had confidence in himself. The flag of the hammer and sickle must not be lowered from the flagpole of the Kremlin!

“Knock, knock.” Just then, there was a knock at the door. Yekaterina quickly left Andrei’s embrace and tidied her hair by her ears.

“Come in.” Andrei said.

A communications soldier entered and said to Andrei, “Lieutenant Colonel Andrei, urgent orders from the Far East Air Defense Force. You are to return to the 513th Regiment immediately.”

Return to the 513th Regiment immediately? Could it be that the Americans across the way were up to something again? Andrei’s eyebrows furrowed instantly.

…

Okinawa, Kadena Air Base.

This was the largest U.S. air base in Asia, established in 1944. Originally used by the Japanese Army Air Force, just a year later, the U.S. military captured the main island of Okinawa and took over the base, turning it into an important air base. It had a nearly four-kilometer-long runway, capable of handling all kinds of large aircraft, even space shuttles.

Its geographical location was crucial—southward to Vietnam, westward to monitor China, and northward to Soviet military bases.

At this moment, the heavy steel doors of a reinforced concrete hangar were slowly opening. Inside, a black, sci-fi-like aircraft was being towed out by a tug.

The entire body was black, with a pointed front and a relatively wide fuselage, resembling a chine. Two massive engines were mounted at the wing roots, with pointed cones in front and twin vertical tails.

This aircraft was the pride of the U.S. Air Force, developed by Lockheed’s Skunk Works—a strategic reconnaissance aircraft capable of flying at three times the speed of sound at extremely high altitudes! Codenamed SR-71 Blackbird!

After its successful development, the first overseas base to be equipped with this reconnaissance aircraft was Kadena in Okinawa. It had now been eight years since this reconnaissance aircraft was deployed.

Since its service, this reconnaissance aircraft had surveilled many countries, including the Soviet Union, and had never been shot down!

The lower part of the fuselage was slowly dripping liquid, and the air was filled with a peculiar smell.

Due to thermal expansion and contraction, when flying at three times the speed of sound, this aircraft would elongate by more than thirty centimeters. Therefore, during manufacturing, the titanium alloy skin of this aircraft had wrinkles. Once it reached three times the speed of sound, the body would become smooth. At the same time, the various oil-leaking parts of the aircraft would perfectly seal together due to the expansion.

Chapter 67: Blackbird Takes Flight

Two American pilots, clad in high-altitude pressure suits, were already seated in the cockpit. This was the fifth day the Blackbird reconnaissance plane had been deployed on missions. For the past few days, they had operated at night, but today, they were flying in broad daylight.

Months earlier, an incident had occurred where an EP-3 reconnaissance aircraft collided with a Soviet MiG-25 fighter jet, forcing it to make an emergency landing at a Soviet base. Since then, the United States had been at a disadvantage.

This was intolerable for the Americans. The commander of the U.S. forces stationed in the island nation was furious. The Soviet MiG-25 had become the greatest threat to the United States!

What was so special about the MiG-25? It could fly at three times the speed of sound—so what? The United States had its own aircraft capable of such speeds! The Blackbird was the pinnacle of American advanced aviation technology!

Thus, the Blackbird reconnaissance plane was dispatched to conduct surveillance over Soviet territory. Its mission was to gather intelligence on Soviet military bases in the Far East and locate where the EP-3 had been hidden by the Soviets.

To this day, the Americans remained fixated on recovering that EP-3, unaware that the Soviets had already dismantled it completely. The aircraft was beyond repair—the Soviets had no intention of returning it.

From Okinawa, the Blackbird flew north, passing over the Korean Peninsula and heading straight for Vladivostok to surveil the Soviet Pacific Fleet. Then, it would continue northward, scanning several air bases along the way before turning eastward upon reaching Komsomolsk-on-Amur, returning via Sakhalin Island. The mission was to thoroughly surveil all major Soviet military-industrial complexes and bases in the Far East.

This was also a show of force against the Soviets. Recalling the recent attempt by a Soviet MiG-25 to attack their Blackbird, the pilots couldn’t help but feel a pang of fear. They worried that the missiles might strike them down. But the missiles had veered off course long before reaching them. Soviet missiles were as unreliable as early-model Sparrow missiles—no better than unguided rockets!

A massive auxiliary power unit was positioned at the end of the runway, supplying electricity to the engines. As switches were flipped, the roar of the twin J-58 engines at the tail grew louder, and fiery flames erupted from the exhaust.

All instruments showed normal readings. Omstead took a deep breath.

“Kadena, Kadena, Blackbird requesting takeoff,” Omstead radioed the control tower.

“Blackbird cleared for takeoff. Nanny is in position,” came the tower’s response.

Gently pulling back on the control stick, the roar from the tail grew even louder. Releasing the brakes, the massive Blackbird began rolling down the runway, its tail engulfed in scorching flames.

At the end of the runway, the Blackbird lifted off, its enormous frame soaring into the sky.

Though both the MiG-25 and the Blackbird could reach speeds of Mach 3, the Blackbird, constructed entirely of titanium alloy, had poor flight performance. Its structural strength was so weak that what was originally intended as a bomber had been reduced to a reconnaissance aircraft equipped with various surveillance devices. Its ability to withstand G-forces was pathetic, and its maneuverability was abysmal—almost as bad as the U-2.

Climbing at a shallow angle, the Blackbird headed toward the designated Airspace 13 to rendezvous with its nanny.

“Blackbird calling Nanny, Blackbird calling Nanny,” Omstead transmitted over the radio.

“Altitude nine thousand, speed seven hundred. Nanny in position at Airspace 13,” came the familiar voice in his earpiece.

“Blackbird copies,” Omstead acknowledged, skillfully following the flight path. As he leveled off at nine thousand meters, he spotted the KC-135 aerial refueling tanker ahead.

Due to fuel leaks on the ground, the Blackbird typically took off with only a small amount of fuel, refueling in the air afterward.

When the Blackbird flew at high speeds, its body temperature could reach several hundred degrees. Conventional aviation fuel posed a risk of spontaneous combustion, so the Skunk Works had developed a special JP-7 fuel. This fuel had an extremely high flash point to prevent auto-ignition at high temperatures, contained fluorocarbon compounds for lubrication, and included oxidizers for easier combustion. It even had a cesium formulation to mask the radar signature of the exhaust. However, this fuel was extremely expensive—costing up to thirty thousand dollars per hour of flight for the SR-71.

Additionally, this fuel required a dedicated refueling aircraft. The airborne nanny was specifically designed to service the Blackbird.

Omstead maneuvered the massive Blackbird closer, exposing the refueling port on its upper fuselage. Another round of nanny service began.

At the rear of the KC-135, the refueling operator carefully manipulated the controls. Through the observation window, he watched the long refueling boom draw nearer to the Blackbird’s dorsal port. With a gentle touch, the boom connected, sealing and pressurizing.

“OK,” the operator radioed. “Fueling commences.”

Other nations used flexible hoses for aerial refueling, which was slow and required precise coordination from the receiving aircraft’s pilot. The U.S. Air Force, however, used rigid booms. The receiving pilot only needed to maintain a steady altitude, speed, and heading—the refueling aircraft handled the rest.

Fuel poured into the Blackbird’s tanks. Soon, refueling was complete, and the aircraft disengaged.

A few drops of residual fuel clung to the Blackbird’s back, and more leaked from the seams in its fuselage. After every flight, the aircraft was left filthy.

Alright, time to accelerate! Omstead expertly engaged the afterburners on both engines.

The Blackbird’s official flight had begun!

As speed increased, white mist formed at the front of the aircraft—a precursor to breaking the sound barrier. The mist thickened, forming a sharp cone. With a sudden burst of sound, the Blackbird’s nose pierced through the white vapor, leaving behind a conical sonic boom cloud.

Accelerate! Keep accelerating!

The twin J-58 engines roared at full power, pushing the aircraft faster. The intake cones at the front of the engines began retracting, the large cones from takeoff gradually shrinking into the intake ducts.

Speed continued to climb, as did altitude. Now, they were over Korea.

Altitude: twenty-four thousand meters. Speed: Mach 3.2. Heading for the Soviet Maritime Territory!

The intake cones fully retracted into the ducts. The J-58 engines had now transformed into ramjets, with airflow passing directly into the afterburner chambers, igniting and blasting out scorching exhaust.

The temperature at the nose reached hundreds of degrees, smoothing the aircraft’s outer skin. All the leaks sealed shut under the heat, though a massive sonic boom cloud trailed behind the aircraft.

Chapter 68: No Restricted Zone

Originally, the Blackbird had been designed with a strong emphasis on radar stealth. Its black coating was meant to serve as a stealth layer, but in reality, the aircraft was incapable of hiding its presence. The massive sonic boom clouds it generated became excellent reflectors for long-range radar, and its scorching body made it easily detectable by infrared devices.

Yet, the Blackbird continued to move unimpeded. Its trump card was altitude and speed!

The altitude kept increasing. Omstead calculated in his mind—it would take less than twenty minutes to reach the target area. By then, the altitude would rise to around twenty-eight thousand meters. The first target of reconnaissance would be the Soviet Union’s Pacific Fleet assets!

“Birch, prepare the reconnaissance equipment,” Omstead said to his companion in the rear seat.

The Blackbird was a two-seater reconnaissance aircraft, with the pilot in the front and the reconnaissance systems officer in the back.

“Understood.” The rear-seat crew began activating various reconnaissance devices. As a powerful reconnaissance aircraft, it carried advanced electronic and optical reconnaissance equipment, including reconnaissance cameras, infrared and electronic detectors, and the AN/APQ-73 synthetic aperture side-looking radar. Moreover, these devices were mounted on rails, allowing them to move backward during photography to compensate for errors caused by the aircraft’s flight.

Optical photography was best done during the day. After several nights of flights, the Americans had discovered that the Soviet Union’s proud MiG-25 fighters posed no real threat to them. Emboldened, they finally began daytime reconnaissance!

Would he become the next Gary Powers? (The U-2 pilot shot down in 1960 while conducting reconnaissance over the Soviet Union.) Of course not! Back then, they only had altitude, but now, they had both altitude and speed! The Soviet Union’s backward electronic technology made it impossible for them to develop missiles capable of intercepting a Mach 3 reconnaissance aircraft!

Just as the Blackbird flew over the Korean Peninsula, a large early warning radar stationed in the Far East’s Khot Mountains detected the uninvited guest from the high skies. Through an automated air defense network, it sent a warning signal to the interception forces.

Sokolovka Base.

“Report! Higher command has notified us of a suspicious target. Altitude twenty-six thousand meters, speed Mach 3. It has crossed the Korean Peninsula and is heading north. Higher command has instructed us to be ready for interception at any moment!”

Upon hearing this alert, Kozhdoob gasped. A Mach 3 target—it had to be the Americans’ Blackbird again! They were too arrogant! This time, they had come in broad daylight!

To the Soviet air defense forces, the Blackbird was their nemesis, especially for the interceptor units equipped with the MiG-25.

Once, the American U-2 reconnaissance aircraft had flown freely over Soviet territory, slapping the Soviet air defense forces in the face until the roar of the SAM-2 missile finally put an end to the reconnaissance flights. A few years later, the Americans returned, this time with Mach 3 speed and altitudes above twenty-five thousand meters.

The only aircraft capable of reaching such altitudes was the Soviet MiG-25! These past few days, Sokolovka Base had been humiliated. As a key air defense interceptor unit in the Far Eastern Military District, and as the 513th Regiment, which had been prioritized for re-equipping with the most advanced MiG-25 fighters, it was truly embarrassing. They had launched multiple interception operations, but without exception, every single one had failed!

The Americans had even boasted that for the SR-71, there were no restricted zones!

“Sokolovka, Sokolovka, 032 requesting takeoff for interception!” Just then, a familiar voice came over the radio.

Andrei had returned by hitching a ride on a transport plane from Moscow to the Far East, so he arrived at Sokolovka quickly. At the flight regiment’s meeting, they discussed how to deal with the American reconnaissance aircraft. However, the pilots who had attempted interceptions before were unclear in their accounts. Andrei knew that he would only be able to confirm his judgment by seeing it for himself. So, he took on the combat readiness duty. Just as he had finished putting on his flight gear and was waiting in the duty room, the American reconnaissance aircraft arrived!

He rushed quickly to his fighter, settling back into the cockpit. Andrei felt his fighting spirit ignite.

His aircraft, 032, seemed to sense the impending battle as well, sharing his excitement like a warhorse charging across the battlefield.

Below the cockpit, the stainless steel fuselage bore two bright red solid five-pointed stars and one red hollow five-pointed star, representing two confirmed kills and one damaged enemy aircraft. In the Cold War era, this was no small feat.

However, Andrei was not entirely confident about this interception mission because the enemy was the Blackbird!

The Soviet air defense forces typically operated under ground guidance, ascending and using long-range air-to-air missiles for interception. To the pilots, they were merely operators in the entire interception process, following ground commands.

Setting the most suitable interception route for the MiG-25 and guiding the aircraft to a position where missiles could be launched were tasks for the ground personnel.

Thus, after receiving the order, it took another five minutes before the command to take off for interception came—just as the Blackbird flew over the Sea of Japan.

As always, Andrei engaged the afterburner. The two R-15 turbojet engines roared to life with maximum afterburner thrust, propelling the steel beast down the runway. As it took off, the four missiles under its wings gleamed brightly.

To complement the MiG-25’s powerful interception capabilities, Soviet engineers had equipped it with missiles specifically designed for interception—the half-ton R-40!

With a long, slender body and a canard aerodynamic layout, the large swept-back trapezoidal wings at the rear had four control surfaces to guide the missile’s flight. Overall, this missile, with its limited overload and performance, was primarily used to intercept American bombers—the main task of the air defense forces. Although Andrei’s MiG-25PD could be equipped with R-60 missiles, they were useless for this interception. The R-60 was too light, and its warhead’s power was too limited.

“Maintain current climb rate, turn two degrees to the right.” The voice of the ground controller came through the headset.

“032 received.” Andrei followed the ground instructions, continuing to climb while flipping some of the densely packed switches on the right.

The missiles were pre-powered, the infrared seekers cooled, ready to launch at any moment! The vacuum tube onboard radar also powered on, heating up. After half a minute, once the vacuum tubes were preheated, the powerful radar could be activated.

Chapter 69: The First Interception

The gloved hands began to sweat as the speed increased. The temperature inside the cockpit rose, reaching seventy degrees Celsius at Mach 3. However, for a Soviet pilot, this was a bearable challenge.

“Target distance three hundred kilometers, altitude twenty-eight thousand meters, speed Mach 3.2.” The voice of the ground controller continued through the headset.

Three hundred kilometers seemed far, but for aircraft flying at Mach 3, it was only a five-minute journey. If both aircraft were flying toward each other at around Mach 3, the time would be reduced to just two minutes.

Andrei had only one chance for this interception!

Radar activated!

The inverted Cassegrain antenna of the Sapphire-25 radar at the nose of the steel war machine radiated powerful electromagnetic signals forward. The peak power of six hundred kilowatts instantly dimmed the instrument lights in the cockpit.

The temperature inside the cabin continued to rise. Most of the electricity consumed by the radar was converted into heat, seeping into the cockpit. Outdated vacuum tubes! Although the power sounded impressive, much of it was wasted. Andrei glanced at the radar screen. He had already climbed to an altitude of twenty-eight thousand meters, the direction was correct, and the interception had entered the countdown phase.

The Blackbird, designed with radar stealth as a key feature, created large ionized clouds due to high-speed friction with the air, making its signal characteristics quite obvious.

After a dozen seconds, a dark green dot appeared on the radar screen. Target detected!

Single-pulse mode, locked on!

The Sapphire-25 radar began emitting pulse signals, bouncing off the target and returning. Meanwhile, the MiG-25’s electronic equipment started calculating fire control parameters, providing initial data for the radar-guided R-40R missiles.

The Doppler method was used to filter out ground reflection clutter. At high altitudes, single-pulse was the best choice.

This seemed like a lengthy process. The all-vacuum tube fire control system, although equipped with an onboard computer, was essentially an analog computing circuit using vacuum tubes. If there were an Intel 8086 chip, the calculations would be completed in less than a second.

The distance between the two aircraft was rapidly closing. Finally, at a distance of forty kilometers, a familiar voice came through the headset.

“Lock complete, requesting launch.” Andrei’s hand rested on the red button. Now, only the final step remained—he needed a command from the ground to launch the missiles.

“Fire!” The ground command was short and direct.

Fire! Andrei pressed the launch button with all his might.

Flames flickered beneath the wings as four massive R-40 missiles—two infrared and two radar-guided—left their mounts in succession.

At this moment, the distance between the two aircraft had already closed to twenty kilometers!

The R-40 missile was specifically designed for the MiG-25. To enable launch at Mach 3, the missile underwent many improvements. The infrared seeker used a larger amount of liquid nitrogen for cooling, and the missile body received special heat-resistant treatment.

The infrared-guided missiles could directly track heat sources, while the radar-guided ones required the aircraft’s radar to illuminate the target. Using both types in combination, with four missiles launched, it was hard to believe they wouldn’t bring down the Blackbird!

But just two seconds after the missiles were launched, Andrei saw a red light flashing on the cockpit instrument panel.

Trouble—the radar was overheating!

The six-hundred-kilowatt radar had been operating at peak power—searching, detecting, locking on, and providing the semi-active radar with the necessary illumination. Most of the power was converted into heat, rapidly increasing the temperature at the nose. To cope with this, Mikoyan’s engineers had to use Freon to cool the forward radar equipment bay.

But now, due to prolonged use, the radar system had overheated! Andrei flicked a switch to reduce the radar’s power, but as soon as he did, the image on the radar screen disappeared.

Radar failure!

Without radar illumination, the two radar-guided R-40R missiles became uncontrolled rockets, tracing a graceful arc through the sky before passing a few hundred meters from the SR-71 and self-destructing.

The moment the radar failed, Andrei knew the R-40R attack had failed. What about the two infrared-guided R-40T missiles?

The two aircraft were still flying head-on. Andrei had only one chance for this interception! He knew from history that the SR-71 had never been shot down, which meant the performance of the MiG-25’s two types of missiles was definitely lacking!

What to do? The interception window was so brief. If the target flew past, Andrei would have to turn his aircraft around in the air and chase after it, but he would never catch up! Mach 3.2 was the MiG-25’s maximum speed, while the SR-71 could reach speeds above Mach 3.5!

Damn it, if only there were machine guns! The massive MiG-25 interceptor only had four R-40 missiles as its interception weapons. Now, after launching these missiles, Andrei had no other means of interception.

The two R-40T missiles continued to fly. Due to the round shape of the infrared seeker, aerodynamic drag increased significantly. After launch, they fell behind the R-40R missiles.

The infrared-guided missiles of this era only had tail-chase attack capabilities. However, since the Blackbird was flying at Mach 3, the aerodynamic friction generated temperatures of several hundred degrees, allowing the missiles to lock onto the target in a head-on attack.

The R-40T continued to fly forward, the massive heat source ahead accurately captured by the seeker. The vacuum tube circuits transmitted signals, controlling the rear fins. With the aircraft’s speed added, the missile’s speed increased to Mach 5, bravely charging toward the oncoming Mach 3 Blackbird!

The relative speed was Mach 8—three kilometers per second! Twenty kilometers would be covered in just six or seven seconds!

“MiG-25! Missiles launched!” Almost simultaneously, inside the Blackbird, the reconnaissance systems officer in the rear seat looked at the screen in front of him and shouted to the pilot in the front cockpit.

Lieutenant Colonel Omstead calmly said, “Don’t worry, those missiles won’t hit us.”

Lieutenant Colonel Omstead pushed the control stick to the right with his right hand and pulled the throttle lever all the way back with his left, making the Blackbird turn at full speed.

Fly on!

Chapter 70: Interception Failure

The Blackbird’s turn was slow, cruising at Mach 3.2, requiring a radius of hundreds of kilometers to maneuver. Yet, Lieutenant Colonel Omstead remained confident. A head-on interception demanded missiles with lightning-fast reactions!

Two missiles streaked in from afar, visible only as fleeting meteor-like flashes at such speeds.

Two more followed!

In mere seconds, two additional missiles arced brightly, detonating their warheads just hundreds of meters from the Blackbird.

The R-40T missile weighed nearly half a ton, with a warhead of nearly forty kilograms. Countless rod fragments scattered through the air, but none could catch up to the Blackbird accelerating to Mach 3.5!

No missile could hit the Blackbird!

The R-40T’s seeker had locked onto the Blackbird’s scorching infrared signature, but the missile’s internal control circuits couldn’t keep up with its speed! By the time the signal reached the tail fins, it was already half a beat too late. A slight adjustment of the fins should have propelled the missile right in front of the Blackbird, detonating the warhead. At such high speeds, precision wasn’t necessary—just getting within ten meters would suffice. A single rod fragment striking the Blackbird could send it spiraling out of control!

But the circuit’s response was too slow! With a relative speed of Mach 8, it was like lightning. Before anyone could react, the moment had passed—still no hit!

If the fins had been more responsive, if the control system had reacted faster, or if it had been a tail-chase attack, perhaps it would have worked!

Those few seconds felt like an eternity. The reconnaissance systems officer in the rear compartment, though not on his first mission, still felt sweat dripping down his back. Finally, they had shaken off those missiles!

The MiG-25 followed the missiles, surging toward the Blackbird. The blue target appeared clearly in Andrei’s vision.

The SR-71 Blackbird was originally black, but at speeds exceeding Mach 3, friction with the air turned its surface a pale blue, like a blue flame, vanishing from Andrei’s sight in an instant.

Interception failed!

Previous attempts had used the basic MiG-25P model. Now, Andrei piloted the improved MiG-25PD, yet the result was the same—failure!

Over the radio, the ground controller’s voice ordered their return. Andrei guided his aircraft back to Sokolovka Base.

“The Air Defense Command has issued an order: by any means necessary, we must bring down the Blackbird! Even if it means ramming them, we must take down the Americans!” Colonel Ivanov, commander of the 513th Regiment, declared to all pilots.

The Americans’ arrogance had reached new heights. Previously, they only flew at night, but now they came in broad daylight, flaunting their reconnaissance missions! As the Soviet Union’s air defense forces, their inability to stop them was nothing short of humiliating!

“We don’t have the equipment to intercept the Blackbird,” Andrei said, having just removed his high-altitude pressure suit, sitting at the conference table.

In his past life as a pilot, he had studied global aviation equipment. Public records described the MiG-25 as a Soviet Mach 3 aircraft capable of monitoring American reconnaissance flights. At the time, Andrei had been puzzled—why would the Soviets merely monitor American Blackbird intrusions into their airspace? Given the Soviet temperament, they should have attacked long ago!

Now he understood. The Soviets were saving face. They couldn’t shoot down the Blackbird, so they could only trail behind it!

Not only could they not down the Blackbird, but the Soviet MiG-25R reconnaissance aircraft also had no record of being shot down in missions. Attacking aircraft flying above Mach 3 was beyond current technological capabilities.

Due to inherent flaws in radio command guidance and semi-active radar homing, their precision was insufficient to target objects moving over six hundred meters per second. At closer ranges, the firing window was too narrow, and the missiles’ poor maneuverability made effective attacks impossible. As for infrared-guided air-to-air missiles, the same issues applied—their maneuverability couldn’t match future missiles with 35G to 50G overloads, and their electronic performance was too poor to execute effective attacks!

Since becoming a Soviet Hero, Andrei had earned the respect of the entire regiment. His bold and aggressive style in previous operations had led everyone to believe he would bring down the Blackbird this time. Yet, the Blackbird continued its defiant flight!

Hearing Andrei’s words, Ivanov frowned. “Andrei, do we truly have no other options?”

“Yes, we do!” Andrei replied firmly. “Our electronic technology isn’t advanced enough to take down a Mach 3 target, but we can use a makeshift solution—modify my aircraft and equip it with two external cannons!”

