Long-term salvation

Note ①: Merkel bought it when she was young and traveled to Moscow

Chapter 246: The train travels across Eastern Europe (3.5K)

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Chapter 247: Morning in Sverdlovsk (3K)

[The previous chapter was rejected because it was too close to the truth. It is now undergoing a second review. Please refresh it after a while.]

As the train pulled out of Moscow, the leaden clouds were being left behind, along with the chaotic and bewildered city itself.

As the railway continued to extend towards the Ural Mountains, night fell. The bright moonlight spread across the vast plains like melted mercury, and the rivers reflecting the light revealed liquid stars - so beautiful, no wonder every man with power wanted to conquer this land.

Head towards the mountain, forward, and keep moving forward.

Rod reached out and opened the car window. He could see the corpses of the collective farm not far away. The birch barns looked like scattered matchboxes, and the matches inside had long disappeared, or in other words, they had long been stolen, cheated, robbed, and eaten.

The faded red five-pointed star stood quietly on the abandoned iron roof of the farm, brightening briefly in the diffuse light of the train lights, then dimming and being thrown backwards.

"I'll go walk around somewhere else on the train. There's no point in lying down all the time."

Rhodes said to Marian who was sitting on the chair. She didn't need sleep much and just came here to watch Little Red Riding Hood. Red-haired Nikki had just used her thigh as a pillow for Rhodes. Although it was not comfortable, it was really nice.

"Dawn has arrived, Commander. We will arrive at our destination in the early morning," Marian reminded him. She turned on the small light in the compartment. Under the dim light, a gentle, maternal smile appeared on the beautiful Nikki's face. "You also need some time to tidy yourself up. You must not lose your composure in front of the Soviets."

"There's no need to be so anxious."

As Rod spoke, he kissed the corner of Nikki's mouth, patted Little Red Riding Hood's head, then opened the door of the compartment and walked along the slightly narrow passage to the back half of the carriage.

When passing by the flight attendant's seat, Rhodes saw Ling reading a book by the light. It was just an ordinary electrician operation training manual. There was also a small notebook next to it, which was filled with not very skilled circuit diagrams.

"If I were you, I would choose a brighter light."

Rhodes patted Ling's shoulder, but the latter just forced a smile, closed the manual and asked:

"Do you want me to ask the crew from another car to join you?"

"That's not necessary. I just want to go to the dining car to get some soup and smoke a cigarette... Maybe I need to cross two or three carriages?"

"There are some retired... or rather, retired soldiers on this train. They just had a conflict with some passengers in the hard-seat car," Ling said calmly, his face expressionless, only a hint of anger and disappointment flickering in his eyes. "I suggest you go in a different direction. At this moment, less trouble is worse than more—but I don't think you'll listen to me."

"Please forgive my willfulness, Ling."

Rhodes smiled and handed Agent Perseus a pack of cigarettes. The latter trembled when he saw the picture on the pack, but still chose to accept it and whispered:

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. This will be your standard cigarette ration from now on."

"...Why do you repay kindness with enmity?"

Ignoring the bitter-faced Agent Perseus, Rhodes stretched and walked towards the dining car. As soon as he stepped into the hard-seat car, the smell of pine resin from the old wooden seats and the passengers' cigarette smoke hit him in the face, mixed with the smell of sweat and cold food. Most passengers only opened the window on their side a crack, or at most half a window, so that the sound of the train running on the tracks would not affect their sleep.

Compared to the quiet and comfortable sleeper compartment, this place is more like the dirty and messy world.

Walking further, Rhodes heard a man's low scolding in the aisle between two carriages:

"Remember our rules? We can't clash with civilians!"

"They are not civilians, they are just a bunch of speculators! A bunch of thieves! Captain, listen to what they are saying, 'Let me exchange your medals for dollars', Sukabulie, those are the medals we fought for in Afghanistan!"

"If we break their legs, we'll be arrested if we get off the bus," said the man who spoke first—the "Captain." He looked very young, with a hint of sharpness between his eyebrows. "Don't forget, we're no longer the glorious VDV."

This was like the most vicious curse, and the several strong young men fell silent and said no more.

After saying this, the captain turned his head to look at Rhodes, who was smoking at the aisle entrance, and said calmly:

"My friend, you've heard enough."

"I'm curious about your decorations, Captain Nikolai Yevgenievich Malashenko (from World in Conflict: Soviet Offensive). I thought you would remain in the military."

As Rod spoke, he exhaled a puff of smoke and swept his eyes over the retired Soviet soldiers. They were all very young and embarrassed. The young man who had just argued with the captain had his name embroidered in blue silk thread on his uniform collar. It was exquisite and beautiful, as if it was made by a woman who had been doing handicrafts for many years... It might be his mother, but the thread was now like a noose around his neck, which was still red.

