Soviet Union

What irritated Chernavin the most was that Yanayev hadn't come straight to Leningrad to confront him or the naval leadership. Instead, after touring Severomorsk Naval Base and the Nikolayev Shipyard in Ukraine, Yanayev returned to Moscow quietly, without any word about the corrupt high-ranking officers behind the scenes. It was as if the General Secretary didn't even care. Just like when he had casually erased the existence of Xie Liaosha, no one in the Northern Fleet dared oppose Yanayev's decisions anymore. This slight was a deep wound to Chernavin's pride.

The calmer and more composed Yanayev acted, the more panicked Chernavin became. This unpredictable leader who brazenly challenged the West alone was capable of anything — and Chernavin knew it.

Sure enough, a few days later, grim news arrived from Moscow: due to the military budget crunch, the Northern Fleet would be forced to retire one of its Kiev-class aircraft carriers ahead of schedule and sell it abroad. This would mark the first time the Soviet Union sold an active aircraft carrier to a foreign power.

For Chernavin, the commander-in-chief of the Northern Fleet, this was a nightmare. Yanayev's move felt like an underhanded strike, an explicit warning that Chernavin's days at the helm were numbered if he dared oppose the General Secretary.

Even Gromov, who had once betrayed Chernavin, now sided with Yanayev's policy. Gromov lamented the Northern Fleet's shrinking size, arguing they needed both the Kuznetsov and another Kiev-class carrier to maintain sufficient combat power against the other Soviet fleets. The internal power plays among the four major fleets were as ruthless as those in the Kremlin itself. Chernavin's anxiety grew as he watched the dismemberment of his own command.

With no options left, Chernavin traveled to Moscow to meet Defense Minister Comrade Yazov, hoping to sway him to reverse the decision. But stepping into the Kremlin, Chernavin was seized by a chilling premonition — this was a trap meticulously laid by unseen forces.

Backing down now would only confirm the Navy's disloyalty to its elders. He had to hold his ground, save face, and try to convince Yazov to overrule Yanayev's order.

Walking through the Kremlin corridors with hands clasped behind his back, Chernavin exuded confidence, a man used to decades of power. He had been the Navy's rock during the chaotic Gorbachev years. The Soviet Navy once answered to him alone, ignoring even the General Secretary's commands.

But Chernavin seemed to forget one thing: the Navy had long since slipped from Moscow's direct control — and he himself was now a target.

"Comrade Chernavin, you finally came," Yazov said curtly, without greeting. "I advise you to abandon this futile fight. The Central Government has decided to sell the Kiev. If you persist, you'll only end up like a mantis trying to stop a chariot."

Chernavin bristled. "When will the Varyag be completed?" he demanded. "I've heard the Northern Fleet will get no priority after the Varyag and Ulyanovsk enter service. Is this some deliberate move against us? The General Secretary owes an explanation. I won't leave until Moscow answers me."

Yazov shook his head with a sigh. "I've warned you already. You refuse to accept reconciliation. You'd better return while you still can."

Chernavin sneered. "So now the Central Committee threatens its own subordinates? I am a founding figure of the Soviet Navy. When did a newly appointed General Secretary gain such absolute power? Even Comrade Gorbachev showed respect for naval commanders. What makes Yanayev so different?"

"Times have changed, Comrade Chernavin," Yazov replied with cold finality. "This is no longer Gorbachev's era, where you could act with impunity. Old-fashioned men who refuse to adapt to the times will be eliminated. Only those who follow the system endure." With a shrug, Yazov dismissed the matter.

"You're old, Yazov," Chernavin retorted disdainfully. "You've grown cautious, afraid to resist. But the Soviets belong to the people — not the General Secretary alone."

Just then, the door behind him creaked open with ominous weight. Heavy footsteps echoed. Chernavin turned sharply to see Yanayev himself standing there, looking down at him with a chilling, imperious gaze. Behind Yanayev, Internal Affairs soldiers filed in, encircling Chernavin.

"Yes, the Soviets belong to the people, not a dictator," Yanayev said sternly, "but they do not belong to traitors either!"

Chernavin spun around to face Yazov, eyes blazing with disbelief and anger. Yet Yazov remained unruffled, his voice calm, almost dismissive.

"I told you a long time ago, General Secretary Yanayev has already given you a chance," Yazov said quietly. "You simply failed to cherish it."

Chernavin's voice cracked with incredulity. "You actually set this up—a trap to ensnare me?" The very idea that the central government would conspire against a senior naval officer of his standing seemed impossible to him.

Yazov's expression hardened. "What do you think this is — the chaotic years after 1989, when the army fractured under Gorbachev? Wake up, Chernavin. Your beautiful dream ended eight months ago. There will be no more armies turning rogue, no more betrayals leading the country astray."

Chernavin's accusations only seemed to amuse Yanayev, who stood silently behind Yazov with a slight, cold smile.

The entire operation had been Yanayev's design: first, visit the Northern Fleet to align with officers opposed to Chernavin; then deliberately provoke the proud commander by cutting the aircraft carrier budget; and finally, when Chernavin was isolated in Moscow, quietly detain him without bloodshed. A potential naval rebellion, or worse—a surrender to foreign powers—had been deftly averted.

Chernavin's world collapsed in that moment. His pride and arrogance had blinded him to the fact that even Moscow could break his iron grip on the Navy.

Yanayev savored the sight of Chernavin's helplessness. His voice sharpened as he leaned forward.

"Oh, and one more thing," Yanayev added, his tone almost casual but filled with menace. "The 'butchers' of the Disciplinary Committee have already arrived in Leningrad. Since October last year, the KGB has been gathering evidence of your crimes. The mountain of proof—bribery, selling posts, corruption—is enough to sentence you and your cronies to a lifetime of digging coal near the Arctic Circle."

Even Yanayev had been shocked by the depths of corruption in what was supposed to be a loyal, reliable military. That revelation was the driving force behind his decision to purge and reorganize the army—to restore the Soviet forces' honor and regain the people's respect.

Chernavin, now restrained by officers from the Ministry of Internal Affairs, snarled, "Yanayev, you're a—"

"A bastard?" Yanayev interrupted, his voice cold and cutting.

"Yes, in the free world of the West, you might get away with calling someone that to excuse your corruption and abuse of power. And there will always be fools who believe it," Yanayev continued, his voice rising with steely resolve. "But… don't ever forget this is the Soviet Union. Not a capitalist society where money and privilege rule supreme. Here, those who betray the people are punished—without exception."