At present, using missiles to destroy the Blackbird was hopeless. The only viable option was cannons!

Although influenced by the “missile supremacy” theory, the Soviets hadn’t removed cannons from their second-generation fighters like the West. The MiG-21 and MiG-23 still relied on cannons as primary weapons. However, the MiG-25 lacked cannons.

This was due to its operational role. The MiG-21 and MiG-23 were fighters designed to eliminate enemy aircraft. Soviet electronic and high-performance rocket engine technology was immature, necessitating the continued use of cannons. The Americans, with their advanced electronics, believed cannons were obsolete—until the Vietnam War proved them wrong.

But the MiG-25 was an interceptor, tasked with rapidly and efficiently intercepting enemy bombers. Missiles were the most suitable weapon, making cannons unnecessary—they only added weight without practical use.

Now, against the Blackbird, cannons were an excellent choice!

Hearing Andrei’s proposal, everyone was stunned. Cannons?

“Andrei, that might not work,” Ivanov hesitated.

Chapter 71: Killing Two Birds with One Stone

The MiG-25, capable of reaching three times the speed of sound, required specially designed weapons that could withstand high temperatures. During its design phase, no cannons were installed. Now, retrofitting cannons at the base was clearly beyond their capabilities and would pose a danger to flight operations.

For instance, how stable would the cannons be at three times the speed of sound? Would the vibrations from firing at such speeds cause structural damage to the aircraft? Would the smoke from the cannons cause the engines to stall? These were all unknowns. Thus, upon hearing Andrei’s suggestion, Ivanov instinctively rejected it—it was too dangerous!

“Do we have a better solution?” Andrei asked.

Everyone shook their heads. Although their R-40 missiles performed adequately during target practice, there was a vast difference between practice and real combat. Especially now, when their target was flying at three times the speed of sound, their missiles were simply inadequate.

The orders from above were clear: they must shoot down the Blackbird! The repeated failures of the 513th Regiment would surely draw the wrath of the Far Eastern Military District’s air defense commander. As the regiment equipped with the Soviet Union’s most advanced interceptors, how could they fail to bring down the Blackbird?

“Then let’s get to work!” Andrei declared. “Gather all the ground crew in the conference room. I need to hold a meeting with them.”

Clearly, Andrei had been preparing for this.

Though Ivanov outranked Andrei by one level, Andrei was a Soviet Hero—his words carried weight. Since Andrei had made up his mind and there was no better alternative, Ivanov knew they had to try.

Andrei wasn’t avoiding consultation with Ivanov. His superior had taken great risks to protect him when that KGB agent had tried to take him away. Andrei was genuinely grateful and respected Ivanov. But time was of the essence. That arrogant American reconnaissance aircraft was practically mocking the Soviet Union! They had to shoot it down tomorrow—there was no time to waste!

In terms of status, ground crew were considered lower than pilots. This was evident even in their meals. To ensure pilots’ health, they had a dedicated dining hall with balanced nutrition, and their food allowances were five to six times higher than those of the ground crew, who ate in the same mess hall as the base’s guards.

Yet, the ground crew were indispensable to the pilots. They maintained the aircraft, and after each mission, the pilots only needed to land the plane and, at most, help push it into the hangar. The ground crew, however, had to inspect and prepare the aircraft for the next flight. Even the slightest oversight could lead to a major accident.

The ground crew were, in a sense, the pilots’ nannies.

But the ground crew at Sokolovka Base were… different.

Their uniforms were far from neat—some even had oil stains on their clothes. And there was the unmistakable scent of alcohol.

“Alright, everyone, quiet down,” Andrei said, suppressing his irritation at their disarray.

Finally, the room fell silent. Andrei glanced at Ivanov, who nodded in approval. Andrei continued, “The reason I’ve called you all here is to brainstorm a solution. We have a mission: to install cannons on the MiG-25.”

“How is that possible? We don’t have the expertise!” someone immediately retorted.

The speaker was a man in his thirties with long hair that partially obscured his eyes, which gleamed with disdain. As he spoke, the distinct smell of vodka wafted from his mouth.

Andrei recognized him—he was Akim Valisiyevich, the nephew of Base Commander Kozhdoob and the current leader of the ground crew.

Before Andrei had shot down Byelinko, Byelinko had mentioned over the radio that the malfunction in Andrei’s aircraft had been due to poor maintenance by the ground crew—and the one primarily responsible was this man, Akim.

At the time, for various reasons, Andrei hadn’t pursued the matter. Back then, he hadn’t had the authority. But now, it was time to discipline the 513th Regiment. Changing the Soviet Union’s current state would begin with the ground crew of the 513th Regiment at Sokolovka!

Andrei’s proposal to install cannons wasn’t just about modifying the aircraft—it was also about launching a movement against nepotism, corruption, and reform within the military!

What did he have to fear? He was a Soviet Hero, the Deputy Regiment Commander of the 513th, and his powerful backer was Andropov, who despised corruption even more than he did!

And what did this man in front of him have? His only backing was Base Commander Kozhdoob of Sokolovka!

Byelinko’s defection had been influenced by his personal character and experiences, but the environment had also played a role. Here, Byelinko had felt helpless, which had driven him to defect. Byelinko had already received his due punishment, and others would be no exception!

“What is our level of expertise?” Andrei asked, pushing aside his thoughts. Right now, Akim was the chicken he would kill to scare the monkeys.

What is our level of expertise? The moment the words left Andrei’s mouth, Akim sensed something was off. After all, the other man was the Deputy Regiment Commander, a Lieutenant Colonel—not someone a mere ground crew leader could afford to provoke.

“Commander Andrei, our ground crew is primarily responsible for the daily maintenance of the aircraft. Our training covers these tasks. Even major engine overhauls have to be sent to Vladivostok,” Akim said. “Installing cannons on our planes is beyond our capabilities. Am I right, everyone?”

Hearing Akim’s question, some of the ground crew immediately chimed in. “That’s right! Commander, we really don’t have the expertise!”

“Cannons are the most basic equipment for fighter jets. They’ve been around since the earliest days of aviation. During World War II, all our aircraft were equipped with cannons. Even now, look at our air defense forces’ equipment—the MiG-21, MiG-23, Su-15—none of them lack cannons! If we can’t even install cannons, it only means you didn’t study properly during your training in Vladivostok last year!” Andrei declared. “This is an order! It must be completed!”

Chapter 72: UPK-23 Gun Pod

As a mechanic, one must constantly learn to improve their professional skills. Every year, the Sokolovka base sends mechanics to Vladivostok for further training, and each time, it is Akim who leads the group.

But what do they actually learn there? Every day, they absentmindedly complete their routine studies, and only at night do they come alive—running off to drink! Some even go looking for women…

“Who can complete the task of mounting the gun pod?” Andrei asked the mechanics.

Not all mechanics were cut from the same cloth as Akim. No matter where you go, there are always two factions. If everyone were like Akim, it would only prove that the Soviet Union was beyond saving.

“I can,” a voice suddenly came from the back of the crowd. A young mechanic stood up and said, “I once studied the maintenance of the MiG-21, including the GP-9 gun pod and the UPK-23 gun pod.”

The MiG-21! Though it was merely a transitional model in Soviet aviation history, it had flourished abroad—especially in China, where it was redesignated as the J-7 and became the backbone of the nation’s air defense.

Meanwhile, the Soviet Union had exported large numbers of MiG-21s to Warsaw Pact countries. Among its many variants, the MiG-21PF series removed the fixed internal cannon, opting instead for a gun pod—the GP-9.

This gun pod housed a 23mm GSh-23 twin-barrel cannon, the most common aircraft cannon in the Soviet arsenal.

The GSh-23L cannon was developed in 1965 based on the “Gast” principle—a mechanism where the recoil from one barrel cycles the other, allowing continuous firing. This World War I-era invention was simple, compact, highly reliable, and capable of an astonishing rate of fire.

Weighing only fifty-one kilograms, the GSh-23L fired at three thousand rounds per minute. On the MiG-21PF, it was mounted in the GP-9 pod beneath the fuselage, resembling a large bulge. Later improvements streamlined its design, resulting in the UPK-23 gun pod, specifically designed for external hardpoints.

Andrei would have preferred the GSh-6-23, a six-barrel rotary cannon inspired by the American M61A1 “Vulcan.” With a firing rate of five thousand rounds per minute, it could unleash a storm of metal upon any target, ensuring its destruction.

But that cannon wouldn’t be available until next year. For now, it was out of reach.

“Good, Viktor,” Andrei said, recognizing the young mechanic. He was always diligent in his work—a true Soviet lad. “You’ll be in charge of helping me mount the gun pod on my 032. If needed, I’ll request expedited modifications for my aircraft. Who else is willing to help?”

His meaning was clear. Those who followed Akim had no interest, but the newer mechanics eagerly volunteered.

The old-timers sneered from the sidelines. Did they think they were aircraft designers? They were just mechanics!

“Once the modifications are complete, I’ll report your contributions to higher command. There will be rewards,” Andrei declared. “We need to get this done as soon as possible.”

“Yes!” the mechanics replied enthusiastically.

“Andrei, I recall we have UPK-23 gun pods in storage,” Ivanov spoke up. “A few years ago, before we transitioned to the MiG-25, we used MiG-21s. There should be backups of these pods.”

Having them on hand was perfect! Andrei said, “Excellent! Let’s get to work. We can finish mounting and calibrating the cannon today!”

This wasn’t some major overhaul—everything was already prepared! All they had to do was attach the gun pod to the aircraft and adjust it according to the fire control system. If they couldn’t even manage that, they weren’t qualified mechanics!

Akim, however, wore a bitter expression. “Commander, those pods are from years ago. Who knows where they’re buried in the warehouse? How are we supposed to find them?”

Andrei’s face darkened. “What? You can’t find them? Those are Soviet assets! If they’re lost, you’ll have to explain yourself to the Air Defense Command in Vladivostok!”

Akim’s face paled at the threat. A trip there would mean certain imprisonment!

The base’s warehouse was massive, and in this era, there was no computerized inventory system. Everything was managed manually.

Andrei, having come from the future, knew how China handled such matters. Their warehouse managers kept thick ledgers, memorizing every item. They even held competitions to see who could recall the most details accurately, with rewards for the winners.

Foreign observers had been stunned by China’s efficiency—their warehouse managers were like human computers!

But here? The warehouse was a mess. Only the newest crates, containing spare engines, looked well-maintained. Everything else was scattered haphazardly, covered in thick dust.

“This is a disaster!” Andrei muttered as he walked through the chaos. “According to regulations, we’re supposed to conduct an annual inventory of spare parts, aren’t we?”

“Yes, but… we’ve been too busy maintaining the aircraft. We just haven’t had time,” Akim stammered. As the lead mechanic, he knew the truth—many items had gone missing, sold off for bottles of vodka. At first, he had tried to cover his tracks in the records, but eventually, he had just taken what he wanted.

Chapter 73: Ivanov’s Support

“Commander, this spare parts warehouse is too messy. I suggest we conduct a thorough cleanup and reclassify all items. What do you think?” Andrei said to Regiment Commander Ivanov.

“Reporting to the commander, these minor matters don’t need your attention. We can handle them,” Akim quickly interjected.

“No need.” Andrei gave Akim a meaningful look. “Our ground crew is already too busy maintaining the aircraft. They don’t have time to organize the spare parts warehouse. I’ll request assistance from higher-ups.”

Higher-ups? Akim felt a chill run down his spine. Andrei’s words were crystal clear—the commander already knew everything happening here, and he intended to report it to the top!

What should he do? Akim slowly retreated, quietly leaving the warehouse to find Base Commander Kozhdoob for advice.

“Found it!” Just then, a shout came from the other side. Inside a large birchwood crate lay the backup gun pod.

“Good, take it to the hangar. We’ll modify it now!” Andrei ordered.

As several young ground crew members wheeled the crates away on carts, Ivanov quietly spoke to Andrei. “Andrei, do you know what you’re doing?”

Andrei nodded. “Yes, Commander. We are a combat regiment, and we could be deployed at any moment. I don’t want any time bombs in our unit. I must eliminate them! We cannot allow people who only care about their own interests to remain here!”

Andrei recalled the chaos that followed Gorbachev’s rise to power in later years—how bold individuals sold off state assets for personal gain, enriching themselves at the public’s expense. Such things must never happen again!

He was fighting a war without gunfire, one far more dangerous than battling the Americans. Changing the entire nation’s situation single-handedly was no easy task.

Fortunately, he wasn’t fighting alone.

“Andrei, I support you!” Ivanov said. “It’s time to clean up this mess! I blame myself for being too lenient before.”

The relationship between the flight regiment and the base was delicate. Ivanov had often tolerated Base Commander Kozhdoob, even allowing him to place his own people in the ground crew. Ivanov had agreed to it all.

But after the Byelinko incident, Ivanov felt a pang of guilt. He, too, had heard the now top-secret recording of Byelinko’s final words before being shot down—his dissatisfaction with the base’s current state! Even Andrei’s near-accident had been due to ground crew negligence!

Now that Andrei wanted to clean house, Ivanov was fully behind him.

“Thank you, Commander.” Andrei said. “We need to secure the warehouse, especially the records, to prevent any accidents. I’ll contact the KGB in Vladivostok to help investigate. We’ll get to the bottom of this and expose everyone involved!”

Contacting the KGB in Vladivostok! The KGB’s power was immense, and they could intervene in military affairs. Moreover, Andrei’s actions would certainly earn Andropov’s approval. Just before coming here, Andrei had received another call from Andropov—if anything happened, he should seek help from the KGB in Vladivostok!

As for Major Sherlov, he wouldn’t be causing trouble for Andrei anytime soon. What worried Andrei most was Akim. If Akim found out his secrets were about to be exposed, would he panic and do something reckless? Like sneaking in to steal and burn the records? That would make investigation difficult.

Of course, if he did, it would mean spending the rest of his life in prison. The KGB could uncover everything.

These were minor concerns. For Andrei, the most pressing matter was installing the cannons so he could take to the skies again and shoot down the Blackbird! Higher-ups had issued strict orders—allowing the Blackbird to fly freely in Soviet airspace put immense pressure on the 513th Regiment.

The UPK-23 gun pod was removed from its crate and, using a simple hoist, Viktor and several ground crew members mounted it onto the inner wing pylons of the MiG-25.

Though the wing pylons were designed specifically for the MiG-25, they weren’t particularly complex. Since this wasn’t a missile launch requiring a release mechanism, they only needed to secure the gun pod to the wing.

The installation didn’t take much effort. Following Andrei’s suggestion, they mounted one cannon on each side to balance the wing load and increase firepower.

While mounting the cannons under the nose would have been more suitable—allowing the bullets to pass through the supersonic shock cone—it would also direct more smoke into the air intakes. Modifying the nose would require major surgery, something the ground crew couldn’t handle.

“Commander Andrei, we need to install a gunsight in front of the cockpit,” Viktor said after mounting the cannons. “But it will block the entire forward view.”

A gunsight! Simply mounting the cannons wasn’t enough for combat. To hit the target, they needed a proper aiming system!

Soviet cockpits were already cramped, with limited forward visibility due to the gunsight. The MiG-25 was slightly better in this regard.

Originally, the MiG-25 wasn’t designed to use cannons—its only weapon was the R-40 missile, with later models capable of firing the R-60. Its combat strategy was to fire missiles from a distance and then retreat, so it never needed a gunsight!

Now, with the cannons mounted, they had to install a corresponding aiming system, which would completely block the forward view.

“Go ahead,” Andrei said, frowning slightly as he looked at the gunsight taken from the crate.

In his past life, aside from flying the JJ-7 trainer, Andrei had also flown the J-11. Though derived from the Su-27 and not fully mastered, China’s avionics had far surpassed Russia’s. The J-11 was equipped with advanced avionics, and targeting and locking were primarily done using a heads-up display.

For cannon attacks, the J-11 had an enhanced envelope cannon-aiming system that integrated radar, fire control, inertial reference, and a heads-up display. The HUD showed a crosshair representing the bullet trajectory and two curved lines forming a tunnel. The curvature of the lines changed with the aircraft’s movements. When the target aircraft fell within the two lines, it meant both aircraft were on the same plane, making pursuit easier. When the target’s wingspan filled the width of the lines, it indicated the target was within range. If the crosshair was above the target, the pilot only needed to maintain a stable flight attitude, press the button, and the stream of bullets would head straight for the target.

Chapter 74: Adjusting the Cannon

Advances in electronic technology had made aiming aircraft cannons relatively simple—thermal lines could handle everything. But for older aircraft, aiming was far more complicated. The Jianjiao-7, for instance, used a primitive moving optical ring sight, codenamed Shemiao-7.

This was an optical aiming device that relied on light from an illumination lamp passing through a condenser, then through a shading plate and ring plate with overlapping etched lines to form a prismatic light point and a ring of light. This was then reflected through mirrors, a gyroscopic mirror, and another reflective mirror before being magnified and projected onto the aiming sight. The pilot would see the aiming ring and distance numbers through the sight.

Using this device was incredibly cumbersome. The pilot first had to determine the enemy aircraft type based on reports or visual contact, then adjust the wingspan knob to select the appropriate wingspan scale—since distance was calculated based on the enemy’s wingspan. Next, they had to move the ring selector to the moving optical ring position, press the stabilization button to make the ring follow the aircraft’s movement, turn the distance knob to enlarge the ring, estimate the elevation and lead angles, position the ring above and ahead of the target, release the stabilization button, shrink the ring, and as it moved downward and backward, the central light point would gradually settle on the target. And this was just the preliminary phase!

In professional shooting terminology, there were phrases like “follow well,” “enclose well,” and “stabilize well.” The pilot had to align the central light point with the target’s center or vital area, lock onto it, measure its angular velocity, turn the distance knob to shrink the ring so that the prismatic light points within it surrounded the target, adjust the tightness of the enclosure based on the enemy’s silhouette, and calculate the comprehensive correction angle.

Only after all this was done could the comprehensive correction be considered complete. After tracking for about a second, the pilot could finally open fire.

Such a complex sequence of actions was not something just anyone could accomplish! Even experienced pilots didn’t have enough time to complete all these steps before firing, so they often relied on experience-based estimates and engaged in close-quarters dogfights—getting as close as possible before firing! It wasn’t uncommon for a pilot to shoot down an enemy aircraft only to have their own plane riddled with damage from the proximity.

Now, this aiming device was similar to the one Andrei had trained with in his past life. He knew that relying solely on it would be too difficult.

Because this time, his target was flying at three times the speed of sound, leaving him with an extremely short firing window!

In truth, the MiG-25 was already a fairly advanced aircraft, equipped with pulse-Doppler radar and a forward-looking infrared search and track system. However, the current ground crew had no way of integrating these systems—for example, using the Doppler radar to measure distance and directly feed the data to the aiming device, which would eliminate many of the earlier steps.

So what could he do? Watching the ground crew busily drilling holes in his cockpit and installing the aiming device, Andrei knew he had to prepare in advance!

His mind raced. He wasn’t entirely at a disadvantage—he had advantages too! The biggest one was that his target wasn’t a maneuverable fighter but an almost straight-flying reconnaissance aircraft!

Why were there so many steps? Because hitting a highly maneuverable fighter was extremely difficult! Even in World War II, only the best pilots could seize an attack opportunity during a tail chase. In air combat, not a single second of straight-line flight was allowed—that was a lesson learned in blood!

But now, his target was a reconnaissance aircraft. When the Blackbird reached three times the speed of sound, it could only fly in a straight line. Even if it turned, it couldn’t perform high-G maneuvers! So all the data could be preset! This time, his interception couldn’t be a head-on approach—he needed to pursue from behind! By setting a reasonable interception route, he could intercept it with ease!

Thanks to his knowledge from the future, Andrei was intimately familiar with the Blackbird’s specifications. Its wingspan was seventeen meters, its length thirty-three meters, and with afterburners engaged, it could reach a maximum speed of 3.35 Mach. Although it was faster than his own aircraft, as long as he planned the interception route properly, he still had a chance to shoot it down!

He didn’t need to take down many—just one. If he could shoot down a single Blackbird reconnaissance plane, the Americans would think twice before sending them again!

He still needed to discuss and plan the interception route with the guidance personnel!

“Reporting to the commander, the modifications are complete. We can proceed with the test firing,” Viktor said to Andrei.

“Good, find an open area outside to conduct the test firing,” Andrei replied.

Weapons weren’t something you could just pick up and use—they required calibration to ensure the aiming device and weapon worked together with precision. And now, all he needed to do was complete the ground testing.

The 032 was towed out of the hangar and positioned in an open area, with a paper target set up in the distance.

“Boom, boom, boom!” The machine cannons roared, and the paper target three hundred meters away was instantly torn to shreds, smoke billowing. The power of the twin 23-millimeter cannons was truly immense!

“Not bad,” Andrei said. If the aiming was accurate for stationary targets, then as long as the sight was properly calibrated, it could hit moving targets.

Andrei already had a complete plan in mind. He would set the wingspan data, approach from below, stabilize the tracking for one second, and then open fire! The key now was planning his flight path!

“Commander Andrei, it’s quite lively here,” a voice suddenly came from beside him.

Andrei didn’t even need to look up to know who it was—Base Commander Kozhdoob.

“Commander Kozhdoob, what brings you here?” Andrei asked.

“I heard you were modifying the aircraft, preparing to intercept the American reconnaissance planes again. I came to see for myself,” Kozhdoob said. “If there’s anything you need from me, just say the word. This mission concerns the honor of our Sokolovka Base.”

“It’s nothing, Commander. You should get back to your duties,” Andrei said, striding toward the aircraft to adjust the aiming device in advance and familiarize himself with this ancient method of shooting.

Kozhdoob stood awkwardly below, the sun beating down on his head, sweat dripping. If this had been before, he wouldn’t have cared about such a minor figure. But now, the man was a Soviet Hero! Even Kozhdoob had to speak to him with a smile. And now, of all times, the man had caught him by the tail!

That damned nephew of his had actually sold spare parts from the warehouse—just to exchange for a few bottles of vodka! This could be a big deal or a small one. If it was handled internally, it would be nothing more than a written reprimand. But if the KGB got involved in the investigation, things would get messy! If any of those parts ended up in the hands of the Americans, even he would be in trouble!

Chapter 75: Intercepting Again

So, Kozhdoob had no choice but to endure the afternoon sun, waiting for Andrei to come down. Though he was displeased, his face showed no sign of it.

“Regiment Commander Andrei,” Kozhdoob greeted with a broad smile after waiting a full half-hour.

“Commander, you’re still here?” Andrei feigned surprise. “Are you planning to take to the skies for combat as well?”

Kozhdoob had once been a fighter pilot, Andrei knew that. But looking at Kozhdoob’s protruding belly now, it was clear he would never fly again.

“No, nothing like that,” Kozhdoob said. “It’s about clearing out our warehouse. You’re the regiment commander, so you handle combat matters. Logistics should be left to me, the base commander.”

Though Andrei was only the deputy regiment commander, everyone at the base knew that as a Soviet Hero, his future was boundless. He would never remain just a deputy. So, the “deputy” was automatically ignored.

Andrei, of course, knew why Kozhdoob was here—it was for his nephew. But Kozhdoob didn’t realize that Andrei had another purpose: using the corrupt Akim to drag Kozhdoob down with him. This man was no good, only knowing how to climb the ladder through connections.

Kozhdoob spoke warmly, assigning combat duties to the aviation regiment and logistics to the base commander.

“Alright,” Andrei said to Kozhdoob. “Commander, with you handling it alongside me, I feel at ease. Our logistics warehouse hasn’t been inventoried in a long time. We must conduct a thorough check.”

Hearing Andrei’s words, Kozhdoob first relaxed—if he was in charge of the inventory, things would be easy. But then he realized something was off. Andrei had just said “handling it alongside me”? Who else was involved?

