Chapter 124 – War in the Wind
The sun over Sokolovka cast its cold light across the white-draped tarmac, but beneath the silence of the ice and steel, tension was humming like a coiled spring.
Andrei stood still in front of the hangar, his breath fogging the crisp air as Colonel Ivanov's words echoed in his mind.
First-level combat readiness.
Not a drill. Not a symbolic gesture.
It meant war could break out at any moment.
Andrei's instincts—honed over years in uniform and sharpened by his foreknowledge of a world that hadn't yet come to pass—screamed that something far greater than another border provocation had just begun.
"Confirmed? Shot down a reconnaissance plane... or a civilian one?" Andrei asked again, more to himself than to Ivanov.
Ivanov's lips pressed into a thin line. "Korean Air. Boeing 747. Americans claim it was a commercial flight. They say it was off-course, lost. We tracked it violating Sakhalin airspace. The 592nd handled it. Orders from Moscow were clear—force warning, then destroy if unresponsive."
Andrei closed his eyes. The R-98. He knew its warhead too well. If it struck true, there'd be no survivors.
A civilian airliner full of passengers.
Or a Trojan horse masked in civilian skin?
Either way, the West now had its casus belli.
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Later that morning, the Sokolovka command center buzzed with activity. Teletypes clattered. Phones rang with clipped voices. Radar screens glowed amber in the dim light.
Andrei entered with crisp boots and a sharp salute. Colonel Ivanov motioned him over.
"Moscow just issued theater-wide mobilization protocols," Ivanov said. "Fleet Admiral Gorshkov has ordered all Pacific Fleet vessels to sortie from Vladivostok and Petropavlovsk. Tu-95s are being armed with cruise missiles. Strategic bombers are on strip alert."
Andrei felt a jolt. "Naval deployment?"
"To the Soya Strait. Submarines dispatched to the Kuril Trench. And Kamchatka is locking down its ICBM silos. General Ustinov personally confirmed with us—if the Americans so much as move one carrier north, we go full retaliation mode."
Andrei looked toward the wall-mounted map. Red pins marked the Far East Air Defense sectors. Yellow pins showed U.S. carrier locations from the latest surveillance. One carrier was just south of Okinawa. Another—the Kitty Hawk—was returning to its prior patrol near the 45th parallel.
"They'll come," Andrei said. "If they believe we shot down a congressman... they'll have to."
Ivanov nodded grimly. "And we'll be waiting."
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MOSCOW – KREMLIN WAR ROOM – SAME TIME
Marshal Ustinov stood before a wall-sized operations map with Chief of Staff Ogarkov and Defense Minister Sokolov flanking him. The general secretary had not arrived, but the military was already making decisions.
"No Western air traffic over Sakhalin. Full radar blackout in disputed waters," Ustinov ordered. "Any unauthorized aircraft within 100 kilometers is to be treated as a potential hostile."
Ogarkov lit a cigarette. "The Americans are moving. A SIGINT package just picked up encrypted fleet movement orders from Pearl Harbor. The Kitty Hawk is turning north again. They've recalled their bombers to Okinawa. Mobilization, likely."
Sokolov looked uneasy. "Andropov?"
"He's neutral—for now," Ustinov said. "But if Brezhnev falters... we may not need his permission at all."
"Do we hold?"
"No," Ustinov growled. "We push."
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TOKYO – U.S. EMBASSY – TWO HOURS LATER
Ambassador Mansfield stood silent as a fresh message from NORAD was translated in real time.
"...no radio contact after repeated warnings... Soviet fighters locked target... missile impact confirmed... KAL007 presumed down off Sakhalin coast... all 269 aboard presumed dead."
The room froze. The voice on the line didn't pause.
"...Representative Edward John on manifest. White House convening emergency security council. Possible DEFCON escalation."
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SEOUL – PRESIDENTIAL PALACE
Grief. Outrage. Hysteria.
Candlelight vigils began by dusk. Protesters clashed with riot police outside the Soviet embassy. In every window, flickering TV sets showed photos of the missing—children, grandparents, entire families.
South Korean President Chun Doo-hwan pounded his desk.
"Contact Washington. We must respond."
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FAR EAST – SOKOLOVKA AIRBASE – THAT NIGHT
The barracks lights stayed on.
Pilots were confined to quarters. Technicians rotated shifts on the hangar floor. Mechanics worked through the night inspecting fuel lines and missiles.
Andrei sat in the ready room. His MiG-25 stood fueled and armed—two R-40Ds and two R-60MKs mounted under her wings.
Across from him, Alexander polished his helmet in silence.
"No sleep for us tonight, Comrade," Andrei said.
Alexander grinned thinly. "No need. I'll sleep when we've driven them from the sky."
Outside, snow continued to fall. Silent. Cold. Uncaring.
But above, war was circling like a hawk, and Sakhalin was its perch.
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