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"Ivan is the son of my best friend—my eldest sister in all but blood," Ekaterina explained gently. "Two months ago, she came to visit me in the Far East. Little Ivan refused to leave with her, so he's been with me for a while. She'll return to pick him up in a few days."
Andrei blinked, finally understanding. So Ivan was her godson. In the Soviet Union, it wasn't unusual for young adults to take on the children of close friends as godsons or goddaughters, especially among those who hadn't yet started families of their own. It wasn't like the Western idea of a godparent—it was an affectionate, informal bond. In fact, many devout Orthodox believers in the USSR didn't even participate in this tradition, seeing it as contradictory to Marxist ideals. But among ordinary people, it remained common and sentimental.
So it had all been a misunderstanding. A comical one at that.
Andrei gave a wry chuckle, then asked, "Ekaterina, how do you know Serov? He's KGB, isn't he?"
At the mention of Serov, Ekaterina's eyes darkened. "I met him in Moscow, Andrei. I don't want to talk about it."
Clearly, there was a deeper story there. But Andrei knew better than to push further. Trust was the foundation of any relationship, and if Ekaterina wasn't ready to explain, he would respect that.
Still, one question burned in his mind. "How did you know I was in trouble? How did you manage to show up in time?"
She gave him a sideways look, a teasing smirk playing on her lips. "You're incredibly lucky, Andrei. Today just happened to be the scheduled medical evaluation for the pilots at Sokolovka. Our hospital sends a team here annually to conduct checkups. If it weren't for that, the KGB probably would've taken you."
Ah—so that was it. Andrei had completely forgotten about the yearly medical exams. In more developed regions, military bases often had on-site doctors, but in this remote outpost, only two army medics were stationed full-time. Major evaluations were handled by external specialists, like those from the Vladivostok Third Hospital of the Air Defense Forces.
"Well," Andrei said with a grin, "we shouldn't keep you from your duties."
Ekaterina stuck out her tongue playfully, a gesture that made Andrei smile. The mood shifted between them—light, intimate. She leaned in slightly, her eyes fluttering closed.
Their faces were mere inches apart.
Then a crackle blared from the loudspeakers overhead.
"All pilots of the 513th Regiment, suspend medical examination immediately and report to the combat conference room."
Andrei pulled back with a sigh. "I'm sorry, Ekaterina. Duty calls."
She nodded with understanding. In the Soviet military, such a summons was never issued lightly.
In fact, the Far East Military District had been on edge ever since Andrei's interception of the American EP-3 spy plane. Tensions were escalating. Even the headquarters in Khabarovsk had gone on high alert.
Just that morning, a Tu-142 maritime patrol aircraft had flown over the Sea of Japan. As it neared the international median line, it was intercepted by an F-4 fighter launched from a nearby Japanese air base. The encounter was tense, though no shots were fired. The Soviet patrol plane quickly turned back—but before retreating, it made a troubling discovery.
Roughly 100 nautical miles west of Hokkaido, Soviet reconnaissance spotted an American marine survey vessel and a salvage ship operating in the same waters where Belenko's MiG-25 had crashed the day before.
When Andrei entered the combat briefing room, every pilot from the 513th was already present. Colonel Ivanov stood by the projector, a fresh reel of reconnaissance footage loaded and ready.
The images flickered onto the screen—wide, calm seas, with silhouettes of several specialized vessels bobbing near the horizon.
"Our surveillance flights this morning confirmed it," Ivanov began grimly. "The Americans are conducting operations in the crash zone. Their goal is clear: they're trying to recover the wreckage of the MiG-25."
The room tensed. Andrei felt a cold sweat break along his neck.
This was his doing. He'd hit Belenko's aircraft with an R-60 missile, but the warhead hadn't destroyed the plane outright. He saw Belenko eject, and the jet disappear beneath the waves—intact. Now, the Americans were hoping to pull it from the ocean floor.
"We can't let that happen," Andrei said, standing abruptly. "If the Americans get their hands on our MiG-25, they'll learn its secrets—and realize it's not as invincible as they think. That illusion of superiority is one of our greatest advantages."
Ivanov nodded. "Agreed. That's why the command has authorized a reconnaissance mission. One MiG-25R for recon. One MiG-25P for escort and protection."
The mission was risky. The waters were close to Japanese territory, and airspace there was heavily monitored by U.S. and allied forces. Any misstep could escalate into direct confrontation.
"I volunteer," Andrei said without hesitation. "My aircraft is the upgraded version. It has superior radar and is equipped with air-to-air missiles. I've seen combat, and I can handle the heat. I promise—I'll complete the mission and keep our recon bird safe."
Ivanov looked at him for a long moment, then nodded once. The decision was made.
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