“Regiment Commander Andrei, who else is handling this with me?” Kozhdoob asked.

“Oh, I was worried we wouldn’t manage alone, so I called the KGB branch in Vladivostok for assistance. They should be on their way by now,” Andrei replied.

When Andrei decided to expose the corruption here, he acted swiftly. Using the hangar’s guard phone, he called the KGB in Vladivostok.

Others might not know, but the KGB in Vladivostok certainly knew that Yekaterina was Andropov’s daughter. They also knew about Andrei’s relationship with her. After their last trip to Moscow, their relationship had been confirmed. So, they would definitely help with this favor.

Sure enough, when Andrei reached out, the KGB almost immediately agreed, dispatching a small, efficient team that was already en route.

The KGB from Vladivostok! Kozhdoob felt his vision blur, his body nearly swaying uncontrollably.

“Alert! Alert!” Just then, the communications soldier shouted, “The American reconnaissance plane is back!”

Again? Looking at the sky, it was already around five in the afternoon. Had the Americans injected themselves with something? Twice in one day? Andrei sprinted toward the pilot’s duty room, quickly putting on his anti-G suit.

Since they were here, he might as well show them what he was capable of!

The cannon pods had just been installed and hadn’t undergone flight testing yet, but there was no time to waste! Minutes later, Andrei was in the cockpit, ready for takeoff.

“Sokolovka, 032 requesting takeoff for another interception!” Andrei’s mood had calmed. Gazing at the setting sun outside, the shadows of the people on the ground stretched long. Kozhdoob’s figure appeared so lonely and desolate.

“Cleared for takeoff.” The voice came through his headset. Andrei engaged the afterburner, accelerating down the runway before lifting off.

“Owl, Owl, requesting tail-chase interception guidance.” After takeoff, Andrei’s guidance was handled by the ground-based CGI system of the air defense forces. He radioed the ground controller.

A tail-chase interception was entirely different from a head-on interception. Andrei had to specify his approach immediately after takeoff.

“Owl received, 032, turn to heading 126, altitude twenty-three thousand, speed zero point eight.”

“Received.” Andrei responded over the radio, adjusting his course. A tail-chase interception was like setting an ambush in the sky. The enemy was approaching, so he didn’t need to be too fast.

Hundreds of kilometers away in the high altitude, a massive Blackbird was flying toward them.

“Only seven hours, and they’re sending us out again. They must have found something,” the reconnaissance officer in the back seat of the futuristic Blackbird remarked.

“Yeah, word from above is that they spotted an unfamiliar aircraft at the Komsomolsk aircraft factory. They’ve been studying a single photo for half a day. They think it’s important, so they sent us out again. Maybe we’ll get a full shot this time. Our route is mainly to Komsomolsk,” Omstead said from the front.

As frontline operatives, they weren’t privy to all the details. But when CIA analysts reviewed the photos, one aircraft left them stunned.

Soviet planes were usually bulky, but this one was sleek—long, twisted fuselage, twin engines, twin vertical tails, and a conical rear. What kind of plane was this? It had to be a next-generation fighter! The MiG-25 was already tough enough; this new one would be even worse.

This daytime reconnaissance mission did yield significant results for the Americans. By sheer luck, they had captured images of the wooden mock-up of the T-10 that had just arrived at the Komsomolsk aircraft factory!

The T-10’s development had reached a critical phase. The prototype was about to be built and tested. Meanwhile, to prepare for mass production, the Komsomolsk factory needed to upgrade its equipment and processes to meet the requirements for the new fighter. Mikhail Petrovich Simonov’s last visit to Komsomolsk had been for this very reason.

This wooden mock-up was meant to give the factory workers a reference, showing them the kind of aircraft they would soon be producing.

Though later analysis would reveal that the T-10’s performance couldn’t fully surpass the F-15, forcing Sukhoi to start over, for now, the Sukhoi Design Bureau still believed they were on the verge of producing this advanced fighter.

And the Americans’ lucky discovery had them eagerly awaiting the results of this second reconnaissance mission.

Chapter 76: Cannon Attack

The United States’ intelligence agencies had been closely monitoring the Soviet Union’s development of new fighter jets. Unfortunately, aside from the limited information available from Soviet public sources, the U.S. intelligence community had gained nothing. Infiltrating the Soviet Union to obtain firsthand intelligence was too difficult.

This was why, upon discovering this new aircraft, the Americans were immediately shocked. The plane’s exterior was so sleek, its lines so elegant—its maneuverability was undoubtedly exceptional! The Americans could almost sense that this aircraft was designed to counter their newly developed F-15 fighter! Thus, they eagerly proceeded with a second reconnaissance mission.

Two reconnaissance flights in a single day were unprecedented, but the Americans felt no fear. Recent reconnaissance efforts had shown that the Soviets lacked the capability to shoot down their reconnaissance planes. This wasn’t to say that the Soviet MiG-25 couldn’t reach Mach 3, but attacking a target moving at Mach 3 exceeded current air defense technology. During the Fourth Middle East War two years prior, MiG-25 reconnaissance planes had repeatedly flown over Israeli airspace, yet Israel had no means to bring them down. Ground-based anti-aircraft missiles, despite having sufficient range and altitude, were powerless against them!

Existing electronic systems couldn’t intercept such fast-moving targets—even American technology fell short, and the Soviets’ lagging electronics industry was even less capable! Thus, the Blackbird’s reconnaissance was absolutely safe!

Soviet airspace held no forbidden zones for the Blackbird! With this mindset, the Blackbird reconnaissance plane once again entered Soviet airspace, unaware that the Soviets below had already prepared their counterattack.

In the past, Soviet interceptors would engage as soon as the Blackbird crossed the midpoint of the Sea of Japan. But now, the Blackbird’s pilot detected nothing, flying unimpeded across the Sea of Japan, past Vladivostok, and over the Pacific Fleet, capturing clear images of the warships in the harbor before continuing inland. At this point, its altitude had reached thirty thousand meters.

“032, proceed at full speed. Estimated encounter in three minutes.” The voice of the ground controller came through the headset.

Andrei, already waiting in the airspace, immediately engaged the afterburner, pushing the throttle to maximum. The fighter roared, breaking the sound barrier as a conical shockwave formed at its nose. The steel war machine howled in fury!

Shooting down the American reconnaissance plane! Andrei had long since disregarded the 2.8 Mach speed limit. Even if the engine failed upon his return, it would be worth it if he could take down the Blackbird!

As he accelerated, following the ground crew’s guidance, he adjusted his angle twice more, his eyes focusing on the gunsight.

In his past life, when Andrei flew the Jianjiao-7, he had learned to use the aircraft’s cannon to strike ground targets. At the time, the Chinese Air Force, due to certain financial and systemic reasons, preferred having various aircraft perform ground attacks, using cannons or rocket pods. Even the Su-27 was no exception—it was impressive, spectacular, and always earned applause from superiors during flight demonstrations.

That’s right—rocket pods! Andrei thought of another tactic. If the cannon attack didn’t work, next time he would use rocket launchers! He refused to believe he couldn’t take down the Blackbird! And if the rocket launchers failed, he would switch to missiles with nuclear warheads!

Damn it! Soviet airspace wasn’t some place you could just come and go as you pleased!

“032, estimated encounter in one minute. Continue climbing.” The voice of the ground CGI controller came through the headset.

The controller correctly interpreted Andrei’s intentions, guiding him onto a pursuit course. Behind him, the Blackbird was approaching at Mach 3.2 and still accelerating. Clearly, the enemy also knew that flying over Soviet airspace meant speed was their best defense.

At this moment, Andrei’s fighter was still five hundred meters below the Blackbird. He needed to climb higher. Their flight paths would intersect sixty kilometers ahead—that would be Andrei’s window to fire!

Only one chance! As the Blackbird continued to accelerate, ground observations had once recorded it reaching Mach 3.5, proving its maximum speed exceeded that of the Soviet MiG-25, which could only reach Mach 3.2 at full throttle.

“032, copy.” Andrei shouted over the radio, pulling back the control stick between his legs while making final adjustments to the gunsight.

Even with all settings correct, the gunsight was designed for targets moving slower than seven hundred sixty meters per second. Now, with the target exceeding Mach 3, the lead required was much greater!

Through his narrow goggles, Andrei looked up. If the ground guidance was accurate, the Blackbird should appear directly above him any second!

Sure enough, two seconds later, a massive target suddenly appeared overhead!

At this speed, no sound could be heard—the roar of the enemy’s super engine and the sonic boom were left far behind. If he heard those sounds, it would mean the Blackbird had already vanished into the distance!

Now! Andrei held his breath, realizing there was no time to adjust the gunsight. He pushed the control stick forward slightly, then pressed the red button on it.

“Boom! Boom!” Two 23-millimeter cannons mounted on the inner wing pylons fired rapidly. Smoke billowed from the cannon muzzles as 23-millimeter shells rained down like a storm, or like the arrows of an ancient battlefield, pouring forth in a diagonal barrage!

Among the armor-piercing incendiary rounds, every third shell was a tracer, illuminating the trajectory. At the edge of Earth’s atmosphere, the MiG-25 unleashed its fierce assault!

The shells weren’t fired directly at the incoming Blackbird but ahead of its path!

Andrei felt the aircraft shuddering, as if it might disintegrate at any moment. Though he wore a high-altitude pressure suit, if the plane broke apart at this altitude, survival would be nearly impossible!

But Andrei wasn’t afraid. In a narrow path, the brave prevail! His finger remained on the cannon trigger as he watched the two glowing streams of shells continue their diagonal descent!

The Blackbird, flying at high speed, had no time to react before colliding with the barrage ahead. That’s right—it flew straight into it!

Chapter 77: Downing the Blackbird

“FUCK!” Almost simultaneously, Lieutenant Colonel Omstead spotted the two streaks of light ahead and cursed in American English. He yanked the control stick hard to the right. He knew—those were cannon rounds!

The Blackbird was a reconnaissance aircraft, not a fighter! Its maximum G-force at high speed was no more than 2.3G! But instinct took over, and Omstead couldn’t suppress the terror clawing at his chest.

If the Blackbird collided with those shells, it would be torn to shreds in an instant!

As he pulled the stick, he felt the aircraft shudder. His rear-seat companion shouted, “NO!”

The titanium-alloy Blackbird groaned under the strain, and then—silence. The roar of the J-58 turbojet engines vanished.

The J-58 might sound cutting-edge, but high-tech often meant low reliability. The intake cone control system was still flawed. Sudden airflow changes could cause the engine to stall before the cone adjusted.

In the air, a stall was recoverable—restarting the engine wasn’t a major concern. But the creaking sounds made his blood run cold.

Overloaded! The G-meter showed a staggering 4G—far beyond the Blackbird’s limits. Omstead’s stomach lurched as the instrument panel blurred, heat surging from below. The cockpit had cracked open!

“BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!” The aircraft shuddered violently as the Blackbird made intimate contact with the cannon fire. Even at 4G, it hadn’t evaded the hail of bullets. Death was inevitable.

“BOOM!” A massive fireball erupted in the sky. The Blackbird exploded.

In that instant, Andrei banked his aircraft, risking a spin as he dove at breakneck speed. The distance had been dangerously close—just three hundred meters!

Cannon fire was tricky, but with precise trajectory calculations, it was as simple as shooting down a cruise missile.

Amid the deafening roar, Andrei heard metallic pings—likely debris from the Blackbird striking his fighter. At such speeds, even a bird could cripple an aircraft. Shrapnel was far worse.

Andrei prayed his plane would hold together long enough to return to base. Even if he had to bail out at ten thousand meters, survival was possible.

The two Blackbird pilots? Incinerated at thirty thousand meters. No chance of survival. Even if they ejected, the altitude was lethal. Existing survival gear couldn’t guarantee their safety.

“032, well done!” The ground crew’s voice crackled in his ear. Andrei recognized it—Regiment Commander Ivanov.

“For the Soviet Union!” Andrei’s voice brimmed with pride. Success!

Half an hour later, Andrei’s aircraft touched down at Sokolovka Airbase. The moment he stopped, the crowd surged forward.

“Andrei, you’re incredible!” A squadron commander exclaimed. “Only you would dare use cannons at thirty thousand meters!”

“Andrei, you’ve done it again! The 513th Regiment has made its mark!”

“Exactly! We’ve fulfilled the high command’s orders. Let’s see if the Americans dare send their spy planes again!”

The cheers were genuine. Historically, the Blackbird had never been shot down during a mission—only lost to mechanical failures. But Andrei had rewritten history. The Blackbird was down.

Andrei couldn’t help but feel proud.

“Look! That was close!” Mechanic Viktor inspected the aircraft, his eyes widening at the dozen holes puncturing the rear fuselage. Thankfully, the stainless steel frame held—otherwise, the plane would have disintegrated midair.

Then he noticed the wings. Cracks had formed at the roots. The vibrations from firing cannons at three times the speed of sound had taken their toll.

Andrei stared at the cracks, his tongue clicking. Lucky. Even stainless steel couldn’t withstand such forces at Mach 3.

“Viktor, inspect it thoroughly. Repair if possible; otherwise, report it,” Ivanov ordered. Downing the Blackbird was a monumental achievement. Even if a MiG-25 was lost, headquarters would send a replacement from the Gorky Aircraft Plant.

Watching the celebration, Base Commander Kozhdoob stood apart, his mood sour. The KGB had arrived from Vladivostok.

Stripping off his flight suit, Andrei learned of the KGB’s investigation. A sly smile crept across his face. The show was about to begin. He’d just watch.

The base had decades of history. Records from World War II were spotty, but Cold War documentation was meticulous—enough to fill an entire cabinet.

The audit didn’t start from WWII. They focused on the last ten years—the most chaotic period.

Every item in the warehouse was relabeled, like a supermarket inventory check.

A large supermarket with countless products needed regular audits to match sales records with actual stock. The KGB was thorough—each item was tagged, logged, and cross-referenced with existing records.

Akim watched nervously as the KGB officers worked. His heart pounded. At this rate, the base would be exposed in two days. What then?

“Comrade, have a cigarette,” Akim offered, trying to break the ice.

The KGB lieutenant glared. “This is a restricted storage area. No smoking. What if there’s a fire?”

The warehouse held flammable materials—like methanol crates. A fire would be catastrophic.

“Sorry, I’m an idiot,” Akim forced a laugh. “How about drinks at the town bar tonight? My treat.”

“Don’t interfere with official duties,” the officer dismissed him coldly.

Chapter 78: Investigating the Worm

Moscow.

Although it had just entered October, the temperature in Moscow had already begun to cool, and people on the streets had started wearing heavy wool coats.

Inside the Kremlin, the atmosphere was also becoming lively and tense. Next month, the October military parade would take place once again.

“General Secretary, good news!” During a high-level Soviet meeting, Marshal Pavel Fyodorovich Batitsky, the Commander-in-Chief of the Air Defense Forces, entered with a face full of joy. “General Secretary, our 513th Regiment in the Far Eastern Military District has shot down an American Blackbird reconnaissance plane!”

The Blackbird reconnaissance plane! Recently, it had been constantly surveilling the Soviet Far East, leaving the Soviet Air Defense Forces embarrassed by repeated failures. The General Secretary had even flown into a rage, issuing a death sentence to the Air Defense Forces.

Now, finally, a Blackbird had been shot down. The Air Defense Forces had heroically completed their mission, bringing honor to the Soviet Union!

Upon hearing this news, the scholarly Andropov, sitting beside Brezhnev, remained silent, merely adjusting his glasses as he looked at the General Secretary.

Brezhnev’s face twitched with excitement. “Excellent! Well done! Which pilot shot it down?”

“It was Andrei Vladimirovich Tolstoy, the Deputy Regiment Commander of the 513th Regiment—the same Far Eastern pilot who was awarded the title of Soviet Hero last time,” Marshal Batitsky reported. “He is truly the pride of our Soviet military. After the missile attack failed, he used the aircraft’s cannon to bring down the Blackbird. Such bravery deserves another Soviet Hero title!”

This downing of the Blackbird was practically a gift for the upcoming October Revolution anniversary! Such a feat would normally warrant another Soviet Hero title, but since the last one had been awarded only days ago, granting another so soon might devalue the honor. Brezhnev pondered for a moment before saying, “Here’s what we’ll do—summon him to Moscow to participate in our October Revolution parade! Reserve a spot for him on the viewing platform.”

Hearing this, Andropov felt his heart race. He had not been wrong about this young man! Even without his help, the young man was outstanding! Trading one Soviet Hero title for a place on the viewing platform was absolutely worth it! This would be extremely beneficial for Andrei’s future development!

Andropov looked at Andrei with the fondness of a father-in-law admiring his future son-in-law. The more he looked, the more pleased he became, especially since he felt that Andrei shared his vision! The domestic crisis was growing increasingly severe, and the nation had reached a critical moment for reform! If only he had enough power in his hands!

Although the viewing platform during the October Revolution parade was usually reserved for high-ranking officials and marshals, a few spots were always left for those of lesser status but with significant contributions or symbolic importance—such as World War II veterans, famous writers, or engineers.

The KGB branch in the Far East had reported to Andropov about the inventory inspection at the Sokolovka base. Over the past few years, almost every warehouse across the country had been involved in some form of corruption. However, since all the supervisors were part of the same chain of interests, they turned a blind eye. But Andrei had broken this silence! This made Andropov appreciate Andrei even more.

Now, where in the Soviet Union wasn’t there a problem? It was just that no one was willing to investigate! But Andrei had begun striking at the rigid system and the parasites exploiting its loopholes!

Andropov fully supported him!

Sokolovka Base.

Andrei had no idea that he had already caught the attention of the leader of this red empire, Brezhnev, nor that he would soon be standing on the viewing platform of Red Square, wearing a medal, even if it was in the most inconspicuous corner. All he knew was that he had uncovered a parasite infesting the Sokolovka base!

“MiG-25 main landing gear tires, thirty-two missing. Starter power sources, two missing. Maintenance tools, six sets missing. Backup engine, precious metals missing…” After three days of cross-checking, the results were finally in. All personnel at the base, including off-duty pilots, had gathered to hear the KGB’s investigation findings.

“Total material losses and damages: two hundred and thirty-eight items, equivalent to approximately three million rubles in value.” The KGB officer’s tone remained as cold as ever, leaving everyone stunned.

Three million rubles lost! In the Soviet Union, this was an enormous sum—enough to equip another MiG-25! And the ruble was worth more than the dollar at the time.

Such a massive loss could not be handled internally; it required the KGB’s intervention! This was now a major case of state property theft!

“I hope that whoever took these items will come forward and take responsibility,” Andrei addressed the crowd, his voice calm but sending a chill through everyone. “I believe our comrades from the Committee for State Security will thoroughly investigate this matter. If you confess now, the base can still protect you. Admitting mistakes bravely still makes you a good comrade. But if you don’t come forward, and the Committee for State Security uncovers the truth, the consequences will be severe.”

“Reporting, I took two bottles of aviation methanol from the warehouse and drank it mixed with water,” a ground crew member raised his hand, admitting his mistake.

Stealing aircraft methanol and drinking it diluted with water was common at the base. For a nation of drinkers, this wasn’t a big deal—just a written confession would suffice.

“Reporting, I took two starter batteries from the ground support vehicle and sold them to a driver in the nearby town for fifty rubles. I am willing to return the money,” another ground crew member confessed.

Those who admitted their mistakes first were the ones with minor offenses, but it was a good start!

“Anyone else?” Andrei asked the assembled ground crew. A man like Akim was indeed the type who wouldn’t admit anything until the last moment.

“Comrade Joseph, please assist us in solving this criminal case of illegal misappropriation of state property,” Andrei said to the KGB officer sitting beside him.

The amount was substantial—this was a serious criminal case!

Hearing Andrei’s words, KGB Lieutenant Joseph stood up and said, “Comrade Akim, please come with us for questioning.”

Him? Akim was taken aback. “Why me?”

“Because many people in the nearby town know you. They’ve bought items from you, and the town’s bar owner recognizes you—you’re a regular there,” Joseph stated. “Now, please come with us for questioning.”

Akim’s face paled instantly. Only then did he realize that the KGB had sent two teams—one to investigate inside the base and another to gather evidence outside! Those people were witnesses, and his theft of warehouse items to sell for money was now undeniable!

Chapter 79: The Maintenance Competition

Three million rubles! It was no small sum, but Akim knew he would never see that much.

The equipment was expensive—some engine components were made of silver or even gold. When Akim dismantled and sold them, he got only a fraction of their worth.

Still, when he heard the KGB officers speak, Akim knew his fate was sealed. A Siberian prison awaited him. Once the Ministry of Internal Affairs took him in for questioning, there would be no good outcome.

“Uncle, save me!” Desperate, Akim cried out to his uncle, Base Commander Kozhdoob, who had remained silent on the stage.

Kozhdoob’s face twitched. He had heard his nephew’s plea, but what could he say? His nephew was a disgrace! Years ago, his sister had begged him to take Akim in, and he had made him a maintenance technician. But instead of honing his skills, Akim had spent his time scheming and stealing. Now, he had finally gone too far!

Kozhdoob couldn’t let this affect him. In just one more month, he would be transferred to Moscow! Why should he let his nephew drag him down? He had to distance himself immediately.

“Akim, confess honestly to the Security Committee comrades! If you’ve made a mistake, you must correct it!” Kozhdoob declared righteously. “Even though we’re family, I will not cover for you.”

In truth, Kozhdoob had already used his connections to plead for leniency, but the response from above was firm. Chairman Andropov was personally overseeing this case!

If even the KGB chairman was involved, who dared to intervene? Kozhdoob had no choice but to sacrifice his nephew.

Akim was taken away. As for the other maintenance technicians who had been close to him, if they showed remorse, Andrei would give them a chance. But if they remained stubborn, he wouldn’t hesitate to expel them all.

The others now looked at Andrei with awe. They all knew this was his doing. He had taken on the role of the villain.

“We are a frontline combat unit,” Andrei continued, meeting their gazes. “We must be ready for battle at any moment to defend our Soviet Union. But many of our maintenance technicians lack the necessary skills. Therefore, the regiment has decided to hold a maintenance competition. The most skilled technician will become the new maintenance chief! Those with the poorest skills, who can’t even perform basic maintenance, will be dismissed. Pack your bags and leave!”

Just as Akim was being taken away, Andrei was already selecting a new maintenance chief. Even if Akim returned, he would be nothing more than an ordinary technician. One move after another—Andrei was relentless.

In the Soviet Union, soldiers were respected. Even the lowest-ranking maintenance technician was held in high regard by society, and their salary was enough to support a family. If their skills were too poor, Andrei would force them into retirement. For everyone, this was an unbearable prospect.

Breaking the rigid system and introducing competition! Having come from the future, Andrei knew from China’s experience that state-owned enterprises with no competition were unproductive. In the future, during the reforms, state-owned enterprises would wail about losses, demanding government subsidies, while private enterprises thrived without any support.

Competition brought vitality! Andrei was determined to introduce competition within the base. The maintenance competition would decide who was the best—they would become the maintenance chief. The worst, those who couldn’t do anything, would be dismissed.

Hearing this, the old hands who had been coasting in maintenance looked uneasy. Andrei ignored them. This was the perfect opportunity to clean house! He turned to Kozhdoob behind him and asked, “Commander, what do you think of this proposal?”

Gazing at Andrei’s smiling face, Kozhdoob felt a deep unease for the first time. “Of course, it’s fine,” he replied. He knew that if he dared to say this was under his authority as base commander, Andrei would have another move ready.

He couldn’t afford any more trouble. He just needed to get through the next month or two before his transfer!

Down below, Akim felt a surge of excitement. When it came to maintenance, his skills were unmatched! Becoming the maintenance chief would be a great honor. He could write home to his mother, and she would be so proud!

