Chapter 93 — The Brave Little Hero
Andrei knew that the moment he stepped off the ship and made contact with the KGB agent stationed nearby, a report would be filed and relayed up the chain of command within minutes. The safest path was clear: leave quietly, bring Ivan home, and let the KGB handle the rest.
But Ivan had other ideas.
"No, Uncle Andrei! I haven't even climbed the gun yet—I'm not leaving!" he protested, his small fists clenched in defiance.
Before Andrei could respond, a sailor burst into the room, breathless.
"Captain, we caught someone outside! He had a KGB credential on him!"
The room fell silent.
Andrei's stomach dropped. This couldn't be happening. The sailor, oblivious to the visitors in the room, had blurted it out loud and clear—right next to Saberlin.
Perfect. Just perfect.
Saberlin's gaze turned sharp as a blade. "Comrade Andrei… care to explain why a KGB operative is watching us?"
Andrei forced a casual tone. "I have no idea. I was just out walking. The weather's nice. And now, it's time to go home."
He reached for Ivan's hand, but a large sailor silently stepped into their path, blocking the door.
A cold voice came from behind. "Then allow me to formally invite you to join our uprising. What do you say, Hero of the Soviet Union?"
Andrei kept his voice calm. "I don't want anything to do with your plans. I'm just a guest. I'm going home for dinner. You should try it sometime—it's a peaceful life."
He reached again for the door, but the wall of muscle didn't budge. Worse, behind them, sailors were raising AK-74s—folding stocks extended.
"Lock them up. We don't need interruptions," Saberlin ordered.
Andrei didn't resist. He knew when he was outmatched. His training in hand-to-hand combat meant nothing against multiple armed men in a confined space. One wrong move and he'd not only be dead—but Ivan with him.
The hatch slammed shut behind them with a metallic clang, plunging the compartment into darkness.
Andrei immediately wrapped Ivan in his arms, holding the boy tight.
"It's okay. I've got you," he whispered.
After a few seconds, their eyes adjusted. Shapes emerged from the shadows—three men, pale and quiet, seated on the storage room floor.
A voice spoke. "You're not part of the crew. Why are you locked in here?"
Andrei turned toward the speaker. "Who's asking?"
"Portuline. I'm the captain of this ship."
Andrei exhaled slowly. That name sealed it. This was no misunderstanding. The Vigilance had truly been hijacked.
All the officers who had opposed Saberlin's scheme had been locked up here—including the captain himself.
Andrei muttered a curse. "We have to get out. If Moscow finds out a mutiny is underway, the general secretary will order this ship sunk."
"We've already thought of that," Portuline said bitterly. "But the door's sealed. Steel bulkheads. No way out."
Andrei tilted his head. "Wait… do you hear that? Wind."
"That's the ventilation system," another officer replied. "Each compartment has ducts. But they're too narrow—we've checked. None of us can fit."
Andrei looked at Ivan, then knelt beside him.
"Ivan," he said gently, "do you want to be a brave little hero? Like Zoya Kosmodemyanskaya? Like Shura from your bedtime stories?"
Ivan's eyes lit up. "Yes! I want to help!"
Andrei smiled and hugged him tightly. "Good. I need your help."
———
Far from the hull of the Vigilance, another story unfolded.
Captain Vrsov—shirtless, soaked, and blue with cold—dragged himself through the frozen grass, lungs burning with each breath. His escape from the ship had been a desperate gamble, a swim through icy waters that nearly killed him.
But he had made it.
Now, wearing only the tattered remnants of his trousers, he sprinted barefoot across the fields, heading toward the distant column of smoke rising from a farmhouse chimney. His only hope of saving the fleet—of saving his country—was to reach a phone, a line, someone who could alert command.
Don't stop. Keep going, he told himself. If you die here, Saberlin wins.
Bloodied feet slapped against the frozen ground. The world around him was numb and gray.
Still, he ran.
———
At the same moment, Ekaterina strolled through the countryside path, bundled in her white coat, lost in thought. She'd asked Andrei to consider staying here with her—not out of selfishness, but out of fear. Every step he took toward power came with greater risk. She didn't want to lose him.
But she also knew she couldn't stop him.
Andrei belonged to the skies, to history, to the tides shaping the fate of the Union.
Behind her, two plainclothes men walked at a measured pace—watchful, alert. They had blended in well as farmers, but now both stiffened.
On the distant hillside, a naked man was running straight toward them.
Both men reached instinctively beneath their coats.
"Identification?" one called out sharply.
The man stumbled forward, gasping. "Captain… Vigilance! Mutiny! Saberlin—has taken the ship!"
The agents exchanged a glance, then immediately moved to surround him.
The silent countryside was about to explode.