Personal Battle

Yanaev chuckled heartily, nearly choking on his lunch as he listened to the news of Ambassador Matlock's collapse. "An American ambassador fainted from high blood pressure after meeting Shevardnadze? Hahaha, that's priceless!" He shook his head, amused. "I only told Shevardnadze to stall, not to send Matlock to the hospital — this is perfect. The Soviet Foreign Minister has successfully stirred up a diplomatic storm. He'll probably have to apologize eventually, but it's quite entertaining to imagine. Of course, I'll keep that thought to myself."

When Shevardnadze was summoned to report, he feigned innocence perfectly. Noticing Yanaev's mix of amusement and exasperation, he shrugged. "I followed the General Secretary's instructions, but Matlock's aggressive attitude got on my nerves, so I gave him a little lesson. Didn't expect the man to have a medical condition."

Yanaev waved a hand dismissively. "Don't beat yourself up, Comrade Shevardnadze. We understand the Americans' demands. Matlock is just a warm-up act. The real challenge is yet to come. Secretary of State Igor Berg will come to negotiate next. The Americans won't just roll over — they'll try other ways to reclaim their submarine. For them, the secrets of their attack subs are far more valuable than human lives."

Setting down his cutlery, Yanaev dabbed his lips with a napkin and mused slowly, "Losing a sub crew is Black Friday for them, but losing technical secrets? That's a nightmare. Still, Bush had no choice but to prioritize the lives of his men because of pressure at home. Tsk tsk, a tough call."

He smirked, "But Bush's choices will get even harder."

Days later, major news outlets exploded with headlines: a U.S. nuclear submarine sank in the Soviet Arctic Circle, with the Soviet military rescuing all crew members. Yet the U.S. government allegedly suppressed the story and tried to mislead the public.

Wallace, the journalist, published exclusive photos showing the rescued crew shivering in icy waters, contrasted with images of them socializing and dining with Soviet sailors at the Murmansk Naval Base. These photos became powerful evidence criticizing the Bush administration's handling of the situation — although, unwittingly, they also cast the Soviet military in a surprisingly positive light.

The revelations sparked public outrage. Citizens accused Bush's administration of neglect and cruelty toward soldiers. Even Democrats seized the opportunity to attack Republicans, dealing a serious blow just months before the presidential election. Supported by political figures, the media launched relentless criticism.

Crowds protested outside the White House, demanding, "Bring our soldiers home!" Posters varied in slogans but shared the same message.

Some papers cynically compared the Soviet Union's treatment of prisoners of war in Afghanistan to the Bush administration's inaction now, mocking the "free" America's human rights record while painting the USSR in a surprisingly favorable light.

Bush seethed in frustration. Secrets he'd fought to keep under wraps had been publicly exposed, and it was too late to fix the damage. The more he thought, the more he feared it was a calculated Soviet ploy. Across the Pacific, the Soviets had already taken the upper hand, squeezing the U.S. politically and militarily. Worse yet, the Kremlin was clearly trying to undermine Bush's leadership ahead of the election.

Panic gnawed at Bush's mind.

Meanwhile, Secretary of State Igor Berg arrived in Moscow. This was his first mission as the U.S. envoy, replacing Matlock.

After touching down, Igor's first stop was the U.S. Embassy to visit Matlock, who was recovering steadily. Despite the heavy toll of recent conflicts, Matlock's spirits were surprisingly resilient, which helped calm Igor's nerves.

The two chatted by Matlock's bedside. Matlock smiled faintly, relieved. "Finally out of that hellhole. The last few months have been brutal. The tensions between our nations have surpassed anything I've seen before."

Sighing, Matlock confessed, "I've been having nightmares every night — visions of war between the U.S. and the Soviet Union, and me being the first casualty. It's exhausting."

After a brief pause, his voice grew serious. "I never want to face Yanaev again. In my mind, he's a smiling devil, a butcher. Those eyes haunt me in my dreams."

Igor Berg, peeling an apple, looked up and asked quietly, "Is he really that frightening?"

Igorberg's eyes locked with Yanaev's, feeling the weight of that icy, calculating gaze. The room seemed to shrink under the unspoken tension. Yanaev's smile was polite but carried the chill of a predator surveying its prey.

"Thank you, President Yanaev," Igorberg replied smoothly, shaking the outstretched hand. "It's an honor to meet you, though I must admit, I wasn't expecting to be introduced so personally."

Yanaev's smile deepened, but his eyes never wavered. "In these times, transparency is a luxury neither of our nations can afford, Secretary. But here, we must at least pretend to offer it."

Shevardnadze cleared his throat gently and gestured toward a pair of chairs. "Please, let us sit. There is much to discuss — much that must be handled delicately."

Igorberg took his seat, still feeling the sharp presence of Yanaev across the room. He reminded himself to stay composed. This was no ordinary diplomatic encounter. Every word, every expression, was a move in a game far more dangerous than any public negotiations.

As Shevardnadze began outlining the Soviet position on the submarine incident, Igorberg's mind raced, calculating the best way to navigate this labyrinth of distrust, power, and cold war cunning. The real battle had just begun.