Two days later, the maintenance competition officially began.

In reality, “maintenance” was a broad term. Maintaining a fighter jet was complex, and maintenance technicians had various specializations.

First, aircraft maintenance and upkeep were divided into three categories: field maintenance, scheduled inspections, and factory repairs.

Field maintenance was the most critical for the base—work performed on the runway or sometimes in the hangar. Currently, Sokolovka Base primarily relied on field maintenance technicians.

Field maintenance itself was further divided into specializations. For example, mechanics handled mechanical systems, while others included armament specialists, missile technicians, special equipment technicians, and radar specialists. The Soviet Union currently followed a “one aircraft, one mechanic” system, where a single mechanic was responsible for an entire plane. Other service specializations followed a “one squadron, one technician” system, where a maintenance team handled several aircraft in a squadron.

Mechanics had the broadest responsibilities—they were in charge of the aircraft body and engine and were the primary point of contact. Before every flight, pilots would meet with the mechanic, and only with the mechanic’s signed record could the plane be deemed safe.

Armament specialists handled machine guns, weapon mounts, and fire control systems.

Special equipment technicians included electricians and instrument specialists, managing power systems and instrumentation.

Radar specialists were responsible for fire control radar.

Missile technicians handled the loading of missiles.

To become the maintenance chief, the leader of all technicians, one had to be versatile—skilled in every area, meticulous, responsible, and strong enough to handle the physical demands.

This maintenance competition, supported by Andrei, began with a challenge that made all the technicians frown. The first task was to clean the cockpit. This wasn’t as simple as washing a car with water or using a vacuum. It required removing the cockpit canopy and ejecting the seat. It tested both skill and strength!

Chapter 80: Improving Tools

Flying is a noble profession. Before every flight, every pilot polishes their leather shoes until they gleam, scraping off every speck of dirt from the soles, ensuring they are spotless before boarding the ground crew vehicle to head straight for their fighter jet.

While this is a personal expression of faith and dedication to their profession, it is also a necessary practice.

A fighter jet is not a commercial airliner. In the air, it performs all manner of complex maneuvers. If a pilot brings dirt into the cockpit—sand, hair, or bits of airport grass—once the cabin pressurizes, these particles will fly around. And during high-G maneuvers, they could strike the face or eyes, causing an accident.

Thus, pilots must prioritize personal hygiene. Beards are not allowed; they must be clean-shaven before every flight!

Even so, the cockpit won’t stay pristine. After about two weeks, a thorough cleaning is required.

In later years, Andrei primarily test-flew the domestically produced J-11 fighter, which still used the imported K-36 ejection seat. There was no denying that this ejection seat was the most advanced. The domestically produced HTY-5 ejection seat, used in the J-10, had a much smaller ejection envelope and was less stable in complex attitudes compared to the K-36.

What left the deepest impression on Andrei was that removing this ejection seat required a crane! Two people couldn’t lift it! Soviet equipment was built to be sturdy and durable.

But in this era, technology was far less advanced. The MiG-25 still used the KM-1 ejection seat, the same one used in the MiG-21. Andrei was far from satisfied with it. Many times, he preferred to attempt an emergency landing rather than use this ejection seat, especially at high speeds—it was practically a death wish.

This time, the focus of the cockpit cleaning was removing the ejection seat!

Three MiG-25s, all due for their cleaning cycle, were parked on the tarmac. Under the watchful eyes of the regiment’s leadership and most of the maintenance technicians and ground crew, the maintenance competition officially began!

With the blow of a whistle, three mechanics sprinted toward their assigned aircraft and began the competition.

For convenience, platforms had been prepared in advance. Climbing up was much faster than using a ladder.

Holding a screwdriver, the first step was to remove the cockpit canopy. There were over a hundred screws securing it, all of which had to be removed before the canopy could be taken off.

Viktor also climbed onto the platform. Watching the others quickly unscrewing, he didn’t rush. Instead, he reached into a nearby toolbox and pulled out an electric drill.

Seeing Viktor attach a drill bit to the electric drill, then position it over a screw, the sound of the motor whirring, Ivanov panicked.

The competition rules forbade damage! Was this guy actually going to drill out the screws? That would ruin the screw holes! But in that instant, he saw that the drill bit in Viktor’s hand now had something attached—a removed screw head!

To win this competition, Viktor had put in effort. In just two days, he had modified this electric drill, turning the drill bit into a screwdriver!

While the others were still struggling with their screwdrivers, Viktor, with the hum of his electric drill, had already effortlessly removed all the screws!

“No! This is against the rules!” Seeing Viktor already using professional tools to remove the cockpit canopy while they hadn’t even finished a third of the screws, the two veteran mechanics couldn’t help but shout.

If it were anything else, perhaps their skills couldn’t compare to this newcomer, Viktor. But cleaning a cockpit was basic maintenance work for any mechanic.

They never expected to lose at the very first step! Viktor was actually using power tools!

“In maintenance, we encourage inventing new tools to simplify our work!” Viktor shouted from below. “The competition continues.”

Electric screwdrivers! In later years, they became widely used, saving immense time and effort. But in this era, such tools didn’t exist. Viktor’s mind was truly sharp—he had come up with this idea! It seemed that making him the head of the maintenance squadron was the best choice!

Mechanics needed to use their brains, not just follow rigid procedures! Andrei couldn’t help but recall the early days when the Su-27 was first introduced. The ground crew followed Sukhoi’s maintenance standards. For example, when inspecting the nose radar, the entire radar dome had to be unscrewed and removed. That wasn’t much of an issue—just more effort. But during reassembly, problems arose. Su-27 enthusiasts knew that the nose of the Su-27 tilted downward. The round nose had evenly spaced screw holes. Even if one screw was misaligned, the cone would be off by a few degrees, completely altering the aerodynamic characteristics.

Later, a mechanic invented a threaded rod. Once fixed in place, the radar dome could be lifted open for maintenance. When the Russians visited China and saw this solution, they couldn’t help but give a thumbs-up.

To be a qualified mechanic, one must learn to think! Andrei thought as he watched Viktor remove the ejection seat. Standing on the platform, Viktor lifted the seat out with ease. This KM-1 ejection seat was truly primitive!

Next, Viktor began meticulously cleaning the seat with a brush before jumping inside to clean the area beneath it.

By the time Viktor started reinstalling the ejection seat, the other two mechanics had only just removed the cockpit canopy! It wasn’t their fault. In maintenance work, tasks like unscrewing were usually delegated to subordinates. Now, just removing these screws had them sweating profusely!

Forty minutes! Viktor, working alone, completed in forty minutes what would normally take two people an hour! The tarmac erupted in applause!

In the morning competition, Viktor was the standout performer. In the afternoon, he was once again far ahead. This time, it was pure physical labor—removing the engine!

The MiG-25’s engine had a lifespan of only one hundred and fifty hours. For the maintenance crew, engine replacements were routine. Given the current flight frequency, a single aircraft could fly at least three hundred hours a year, meaning the engine would need replacing twice!

This time, Viktor pushed up a frame. He had welded it together the previous night using scrap materials from the base, complete with a pulley system. With this device, Viktor single-handedly removed the engine, while the other mechanics had to work in teams of two or three to accomplish the same task.

“I declare Viktor the new head of the maintenance squadron!” Faced with Viktor’s outstanding performance, the seasoned Kozhdoob reluctantly announced.

Chapter 81: Reforming the Iron Rice Bowl System

“We are at the Soviet Union’s Far East base, tasked with the critical mission of fighting against the evil United States. The quality of our maintenance support directly impacts the deployment of our aircraft. We must break free from the old, conservative mindset and foster a spirit of competition and innovation. I have drafted a new set of regulations, which have been submitted to higher authorities for approval. Any maintenance technician who innovates and saves more than twenty percent of time will receive a one-level increase in wage subsidies. Those who work diligently and rank in the top third of the base in terms of maintenance volume will receive an additional ten days of leave and a bonus. However, those who are negligent and cause accidents will be discharged. There are over sixty detailed rules, which will be announced once approved by higher authorities.”

Andrei’s words sent shockwaves through the entire base.

Previously, it didn’t matter whether you worked hard or not, whether you did more or less—veterans bullied new maintenance technicians based on seniority. Andrei’s new regulations were a direct challenge to this iron rice bowl system. Those who performed well would be promoted, and those who didn’t would be fired. Advancement would no longer depend on connections but on one’s own abilities.

Andrei’s current influence only allowed him to implement small-scale reforms within the Sokolovka base, which wouldn’t affect too many people’s interests.

Whose interests would be harmed? At most, it would be Akim. Now that Akim was already struggling to save himself, what could he say about this new system? As for the old maintenance technicians who had been slacking off, if they could refocus, Andrei would keep them. Otherwise, they could leave. The Soviet Union was vast, and there was no shortage of people. New maintenance technicians could be recruited from lower-level units at any time.

What would the higher-ups think of this? To others, it might just be a trivial matter, easily dismissed. After all, he was only the Deputy Regiment Commander of the 513th Regiment. He had been repeatedly meritorious, and this time, he had even shot down an American Blackbird reconnaissance plane. For the past few days, the Americans hadn’t dared to send any more reconnaissance flights. His small reform was sure to be approved without any risk.

At the same time, his backer, Andropov, would see him in a new light. He was exactly the kind of person Andropov needed! To thoroughly reform the Soviet Union and prevent the tragic disintegration of the future, he could only inherit and carry forward Andropov’s spirit.

Unfortunately, Andropov’s greatest weakness was his health. He had only recently taken power in the Soviet Union, and his reforms had just begun when he passed away.

If Andropov had been able to hold power for a longer time, the Soviet Union’s reforms might have proceeded in an orderly manner! There was only one way to achieve this—get Brezhnev to step down sooner!

Now, Andrei realized he was managing too many things, and he was only a mere Deputy Regiment Commander.

Andrei didn’t know that his decision had created a new, optimistic atmosphere in Sokolovka. Many young people without power or connections finally had the opportunity to showcase their abilities! They held Andrei in the highest regard.

Just as Andrei was preparing to implement sweeping reforms and make significant changes at the Sokolovka base, he received orders from higher authorities to go to Moscow to participate in the October Revolution parade!

The October Revolution was a period of history that no Soviet could ever forget.

In any world history book, this event was recorded. On October 25, 1917 (November 7 in the Gregorian calendar), the great proletarian revolutionary Lenin led the Bolshevik armed forces in a general assault on the Winter Palace in St. Petersburg, the seat of the bourgeois Provisional Government, overthrowing the Provisional Government and establishing Soviet power. The world’s first socialist country was declared. This was the great socialist revolution accomplished by the Russian working class, led by the Bolshevik Party, in alliance with the poor peasants.

To commemorate this day, the Soviet Union held grand parades every year. Even during World War II, when Nazi forces were at the gates of Moscow, the city still held a parade. Many of the reviewed troops went straight to the front lines after the parade. Countless people gave their lives to win the Great Patriotic War.

Those who lived through that era held deep and sincere feelings for the Soviet Union.

In Moscow, apart from the October Revolution parade, only the May 9th Victory Day parade commemorating the victory in the Great Patriotic War could compare. One represented the birth of the Soviet Union, the other its rebirth through fire!

Now, in 1976, it was a year worth commemorating for the Soviet Union. This year, the great Soviet Union had reached its most glorious moment. Its industrial output was the highest in Europe, second only to the United States. Its GDP had reached 90% of the United States’. Its military power was also the strongest in Europe, standing firm against the Western world on both fronts.

Unfortunately, this was also the beginning of the Soviet Union’s decline. After 1976, its economic development stagnated, with no progress for a long time. Various domestic contradictions began to emerge. The generation born after World War II saw the state of society and was filled with dissatisfaction toward the country. When this dissatisfaction could not be effectively released, the vast Soviet empire collapsed with a bang.

Now, Andrei stood on the land of Moscow in 1976, feeling immense emotion. History was slowly changing!

Upon returning to Moscow, Andrei had just gotten off the train when he saw Yekaterina coming to welcome him.

The red wool coat wrapped around Yekaterina’s body, and her long boots stepped on the snow-covered platform. Yesterday, Moscow’s first snow of the season had fallen, drifting down from the sky.

But after all, it was still autumn. As a Russian, Yekaterina was well-adapted to Moscow’s cold. She didn’t even wear a hat, standing on the platform and watching the train slowly come to a stop.

“Yekaterina!” Andrei rushed off the train and ran toward his lover. Yekaterina also threw herself into Andrei’s arms, and the two embraced and kissed on the platform as if they were on fire.

“Darling, I’ve really missed you these past few days,” Yekaterina whispered in Andrei’s ear.

After Andrei had hastily left Moscow to go to the Sokolovka base to execute the mission of intercepting the Blackbird, Yekaterina had not left Moscow. Thus, the two had been temporarily separated.

Longing was a kind of poison. Now, seeing Andrei, Yekaterina’s heart had melted.

Chapter 82: Contract Responsibility System

“Andrei, you’ve done well in Sokolovka.” This time, upon returning to Moscow, Andrei followed Yekaterina and did not stay in a hotel. Only then did he learn that Yekaterina had a small apartment here—a one-bedroom, one-living room unit where she lived alone, just enough to temporarily accommodate Andrei. Meanwhile, upon hearing of Andrei’s return, Yekaterina warmly invited him to her home for dinner.

Not long after, Andropov returned and, seeing Andrei, unexpectedly praised him.

“Serving the Soviet Union,” Andrei said. “It’s just a shame that the new regulations haven’t been fully established before I left again.”

Andrei, of course, knew that Andropov was not referring to the downing of the Blackbird reconnaissance plane. That incident had caused a sensation, making him a source of pride for the Soviet Union once more. But the old man before him was most concerned with the nation’s reforms.

Reform! Without reform, the country would inevitably hit a dead end. The power of the people was immense! Having dealt with the Hungarian crisis, Andropov knew the storm that grassroots forces could bring to the Soviet Union.

“Andrei, you’ve set a good example. After your reorganization, order at the Sokolovka base has improved significantly, and bad habits have been curbed,” Andropov said. “How did you come up with those methods?”

Andropov had always been concerned about Sokolovka. Andrei’s efforts were a reform—a small-scale but highly successful one! After Andrei’s reorganization, the base had re-established discipline. The lower ranks focused on their work, and the path for those relying on connections to climb the ladder was blocked. Only true competence mattered now!

“The Sokolovka base is a key deployment site for the 513th Regiment. The competence of the ground crew directly affects the entire air unit’s operations. Over the years I’ve been at the base, I’ve witnessed many issues. Unfortunately, I didn’t have the authority before. Now, I can finally implement my ideas to restore order, and I appreciate your support,” Andrei said. “If our base didn’t have those ugly practices, the Byelinko defection might never have happened. It’s an undercurrent, and similar incidents could occur again.”

Andrei remembered well that Soviet defection cases were infamous in later years. Just a month later, another defection would take place.

While it was related to the individuals’ ideological quality, the broader environment also played a role.

“Andrei, what do you think about applying your model on a larger scale across the country?” Andropov asked.

“Don’t mind my status. What you said last time was very real, and I enjoyed hearing it,” Andropov said.

Last time, Andrei hadn’t known Andropov’s identity and could speak freely. Now that he did, he felt even less pressure. Their conversation had no barriers; they could say whatever they wanted. Though Andropov was the high-ranking chairman of the KGB, Andrei knew his mindset!

Now, their conversation felt like an ordinary chat. In later years, this might have been normal, but in the Soviet Union, discussing national affairs freely was absolutely forbidden.

Only with Andropov could Andrei speak his mind, feeling a sense of scholarly vigor, bold and unrestrained.

“Within the military, such reforms can be implemented,” Andrei said. “We can hold technical competitions in the military. Those who are outdated or unqualified should be eliminated. Technical proficiency should be the hard criterion, and those who got in through backdoors should be kicked out.”

The Soviet Union had the largest military in the world, but internal interests were deeply entangled. Many incompetent people held leadership positions, while the capable were sidelined. Andrei’s methods, if applied to the entire military, could revitalize the forces.

Unfortunately, this was just an idea. It would upset many people’s interests.

“As for other departments, it might not work,” Andrei continued. “For example, in agriculture, we have the most fertile black soil in the world, but our agricultural production still can’t feed our Soviet people. Every year, we have to import large quantities of grain, wasting our precious foreign exchange reserves.”

This was utterly ironic. Europe, with its small area and dense population, could still feed its people and even export grain! The Soviet Union, with its vast land, couldn’t produce enough food!

Of course, Andrei knew that in later years, there would still be such examples. North Korea was a case in point. Though its land area was small, its arable land was not insufficient. If China were to cultivate it, feeding the entire peninsula would be no problem. But in North Korea, everyone was starving, except for one fat man.

The Soviet Union’s problem wasn’t yet critical. After all, with oil exports, its foreign exchange reserves were substantial, and buying grain wasn’t a concern. But in a few years, when the Afghan war drained the country’s strength, the Soviet Union would suddenly find that buying grain from Europe came with political conditions. And when the money ran out, borrowing from Western Europe would also come with strings attached!

If the people couldn’t even solve basic food problems, society would collapse.

Why did Gorbachev rise to power? Because he had been in charge of agriculture. In the eyes of the Soviet elite, Gorbachev was the one who could solve the Soviet food problem!

Hearing Andrei’s words, Andropov’s eyes widened, his gaze sharp behind his glasses. “Andrei, how do you think we should reform agriculture?”

“Change the current ‘big pot rice’ system,” Andrei said. “Implement a contract responsibility system in agriculture! Reform the land ownership structure, dividing it into ownership and operational rights. Ownership remains with the collective and the state, while operational rights are distributed equally among households by collective economic organizations. The households then manage the land independently. The collective economic organizations oversee the fulfillment of contracts, the unified arrangement, use, and dispatch of public facilities, and the adjustment and allocation of land. This creates a two-tier management system that combines centralization and decentralization. It turns farmers from mere laborers into both producers and operators within the collective economy, greatly motivating their productivity and better utilizing labor and land potential.”

What Andrei described was the initial land reform of China’s economic reforms—the household contract responsibility system!

The era when the Soviet Union was newly established and the harsh years of World War II had passed. The new generation did not have deep feelings for the Soviet Union, and their work enthusiasm was no longer as high as before. In collective farms, many people worked without putting in effort, just like the old-timers in the base’s logistics.

Thus, to thoroughly develop agricultural production, this system had to be broken! Why did these farmers lack motivation? Because working or not made no difference, and doing well or poorly made no difference! Who would still work under such conditions? Only fools would.

Chapter 83: Proposal

If the current policies were reformed to give households more autonomy, allowing them to retain greater profits after a good harvest, their enthusiasm would be fully mobilized.

After speaking, Andrei quietly watched Andropov. He knew that if he proposed this policy in public, he would be arrested immediately and executed as an enemy of the people.

Because this went against the nation’s sacred ideals! Collective farms, public ownership, and planned economies were the foundational paths of the Soviet Union’s establishment. But Andrei also knew that for the Soviet Union to truly become a superpower, this was the necessary path.

Currently, China had not yet begun such reforms. Andrei could be considered the first to propose this plan!

Of course, adjustments were needed. China had a large population and limited land, so household contracting was suitable. But the Soviet Union had vast land and sparse population, with large-scale mechanized farming. Thus, instead of contracting to individual households, it could be contracted to groups of several households, allowing close-knit farmers to jointly manage large tracts of land.

The Soviet Union had advanced heavy industry, even to the point of overcapacity, but its light industry was severely lacking, unable to even achieve self-sufficiency in grain. Therefore, Andrei knew that for the Soviet Union to truly grow strong, this reform was essential.

Of course, this was still just an idea. There was a long road ahead before it could be implemented, and the resistance would be immense. It could be said that before Andropov held national power, it would be absolutely impossible to implement. Even if Andropov did gain control of the state, it would take several years to clean out the corrupt elements before national policies could be effectively enforced.

Why did Gorbachev’s reforms fail in later years? Because no matter what policies he introduced, they would always affect the interests of certain groups, who would then secretly oppose him, creating obstacles. As a result, every reform would end in failure. It was precisely for this reason that Gorbachev’s later reforms focused on politics, ultimately sending the Soviet Union into hell.

“Andrei, your ideas are quite unique,” Andropov said. “Only you would dare propose such a thing.”

“Yes, Chairman. Only in front of you would I dare say this,” Andrei replied. “For now, these are just ideas. I truly hope that one day, they can become reality.”

“Alright, let’s not talk about this anymore. Andrei, how was your return to Moscow? Do you still plan to leave?” Andropov changed the subject. “Yekaterina has no family in Moscow. She’s already at the Moscow Central Hospital for further studies. What about you? Would you like to be transferred back? Mikhail Petrovich Simonov from the Sukhoi Design Bureau has mentioned you before. If you’re willing, you can join the Sukhoi Design Bureau as a test pilot with the rank of colonel at any time.”

In the Soviet Union, being a test pilot was the dream of almost every pilot. Scaling the heights of flight, exploring the unknown—it was as noble as the Communist Peak in the Pamir Mountains.

Test pilot! Byelinko’s defection had been driven by extreme dissatisfaction with reality, partly because his applications to become a test pilot had been rejected. If Andrei had no other ambitions, returning to Moscow to work as a test pilot at the Sukhoi Design Bureau would be a good choice.

But… Andrei knew that if he became a test pilot, his path to advancement would be blocked. Even with Andropov’s connections, his rank could only rise to colonel or perhaps major general before hitting a ceiling. His grander ambitions required him to stay in the military and develop steadily.

“No, Chairman. I’ll stay with the 513th Regiment. Defending our homeland’s borders and fighting against the evil capitalists—that is my ideal,” Andrei said.

Hearing this, Andropov nodded. Indeed, he had not misjudged this man. His vision was far-reaching, and he was worth cultivating.

“Good, I respect your choice. Andrei, when do you plan to marry Yekaterina? She has lived independently since childhood, separated from her parents. She’s had a hard life. I also hope she can be with the person she loves as soon as possible.” Andropov now spoke as if he were Yekaterina’s father.

Indeed, Andrei had never heard Yekaterina mention her family or parents. There were too many mysteries surrounding her.

“Chairman…” Andrei stammered, momentarily at a loss for words.

“What? You don’t want to?” Andropov’s expression darkened.

“Of course not. I’m just too happy,” Andrei said. “I can send a telegram to Leningrad and have my parents come to Moscow to formally propose to you and hold the wedding.”

Andrei had been born and raised in Kiev. His father had worked there, but a few years ago, when Leningrad began constructing power plants, his father had been transferred there, and the family had moved with him.

Though the old customs were no longer observed, a marriage proposal still needed to be made to the bride’s family. Since Yekaterina’s parents were not around, proposing to this high-ranking official of the Red Empire would be an honor for the family.

“Better to hold it in Leningrad,” Andropov said. “Your father is an engineer at the power plant. Keep the wedding modest.”

Andrei immediately nodded. “Yes, I’ll follow your instructions. It’s a great honor to marry Yekaterina.”

After all this talk, Andropov seemed tired. He stood up and said, “It’s getting late. Rest now, Andrei. Don’t neglect the preparations for the parade.”

Andropov was always busy with official duties. Moments like this, chatting at home with Andrei, were precious. But after this conversation, Andropov was certain he had found the right person. Andrei, this bold young man, shared his vision. Moreover, Andrei had the vigor of youth. Just after becoming deputy regiment commander, he had already begun reforms in the 513th Regiment. Such young people were rare in this era. The future of the nation lay in their hands.

Every step Andrei took pleased Andropov. He was convinced of Andrei’s potential. Besides, Yekaterina had chosen Andrei, so it was best to expedite their marriage to prevent any changes. In Moscow, good young men like him were becoming scarce. This was also a way to protect Andrei. In this country, achieving anything required strong backing. If Andropov outlived Brezhnev, he could lead the nation and realize his ambitions. If not, he would at least create more opportunities for Andrei.

