“As a submariner, I don’t have to remind you of the utter importance of the region Suratov was about to ban all weapons of war from. Though the Motherland is the largest country on this earth, we have historically suffered from a severe lack of warm-water ports. Those we do have are so poorly placed our fleet is forced to travel through Imperialist-controlled choke points to get to the open sea.
“The only ports that are completely free from outside interference lay above the Arctic Circle. Though harsh weather and severe ice conditions make operating from them difficult, we have learned to make the most of it by building the greatest fleet of icebreakers and submarines the world has ever known.
“In the frozen expanses of the Barents, Kara, and Laptev Seas, and beneath the Arctic Ocean itself, we have positioned the ultimate revenge force. The Typhoon and Delta class submarines that patrol these waters have one purpose, to survive an Imperialist sneak attack, and to answer such a bolt-out of-the-blue strike with one of our own.
“Dozens of attack vessels like the Neva here, have been assigned the all-important task of protecting this bastion. I don’t have to remind you that a ballistic missile-carrying submarine is the most survivable of all our strategic weapons, and for us to lose our only true protected bastion for such platforms would be foolishness of the worst type. Before Alexander Suratov stripped the Motherland of its most effective weapons’ system with a single sweep of his pen, the difficult, painful decision was made to intervene.”
Impressed by this impassioned plea, Sergei nevertheless retorted.
“But why did you have to go to such an extreme as murder? And why even bother with this childish switching of tapes when you could merely have destroyed the black box before anyone was the wiser?”
Mikhail Kharkov sighed heavily before responding.
“Believe me when I tell you, Captain, that we tried to talk some sense into our headstrong Premier before he even made the West the initial offer. But Suratov was completely deaf to our arguments, so we had no other course open but to eliminate him before he sold us out.
“As for the substitute tape, I can only answer you by appealing to you in strictest confidence. For what I am about to share with you will all too soon change the political balance of the world as we now know it.”
As Sergei Markova nodded for the admiral to continue, the veteran took in a deep breath and did so.
“There is a civilian element within the ruling Politburo that has no understanding of strategic issues, unlike you and I, Captain Markova. These individuals would have just sat back and watched Suratov strip the Motherland of her most important bastion while the Imperialist powers gave up absolutely nothing in return. To readdress this serious imbalance, and to check the continued threat of Imperialist expansion once and for all, it was decided to create a fictitious scenario in which it would appear that an American aircraft had shot down the Flying Kremlin. The substitute tape you discovered would have supported this supposition by broadcasting nothing but static. For even if it had been discovered that the cockpit voice recorder had been inoperable during the flight, we had more than enough proof to sway the vacillating members of the Politburo to join us, the prize being the ultimate one — their support in authorizing an immediate nuclear strike against the Imperialist bloc nations!”
Sergei’s eyes opened wide with disbelief.
“Let me get this right. Admiral. You’re going to launch a nuclear attack against the West for an act that they didn’t even commit?”
“Pretty ironic, isn’t it, Captain?” returned the beaming veteran. “At long last we can cripple the Imperialists with a surprise counterforce strike, and all for the cost of a single static-filled tape. This is an unparalleled opportunity, that will allow our great Socialist dream finally to be shared by all of mankind. And you, Sergei Markova, will be one of the founding fathers of the new world order that will follow.”
“If there happens to be a world left,” shot back the young captain disgustedly. “I can’t believe that anyone in his right mind still thinks there can be a winner in a nuclear conflict. For our initial strike will generate a counter strike and the West will hit the Motherland a crippling blow with their own submarine-launched ballistic missiles. And this great dream that you speak of will turn into nothing but a nuclear nightmare.
“No, Admiral, I want no part of this madness. And you can be assured that I’ll do everything within my power to see that your insane, twisted machination is exposed.”
Fearing just such a response, Mikhail slowly walked over to the room’s single cot, reached under the pillow, and pulled out a shiny Kalashnikov pistol.
With a steady hand he proceeded to aim this weapon directly at the Neva’s startled commanding commander.
“You leave me no other alternative. Captain Markova. Now hand over those tapes! Then perhaps I’ll take compassion on you, and give you a chance to yet change your mind, before being forced to eliminate you right here and now.”
“You wouldn’t dare do such a thing on my ship,” Sergei spat out.
Mikhail Kharkov responded by abruptly cocking the hammer of the Kalashnikov and centering his aim on Sergei’s forehead.
“We’ve already been forced to sacrifice much already, Captain. One more life is inconsequential.”
Certain that the veteran meant it, Sergei decided it was time for discretion. After putting his hands up in a mock gesture of surrender, the young captain got to work to supplying Kharkov with the two tapes he had demanded.
Sergei Markova’s hands were trembling as he opened his portable cassette player, and seeing this, the admiral commented, “Easy now, Captain. I will only put this Kalashnikov into use if you force me to do so. And since I’ve already killed one man today while on the ice, I don’t find such a prospect very entertaining.
“It would be a tragic waste to have to shoot you, especially since I’ve taken such a sincere interest in your career throughout the years. Though I never had a son of my own, you were the type of individual I would have liked to have raised.”
Surprised to hear such a thing, Sergei finished removing the cassette, and cautiously handed it to the Admiral, along with its blank twin.
“Don’t look so shocked,” reflected the white-haired veteran as he pocketed the tapes. “For I’ve been a silent admirer of yours since you first entered the A. A. Grechko Academy. Did you know that I personally saw the video tapes of each of your oral exams? Why I probably know your academic record better than you do, and it was I who was responsible for getting you that first commission you so wanted — on that attack submarine. So come to your senses, comrade, and listen to your benefactor. Even though he is currently holding a gun to your head.”
Aware that compromising would put him in the best position to expose the veteran’s twisted scheme, Sergei nodded.
“You are right. Admiral. Perhaps I have been too hasty in my initial reaction. It’s just that the prospect of nuclear war scares me so I instinctively revolt at the very idea of such a tragedy befalling mankind.”
“And rightfully so,” retorted Mikhail Kharkov, who realized that the tense standoff was over. As he uncocked and lowered the pistol, he added.
“If I had a beautiful young wife and child waiting for me back in Murmansk, I would likely most have reacted much as you did. But if you’ll just take some time to hear me out, I believe I can convince you that the attack plan we’ve chosen to implement all but eliminates the chance of an Imperialist counter strike. Why with our new super accurate MIRV’d warheads, we can take out not only their missile silos, airfields, and port facilities, but the very communications installations that are responsible for passing the word to their missile-carrying submarines to launch. And would you believe that we can thusly decapitate our enemy with a mere one-hundred warheads on our part? Why it’s going to be incredibly easy, with a minimum of resulting radioactive fallout.”