My Realistic Simulation Game

Chapter 253 I Love This Country
Black Sea Shipyard in Nikolayev, Ukraine.

This was one of the main sites for the construction of Soviet aircraft carriers, including the Nikolayev Design Bureau, which was responsible for the construction of the Varyag.

Valery Babic tightened the Jeanswest coat he had bought last year, trying to ward off the increasingly biting chill in the air.

This outfit is one of the few "luxuries" he gets to enjoy as the chief designer of aircraft carriers.

He looked out the window at the increasingly desolate streets of Nikolayev and felt a pang of sadness.

Three months have passed since the crisis in August, but there is no sign of improvement in the situation in the Soviet Union.

Even the situation in the entire country is deteriorating.

As a scholar, Babbage was not ignorant of worldly affairs.

He clearly felt that the foundations of this country were crumbling.

Not to mention distant Moscow, in his own city of Nikolayev, a large number of factories and assets that originally belonged to the state and factions are being sold to private individuals at an unprecedented rate.

His thoughts drifted back to the 1960s.

At that time, he had just graduated from the Nikolayev Shipbuilding Institute, full of boundless passion and dreams.

At that time, the Soviet Union was bursting with vitality, and the people were full of enthusiasm. Everyone seemed to be striving for a common goal: to dedicate their youth to building a strong motherland that could rival the West.

The nine design bureaus established by the Soviet Union were shining jewels on the global military-industrial landscape during the Cold War.

Like nine brilliant stars, each shining brightly in its own field, including aviation, aerospace, tank armor, missile technology, artillery systems, shipbuilding, light weapons, electronic warfare, and nuclear weapons, together weaving a magnificent picture of military technology.

Although he did not get into it, he was very fortunate to be able to enter the Nevsky Planning and Design Bureau, which is known as the cradle of aircraft carrier construction engineers, after graduation.

There, he participated in the design of the early "Moskva" and "St. Petersburg" class helicopter cruisers, laying a solid foundation.

A few years later, due to his outstanding abilities, he was transferred to the Nikolayev Design Bureau.

Here, he rose step by step from an ordinary engineer to become a project leader, chief designer, and finally, in the Soviet Project 1143.5 aircraft carrier project, he was appointed as the chief designer of the "Varyag".

He was fully responsible for the ship's detailed design, technical drawings, technical guidance during construction, and coordination with the Black Sea Shipyard.

They were deeply involved in the entire process from blueprint to the launch of the massive ship.

For reference, the similarly designed "Admiral Kuznetsov" entered service earlier this year. It was the Soviet Union's first true aircraft carrier, achieving several firsts, including having both angled and straight flight decks and a ski-jump flight deck.

The Varyag, carrying even greater hopes and improvements, was launched in 1988 and is currently about 68% complete.

According to the original plan, it should have officially entered service around 1993, becoming another sharp weapon for the Soviet Navy to go to the deep blue sea.

But right now... Babich sat in the car on the way to the shipyard, his brow furrowed.

As the chief architect, he felt more acutely than anyone else that funding from higher levels was drastically decreasing.

In order to keep the most crucial hull engineering project on schedule, the design bureau and shipyard have had to cut all other expenses, including personnel salaries and benefits.

As a result, engineers and experts from the bureau and the factory complained a lot.

Strangely enough, in the last two weeks, those complaints seem to have decreased significantly.

He would occasionally see colleagues talking quietly with strangers, their expressions mysterious, and they would quickly separate when they saw him coming.

This made him feel vaguely uneasy.

"I hope Malenkov and Leonid can consider the bigger picture and not cause any more trouble, especially at a time like this."

Babbage muttered to himself as he stepped through the familiar yet somewhat somber gates of the shipyard.

He keenly noticed that many of his colleagues along the way avoided his gaze when they made eye contact with him.

With doubts in his heart, he went into his office and had just spread out the blueprints to review the progress of the subsequent outfitting work of the "Varyag" when there was a knock on the office door.

"Come in," Babbage replied without looking up.

The door was pushed open, and three of his core engineers—Malinkov, Leonid, and the young Ostrovsky—walked in, looking nervous.

Babich looked up at the strange group before him and frowned: "Malinkov, Leonid, and Ostrovsky? What are you three doing here instead of overseeing the construction on the ship?"

Malenkov, the tallest of the three, took a deep breath, stepped forward, and placed a folded letter on Babich's desk. His voice was somewhat hoarse: "Comrade Babich, this is my resignation letter."

"this is mine."

"this is mine."

Under his leadership, Leonid and Ostrovsky also seemed to have made up their minds, and hurriedly handed over their resignation letters, but their eyes were too guilty to meet Babich's gaze.

"What do you mean by this?" Babich frowned, his voice filled with suppressed anger. "I know that the design bureau and shipyard are facing some difficulties, but the higher-ups have prioritized ensuring our supply of materials!"

"The salary has been temporarily reduced, but didn't the director promise that once the 'Varyag' is successfully completed, the back pay will definitely be made up, and there will also be a generous bonus!"

His gaze was particularly sharp as he fixed it on Ostrovsky, the youngest of the three: "Especially you, Ostrovsky!"