Reform—this nation, without it, had only one path: death!

As Andrei watched Andropov leave, his mind was still processing everything. Just like that, the marriage was settled? Wait, had he even asked Yekaterina for her opinion?

“Andrei.” Just then, a voice reached his ears. Yekaterina stood before him, smiling. Clearly, she had heard Andropov’s words about Andrei marrying her.

Chapter 84: October Revolution Parade

The October Revolution—a great baptism before the establishment of the mighty Soviet Union! Every year on November 7th, an unshakable parade was held without fail.

And this year’s parade was meant to showcase the vast strength of the Soviet Union!

On this day, the flags of the hammer and sickle flew high over Red Square. All the troops awaiting inspection stood silently, waiting for that moment to arrive.

“Great Russia, eternal union; independent republics, freely united. The will of all nations, building a strong and unified Soviet Union, forever and ever! Free homeland, you are incomparably glorious: a fortress of friendship among all peoples! The Soviet red flag, the people’s red flag, leading from victory to victory!”

“The light of freedom shines upon us; great Lenin pointed the way. Stalin taught us to be loyal to the people; and inspired us to achieve great deeds. Free homeland, you are incomparably glorious: a fortress of happiness for all peoples! The Soviet red flag, the people’s red flag, leading from victory to victory!”

“Grown in war, our Red Army, when enemies invade, we annihilate them. In struggle, we decide the fate of generations, guiding our homeland toward glory! Free homeland, you are incomparably glorious: a fortress of honor for all peoples! The Soviet red flag, the people’s red flag, leading from victory to victory!”

As the powerful song echoed over Red Square, the unbreakable union’s parade officially began!

The first formation marched forward, holding high the portrait of Lenin, passing through Red Square. No other sound could be heard—only the synchronized footsteps.

On the reviewing stand above Lenin’s Mausoleum, the Soviet leadership, including Brezhnev, waved to the passing troops.

Lenin’s Mausoleum had been reconstructed multiple times to serve as a reviewing platform. Its base was a sturdy stone foundation, with steps gradually narrowing upward. Above it was a flat platform leading to the reviewing stand, followed by five tiers of varying heights and a colonnade of thirty-six pillars. At the top were two stepped platforms—the reviewing stand itself, where the leadership inspected parades and armed forces during national celebrations.

On either side of the reviewing stand were gray marble viewing platforms. At this moment, in a corner of one of these platforms, the towering Andrei peered through the gaps between the heads of others, watching the parade outside.

Grand and magnificent! The Soviet-era parade was even more imposing than the later Chinese parades!

Being able to witness such a parade was a lifelong honor for any Soviet citizen. And now, Andrei had been given this opportunity, which filled him with excitement.

“Hurrah! Hurrah!” The troops roared, their voices shaking the heavens. This was the great Soviet Union—the unbreakable union!

After the infantry formations passed, the armored divisions rolled in. As the T-72 tanks rumbled by, Andrei imagined a tidal wave of armor flattening all of Europe, sending capitalism to hell!

The daytime parade still lingered in his mind, keeping Andrei in a state of extreme excitement all day. The national anthem’s melody echoed in his ears—a tune that could inspire generation after generation.

That evening, a grand banquet was held in the Kremlin.

At this time, Brezhnev was not yet the frail old man of the early 1980s. He was still in good spirits, much like the Soviet Union itself, which seemed poised to surpass the United States economically and become the world’s leading power!

“Cheers!” In the Kremlin’s Georgievsky Hall, the same people who had attended the parade that morning were now celebrating the 58th anniversary of the October Revolution’s victory.

For Soviets, vodka was always the drink of choice. On this day, there were no distinctions between superiors and subordinates—all one needed was a glass and someone to drink with.

Brezhnev enjoyed such occasions. Now, he was the helmsman of this great nation, the leader of the Soviet Union!

Andrei hid in a corner. Everyone here held high positions, and for a mere lieutenant colonel like him to be present was already an immense honor. He dared not speak much, let alone engage in lively conversation as he had in Andropov’s home.

He observed silently. Nearly everyone here was over sixty—true gerontocracy.

Over there, the man with white hair—that was Chernenko. He had once been Andropov’s bitter rival, competing fiercely to succeed Brezhnev. Fortunately, fate had given him a chance—he outlived Andropov by thirteen months and served as General Secretary for thirteen months.

The man’s hand trembled slightly as he raised his glass to toast the General Secretary.

Andrei shifted his gaze, recognizing one familiar face after another.

Ustinov, Gromyko, Tikhonov…

“Andrei, you’re here too?” Just then, a voice reached his ears.

Andrei looked up and saw a slightly excited face. “Comrade Simonov?”

As a prominent representative of the military-industrial complex, the Sukhoi Design Bureau had a place on the reviewing stand. Originally, it was meant for Pavel Osipovich Sukhoi himself, but the outstanding Soviet aircraft designer had passed away just days before. Thus, Deputy Chief Designer Mikhail Petrovich Simonov had come in his place to attend the celebration.

Andrei hadn’t expected Simonov’s memory to be so sharp. He had only met the famous designer once at the Sokolovka base, yet Simonov remembered him!

“Andrei, you piloted a fighter and shot down an American Blackbird reconnaissance plane with two missiles, defending our homeland’s airspace. It’s something the entire Soviet Union can be proud of—a gift to the October Revolution parade!” Simonov said. “Pravda has already reported your deeds. You’ve brought honor to the Soviet aviation industry!”

Andrei couldn’t help but shake his head. “Comrade Simonov, do you really think our missiles can take down a plane flying at three times the speed of sound?”

Andrei had read Pravda’s report, which claimed he had used two advanced medium-range missiles to shoot down the plane. The description was so vivid that Andrei couldn’t help but admire the editor’s imagination.

He knew the Americans obtained internal Soviet information through newspapers and magazines like these.

If it were anyone else, he would have kept it strictly confidential. But the man before him was different—he was an aircraft designer, the Deputy Chief Designer of the Sukhoi Design Bureau. He had every right to know how the enemy plane was brought down.

Chapter 85: Improving Flight Control and Fly-by-Wire Systems

“Yes, our electronic capabilities lag far behind the United States. Even their Sparrow missiles had poor reliability over Vietnam, let alone our air-to-air missiles,” Mikhail Petrovich Simonov said.

The Sukhoi Design Bureau specialized in aircraft development, while missiles were designed by other bureaus. However, Simonov was well aware that their missiles were indeed inferior to those of the Americans.

“Especially our semi-active radar-guided missiles—they have an extremely high failure rate. In combat, I’d rather use infrared-guided missiles than those,” Andrei remarked. “I have no idea how they were approved for service. And as for shooting down the American Blackbird, we’re nowhere near that level.”

“So how did you bring it down?” Simonov asked.

“With cannons,” Andrei replied. “I modified my fighter at the Sokolovka base, adding two gun pods. I used the cannons to take down the American plane.”

Cannons! At three times the speed of sound! As an aircraft designer, Simonov immediately recognized the sheer danger and madness of such an act. One wrong move could be fatal. Yet, his admiration for this fearless pilot swelled.

In truth, when Simonov first learned that the EP-3 reconnaissance aircraft had been downed by a ramming tactic, he had already been deeply impressed by Andrei. He had even requested to transfer Andrei to the Sukhoi Design Bureau as a test pilot, but his superiors had refused.

“The MiG-25 is indeed a sturdy aircraft,” Simonov said. “The vibrations from the cannons at three times the speed of sound are enormous—it could have disintegrated mid-air.”

“Yes, the MiG-25 is built like a tank. The stainless steel gives it a natural advantage. But it has its flaws,” Andrei admitted.

The Mikoyan and Sukhoi design bureaus were rivals within the Soviet Union, constantly competing, yet privately, they held a mutual respect. Mikoyan’s products were undeniably iconic.

Now, hearing a frontline pilot discuss the strengths and weaknesses of the aircraft, Simonov was deeply intrigued. Perhaps he could gain valuable insights from this conversation.

The grand hall buzzed with lively chatter, but in one corner, a discussion that would shape the future of Soviet aviation had begun.

Andrei knew this was a golden opportunity to network with the higher-ups, which could benefit his future. However, his current status was still low. Prematurely associating with these officials could be a double-edged sword. Fortunately, Andropov had become like a father-in-law to him, having married Yekaterina to him, giving Andrei a powerful backer. For now, his priority was to build his influence within the military while avoiding the attention of ambitious schemers. Keeping a low profile was the best strategy.

But conversing with this legendary aircraft designer was something Andrei thoroughly enjoyed. After all, he was deeply familiar with Simonov’s greatest work—the Su-27. Wasn’t the J-11 he flew a copy of the Su-27?

“The biggest issue with the MiG-25 is its flight control system,” Andrei said. “Using hydraulic systems to operate the control surfaces is common in our current fighters, but it requires extensive pilot experience to judge correctly. For example, at high altitudes, the control stick input is light, but at low altitudes, it’s heavy. In the heat of combat, a pilot might not always be aware of their altitude, leading to misjudgments. The MiG-25’s large control surfaces are designed for thin high-altitude air, but at low altitudes, the aerodynamic torque can be excessive. Once, this very issue caused me to enter a spin.”

A spin was a deadly scenario for any aircraft. Only the most skilled pilots could recover from one.

Simonov listened intently. The T-10 prototype was already under construction, also using a hydraulic system with the same twin-engine, twin-tail design. This problem was now glaringly apparent.

“So how can we improve it?” Simonov asked.

“We must upgrade the flight control system to digital fly-by-wire,” Andrei declared. “The control stick and rudder would operate position and force sensors, sending signals to a computer that determines how each control surface should move. The computer would integrate altitude data to make the correct adjustments!”

Fly-by-wire! Andrei vividly remembered that historically, the Su-27’s development initially did not plan for complex fly-by-wire systems, opting instead for hydraulic controls. However, after a prototype crashed due to flight control issues—killing the renowned test pilot Yevgeny Solovyov—the engineers at Sukhoi realized the critical importance of flight control and adopted fly-by-wire.

At the time, Soviet electronic technology was limited, so they used a triple-redundancy analog fly-by-wire system. Later, when China acquired and modified the design into the J-11, they upgraded it to a quadruple-redundancy digital fly-by-wire system.

Meanwhile, the American F-15 used a dual-redundancy, high-authority analog stability augmentation system—essentially a first-generation fly-by-wire system—with a mechanical backup. The F-15 had already begun test flights in 1972, while the Su-27 was still in the prototype design phase, not making its first flight until 1977.

The Americans later upgraded the F-15 to a quadruple-redundancy digital fly-by-wire system, and the F-16 was designed from the start with digital fly-by-wire—far surpassing Soviet capabilities.

Though fly-by-wire increased complexity, mastering it was essential for developing a first-rate fighter. In later years, China’s Chengdu Aircraft Industry Group invested heavily in developing quadruple-redundancy fly-by-wire, leading to advanced aircraft like the J-10.

Digital fly-by-wire? Simonov was taken aback. The Sukhoi Design Bureau had never even considered it. The Soviet Union’s electronic technology lagged significantly, making the development of such a flight control system extremely difficult.

However, within the design bureau, it was widely acknowledged that overcoming the challenges of fly-by-wire was necessary for achieving superior maneuverability. For instance, one of their proposed designs featured a three-surface aircraft, which would be nearly impossible to control manually.

Chapter 86: Integrated Flight-Firepower-Thrust Control

“Andrei, the MiG-25 we’re flying now—if we equipped it with a fly-by-wire system, its maneuverability could improve significantly. It wouldn’t just be an interceptor; it could engage in dogfights like a proper fighter,” Andrei continued.

Though Andrei was eager to discuss the Su-27, he knew better than to speak of it. The T-10 project at the Sukhoi Design Bureau was top secret—even Andropov might not be aware of it. If he let anything slip, he’d be arrested as a spy, and not even Andropov could save him.

So, Andrei stuck to the MiG-25. In truth, installing a digital fly-by-wire system would be a massive leap in performance, giving pilots far more confidence in flight.

“Digital fly-by-wire is indeed impressive,” Mikhail Petrovich Simonov said. “But our current technology is too limited—we can’t even manage analog fly-by-wire.”

Analog circuits relied on continuous signals, while digital circuits used encoded, computer-processed signals. The difference was fundamental.

With analog circuits, once the design was finalized, everything was set in stone. Upgrades required redesigning the entire circuit, and their information-processing capabilities were poor—essentially just operational amplifiers. Digital circuits, however, were programmable. Performance could be improved at any time by updating the software.

For example, in later years, the Americans upgraded their missiles without touching the hardware—just by refining the software with new optimization algorithms to improve accuracy.

“Looking to the future, digital fly-by-wire is a challenge we must overcome,” Andrei said. “Especially when flight control, fire control, and thrust control can be integrated. A fighter with that kind of system would be like a machine with a human brain.”

Integrated flight-firepower control was a concept the Americans had introduced years ago. By using radar and other sensors to track a target’s movement, the system could predict its trajectory in real time, calculating the optimal weapon release point and flight path. This made weapon deployment far easier for pilots. The system provided intuitive guidance through a heads-up display, allowing the pilot to follow prompts for precise weapon release. Additionally, the flight path data could be fed into the flight-firepower coupler, which would then issue commands to the fly-by-wire system, enabling the aircraft to automatically track and attack the target.

This system had revolutionized American combat aircraft, even improving the effectiveness of cannons. With precise control over flight path, attitude, and firing, the speed and accuracy of cannon fire had increased dramatically. Aircraft could now engage in head-on attacks during high-speed passes!

Integrated flight-firepower-thrust control took this even further. While flight and fire control managed the aircraft’s surfaces, thrust control directly managed the engine—especially with vectored nozzles. When all three systems were linked, the aircraft could perform like a martial arts master, releasing weapons mid-roll, pitch, climb, or barrel roll.

Mikhail Petrovich Simonov, as the deputy chief designer of the Sukhoi Design Bureau, was already an expert in aircraft design. But as he listened to Andrei’s description, he realized that Andrei was the one with true foresight in aeronautical weapons. After Andrei finished, Simonov nodded in agreement. “You’re absolutely right. If future aircraft can integrate these systems, their combat effectiveness will increase dramatically.”

“At the very least, fly-by-wire is a challenge we must overcome now,” Simonov continued. “But our electronics technology is still too primitive. Our radar development teams are still clinging to vacuum tubes.”

Simonov was deeply disappointed in these supporting departments. He had approached the Tikhomirov Instrument Design Bureau multiple times to coordinate radar issues for the new aircraft, but they were still struggling with technical problems—especially their insistence on vacuum tubes. It would be nearly impossible to surpass the performance of the American F-15’s radar.

“Vacuum tubes are a dead end,” Andrei said. “We keep increasing transmission power, which only generates more heat and makes cooling more difficult. The resulting radars are bulky, unreliable, and underperforming—and they drag down the aircraft’s capabilities.”

Historically, the Su-27’s airframe had been well-designed, but due to radar flaws, weight had to be reduced—even drilling holes in the main beam—leading to structural weaknesses and severe restrictions on operational overload. For over a decade, the Su-27 had been stuck in a cycle of weight reduction and reinforcement.

Simonov nodded in agreement. This was a persistent concern for him. Though the T-10 hadn’t begun test flights yet, and the nose was currently filled with lead weights as planned, if the final radar ended up overweight, it would be a disaster for the T-10.

“If only we could get our hands on an American radar system,” Andrei said.

The EP-3 had already opened the eyes of many domestic technicians, convincing some to abandon vacuum tubes. If they could acquire an advanced American radar, it would help persuade the remaining holdouts. If they refused to listen, the worst-case scenario would be splitting off a new design bureau.

But Andrei knew he didn’t yet have the influence to shape Soviet decisions. And obtaining an American radar system would require defection—who would leave the “free world” for what they called the “evil” Soviet Union? Andrei scanned the world map in his mind, and one country stood out.

Iran! Iran had the strongest military in the Persian Gulf, including advanced Tomcat fighters equipped with the formidable AWG-9 radar. In a few years, Iran would undergo a major transformation—and that would be their opportunity.

“What are you two discussing? You seem pleased,” a voice suddenly interrupted.

Andrei looked up, first noticing the gleaming medals on the man’s chest. Everyone here was covered in them, while Andrei only had two. Then he saw the raised wine glass, and finally, the man’s face—he recognized him immediately. It was Marshal Ustinov, whom he had met recently.

Chapter 87: Return to Leningrad

Ustinov thoroughly enjoyed gatherings like this. Like many Russians, he was an unrepentant drunkard—not only did he love to drink, but he also loved forcing others to drink. In later years, a famous theory would emerge, known as the Ustinov Rule.

At the mention of this rule, combined with Ustinov’s formidable presence, one might assume it was a principle of combat. In reality, it was a drunkard’s psychological tactic: defeating your opponent at the drinking table was the first step to securing absolute psychological dominance.

This had been Ustinov’s approach ever since he took command of the Arbat Military District. The Soviet military delegations would always adopt this overbearing attitude toward their counterparts from brotherly nations like India, Vietnam, and North Korea. The routine was almost always the same: high-proof liquor would be served at formal banquets, and Ustinov would down it in one gulp before the stunned guests. In the end, those poor visitors would be carried out, utterly defeated.

Come on, the Motherland needs your stomach! Later, when the Chinese delegation negotiated the Su-27 contract, the same scene played out. The Russians conceded, and the next day at the negotiating table, they couldn’t even lift their heads. In the end, the price they offered China was quite favorable.

Now, Ustinov was already somewhat drunk. The scent of ethanol wafting from his hairy nostrils told Andrei that if this drunkard tried to challenge him to a drinking contest, he wouldn’t stand a chance—Andrei hadn’t even started yet!

But Ustinov didn’t seem focused on forcing drinks. Instead, he watched Andrei and Mikhail Petrovich Simonov with apparent delight.

“Andrei, if you manage to force-land an American F-15 next time, I’ll award you another Gold Star Medal,” Ustinov declared. “Designer Simonov, what we need now is to build a plane even more advanced than the F-15!”

“Yes, yes, absolutely,” both men replied. After all, Ustinov was now in charge of military equipment, and his word carried significant weight. At a time like this, Simonov couldn’t afford to say anything that might displease him—even if Ustinov’s words bordered on leaking classified information. Of course, it was no secret that the Soviet Union would develop a new fighter to counter the American F-15.

“Andrei, I’ve already submitted your plan to the Ministry of Defense and the Far Eastern Military District,” Ustinov slurred, having finally cornered Andrei at the banquet. “Your proposal is bold—I like it! To be honest, I’ve had this idea for a while. Breaking through the Western blockade from the East is the simplest solution! The only problem is that our Pacific Fleet’s strength is still limited. So, we’ll need to redeploy ships from the Baltic and Northern Fleets to the Pacific. Get ready when you return, lad!”

Damn, I only mentioned it in passing, and now it’s actually happening? Even though Ustinov was drunk, Andrei knew there was some truth to his words. He was taken aback.

The Soviet Union was vast, and its focus was on Europe, so the Pacific Fleet was far from sufficient. If they were to reinforce it, they would have to send ships from distant Europe, crossing the Mediterranean, the Suez Canal, the Indian Ocean, all the way to the Pacific—a journey that would take months. With preparations, it would take at least a year.

“To the glorious future of our Soviet Union! Cheers!” Ustinov raised his glass of vodka high.

“Cheers!” Andrei lifted his own glass and downed it in one go.

…

The train carriage rattled incessantly, the distant world outside blanketed in white. Russia’s cold season had arrived.

The carriage was warm, the heat rising from the radiators. Sitting on the bunk, his arm around the woman beside him, Andrei was filled with happiness.

Following Andropov’s arrangements, after the parade, Andrei had not returned to his unit in the Far East. Instead, he was heading to Leningrad to hold a simple wedding ceremony at his family home. Andropov considered this a duty fulfilled.

So, after obtaining their marriage certificate in Moscow, Andrei and Yekaterina had come to Leningrad for their wedding. From courtship to marriage, their relationship had progressed at lightning speed. Andrei felt as if he were dreaming—he could hardly believe it was real.

Reflecting on the months since his arrival in this world, Andrei had gone from an ordinary pilot to the deputy commander of a flight regiment, and now he had even married a Russian woman. In later years, many would dream of marrying a Russian woman.

And with a powerful backer like Andropov, Andrei should have been completely satisfied. This honeymoon was blissful—except for…

“Mama, I want chocolate!” a voice piped up.

Andrei and Yekaterina turned from their sweet moment to see little Ivan pointing at a large travel bag on the shelf.

Somehow, the boy had found out about their wedding. The moment he heard they were going to Leningrad, he had thrown a tantrum, insisting on coming along. No amount of coaxing could calm him.

So, little Ivan had tagged along. With the boy in tow, the couple didn’t look like newlyweds at all—more like a family on vacation.

Across from them, a man in his thirties stood up. “Uncle has some cheese—very tasty. Would you like a piece?”

Little Ivan didn’t stand on ceremony. He climbed onto the opposite bunk, sat down, and took the cheese. “Thank you, Uncle.”

Watching the boy devour the cheese, Andrei and Yekaterina laughed.

Andrei had mentally prepared himself. Though Ivan’s mother, Irina, hadn’t come due to work, and their nanny hadn’t accompanied them either, leaving only Andrei and Yekaterina to care for the boy, there was no need to worry about safety. At least five or six KGB agents were on this train.

Their primary mission was to protect Yekaterina, but more importantly, they were there to protect little Ivan. This wasn’t nepotism—it was a grandfather’s love for his grandson. As the head of the KGB, Andropov had made countless enemies. Who knew if someone might try to use little Ivan as leverage against him?

Of course, Andrei wouldn’t openly acknowledge this. The man who had just given Ivan cheese had mentioned during boarding that he lived in Moscow and was returning to work at the GUM department store in Leningrad. He was almost certainly a KGB agent.

Chapter 88: A Harmonious Gathering

Leningrad, a city named after the great red leader! It was one of the major cities of the Soviet Union, located in the northwest of Russia, along the Baltic coast at the mouth of the Neva River. It was also the central city of the Soviet northwest and a crucial water and land transportation hub for the entire Soviet Union. Founded in 1703, the city had been significant since its establishment and was now a large comprehensive industrial city of the Soviet Union.

And decades ago, the October Revolution had begun here!

Unfortunately, in later years, the city reverted to its original name, Saint Petersburg, marking the end of a great era. Thinking of this, Andrei felt a deep sense of nostalgia.

Thankfully, the distance from Moscow to Leningrad was only a little over six hundred kilometers, and the train took just eight hours to arrive.

“Ivan, hurry, we’re getting off!” As the train, billowing black smoke from its coal-burning heater, pulled into the station, little Ivan hopped around, refusing to put on his coat.

Meanwhile, Andrei and Yekaterina were already dressed in their winter attire. Yekaterina wore a white fur coat that made her look exceptionally elegant and noble. Andrei had bought it at the GUM department store in Moscow before their departure, costing him an entire month’s salary. At the time, he had winced at the expense, but now, seeing how beautiful Yekaterina looked, he felt it was worth every penny. After all, a woman dresses to please her man, and having a beautiful wife brought him pride!

After finally getting Ivan into his coat, the three of them stepped out of the train. On the platform, a middle-aged couple was waiting for them.

Andrei’s father, Vladimir Nikolayevich Tolstoy, and his mother, Lyudmila, watched as their son led his fiancée off the train.

Ever since Andrei had left for flight school, he had rarely returned home—military life was too busy. But now, their son was back, and he had brought home a beautiful fiancée! Seeing Yekaterina step off the train in her white coat, old Vladimir couldn’t help but grin, the cold wind blowing into his mouth not bothering him in the slightest.

Wait, why was there another child getting off the train? What was going on? They weren’t even married yet, and the child was already this big? Andrei’s mother, Lyudmila, was stunned.