Compared to this, the young soldiers' washed-out uniforms, the torn-off collar and epaulettes, and their empty wallets seemed insignificant.

They took this train towards the Ural Mountains and Sverdlovsk.

For what?

But no matter what, this was a pleasant surprise, Rhodes thought.

"You know my name," Captain Malashenko said, his eyes slightly lowered. "Are you from the KGB?"

Hearing this, the other four soldiers subconsciously tensed up, with undisguised disgust appearing on their faces.

"Obviously not, but I need some help from good hands, perhaps you could come and help?"

Rod said with a smile, he took out a cigarette box and distributed cigarettes. The young soldiers reached out to take them after looking at Captain Malashenko's face. The young soldier with matches lit a cigarette, took a few puffs, and then touched it with other people's cigarettes to start the fire.

"Yue, this cigarette tastes weird!"

"You'll get used to it," Rhodes said nonchalantly. "Listen, Captain, I'm planning to recruit some good men to go to Africa or somewhere else to do some work—in US dollars, or rubles, if you don't mind—and I respect you, so you'd better think carefully about how you talk to me."

"...We heard someone is recruiting retired Soviet soldiers to work as security guards overseas. Are you that person?"

"No need to tell, Captain. Don't get yourself into trouble."

"We're going to Sverdlovsk," a soldier said, puffing greedily on his cigarette. Even though his face was shrunken by the strange smell, he didn't give up the false happiness brought by nicotine. "Marshal Akhromeev said that he wants to ensure the treatment of active soldiers and veterans of the Afghan War. He's inspecting there... We... We..."

"We heard about the job postings so we decided to try our luck there... I'm almost quitting!"

Another soldier added that he finished smoking the cigarette completely, and then threw the cigarette butt out of the car with a little regret, without even a spark.

"Honestly, I'm very skeptical of your identity, motives, and luck," the captain, who had been silent until then, spoke after watching the soldiers finish their cigarettes. "This sounds like a trap set up by the KGB to lure law enforcement officers."

"Then I wouldn't have spoken to you, Captain."

"..."

"Look, that's how it is," Rhodes shrugged. He took out a business card from his pocket and stuffed it into the captain's hand. "You can find me through the above method, or someone will find you - we will meet again, Captain, and you."

After saying that, Rhodes waved his hand and turned to leave. But before leaving, he seemed to remember something and turned to look at Captain Malashenko, who looked a little confused.

"It would be even better if you could introduce other VDV members, the more the better. I don't mind—eh, by the way, do you know Captain Sofia Ilinovskaya Pabrovna? ​​She should be called 'Balalayka'."

"..."

Captain Malashenko's mouth twitched slightly. He didn't say anything, but turned his head to look outside the train.

The sun is rising.

The train arrived at the Sverdlovsk railway station as the first rays of morning sun shone on it.

After getting off the train, Rod took the two Nikkis through the waiting hall. The murals on both sides of the corridor were covered with dust and stains, but the characters in the murals - workers holding hammers and peasant women holding wheat ears - were still striding proudly under the faded sky.

After quietly gazing at the mural for a few seconds, Rhodes passed through the tired crowd like a shadow, walked out of the small door of the train station, and immediately saw two black cars parked on the side of the road.

A white-haired old man stood by the car, his neat military coat still covered with wet dew from the morning mist, as if he had been waiting for a long time.

"Given your age, it shouldn't be you who should be responsible for picking me up. Can't Ling do it?"

"That's after I'm dead," Perseus smiled faintly. His gaze swept over Captain Malashenko and his companions, who were also leaving the train station. They were looking over here and whispering quietly. "Oh? Looks like you're lucky. The young soldier leading the group is exactly the one we want to contact."

"But that's 'later', isn't it?" Rhodes opened the car door and raised an eyebrow at Perseus. "By the way, you're a little too impatient. You should at least give me a day off, right?"

"The marshal doesn't have much time to completely escape other people's sight, especially since there are other people around... But you can still get two or three hours of sleep."

"That's great news—perhaps we could go get some breakfast first?"

"Want a drink? Here we have the best vodka, pickled lardons, and pickles."

"That's not necessary."

Chapter 248 The Last Loyalists (3K)

Two GAZ-24-10 vehicles drove along the streets of Sverdlovsk.

The morning sun poured down from the edge of the Ural Mountains, rolling in like a mountain torrent, finally illuminating the five-story buildings on both sides of the street. The Khrushchevsky Building, perched on the edge of the city, shone grayish-white in the sunlight, its balconies laden with work clothes and bedsheets.

Downstairs in the open space, children chased each other carefree, ignoring the worry on their parents' faces, while the elderly slowly walked out of the house, intending to use some issue of Pravda to wrap the bread they bought...if they could buy it at all:

Even in the early morning, lines formed in front of bakeries and butcher shops, where Soviet men and women, carrying nets and bags, whispered about the exchange rate for black market rubles or where to buy them—where to buy food and other scarce supplies.