"I've already submitted your proposed improvement plan for optimizing the island structure to Moscow as a major technological breakthrough. Once approved, you'll at least receive a Silver Star medal for this contribution. What are you trying to do by resigning now? Don't you care about your future?" Ostrovsky, who was only in his thirties and wore thick glasses, blushed deeply. His lips trembled as if he wanted to explain something, but under Babich's gaze, he ultimately couldn't say anything.

Seeing this, Malenkov immediately stepped in front of Ostrovsky, his tone laced with mockery and resolve: "Babbich! My chief architect comrade! Have you been so engrossed in blueprints and formulas that you've gone mad?!"

"What time is it now? Medals? What good are medals!"

"Can it afford the exorbitant cost of Ostrovsky's son's surgery in America? Can it provide his entire family with a spacious and bright house, so they don't have to worry about black bread and potatoes every day?"

He suddenly reached out and grabbed the old overcoat that Leonid was wearing next to him, its cuffs worn white and clearly showing signs of age, and said excitedly, "Look at us! The elite of our nation! Designers who have dedicated their youth and wisdom to the defense of this country and to the strength of the Soviet Navy!"

"Leonid still can't afford a decent new coat!"

"Which of these steel behemoths docked in the harbor hasn't been soaked in our blood, sweat, and toil? And what have we gotten in return? Look at American engineers; they drive Mercedes and live in villas with gardens! And what have we gotten?!"

Malenkov's voice rose higher and higher, filled with pent-up resentment: "Let me tell you the truth! We don't want to live another day like this, without any hope!"

“The Americans have contacted us and offered us terms we can’t refuse: Ostrovsky, $300,000 a year; Leonid, $200,000; and me, $400,000!”

He stared intently at Babich's shocked and pale face, his tone slowing, carrying a complex emotion: "Babich, you're my junior, we've known each other since our internships at the Neva Design Bureau. I know your talent and ability better than anyone else."

“If you are willing to come with us, based on your qualifications and the status of the chief designer of the Varyag, they are willing to offer at least $500,000, or even more annual salary.”

"Think about it, five hundred thousand dollars, how many times is that what we currently earn in the Soviet Union? Think about your wife, think about your two smart and lovely children! They can receive the best education in the world and enjoy the best life!"

Although Babich had some suspicions, he was still greatly shocked and heartbroken to hear Malenkov so bluntly state his "defection" plan.

"Malinkov! Do you know what you're saying?!" Babich stood up abruptly, his voice trembling with anger and disappointment. "You are committing treason! It was the motherland that nurtured you, it was this land that our forefathers defended with their blood and lives that gave us knowledge and glory!"

"Now, at this time when the country needs us most and is facing the greatest difficulties, you actually want to abandon her?! Do you have any respect for the land beneath your feet? Do you have any respect for the title of 'Soviet Engineer'?!"

Malenkov showed no remorse in the face of Babich's rebuke, but instead a cold, almost desperate sneer: "Patriotism? Babich, I too once had a heart that beat fervently for my country, just like you!"

"But this heart grew cold and died when it saw them pushing this great alliance to the brink of collapse for their own selfish interests!"

"I love the Soviet Union! I love that once idealistic and vibrant Soviet Union!"

Malenkov's voice trembled slightly, but his eyes were unusually firm. "But the Soviet Union of today is no longer worth my love!"

"Has anyone truly thought about saving this country? No one!"

His words struck Babich's heart like a hammer blow: "The Interior Minister Pugo 'committed suicide' at home, and the distinguished Marshal Akhromeyev ended his life with a Kremlin curtain!"

"Those who truly wanted to save this country are either dead or forced to remain silent!"

"Babbich, tell me, is it worth us tying our fate and our families' future to the Soviet Union and letting it sink with us?"

Babich's face turned pale. Malenkov's words were like a cold scalpel, brutally dissecting the reality he had been trying to avoid.

His mind flashed back to the chaotic newspaper reports of the past few months and the chilling rumors circulating among the public.

He opened his mouth, only to find that any words of rebuttal seemed so pale and powerless in the face of such a cruel reality.

He fell silent, and only the heavy breathing of a few people could be heard in the office.

After what felt like an eternity, Babic slowly raised his head, his gaze sweeping over the three men one by one:

"You can leave... I won't report you. But I won't leave either."

His gaze passed over them, as if looking at the massive, unfinished silhouette of the Varyag ship outside the window.

"This is my country... Here, there is my unfinished work."

"I... I still want to see the day when the Varyag is actually commissioned."

Malenkov looked at the almost stubborn light in Babich's eyes, and finally just sighed deeply, said nothing more, and silently left the office with Leonid and Ostrovsky.

The door was gently closed, leaving only Babbage in the office, along with his heavy, suffocating perseverance.

Shortly afterward, he pulled a letter from the drawer.

The letter was signed by the Far East High-Level Talent Development Foundation.

This is an invitation.

As the chief designer of the Nikolayev Design Bureau, how could he not have received any offers?

He simply refused them all.

Looking through the text, the reason this invitation was preserved is because its content is completely different from any other form of recruitment by other organizations.

[Project funding, freedom of movement, absolute personal safety guaranteed, awaiting the final fate of the Soviet Union]

"The ultimate fate of the Soviet Union?"

Babbage murmured these words, his heart filled with boundless sorrow.

(End of this chapter)