“Mom, Dad, you’re both here. Let me introduce you—this is Yekaterina. She works at the Central Hospital in Moscow,” Andrei said quickly upon seeing them.

Noticing his father’s silence and his mother’s gaze fixed on the little boy looking around curiously, Andrei hurriedly explained, “This is Ivan. Yekaterina is his godmother.”

Oh, so she’s his godmother! Hearing this, the two of them sighed in relief. “Yekaterina, you’re so beautiful,” Lyudmila said. “It’s cold outside. Let’s go, we should leave the station quickly.”

Outside, they got into a Moskvitch car and drove away from the train station.

Andrei held Yekaterina’s hand, which had already turned red from the cold, while little Ivan, seemingly unaffected by the chill, pressed his face against the window as soon as they got in the car, gazing outside.

“Are we going to the suburbs?” Ivan asked as the city buildings gradually faded into the distance.

“Yes,” Andrei’s father, who was driving, replied. “We’re going to Bor, a town in the suburbs. There are beautiful windmills and large factories there.”

After Andrei’s father had come to work at the Leningrad Power Station, he hadn’t lived in the city center of Leningrad. The factory was seventy kilometers away, making the commute too long, so he had settled in Bor, a town near the power station. After all, Andrei’s mother was a homemaker—wherever Vladimir went, she followed.

“Great, that’s wonderful!” Upon hearing there would be windmills, little Ivan clapped his hands in excitement.

Leaving the city behind, they drove onto the open road. Vast fields stretched out around them, and the rivers had not yet frozen, their waters flowing and nourishing the East European Plain. The countryside was peaceful, with windmills turning gently in the distance.

The houses in the suburbs were spacious. In a courtyard, Andrei’s father stopped the car. “We’re here. This is our new home. Yekaterina, I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. It’s lovely here,” Yekaterina said. “I enjoy this kind of rural life.”

Andrei took Yekaterina’s hand and got out of the car, then led little Ivan inside. The fireplace was burning brightly, warming the entire room.

The power station had been built just a few years ago. Once operational, it effectively alleviated the electricity shortage in the northwest. It was one of the Soviet Union’s most advanced nuclear power plants.

Although life in Kiev was more comfortable, Vladimir, an old Bolshevik, had volunteered to come here when he heard about the shortage of technical personnel. He wanted to continue contributing to the socialist cause.

Besides his work, what concerned him most was his son. When he learned that Andrei had become a Soviet Hero, he had been filled with pride. And now, knowing his son was about to get married, his heart was overflowing with joy.

The family was filled with warmth and happiness.

…

The Baltic Sea.

This was an inland sea in northern Europe, a marginal sea of the Arctic Ocean, and a part of the Atlantic Ocean, located between the Scandinavian Peninsula and the European mainland. The Baltic Sea was almost entirely surrounded by land, bordered by Sweden, the Soviet Union, Denmark, and Germany. Since the northern part was close to the Arctic Circle, during the harsh winters, parts of the sea would freeze over.

During the current Cold War, the Baltic Sea was a hotbed of tension and a key area of confrontation between the Soviet Union and NATO. Here, the Soviet Union had one of its four major naval fleets—the Baltic Fleet. In the event of war between East and West, the Baltic Fleet would set sail from here to control the sea routes and deter Britain.

At this moment, a large warship was sailing on the sea.

The ship had a long forecastle, a pointed bow, and a noticeable flare above the waterline. This design was quite different from previous Soviet warships, resembling later models like the Sovremenny and Udaloy classes. This design effectively prevented waves from surging onto the deck and minimized bow resistance. The hull had angular lines, with a high bow and low, wide superstructures like the bridge and funnel. This design lowered the ship’s center of gravity and reduced wind resistance and the exposure of ammunition storage areas.

From bow to stern, the ship was streamlined, divided into the forward armament area, forward bridge, transition section, funnel, aft armament area, and sonar facilities. The overall layout was compact and clean, with no unnecessary clutter on the deck. This was the Soviet Union’s newest 1135-class large anti-submarine warship!

Chapter 89: The Vigilant Anti-Submarine Warship

The Cold War had reached its peak. Though the United States and the Soviet Union maintained a facade of cordiality—even exchanging handshakes in space—their rivalry simmered beneath the surface. On the high seas, NATO leveraged its naval superiority to intimidate the Soviets, while submarines from both sides engaged in silent, underwater duels. The Soviet Navy’s strategy relied on surface vessels to disperse NATO submarines, allowing their own submarines to venture into the deep ocean and launch ballistic missiles.

To counter this threat, the Soviet Navy sought to bolster its long-range anti-submarine capabilities. The 1135-type Petrel-class warship—known in the West as the Krivak-class—played a pivotal role in the development of medium-sized vessels in the Soviet Red Navy. This advanced warship boasted cutting-edge technology, including the M-7 combined gas turbine and gas (COGAG) propulsion system, featuring two M-8K main gas turbines (each with 18,000 horsepower) and two M-62 cruise gas turbines (each with 6,000 horsepower). Such a configuration even drew envy from the British, proud of their own naval gas turbine technology. With a total output of 48,000 horsepower, the Petrel-class could reach speeds of up to 32 knots, making it highly maneuverable for anti-submarine and air defense operations. Its advanced design led to over forty vessels of this class being built in later years.

With a standard displacement of 2,810 tons and a full-load displacement of 3,200 tons, the Petrel-class was comparable to China’s Luda-class destroyers and could be considered a destroyer in its own right. In China, it would undoubtedly be a mainstay of the fleet.

At this moment, one such Petrel-class anti-submarine warship, the Vigilant, was sailing through the Baltic Sea. Commissioned in 1973 and first deployed on June 4, 1974, it was the newest addition to the Baltic Fleet. Now, it was leaving its home port, preparing to cross half the globe for a long voyage to the Far East to participate in naval exercises.

On the bridge, Lieutenant Colonel Potuline, the captain of the Vigilant, scanned the distant waters through his binoculars. In just two weeks, these waters would freeze over, and within a month, the ports would be completely iced in. The Soviet Union’s northern geography left it with few suitable naval ports—a fact that weighed on Potuline’s mind.

He pondered the upcoming mission. The crew believed this was just another routine exercise, common during the height of the Cold War. After all, joint exercises were frequent, and Far Eastern forces sometimes even drilled in the Moscow Military District. But Potuline knew better. At the captain’s level, he understood that this “exercise” might not be so simple. There could be operational plans awaiting them in the Far Eastern Military District. Moreover, the Vigilant might soon be reassigned to the Pacific Fleet under the Far Eastern Military District.

Thud, thud.

Footsteps echoed as a middle-aged man in a crisp naval uniform ascended the ladder.

“Sablin, what is it?” Potuline asked the newcomer.

Vasily Sablin, the Vigilant’s executive officer and political commissar, stood before him. (Since 1942, the Soviet military had reinstated the single-commander system, granting absolute authority to the commanding officer while also appointing a political deputy—a role akin to a political commissar.)

“Captain, there’s a fuel leak in the lower tanks!” Sablin reported urgently.

This was a long-range voyage. Once they left the Baltic Sea, they would rendezvous with more ships and receive supplies from replenishment vessels. But for now, they had to rely on their own resources. Due to repairs at the Riga base, the Vigilant had fallen behind schedule and needed to maintain high speed to catch up.

“Let’s go take a look,” Potuline said, lowering his binoculars and following Sablin below deck.

Their footsteps echoed urgently as they descended, accompanied by the ship’s first officer.

As captain, Potuline knew every inch of the ship as well as his own body. Though he had only commanded the Vigilant for two years, he had already mastered its layout.

The fuel tanks were located at the lowest level to lower the ship’s center of gravity and enhance stability.

Two minutes later, they reached the bottom of the hull.

“Reporting, sir! There’s a serious leak here!” Seaman Shain exclaimed, his face tense.

“Don’t worry,” Potuline reassured him. He detected no strong odor of fuel, indicating the leak wasn’t severe.

Pushing open the hatch, Potuline stepped inside first, followed by the first officer.

Creak.

Suddenly, the hatch behind them slammed shut! The compartment plunged into darkness. To avoid sparks igniting the leaked fuel, Potuline had not turned on the lights.

“Hey! What’s going on?” Potuline shouted, pounding on the hatch.

Outside, Sablin clapped Shain on the shoulder. “Good job! Shain, I’ll gather everyone on the ship and announce our decision! I believe justice is on our side! We will ignite the glory of Leningrad and keep the flames of revolution burning!”

Sablin’s face was resolute. He had prepared for this day for a long time.

As the ship’s political officer, Sablin frequently conducted political education sessions for the crew. In his lessons, he recounted how workers, soldiers, and peasants, under the leadership of the great Comrade Lenin, had united to overthrow the tsarist regime in the October Revolution. He emphasized Leninist principles of democratic councils for workers, soldiers, and peasants.

The effect was immediate. Previously, sailors had often dozed off during such lectures, but Sablin’s teachings captivated them. The crew admired him, seeing him as an officer who truly connected with his subordinates.

No one knew that Sablin’s political lessons had all been leading to this moment.

The Soviet leadership had made grave errors. Now was the time to correct them. Sablin was certain that if he raised the call in Leningrad, supporters would rally to his cause. He would become a hero of the Soviet Union!

“Comrades, all non-essential personnel, report to the forward deck immediately,” Sablin’s voice boomed over the ship’s intercom.

Chapter 90: To Leningrad

The Soviet Navy had a tradition of painting their decks in orange-red. At that moment, on the foremost deck, Vasily Sablin stood atop a 76mm naval gun, undeterred by the ship’s swaying in the waves.

Though the warship was no small vessel—weighing in at three thousand tons and classified as an anti-submarine ship—it lacked a rear deck and was not equipped with anti-submarine helicopters. The only spacious area was the forward deck.

Now, sailors and officers gathered there, facing the cold winds of the Baltic Sea as they watched Sablin standing on the deck gun.

“Comrades,” Sablin declared, “our captain is unable to continue commanding this ship due to health reasons. From now on, I will take command. I have decided to sail this ship to Leningrad!”

To Leningrad? Every sailor knew their destination was the Far East, not Leningrad!

“Comrades, do you remember the mutiny of the Potemkin?” Sablin asked.

During his lectures to the sailors, Sablin often showed clips from the famous Soviet film about the Potemkin mutiny.

On June 14, 1905, the sailors of the Russian Black Sea Fleet’s ironclad Potemkin, influenced by the burgeoning workers’ and peasants’ movement, rebelled against the Tsarist government’s brutal treatment. They punished the officers they despised most, established a revolutionary leadership, raised the red flag, and sailed to Odessa, where a general strike was underway. Though the mutiny ultimately failed, it ignited a revolutionary fervor across Russia, shaking the final pillar of Tsarist rule—the military—and openly turning it toward revolution.

Now, as Sablin invoked the Potemkin mutiny, flames of inspiration flickered in the hearts of many sailors. The subtle influence of his teachings had instilled in them the belief that rebellion was noble.

“Our country faces many crises—privileged elites, bureaucratic corruption. You’ve all seen it within our own Baltic Fleet. Now is the time to awaken our people through rebellion! We will sail to Leningrad, ignite the flames of revolution, and through this uprising, purify our nation!”

“Sablin, this is mutiny!” an officer shouted in response.

But before he could finish, two sailors beside him seized him, covered his mouth, and dragged him toward the ship’s cabin.

“This is not mutiny—it is a revolution to awaken our great Soviet nation!” Sablin declared. “Our country is plagued by systemic corruption. Only decisive action can rouse the people!”

“Right! We must take bold action! To Leningrad!”

Several of Sablin’s confidants immediately stirred the crowd. The other sailors, swept up in the moment, joined the chant: “To Leningrad!”

As independent thinkers, people in a group are easily swayed. Later, the infamous pyramid schemes that spread across the land operated on the same principle. One person might doubt, two might resist, but when everyone around you believes, you believe too—even to the point of attacking police stations to “rescue” fellow schemers. It was sheer madness.

But Sablin was no madman. He had prepared for this day for a long time. His plan was built on a sober assessment of reality: widespread dissatisfaction with the ruling class, though most dared not speak it aloud. He saw the political demands of the masses and sought to spark a revolution in Leningrad, much like the Potemkin mutiny had done before.

Now, the situation was entirely under his control. He had roused the crew, and though the officers were more cautious, only three had openly opposed him. The rest remained silent, knowing resistance was futile.

Those who opposed had already been subdued. The remaining officers, fearing for their safety, would not cause trouble—though they would need to be watched.

The Vigilant, a large anti-submarine ship, carved a graceful arc across the sea as it turned toward Leningrad. To avoid detection by higher-ups, its radio had been shut down, and its M-8K main gas turbine engines roared to life, propelling the ship at its maximum speed of 32 knots.

Leningrad—a place of legend!

The scenery of Bor was enchanting, with its vast windmills—little Ivan’s favorite spot. Unfazed by the cold, he climbed one and shouted from the top.

“Ivan, get down! It’s dangerous!” Andrei called from below.

A few farmers worked in the nearby fields, but Andrei knew they were likely KGB agents sent to protect them.

Knowing Yekaterina and Ivan’s true identities, Andrei felt at ease. He recalled his first night in Yekaterina’s hospital dormitory in the Far East, where Diana, the woman next door, must have been one of them too. If only he had realized it then.

Even with KGB protection, if little Ivan fell, no one could save him in time. The boy was a handful!

“He’ll be fine. That child is clever,” Yekaterina said. “Andrei, I love our life here. Why don’t we settle down in Bor?”

Soviet countryside life was peaceful, and deep down, Andrei longed for it too. But he knew he could not stand aside. The tragedy of the Soviet Union’s collapse must not repeat itself.

“Andrei, I love you,” he said, his words carrying layers of meaning.

“Uncle Andrei, I want to go to the beach!” Ivan’s voice interrupted just as Andrei was about to embrace Yekaterina.

The beach? What was so fun about it in this cold? If Ivan hadn’t insisted on climbing the windmill, Andrei would have stayed home by the fireplace, enjoying Caspian caviar.

The beach wasn’t far. In summer, it was a fine place to swim, but now…

“Uncle Andrei, I saw a warship from the windmill! I want to go play on it!” Ivan declared seriously.

Chapter 91: Touring the Warship

In his past life, Andrei had not yet married, and in this world, he had only just tied the knot, with no children yet. But Andrei already knew how troublesome a little brat could be.

This little rascal, once he set his mind on something, had to get it done—no matter what. If he wanted to eat something, he absolutely had to have it, or else he would wake up in the middle of the night, wailing and crying, impossible to soothe. Oh, the middle of the night was the worst time for such antics! So, it was best to satisfy him during the day!

Andrei even wondered if Irina simply couldn’t handle the child at home, which was why she had sent them out together—just to give the house a few days of peace.

Fortunately, little Ivan was usually well-behaved. He was just curious about new things, like now, when he was clearly fascinated by that warship.

“Come on, I’ll take you to see it. But I can’t guarantee we’ll be able to board,” Andrei said.

“No need to worry about that,” Andrei replied in surprise as little Ivan pulled a gleaming medal from his pocket—it was his own Gold Star Medal!

“With this medal, we can go anywhere,” little Ivan said with a grin. Andrei wanted to cry. You little brat, do you even know how precious that medal is? I earned it with my life!

“Ivan, come here and give me that medal,” Andrei said, trying to keep his voice calm. “I’ll take you over there.”

Turning his head, he saw that Yekaterina’s face was already frozen red from the cold. He continued, “Yekaterina, you go back first. Prepare dinner for us. We’ll be back in at most two hours.”

It was still a long way to go, and Andrei didn’t want Yekaterina to suffer through the cold with him. Besides, having Yekaterina and his mother prepare dinner together would help foster a good relationship between them.

“Alright, I’ll go then,” Yekaterina said. Then, turning to little Ivan, she added, “Ivan, listen to Uncle Andrei, or I won’t tell you a story before bed tonight.”

Little Ivan pouted but nodded. That was the only way to keep him in line—every night, Yekaterina told him wonderful stories.

Watching Yekaterina leave, Andrei took little Ivan and headed toward the shore.

This was an abandoned dock, usually with no ships passing through. Only in the distant shipping lanes did vessels head toward the deeper parts of the Leningrad harbor. This part of the sea was in the northeastern part of the Gulf of Finland.

This dock had only been used during World War II. Back then, Leningrad was under siege, and the defenders held out for over nine hundred days, creating a miracle. Behind that miracle was the fact that the defenders received a steady stream of supplies from the sea. To avoid German bombings, merchant ships often secretly unloaded cargo at remote shores, like this abandoned dock.

Further east, about thirty kilometers away, was Kotlin Island, long and narrow, perfectly positioned to guard the Soviet Union’s entrance to the Gulf of Finland. The Germans called it Kronstadt, and it was the main base of the Soviet Baltic Fleet.

Thankfully, little Ivan’s vision was limited. If he could see thirty kilometers away, he would surely demand to be taken to tour the Baltic Fleet! Andrei couldn’t help but remind himself repeatedly—just look, don’t let little Ivan get too excited, or they wouldn’t be going home tonight!

The two of them walked toward the distant dock, with a villager following leisurely behind.

“Damn it, how did Vorsov escape?” At that moment, on the abandoned dock, the hastily moored warship was the Alert. Deputy Captain Vasily Sablin was in a terrible mood.

Everything had gone smoothly up until now, but just as they were a few dozen kilometers from their destination, something went wrong—a military officer had escaped!

Captain Vorsov had spoken so convincingly, fully supporting Sablin’s plan. Over the past few days, Sablin had let his guard down. After all, Leningrad was within sight, and success was imminent! But he had grown careless, and Vorsov had taken the opportunity to flee!

The warship’s lifeboat was still there, so Vorsov must have jumped into the icy water and swum away. The freezing sea was his greatest threat—he might not even have made it to shore before freezing to death. But Sablin couldn’t take that risk! By the time they discovered Vorsov’s disappearance, two or three hours had already passed!

If Vorsov had made it to shore and reported to his superiors, it wouldn’t be long before the Baltic Fleet’s naval aviation forces would be dispatched to deal with them! There was no time to hesitate—they had to act immediately!

Sablin ordered the warship to dock at once. Right here, he would deliver a statement that would shock the Soviet Union and the entire world—a strike against the privileged class, awakening the people of the entire Soviet!

Sablin commanded the ship to dock and began preparing nervously. Although he had revised his speech many times, he still felt it lacked impact and needed another round of revisions.

The radio had been turned back on, and Sablin was gathering his emotions, speaking into the microphone, when a sailor entered and reported, “Captain, a Soviet Hero wishes to tour our warship.”

A Soviet Hero? Did they think Soviet Heroes were a dime a dozen, scattered everywhere? This was the middle of nowhere, just a broken-down village. Though there was a smoking chimney in the distance, perhaps from a power plant, he hadn’t heard of the Soviet Union awarding the title of Soviet Hero to a power plant engineer!

Sablin was about to refuse—he couldn’t afford any complications at this moment—but then he reconsidered. In the Soviet Union, who would dare to impersonate a Soviet Hero? If caught by the KGB, they would be executed without trial.

With that thought, Sablin said, “Let them in.” If his declaration could involve a Soviet Hero, that would be ideal! Even if the other party disagreed with him, he could immediately take control to prevent further trouble. If he let them go and they reported him, his position would be exposed anyway.

On the dock, a sailor called out to Andrei, “Comrade Soviet Hero, you may board!”

“We’ll just take a quick look and leave. If there are any restricted areas, let us know, and we won’t pry,” Andrei said, hoisting little Ivan onto his shoulders as they boarded the warship. At that moment, Andrei had no idea this was a pirate ship—easy to board, but hard to leave.

Chapter 92: Boarding the Pirate Ship

History, under Andrei’s intervention, had already deviated from its original course.

Originally, in history, the Vigilant had indeed been the site of a mutiny, orchestrated by the deputy captain, Vasily Sablin. However, it had occurred while the ship was undergoing repairs in Riga, the capital of the Latvian Soviet Socialist Republic.

On the same date—November 8, 1976, at 7:00 PM—Sablin reported to the captain, Lieutenant Colonel Potuline, falsely claiming an emergency aboard the ship. As they descended to the lower decks together, Sablin, with the help of his conspirators, suddenly sealed the hatch, isolating the captain and the loyal crew.

Sablin then gathered the remaining crew, proposing to sail the Vigilant to the fortress of Kronstadt near Leningrad, declaring it an independent territory and calling upon the Soviet people. That very night, at 11:30 PM, Vorsov cleverly evaded Sablin’s surveillance, slipping into the freezing waters and swimming to the B-49 submarine docked in Riga Harbor. He reported the mutiny to the base command.

Unfortunately, no one believed him, and no action was taken against the Vigilant.

Upon learning of Vorsov’s escape, Sablin decided to advance his plans. The next day, at 2:50 AM on November 9, the Vigilant, under Sablin’s command, departed Riga Bay at high speed, racing along the Daugava River toward the Baltic Sea at thirty knots. Only then did the Riga base realize something was terribly wrong.

Four hours later, Brezhnev, awakened in the Kremlin, issued the order: “Sink it!”

The Soviet 15th Air Army deployed Yak-28, Tu-16 bombers, and Su-24 attack aircraft. Tragically, they mistakenly bombed a civilian vessel and a patrol ship sent in pursuit.

In the end, thirty loyal sailors managed to free the trapped officers and Captain Potuline. After a fierce battle, Sablin was wounded by Potuline, and the mutiny was finally suppressed.

But now, due to Andrei’s intervention, the Soviet high command had taken precautions, transferring the Vigilant to the Pacific Fleet. Thus, Sablin’s mutiny unfolded not in Riga but in the Baltic Sea.

The Baltic Fleet remained completely unaware of the Vigilant’s predicament. Though daily radio check-ins failed, they assumed it was merely a technical malfunction—after all, surface ships weren’t as vulnerable as submarines unless caught in a storm.

As for Vorsov, though he had wanted to escape and report the mutiny, the freezing waters made it impossible. Only when the Vigilant was within a hundred kilometers of Leningrad did he dare to jump overboard and flee.

Upon discovering Vorsov’s escape, Sablin halted the ship’s advance, deciding to launch his “uprising” from this obscure dock and broadcast his manifesto to the nation.

But at that very moment, two entirely unrelated individuals boarded the ship.

“Andrei Vladimirovich Tolstoy?” After Andrei stepped aboard, he was escorted to a cabin on the bridge. There, he met the ship’s captain, who examined his credentials once more before speaking with reverence: “You’re the hero who bravely defended our airspace in the Far East a few months ago, ramming an American reconnaissance plane?”

“That’s me,” Andrei replied, unaware of his reputation in the navy. He glanced at the seemingly amiable captain and said, “This is my nephew, little Ivan. He wanted to see the ship. Sorry for the trouble. By the way, why are you docked here?”

Andrei was curious about the ship. After all, it was unusual for a vessel to be anchored so far from the Kronstadt base in such a desolate spot. Had something broken down?

“Our gas turbine engine malfunctioned. We can’t continue sailing and are waiting for repairs,” Sablin explained, easily fabricating an excuse. Now, he needed to gauge Andrei’s stance on the Soviet Union’s current issues. If his views aligned with Sablin’s, he could be persuaded to join. If he remained loyal to the regime, he would have to be detained.

A Soviet Hero speaking out against the system’s flaws would carry far more weight! Unfortunately, Sablin overlooked the restless child at Andrei’s side. Had he known of little Ivan’s connection to Andropov, he would never have allowed them aboard.

Before Sablin could speak, Andrei’s eyes lit up. “A gas turbine engine? Then this must be a Project 1135 Krivak-class frigate! Gas turbines are incredible—full power in minutes, excellent maneuverability, perfect for rapid anti-submarine positioning. Much better than those sluggish steam turbines. What’s the name of this ship?”

At that moment, the only ships in the Soviet Navy with comparable displacement and gas turbine propulsion were the Krivak-class. Andrei instantly recognized it and asked the captain.