However, this industrial center of the Ural Mountains is still alive, and its steel skeleton has not faded - various civilian machinery manufacturing plants, the Ural Heavy Machinery Manufacturing Plant, the nearby Ural Locomotive and Rolling Stock Plant, and even manufacturing plants including nuclear weapons and biological and chemical weapons are located here.

The city's manufacturing industry is still crawling slowly, and perhaps in another year it will completely die with a groaning sound, but now, it is still alive and still supporting those simple workers.

"They don't deserve this fate," Perseus said, as if speaking to himself. "We must change this."

"Don't let pressure and hope get the better of you, Mr. Andre."

Rhode said calmly, his eyes falling on the street outside the car window, where he saw several men who looked like thugs gathered together... They were "law thieves", dirty scum and criminals. But now, this kind of people can also appear on the street openly.

"Also, don't expect me to help you take revenge after 'things can't be done'."

"I wouldn't do anything stupid like that."

Hearing the old man in the passenger seat's smiling reply, Rhode thought about what he had done in a certain timeline—nuclear bombing of Western Europe, even handing the chance to press the button to a long-lost subordinate who might have rebelled. Such courage was not something that ordinary people possess. Long-lost memories returned to his mind, and Rhode coughed helplessly a few times, emphasizing:

"The instantaneous, massive death of humanity will definitely cause a rift in the other world to open. Don't play with fire. We can't afford the consequences."

"I've always been a good person, Rod."

"So much the better."

After driving for twenty minutes, the car stopped behind a large building. It looked like the back entrance of a museum or art gallery. Because of this, there were no people walking around, making it convenient for Rhode and his group to enter.

As they walked into the museum, Perseus whispered to Rhodes:

"Marshal Akhromeyev will be taking World War II veterans on a tour of the museum today. This is a great opportunity... Don't worry about the KGB. We've already infiltrated quite a bit. Only the Ninth Bureau's security personnel will be accompanying the marshal, and they'll be sent away before the meeting begins."

"That's the best," Rhodes nodded slightly, "I don't want to escape from the Soviet Union in such a mess."

Arriving at the conference room wasn't a big deal. In fact, Rhode thought he'd only see the marshal and a few guards. But now, the conference room was filled with people.

Most of them have white hair and wear neat military uniforms and suits... It's really sad:

In the end, this country can only be defended by a group of old men.

Marshal Sergei Fyodorovich Akhromeyev sat in the high-backed chair at the head of the room, his thin head covered in silver hair like frost, each strand standing stubbornly upright. He was short, and his arms, wrapped in his marshal's uniform, looked even thinner. But when he—when everyone else straightened their backs—the sharp bayonets shone brightly in the sunlight that streamed into the meeting room.

Rhodes glanced around the entire conference room and saw more people he was familiar with:

Ivan Nikolay Kozhedub, Mikhail Kalashnikov... They were either heroes of World War II or masters with considerable influence and achievements in their respective fields. Among them was even Lieutenant General Nikolay Taraknov, who suffered from radiation sickness. He was the supreme commander in charge of the cleanup of the Chernobyl accident site, and the one who delivered the famous mobilization speech.

Perhaps in some ways, the people with the most backbone and the best chance to turn the tide are here.

"Do I need to introduce myself? Do I need to repeat why this meeting is being held? The collapse of the Soviet Union is inevitable, and your country needs to be saved. Now, I offer a possibility, a spark; in the future, we will let that flame rise!"

Rhodes raised an eyebrow and spoke out the names of the participants one by one, along with the final outcome, looking at their confused faces. Finally, he stopped his gaze on Marshal Akhromeyev, who nodded slightly and said:

"Go ahead, kid, I'm listening."

"After the August 9th coup, you committed suicide in your office. The cemetery where you were buried was robbed, and the thieves stole everything, including your marshal's uniform and various medals."

"...I hope his life will be better because of the sale of my belongings."

The marshal sighed, his face showing no anger, only sadness.

"Tell me about the August 19th coup. I want to know what happened on the eve of the disintegration of Mother Soviet Union."

five minutes later.

Rod stopped talking and covered his ears with his hands.

Angry curses instantly filled the entire conference room, the sound almost turning into a physical tsunami, shaking the wooden frame of the mural hanging on the wall and making it buzz. The pens and water cups were also bounced up by the force of more than a dozen fists hitting the table, and fell to the ground with faint screams and shattered, making a series of continuous crisp sounds.

"Drink! Drink! Drink before the coup, drink during the coup, and drink after the coup!"

"A bunch of indecisive idiots!"

"The army has already been betrayed by that map-head! Who will listen to the orders of that bunch of idiots then?"

"Damn it, wait until then... No, I'm going to go back and get my rifle now. I'm going to kill these idiots before I kill the criminals who split the country!"

"What a shame! Sokaburi!!!"