“We’re the Vigilant,” Sablin replied, puzzled by Andrei’s familiarity with naval equipment. Wasn’t he from the air defense forces?

The Vigilant! Andrei’s smile froze. This ship was infamous in history—one of the most notorious mutinies in Soviet naval history. After the incident, the Vigilant had been reassigned to the Pacific Fleet, downgraded to a patrol ship, and given a new hull number.

And the timing matched historical records perfectly! Andrei had been confused when he hadn’t heard of the Riga incident, but now…

“I’m the captain of this ship, Lieutenant Sablin,” the man continued, seemingly oblivious to Andrei’s sudden pallor.

“Ivan, we’re leaving,” Andrei said to little Ivan. “Your aunt has dinner ready. We should go home.”

Sablin! Andrei remembered the name well. This man had imprisoned the captain and planned to sail the ship to… some said Sweden, a clear act of defection. Others claimed he intended to reach Leningrad to “awaken” the people and reform society!

Regardless, Andrei wanted no part in this mess—especially with little Ivan in tow. If anything happened to the boy, Andrei could already imagine Andropov’s fury. His standing with the KGB chief would crumble, after all, Yekaterina was only a sister to Irina, not Andropov’s biological daughter.

Chapter 93: Be a Brave Little Hero

Andrei knew that the KGB agent was lurking outside the warship. If he stepped off the ship and made contact, the agent would report to the KGB in no time, and the Soviet leadership would make the appropriate decision.

But for now, he didn’t need to take the risk.

Little Ivan, however, was clearly unhappy. He had just boarded the ship and hadn’t even had a chance to look around yet. What he wanted most was to climb onto the deck gun and strike a pose. Leaving now was out of the question.

“No, Uncle Andrei, I haven’t had enough fun yet! I’m not leaving!” little Ivan protested.

“Captain, something’s wrong! We caught someone outside, and we found a KGB ID on him!” Just then, a sailor burst in, flustered.

It was freezing outside—who would be wandering around in the wilderness? When the sailors spotted a man lurking nearby, repeatedly glancing at their ship, they grew suspicious. Upon questioning him, they discovered a KGB ID.

The KGB wasn’t made up of supermen. There was no real-life James Bond from the movies.

In this era, under Soviet rule, no one was unafraid of the KGB. The sailor rushed in to report, forgetting there were guests present.

Damn it! Couldn’t he have whispered? Did he have to let me hear that? Andrei’s anxiety spiked.

Sure enough, upon hearing this, Vasily Sablin’s gaze sharpened like a knife. “Comrade Andrei, what’s going on with the KGB agent outside?”

“Oh, I don’t know. The weather’s nice today, so I came out for a walk. Now, I should be heading back.” Andrei pulled little Ivan toward the door.

Ivan sensed something was wrong and tried to follow, but a towering sailor blocked the exit.

“Comrade Andrei, it seems you already know.” A voice came from behind. “So, I invite you to join our uprising. What do you say?”

Sablin clearly suspected Andrei was in league with the KGB agent outside. He cut straight to the point.

“What are you planning? I don’t want to get involved. I’m just a guest.” Andrei said, “I need to go home for dinner. You all stay busy.”

With that, Andrei tried to push past the burly man, but the sailor didn’t budge.

“Lock them both up. Don’t let them interfere with our plans!” Sablin ordered.

As an air force officer, Andrei was skilled in piloting fighter jets, soaring to altitudes of thirty thousand meters. He was also trained in light weapons and hand-to-hand combat. But in a fight, size mattered.

Right now, Andrei was powerless to resist, especially with several sailors behind him, their folding-stock AK-74s trained on them.

Clang. The hatch was sealed from the outside, plunging Andrei into darkness. Fearful for little Ivan’s safety, he pulled the boy close.

After a few seconds, his eyes adjusted to the dim light of the storage compartment.

“You’re not one of our crew. How did you end up locked in here?” A voice came from the shadows.

Andrei could just make out a few figures sitting listlessly in the corner.

“Who are you?” Andrei asked.

“I’m Lieutenant Colonel Potuline, captain of this ship.” The man replied.

After seizing full control of the vessel, Sablin had gathered all the dissenting officers in one place for easier supervision—even the captain had been thrown in here.

Escape? Impossible! The hatch was locked from the outside.

Dig a hole? This was a warship—thick steel plates everywhere!

Potuline… Andrei recognized the name. The mutiny had indeed begun. Why was his luck so terrible?

“We have to get out of here!” Andrei urged. “Once the higher-ups learn about Sablin’s rebellion, they’ll send fighter jets to bomb this ship. It’ll be sunk!”

The authorities wouldn’t care who was on board. To uphold the Soviet Union’s dignity, the ship had to be destroyed.

“No way out.” Potuline sighed. “Sablin’s men are guarding the door. They won’t let us leave.”

“I hear wind…” Andrei said.

“That’s the ventilation fan.” An officer explained. “Every compartment has air ducts for circulation.”

They had considered the ducts, but they were too narrow—none of them could squeeze through.

“I’ve got an idea!” Andrei said. “Ivan, do you want to be a brave little hero like Zoya and Shura?”

“Uncle Andrei, I do!” little Ivan declared.

…

Captain Vorsov crawled out of the icy sea, shivering violently, his face pale. He knew he had to strip off his soaked clothes—if he didn’t, they’d freeze solid in minutes, leaving him immobilized and frozen to death.

Death wasn’t what frightened him. What terrified him was the thought of the Vigilant’s rebellion going unreported. If headquarters didn’t learn of the mutiny, disaster would strike!

Gritting his teeth, Vorsov peeled off his clothes, leaving only his underwear, and sprinted across the open field.

In the distance, smoke rose from chimneys—there were houses there! If he could reach them, he could contact headquarters!

Vorsov pushed his body to its limits. Though the frigid sea had already drained his strength, he forced himself to keep running.

Hold on! Hold on! He couldn’t let Sablin’s plot succeed!

With that resolve, Vorsov ran on.

If he could live here, far from political schemes and power struggles, life would be so much simpler. Yekaterina pondered this as she walked. Her suggestion to Andrei—that they spend their lives here—wasn’t without reason. As her man’s status rose, so did the dangers he faced. The path to power was fraught with thorns!

But she couldn’t chain him down. Andrei was an eagle, meant to soar in the Soviet skies, not be confined to a farm.

Lost in thought, she barely noticed the two “farmers” trailing behind her suddenly tense.

In the distance, a man was sprinting across the field—naked—and heading straight toward them!

Chapter 94: Fierce Discussion

Vorsov felt his legs growing heavier with each step, as if filled with lead, while the biting cold gnawed at his body, threatening to overwhelm him at any moment.

The residential area was still several kilometers away. Could he make it? He had to keep going. If he stopped now, he would freeze solid within hours.

Just as Vorsov felt he could no longer endure, a farmer came running toward him.

“Hey, Comrade! Quick, find me a phone! I have an urgent report to make to Leningrad, to Moscow!” Vorsov shouted desperately.

“Oh.” The next instant, he howled in pain as the farmer kicked him squarely in the chest without hesitation. The blow sent shockwaves through his organs, and he staggered backward. The farmer, still wearing heavy boots, raised his foot to kick again.

“Exhibitionist! Lunatic! Where did you crawl out from?” the farmer yelled.

On such a freezing day, running half-naked across the fields—anyone would assume he was a pervert, a madman.

“Stop!” Yekaterina called out from behind. “Don’t hit him anymore!”

From a medical perspective, the man before her was clearly ill. His entire body was flushed red, a sign of impending frostbite. He was running purely on willpower. And he had just mentioned an urgent report to Leningrad and Moscow—his mind seemed clear, his eyes filled with urgency rather than the madness of a lunatic. Perhaps there really was an emergency.

As for the indecency—Yekaterina, as a woman and a surgeon, wasn’t particularly bothered by a man’s nakedness. To her, it was just a collection of carbohydrates. And if provoked, she wouldn’t hesitate to take her scalpel to him, severing what lay between his legs.

“What did you say just now?” Yekaterina stood before him, demanding.

“Quick, report to higher-ups! There’s a mutiny on the Vigilant! Deputy Captain Vasily Sablin has taken control of the captain and is steering the ship toward Leningrad to make a rebellious speech!” Vorsov’s voice grew weaker with each word. Exhaustion had taken its toll, and that kick had been the final straw.

His hands lowered slowly, his body sinking as if into an icy abyss.

“Quick, warm him up! Take him to my house!” Yekaterina ordered the farmer. Though no one said it aloud, she knew KGB agents were always nearby. That man’s kick had been too precise, too trained—no ordinary farmer could move like that.

The agent, realizing his mistake, quickly stripped off his own clothes to wrap around Vorsov, also sparing Yekaterina further embarrassment—after all, men and women were different.

The Vigilant! Yekaterina’s mind raced. Hadn’t Andrei and little Ivan gone to visit a warship? That strange vessel—could it be the Vigilant?

With that thought, she moved faster, rushing into the house and straight for the telephone.

If she followed proper channels, it would take at least half an hour for orders to trickle down. But Yekaterina’s call went directly to Irina’s home.

The Vigilant—the large anti-submarine vessel supposed to rendezvous with another escort ship in the northern Polish waters—had gone silent. The navy was escalating reports up the chain, reaching the Ministry of Defense, when another shocking message arrived.

A mutiny had erupted on the Vigilant! Deputy Captain Vasily Sablin had imprisoned Captain Lieutenant Colonel Potuline and several loyal officers, deceiving the unaware crew into steering toward Leningrad. His goal? To deliver a counter-revolutionary speech in the city!

Night had already fallen over Moscow, but the Kremlin was ablaze with light.

Brezhnev, mid-dinner, set down his fork and spoon and entered the conference room, where his advisors were engaged in a heated debate.

“This is a disgrace to our military! We must immediately deploy bombers and sink that ship!” Andropov’s rival, the second-in-command in the Kremlin and Brezhnev’s confidant, Secretary Gorbachev, shouted. “Now! We must act now!”

“But the ship carries not only mutineers but also loyal officers like Captain Potuline! If we bomb it immediately, innocent lives will be lost,” Andropov said calmly. “I propose a special operation by our Alpha Group to rescue the hostages and crush Sablin’s rebellion. I will personally oversee the mission in Leningrad.”

Gorbachev had always been Andropov’s greatest political opponent. Though they maintained a cordial facade, this time, Andropov had to push back—his grandson was on that ship. If bombers were sent, everyone aboard would die.

Andropov was confident. The Alpha Group had been created for exactly this kind of crisis.

In 1972, during the Munich Olympics, the Palestinian terrorist group Black September stormed the Olympic Village, kidnapping and killing eleven Israeli athletes and coaches. The world was shaken. The following year, a Yak-40 passenger plane was hijacked at Vnukovo Airport by four armed terrorists, taking all passengers hostage. Andropov had personally commanded the rescue operation, coordinating between domestic committees and the Ministry of Internal Affairs. The incident had forced Soviet leadership to take terrorism seriously.

By 1980, with the Moscow Olympics approaching, the Soviet Union established a highly trained special forces unit capable of counter-terrorism operations both at home and abroad. The task fell to the KGB, which formed an entirely new, top-secret unit within its ranks—Alpha Group.

The “A” in Alpha had many interpretations—it was the first letter of the alphabet, the first letter of Andropov’s name, and stood for anti-terrorism.

Though the unit had only been formed the previous year, its rigorous training had already prepared it for real combat. This crisis was the perfect test.

Unfortunately, Gorbachev, who also saw Andropov as his successor, was clearly trying to sabotage him.

Chapter 95: Deploy the Bombers

“It won’t do! The Alpha Group was only formed last year, and it was meant to counter terrorism. Internal military rebellions must be handled by the military itself! The Baltic Fleet’s naval aviation must be deployed immediately to sink this warship! What do you think, Ustinov?” Kirilenko passed the ball to Defense Minister Ustinov.

Upon hearing Kirilenko’s words, Ustinov didn’t even lift an eyelid. He spoke calmly, “This matter requires careful handling. We must fully consider the consequences of all possible courses of action. This is a major incident, a test of our ability to handle it with composure…”

Old fox! Kirilenko cursed inwardly upon hearing Ustinov’s words. Everyone here was an old fox. Ustinov’s stance was strange—he was as close as could be with Andropov, never contradicting him, but whenever Kirilenko and Andropov clashed, this man played both sides!

This meeting had turned into a struggle between Andropov and Kirilenko, with neither willing to offend the other at this moment.

“We must act quickly!” Kirilenko insisted. “If we let that Sablin make some kind of speech, it will humiliate our Soviet Union before the entire world! Comrades, this is a serious political incident—its significance cannot be overstated!”

Kirilenko kept emphasizing the gravity of the situation, stressing the need for immediate action. If their own mistakes allowed the Western world to mock the Soviet Union, the blow to their prestige would be immense.

How to act quickly? Of course, by deploying the air force to bomb the warship into the sea!

“What’s all this noise about?” Just then, everyone heard a familiar voice. They immediately sat up straight, watching as the old man entered the room.

Brezhnev had ruled this country for eleven years now. His cold, stern expression carried an aura of intimidation.

“General Secretary, we are discussing how to respond to the Vigilant’s mutiny. The Vigilant has fled to Leningrad and could pose a threat to our national security at any moment. I propose we bomb the ship immediately!” Kirilenko said the moment he saw Brezhnev.

Mutiny! If it were truly a mutiny, they should have fled to Sweden or another Western country! But instead, they had gone to Leningrad! Brezhnev’s eyes burned with fury. In a way, their defection to Leningrad was even more dangerous—it was a city named after the great proletarian leader! And it held immense historical significance for the Soviet Union—it could not be tarnished!

Seeing the fire in Brezhnev’s eyes, Andropov’s heart sank. He knew Brezhnev had made up his mind to destroy them.

“Order the air force to bomb that warship immediately. We must act fast!” Brezhnev declared.

“Yes!” Kirilenko replied loudly, glancing out of the corner of his eye at Andropov in the corner. There was no doubt—he had once again triumphed in his struggle against Andropov! Hmph, if he thought he could compete for the position of General Secretary, he was sorely mistaken! In Soviet history, there had never been a KGB chairman who became the national leader. Look at what happened to Beria—Andropov should learn from that and stick to his own duties!

Andropov lowered his head, clenching his fists. He was the chairman of the KGB—one stomp from him could make the Soviet earth tremble. But now, he couldn’t even save his own grandson! At that moment, he, too, made up his mind to kill.

At the Tukums Airbase, 20 kilometers from Jurmala, the 668th Bomber Aviation Regiment’s sharp battle alarm blared.

Countless personnel rushed across the base, rolling aviation bombs out of the armory and loading them onto the Yak-28 bombers.

An encrypted telegram from the 15th Air Army Headquarters arrived, issuing the 668th Regiment’s combat mission: a foreign warship had invaded Soviet territorial waters and was approaching Leningrad! It was a missile destroyer equipped with two “Hornet” air defense missile systems. The Army Headquarters ordered the 668th Regiment to immediately carry out a devastating airstrike on the vessel!

As a frontline bomber regiment during the Cold War, though equipped with the somewhat outdated Yak-28 frontline bombers, their training was top-notch. Their skills in nighttime and complex weather conditions were exceptional—even in extreme weather, they could strike NATO tactical air force deployment airfields.

Within minutes, two Yak-28 bombers took to the skies. This was no ordinary mission—it was not a drill!

The pilots of the two Yak-28s were the regiment’s commander and deputy commander. Their hearts pounded with tension.

The 4K33 “Hornet”-M air defense missile system was a Soviet-developed weapon. While it struggled against high-performance anti-ship missiles, taking down their slow bombers would be effortless.

This bombing mission was fraught with difficulty—especially since they might be shot down instead. They weren’t carrying advanced anti-ship missiles, only aviation bombs. They would have to fly directly overhead to drop them!

But for the Soviet Union, for the defense of the motherland, it was all worth it!

By now, night had fallen. Spotting a ship at sea was difficult enough, let alone attacking one. Aside from visual confirmation, they could only rely on the aircraft’s “Initiative-2” radar bombing sight to search for targets.

In the transparent cockpit at the nose of the plane, the navigator peered down at the sea below. Before takeoff, they had received the target’s approximate location—it was docked at an abandoned pier near a power plant. But after half an hour of flight, they arrived to find nothing.

They pressed on, searching along the waterway from the abandoned pier to Leningrad. Though the moonlight was bright, a damp mist hung over the sea, severely limiting visibility. To improve their chances, both bombers descended to an altitude of five hundred meters, bravely carrying out their arduous mission.

At that moment, they had no idea that the target they were meant to bomb was one of their own Baltic Fleet warships. Though they were curious about the “Hornet” air defense missiles, they assumed it was just another Soviet export.

“Report! Suspicious target spotted!” Suddenly, the navigator’s voice crackled over the intercom. Through the mist, he could make out the faint outline of a ship!

Chapter 96: Little Hero Ivan

“Damn it, it must have been Vorsov who did this!” Sablin grumbled in the bridge.

Originally, after discovering Vorsov’s escape and their own ship docking, Sablin had planned to deliver a televised speech to the nation, awakening the slumbering people. Though there had been a minor interruption—a Soviet Hero had appeared—it had only delayed them by a dozen minutes.

But just as Sablin had prepared his speech and finished recording in front of the camera, he suddenly realized the radio equipment was broken! The moment power was connected, the device burned out. Then, they discovered water leaking from the radio cabinet. Fortunately, the automatic circuit breaker had tripped, or else the entire crew would have been electrocuted!

Damn it! Sablin was furious. He had intended to launch the uprising from this temporary anchorage, but now, he had no choice but to command the ship to continue onward to Leningrad! Once there, they would disembark, seize the naval headquarters, and use their radio equipment—it had to be functional!

With such lofty ideals in mind, Sablin ordered the ship to set sail once more. He had to take the risk! Perhaps Vorsov had never reported to his superiors and had already drowned in the Gulf of Finland.

It was already nighttime. In such darkness, spotting their ship would be difficult. Sablin was confident.

From the bridge, he gazed at the misty sea in the distance. Under these conditions, visibility wouldn’t exceed a thousand meters! Fortunately, it was night, and there were few ships around. Otherwise, a vessel like theirs, sailing without navigation lights, might collide with another.

After half an hour of sailing, they had already traveled several nautical miles. Just then, the distant sky echoed with the roar of aircraft engines.

“Report! Two targets detected, possibly bombers!” The radio equipment was damaged, but the radar was still intact. Using the MR-310A (“Angara River”-A) three-coordinate air search radar, the radar operator quickly identified the two bombers.

Bombers! Sablin froze. They came so quickly! Was it a coincidence, or were they here for them?

“Prepare anti-aircraft missiles,” Sablin ordered.

Though their ship had anti-aircraft missiles, could he really fire on his own comrades? If he did, he would no longer be on the side of justice! Sablin’s heart was torn. Though he had ordered the missiles to be readied, he hesitated, unable to give the command to fire.

At that moment, the distinct sound of heavy objects falling from the sky reached them.

“Hard to port!” Sablin shouted. His hesitation had plunged the Vigilant into crisis—the bombers above had already begun dropping their payload!

The Vigilant was already at thirty knots. A sudden hard turn to port caused the ship to tilt sharply to the left—a maneuver so reckless it was only performed during sea trials when a ship first left the dock!

Boom! A bomb landed sixty meters off the starboard side, sending up a geyser of water over ten meters high!

With visual bombing at sea under such poor visibility, accuracy was abysmal.

“Oof!” As the ship tilted, the unprepared sailors inside were thrown off balance. Some braced against the walls, while others tumbled to the deck.

The burly Seaman Shain had been dozing in his chair. Over the past few days, he had not slept a wink, guarding the cabin where the captain and others were held. He also had to prevent any other sailors from secretly freeing the captain. Sablin had entrusted him with the most critical task, and he couldn’t trust anyone else with it.

Exhausted, Shain had finally succumbed to fatigue. But when the ship lurched, he lost his balance and crashed heavily against the steel bulkhead, his head striking the metal.

Instantly, his vision blurred. The keys hanging from his belt clattered to the floor.

Shain struggled to open his eyes, but everything was a haze. The last thing his pupils registered was a small child.

Ivan quickly approached, keys in hand, and inserted them into the cabin door. With a turn and a clatter, the door swung open!

Andrei was the first to rush out. Seeing Ivan outside, he scooped him up. “Ivan, are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Uncle Andrei,” Ivan said. “That big guy was guarding the door the whole time—he didn’t even go to the bathroom! I waited forever for a chance.”

He continued, “But like Captain Sablin said, I already sabotaged the ship’s radio.”

Lieutenant Colonel Potuline was the second to emerge. He had no time to acknowledge the two—he still didn’t know their identities—and he had more pressing matters to attend to.

“Comrades, follow me! We need to get to the armory first!” Potuline ordered those behind him.

Sablin had deceived him with underhanded tactics and even led this ship in mutiny! Now, Potuline’s first priority was to quell the rebellion!

The cabin had been locked tight from the outside. In this steel fortress of a ship, Potuline had been utterly trapped—until little Ivan came to the rescue!

Potuline had given Ivan detailed instructions on navigating the ventilation shafts. Only someone as small as Ivan could squeeze through those narrow passages.

And little Ivan had proven his cleverness. After hearing the instructions just once, he had memorized the entire route. Crawling through the shafts, he hadn’t been afraid at all.

Once outside, Ivan had first slipped into the equipment room and relieved himself on the radio equipment. Then, he had returned to wait for an opportunity to steal the keys and unlock the cabin. Unfortunately, the burly guard, Shain, had been too diligent, never leaving his post!

Ivan’s small stature gave him an advantage—he could hide anywhere without being noticed. But he was no match for Shain’s brute strength, so he had to bide his time.

Finally, the moment arrived. Ivan watched as Shain’s head struck the bulkhead, drawing blood. It was clear the man wouldn’t be getting up anytime soon. And luckily, the keys had flown near Ivan. With nimble fingers, he unlocked the cabin door.

As Ivan crawled through the ventilation shafts, Andrei had begun to worry. Ivan was Andropov’s grandson, and Andropov was surely trying to rescue him. If Ivan got lost in those labyrinthine shafts, Andrei would bear a heavy responsibility.

Moreover, after spending these days together, Andrei had come to see Ivan as his own child. The boy was a handful, but undeniably clever. A dull child wouldn’t cause so much trouble—only the smartest ones did.

Now, seeing the door open and Ivan safe, Andrei held him tightly, his eyes welling with tears, his nose stinging.

“Uncle Andrei, am I a hero now?” Ivan proudly declared.

Chapter 97: The Uprising is Contained

“Hard to starboard!” Vasily Sablin continued to shout, as another bomb wobbled down from above.

This time, it fell much farther away—nearly a hundred meters off. Sablin found it strange. Were the pilots up there deliberately holding back?

Moreover, the aircraft attacking them were outdated Yak-28s, armed only with conventional free-fall bombs. If they had been modern Su-24 attack planes, his ship would have been sunk long ago.

Dodging the bombers overhead, Sablin pondered whether his decision not to order the launch of anti-aircraft missiles had been the right one. Perhaps these pilots were also discontent with the state of the nation and were intentionally giving him a chance.

Hold on! Just twenty more kilometers, and they would reach their destination!

“Bang, bang, bang.” At that moment, rapid footsteps echoed from below.

What was happening? Sablin turned his head to see Lieutenant Colonel Potuline storming in with a group of sailors, all armed with AKM rifles.

“Sablin, you traitor!” Potuline shouted, standing at the front, glaring at Sablin, who was still commanding the ship.

Having just escaped from confinement, Potuline had rushed to the armory, where the sailors guarding it had immediately switched sides upon seeing him. Along the way, he had gathered more men and headed straight for the bridge.

Countless gun barrels pointed at Sablin. His face twisted with reluctance. “Potuline, I haven’t betrayed anyone. I wanted to stage an uprising, to awaken our people. When I made this decision, I already accepted that I might die.”

“An uprising?” Potuline retorted. “Don’t forget that it was the great Soviet Union that gave us everything we have today—driving out the Nazis, allowing our people to live as they do now! Even if our country has flaws, you can’t resort to rebellion to bring about change! What you’re doing is a betrayal of the great Soviet Union. If you succeed, the nation will descend into chaos!”

“Exactly!” Andrei, who had been carrying little Ivan, agreed wholeheartedly.

Originally, Andrei had planned to keep little Ivan safe until they reached shore. Once Potuline was free, he would be able to stop Sablin’s rebellion. But little Ivan had insisted on coming to see the commotion. Surrounded by Potuline’s men, Andrei felt secure enough to follow.

Hearing Potuline’s words, Andrei couldn’t help but praise them. They were absolutely right!

The Soviet Union did have problems—Brezhnev’s stagnation had led to economic decline, and some had begun to abuse their privileges. These issues needed to be addressed. But not through rebellion!

That would only plunge the nation into chaos, giving the West an opportunity to exploit the situation. History had shown this time and again. Whenever the Americans wanted to topple a government, they pushed Western-style democracy and freedom, only to leave behind endless war and suffering. American democracy had effortlessly destroyed one nation after another in their eyes.

If Sablin had succeeded, it would have only made things worse. This was not in the Soviet Union’s best interest!

Good intentions did not justify reckless actions!

“Sablin, you were raised by the Party. Do you remember the oath you took when you joined?” Andrei said. “You claim to act for the Soviet Union, but in truth, you’re just a political opportunist. In the Soviet Union, your actions are doomed to fail!”

“Watch out!” a sailor suddenly shouted.

“Boom!” Another bomb came hurtling down. With the bridge in chaos, no one had noticed it until it was too late. This one was on target, exploding just twenty meters from the ship. Shrapnel rained down on the deck.

“Crash!” The bridge’s windows shattered, and everyone dropped to the ground.

“Arrest Sablin and his accomplices!” Potuline ordered. Now that he had control of the ship, he couldn’t let Sablin escape by jumping overboard or something similar.

Back on his feet, Potuline felt a surge of tension. The ship was under his command again, and the rebellion had been stopped. But the radio equipment was damaged, and he had no way to contact headquarters or the bombers above. They still treated him as the enemy, continuing to drop bombs!

“Fire signal flares!” Andrei suggested. “The pilots will realize something has changed.”

Signal flares! At Andrei’s reminder, Potuline immediately gave the order. Soon, several red flares shot into the sky.

When the two bomber pilots saw the flames rising from the ship, they were startled. They had already made several attacks, each time feeling like a suicide mission. If the ship had fired anti-aircraft missiles, their planes would have been shot down instantly.

But that hadn’t happened. The enemy had only evaded, never firing back. And now, seeing the flames, they had assumed it was anti-aircraft fire—but then they realized it was just signal flares!

“There’s a situation!” the navigator in the transparent nose cone said. “We might have attacked the wrong target!”

…

The Kremlin.

No one had left. After issuing the attack order, everyone waited for the bomber squadron’s report.

The clock on the wall ticked loudly. Andropov lit a cigarette, taking deep drags, his eyes bloodshot.

It was already three in the morning, and there was still no word from the front. Just half an hour earlier, on Kirilenko’s suggestion, Defense Minister Ustinov had ordered a squadron of Su-24 attack planes to assist in the strike.

“Report.” A cryptography officer entered, addressing Brezhnev and the others, who were dozing in their chairs. “Lieutenant Colonel Potuline and others aboard the Vigilant have escaped from confinement and captured the rebel Sablin. The Vigilant has entered Kronstadt Naval Base and is now under the direct control of the Baltic Fleet.”

The uprising had been contained? By their own people on the ship? Andropov felt a wave of relief. He turned to Brezhnev and said calmly, “Comrade General Secretary, I request permission to go to Leningrad personally to try these criminals.”

Chapter 98: A New Leader is Needed

Everyone had left, and Kirilenko watched Andropov’s retreating figure, his heart heavy with bitterness.

He had been the one to firmly suggest using fighter jets to sink the Vigilant, fearing the situation might spiral out of control and become unmanageable. The General Secretary had agreed at the time. But now, the bombers had failed to sink the ship, and the people on board had resolved the crisis themselves!

He had hoped to see Andropov humiliated, but instead, his own judgment had been proven wrong. In this struggle against Andropov, he had lost again!

Damn it, why was his judgment always wrong? Kirilenko couldn’t accept his failure. Though the General Secretary didn’t say it aloud, he must have been displeased. After all, sinking one of their own country’s ships would have been a laughingstock for the West, no matter the reason. And the ship was Soviet property, now returned intact to military control. Kirilenko was deeply disappointed.

Just then, General Semyon Tsvigon quietly entered and said to Kirilenko, “Secretary Kirilenko, I’ve investigated thoroughly. At the time of the incident, Chairman Andropov’s grandson happened to be on that ship.”

Andropov’s grandson was on that ship! No wonder Andropov had so fiercely opposed sinking it. His grandson was aboard! Kirilenko gritted his teeth, realizing he had made an unforgivable mistake. In his struggle against Andropov, he had broken the rules and attacked his opponent’s family first. Andropov would surely retaliate. Damn it, if this news had come earlier, he might not have fought so hard against Andropov, allowing him to lower his guard and making it easier to achieve his own goals.

Outside, the land was still shrouded in darkness.

A Tu-104A jetliner took off urgently from Moscow Airport, carrying Andropov and his entourage toward Leningrad. The flight would take less than an hour to reach their destination.

At this moment, Andropov’s earlier tension had faded. The latest reports confirmed no casualties on the ship, meaning little Ivan was safe. Now, he needed to plan how to handle the aftermath, which was why he had come to Leningrad in person.

When the plane landed at Kronstadt, the base commander and others were already waiting at the airport for Andropov’s arrival.

“Interrogate Sablin and the others strictly. Make them confess their crimes,” Andropov ordered his deputy to handle the most critical task. Meanwhile, he entered a room in the base.

“Chairman Andropov,” Andrei said, rising abruptly from his chair as he saw Andropov enter. He had been writing a report, and two soldiers stood guard outside. Until the facts were thoroughly investigated, Andrei was not allowed to leave.

“Hmm,” Andropov murmured, then glanced at the bed in the corner where little Ivan was sound asleep. Only then did he feel at ease.

“Andrei, what happened?” Andropov asked.

As Andrei recounted the events, Andropov’s furrowed brow finally relaxed. He said, “Andrei, we can’t keep indulging little Ivan. At home, no one can control him, and now he’s causing trouble. Who knows what kind of mess he’ll make in the future. But this time, he did well. It seems he played a major role in resolving this incident.”

“Yes,” Andrei agreed. “My report makes it clear. Though he’s not even four years old, he’s already a man. A brave little hero of the Soviet Union, just like Shura and Zoya.”

Andrei’s words carried a deeper meaning. This was an opportunity to shape little Ivan into a symbol of a young Soviet hero. The country needed such heroes now, and it would also help Andropov consolidate more power.

Andropov shook his head. “Forget it. This incident isn’t something to be proud of. It must be handled in secret. And Ivan is my grandson—he can’t be too prominent.”

A tree that stands out in the forest is the first to be felled by the wind. The Soviet leadership was already fraught with danger, and Andropov clearly wanted Ivan to live a quiet life, far from political struggles.

Andrei nodded. Andropov was thinking further ahead; there was still much he needed to learn about politics.

“Chairman Andropov, it was reckless to deploy bombers before the investigation was complete,” Andrei said.

Speaking with a clever man required little effort. Andrei knew Andropov had rivals in the upper echelons. Unlike history, this time Ivan had been present, yet the bombers had still come. Clearly, Andropov’s political enemies were at work.

“Yes,” Andropov admitted. “Fortunately, the incident was resolved smoothly.”

The guards outside had been replaced by KGB personnel, so speaking here was safe.

“This incident isn’t isolated. Such ideological trends have already begun at home,” Andrei told Andropov. “Chairman, our country has reached a point where reform is necessary—top-down reform. For that, we need a leader with courage, one who truly cares about the interests of the common people. Chairman, I support you.”

Andrei had made his stance clear. In the Soviet Union, such words, if overheard, would have led to an immediate arrest by the KGB and a trip to a Siberian labor camp. Yet Andrei had spoken them. After this incident, he realized Andropov wasn’t invincible. He, too, craved more power.

Historically, Andropov wouldn’t gain power until 1982, and by then, he was already on death’s doorstep. His reforms would be cut short, and the Soviet Union would still face dissolution. But now, Andropov still had energy. If he could seize power two years earlier, he would have a better chance.

“Andrei, I don’t want to hear such words again,” Andropov said coldly. “If there’s a next time, I won’t be able to protect you.”

As Andropov turned to leave, Andrei bit his lip and continued, “Chairman, to strike at your enemies, you don’t necessarily have to target them directly. You could go after those around them. Many people have an inexplicable admiration for the West.”

Chapter 99: Making Up His Mind

Back in the day, Zhao Kuangyin had been persuaded repeatedly, even having the yellow robe placed upon him before he reluctantly acquiesced to the will of the people and seized the throne from the Later Zhou emperor.

If someone were to be convinced to become emperor after just one attempt, it would only prove their lack of intelligence.

Now, though Andrei was closely tied to Andropov and firmly within his faction, the idea of staging a coup to oust Brezhnev and take power for himself was nothing short of treasonous. Andropov remained utterly loyal to Brezhnev and would not nod in agreement simply because Andrei had urged him to.

Andrei had expected Andropov’s reaction. He also knew that Andropov would have his own thoughts on the matter. This incident had been a shock to the old man.

Within the Soviet Union’s upper echelons, Brezhnev had no shortage of opponents. This time, the old man had done his best, yet he had still failed to prevent the military from deploying aircraft to bomb them, nearly sending both Andrei and Ivan to meet Marx.

As for Brezhnev’s adversaries, Andrei could guess who they were based on historical records. The first, of course, was that man named Kirilenko, currently a secretary of the Central Committee. According to Soviet convention, this should have been the position of the first in line for succession.

Convention? What convention had the Soviet Union ever truly followed? Nearly every transfer of power in the Soviet Union had been marked by intrigue and coup!

After Stalin’s death, the most likely successor had been Beria, the head of the KGB, who had wielded immense power—only to be overthrown by a coalition of others who could not tolerate another iron-fisted ruler like Stalin. The Great Purge had left them all terrified.

Then came Malenkov as Chairman of the Council of Ministers, while Khrushchev, as the Party’s First Secretary, began a rivalry with him. Khrushchev’s rise to power had largely been due to Zhukov’s support—military backing was always crucial! When the Presidium of the Central Committee had attempted to remove Khrushchev, he had convened a Party Congress and exiled his opponents.

Yet even Zhukov had not met a good end. In the upper echelons, one could capsize at any moment.

Similarly, Khrushchev had been overthrown in a coup. He had been too harsh. After the Stalin era, people were still deeply afraid of another purge. A new iron-fisted leader was not what the lower ranks wanted—they needed a puppet, someone who would merely preside over affairs in name.

Most importantly, Khrushchev had introduced reforms like the “cadre rotation system,” offending the “registered nobility” derived from the “official rank registry.” Brezhnev, who succeeded him, had then implemented the “lifetime tenure system,” which was met with thunderous applause and won the wholehearted support of the bureaucratic privileged class. Thus, Brezhnev became the most stable leader in Soviet history.

Brezhnev lacked the bearing of a leader. As a man, he was mediocre; as a politician, he lacked talent. He was weak in nearly every aspect—this was what set him apart from all his predecessors and was the very reason he had managed to secure his position as General Secretary of the Soviet Union.

The contradictions within the Soviet Union were becoming increasingly pronounced. Brezhnev needed to step down early, allowing Andropov to take power while he was still physically capable, to completely reverse the current situation!

Andrei had done his best, but he also knew that many things were not within his power to decide. His position was still too low; he needed to continue accumulating his own capital.

And for Andropov to ascend, there was one indispensable factor: the absolute support of the military!

Andropov left the room, his mind still in turmoil. If this were merely a personal matter, perhaps it could be set aside. After all, little Ivan had not been harmed and had even earned some merit. But from the perspective of the nation, he could no longer tolerate it!

The interrogation report on Vasily Sablin came quickly. Sablin had confessed clearly: he had acted to incite an uprising like the October Revolution, to awaken the slumbering people!

Sablin’s actions were undoubtedly counter-revolutionary. A just trial awaited him, followed by a bullet to end his life! And indeed, the Soviet state had strayed from the correct path—it was time to set things right!

Unfortunately, those in power only cared about their own interests! If he wanted to realize his ambitions, if he wanted to save this vast nation, then he would have to take that position himself!

Though he had rejected Andrei’s suggestion, Andropov knew his heart had been thoroughly moved. He could not wait for Brezhnev to die of old age—the Soviet Union could not wait that long!

But for now, Andropov did not yet have enough strength. What he needed to face first was the elimination of his political enemies!

Kirilenko, First Secretary of the Central Committee, the second most powerful man in the Kremlin, had always seen himself as the heir apparent to the General Secretary. Now, the first person he needed to deal with was him!

Suddenly, Andropov’s mind flashed back to Andrei’s words. To strike at an opponent, one did not necessarily have to target the opponent directly—sometimes, it was the people around them. Many held an inexplicable fascination with the West.

The lower classes of the Soviet Union still took pride in living under Soviet rule, but many in the upper echelons yearned for the West. Their relatives embezzled state funds, dreaming of enjoying life in the Western world. This was a perfect opening!

Andropov gazed out the window. Dawn was breaking—another new day. He had to make the most of his time!

“Andrei, Andrei, you scared me to death!” Upon hearing that Andrei was safe, Yekaterina drove to Kronstadt, passed through the sentry’s inspection, and saw Andrei.

Seeing Yekaterina’s reddened eyes—whether from sleeplessness, worry, or tears—Andrei pulled her tightly into his arms. “It’s nothing, just a little accident. Everything is fine now.”

“Mama, I became a little hero! I became a hero like Zoya and Shura!” Little Ivan had also woken up. Seeing Yekaterina, he shouted excitedly, his spirits high as he recalled last night’s operation.

Chapter 100: The New Base Commander

“The investigation into the incident has been thoroughly completed. Led by Deputy Captain Vasily Sablin of the Vigilant, a group of officers expressed dissatisfaction with our socialist system. They imprisoned the righteous Captain Lieutenant Colonel Potuline and others, attempting to incite rebellion in Leningrad. Later, under the resistance of Potuline and his men, they reclaimed the ship and subdued Sablin and his cohorts. The mutineers are now detained in the local KGB facility, awaiting our judgment.” Andropov reported to Brezhnev upon his return from Kronstadt.

“Bring Sablin and the others to Moscow. The Moscow Supreme Court’s military tribunal will sentence them to death for treason. All officers and sailors of the Vigilant will be disbanded and reassigned to other naval bases. Potuline will be discharged and given an idle position in the Naval Command. The Vigilant anti-submarine vessel will be repurposed as an escort ship, with new sailors assigned to it, and transferred to the Pacific Fleet.” Brezhnev declared.

The incident had been resolved, but the negative impact it caused still needed to be eliminated. Brezhnev’s solution was to disperse them, though this was merely a superficial fix.

Standing beside him, Andropov said nothing. An incompetent leader at the helm of the Soviet Union made it seem as though the nation was thriving, with each Five-Year Plan propelling its development forward. Yet, internal contradictions were brewing beneath the surface. Brezhnev had not delved deeper into the Vigilant incident—why it had happened, why so many sailors had responded to Sablin’s incitement. After all, they had only controlled fewer than ten high-ranking officers, yet almost the entire crew had shown little resistance.

“Yes.” Andropov finished his report and withdrew.

As he stepped into his car and headed back to KGB headquarters, Andropov was met by his assistant, Krukov, who handed him a report.

“Chairman, we’ve discovered that Timofey Mozgov has had excessive contact with the British ambassador in Moscow.”

Timofey Mozgov? Andropov’s heart skipped a beat. Andrei had been right about this direction!

What was special about this man? He was Kirilenko’s son-in-law! This man had traveled abroad several times, always to Britain. Clearly, he was suspicious!

“Keep him under strict surveillance. If he shows any intention of leaving the country, detain him immediately!” Andropov ordered.

Leaving the country! Andropov already had the charges in mind. Timofey Mozgov was planning to seek political asylum in Britain! This man harbored hidden discontent toward the great motherland!

Once in KGB custody, he would have to confess to all these crimes!

…

Time flew by, and before they knew it, 1976 had passed, giving way to 1977.

This year saw many significant events—U.S. President Carter entered the White House as the new president, the severe Canary Islands air disaster occurred, and a military coup took place in Afghanistan…

But none of these had anything to do with Andrei. After attending the October Revolution celebrations in Moscow, he took the opportunity to get married. Then, as the new year began, he returned to the Sokolovka Base in the Far Eastern Military District.

Though it was just after the New Year, the military remained on high alert. The Americans across the Sea of Japan could stir up trouble at any moment.

When Andrei arrived at Sokolovka Base, he saw a scene full of vigor and vitality.

Though he had only left after a recent reform focused on reorganizing the maintenance technicians, the entire base had taken on a new atmosphere. The old, complacent ground crew had left, replaced by new personnel who had just taken up their posts. In a base like Sokolovka, brimming with enthusiasm and drive, they worked with lofty ideals, each playing their part like a screw in the machine.

There was more good news—the base commander, Kozhdoob, had been transferred.

Andrei’s reforms had completely severed Kozhdoob’s support network. Kozhdoob had been deeply unhappy here, especially after his nephew was investigated by the KGB and sentenced to ten years in prison. His reputation was in tatters.

The opportunity had come at the right time. Kozhdoob was transferred to Moscow and left without hesitation.

The officers and soldiers at the base were practically ready to set off fireworks to celebrate his departure. The integrity of an organization depended on its leader. It was safe to say that Kozhdoob bore significant responsibility for the poor atmosphere that had once plagued Sokolovka Base.

“Andrei, everyone has missed you these past months,” a voice called out as soon as Andrei stepped out of the car. The commander of the 513th Regiment, Ivanov, greeted him warmly.

“Commander, I didn’t expect to be away for so long,” Andrei replied. “How has the flight regiment been in my absence? And why hasn’t the new base commander arrived yet?”

At Andrei’s words, Ivanov suddenly stopped in his tracks. “Andrei, you haven’t received the orders? You are the new commander of Sokolovka Base.”

Andrei’s mind went blank. What? He was the new commander of Sokolovka Base? How was that possible? He was only the deputy commander of the flight regiment. Besides, the base commander oversaw logistics, while the stationed flight regiment handled combat—these were two entirely different roles. How could he become the base commander?

And did that mean he would no longer be able to fly? Was this Andropov’s doing? Afraid he might crash and leave Yekaterina a widow?

Seeing Andrei’s expression, Ivanov realized he truly had no idea. He continued, “The orders came down before the New Year. You are to assume the position of Sokolovka Base commander while retaining your role as deputy regiment commander. Additionally, your rank has been promoted to colonel. The higher-ups are very pleased with our base.”

A concurrent position? He was a colonel now? The same rank as Commander Ivanov? Andrei could hardly believe his ears. In the past six months, his rank had risen faster than a rocket. Andropov could only make recommendations—he wasn’t in charge of the military. Could it be Marshal Ustinov? Though the Vigilant mutiny had been handled in secret, his and Little Ivan’s performance must have reached Ustinov’s ears. Perhaps this was a form of indirect compensation?

UNTITLED

Chapter 1: Recovering from a Spin
Chapter 2: Steel Eagle
Chapter 3: EP-3!
Chapter 4: The Surgical Knife in the Sky
Chapter 5: Emergency Landing
Chapter 6: America Is Not the World’s Hegemon
Chapter 7: Kozhdoob
Chapter 8: Drinking
Chapter 9: Notorious
Chapter 10: F-4 Prepares to Strike
Chapter 11: Reward
Chapter 12: Simonov

Chapter 13: Integrated Circuits Are the Future

Chapter 14: MiG-25PD
Chapter 15: Scramble
Chapter 16: Look-Down/Shoot-Down
Chapter 17: The Sky is High, Birds Fly Free
Chapter 18: A Daring Flight
Chapter 19: The Flower’s Position
Chapter 20: Locking Onto the E-2
Chapter 21: Single-Engine Return
Chapter 22: No Brakes
Chapter 23: A True-Blooded Russian
Chapter 24: The Great Hero
Chapter 25: The Pressure of the MiG-25
Chapter 26: Prove Your Worth
Chapter 27: Requesting a Backup Engine
Chapter 28: Little Brat Ivan
Chapter 29: Fans
Chapter 30: A Family
Chapter 31: Misunderstanding
Chapter 32: 031 Loses Contact
Chapter 33: Byelinko’s Defection
Chapter 34: Treason, Unforgivable
Chapter 35: Downing Byelinko

Chapter 36: The Head-On Intercept of the Sparrow Missile

Chapter 37: An Eye for an Eye
Chapter 38: Downing the F-4
Chapter 39: KGB Investigation (Part One)
Chapter 40: The KGB’s Investigation (Part 2)
Chapter 41: Suspected of Treason
Chapter 42: Love Arrives So Suddenly
Chapter 43: New Developments
Chapter 44: High-Ranking Military Officials
Chapter 45: Rapid Promotion
Chapter 46: Two Solutions
Chapter 47: The Soviet Warships
Chapter 48: The Americans Back Down First
Chapter 49: Continuous Harassment

Chapter 50: Firing Rocket-Powered Depth Charges

Chapter 51: Salvage

Chapter 52: Destroying the Fighter Jet! (Part One)

Chapter 53: Destroying the Fighter Jet! (Part 2)

Chapter 54: Soviet Hero
Chapter 55: Return to Moscow
Chapter 56: Assassination Attempt
Chapter 57: Arrival in Moscow
Chapter 58: Red Square Memories
Chapter 59: Rank Matters
Chapter 60: The Benevolent Elder
Chapter 61: The Kremlin
Chapter 62: Ustinov
Chapter 63: Advancing Electronic Technology
Chapter 64: By the Swords in Our Hands!
Chapter 65: Andropov
Chapter 66: Return to the 513th Regiment
Chapter 67: Blackbird Takes Flight
Chapter 68: No Restricted Zone
Chapter 69: The First Interception
Chapter 70: Interception Failure
Chapter 71: Killing Two Birds with One Stone
Chapter 72: UPK-23 Gun Pod
Chapter 73: Ivanov’s Support
Chapter 74: Adjusting the Cannon
Chapter 75: Intercepting Again
Chapter 76: Cannon Attack
Chapter 77: Downing the Blackbird
Chapter 78: Investigating the Worm
Chapter 79: The Maintenance Competition
Chapter 80: Improving Tools

Chapter 81: Reforming the Iron Rice Bowl System

Chapter 82: Contract Responsibility System
Chapter 83: Proposal
Chapter 84: October Revolution Parade

Chapter 85: Improving Flight Control and Fly-by-Wire Systems

Chapter 86: Integrated Flight-Firepower-Thrust Control

Chapter 87: Return to Leningrad

Chapter 88: A Harmonious Gathering

Chapter 89: The Vigilant Anti-Submarine Warship

Chapter 90: To Leningrad
Chapter 91: Touring the Warship
Chapter 92: Boarding the Pirate Ship
Chapter 93: Be a Brave Little Hero
Chapter 94: Fierce Discussion
Chapter 95: Deploy the Bombers
Chapter 96: Little Hero Ivan
Chapter 97: The Uprising is Contained
Chapter 98: A New Leader is Needed
Chapter 99: Making Up His Mind
Chapter 100: The New Base Commander