Eagle, I don't want to form an alliance anymore.

Chapter 37 made a mistake towards the boss ( )

In the last week of 1983, Moscow was blanketed in snow.

That was the biggest blizzard Slava had ever experienced here. The wind was blowing into the streets of Moscow from the northwest, as if trying to fill every crevice of the city.

The tram tracks were buried in snow, and the crowds queuing to buy bread in front of the state-run store were huddled together in thick coats, looking like a row of penguins sleeping on their feet. The red walls of the Kremlin were blurred into a dark red stripe in the blizzard.

Despite the harsh physical effects of the cold winds, Moscow has never had a homeless problem.

Andropov hasn't been to the Kremlin for a week.

His office was completely moved to a government sanatorium on the outskirts of Moscow, and his daily schedule was divided into a cycle of two hours of work, one hour of dialysis, two hours of work, and then rest.

His kidney function has deteriorated to the point where he needs to undergo hemodialysis once a day to maintain basic physiological indicators.

The KGB medical team was stationed in the villa’s basement 24 hours a day. The dialysis machine was placed in a converted room next to his bedroom. It was only ten steps from his bedroom to the dialysis room, but he now needed help to walk those ten steps.

However, Andropov was still clear-headed.

Perhaps it's because Andropov is under far less pressure in this timeline than in the original history; Slava's past actions helped him avoid the psychological burden of several major crises. In the original history, Andropov had completely disappeared from public view at this point, and many Western intelligence agencies were speculating about who the next leader of the Kremlin would be.

When the time came to December 27, Andropov seemed to have made up his mind. He suddenly summoned a few of his most trusted men to his side, wanting to talk about something he had been thinking about for a long time but had never spoken of.

There weren't many people present; they were all from the inner circle. Gorbachev, Slava, and Director Nian were the people closest to him among them.

The meeting was held in a room next to Andropov's bedroom, which had been converted into a combination of a studio and a hospital room.

The room contained a desk, an old armchair he had brought from Lubyanka, an enamel mug, and a dialysis machine.

The dialysis machine was concealed by a dark curtain, but everyone knew it was there; after all, its hum could always be heard during the breaks in conversation, like an uninvited participant reminding everyone in its own way.

Time is limited.

Andropov was half-reclined in an armchair with a blanket draped over his knees. His ankles were so swollen that he couldn't even wear slippers and could only wear a pair of cotton socks.

He insisted on pouring everyone a cup of tea—everyone was filled with trepidation, with Gorbachev helping to hold the teapot and the young director holding the teacup, for fear of aggravating Andropov's condition.

“I called you here today,” he said after a minute’s rest, “and as you can probably guess, to discuss what will happen after I’m gone.”

The room fell silent for a moment.

Everyone knew what those words meant, but when they heard Andropov say them himself, something still sank down from their chests.

Gorbachev clenched his hands on his knees, and Nian Dao and Slava both sighed softly.

Slava looked at Andropov.

This was the first time the old man, whom he had followed for nearly three and a half years, had admitted a fact to him in such a direct way:

He is leaving.

“You know my physical condition better than people outside.”

Andropov's pauses between sentences were longer than before, as if the act of speaking itself required extra physical exertion.

"I won't repeat the time the doctor mentioned. After all, every Communist Party member has to go to their mentor to report on their work one day. Whether you go early or late, it doesn't matter."

But don't worry too much, because doctors are never right—sometimes they're more optimistic, sometimes more pessimistic. But no matter when, we must be prepared.

He looked at Gorbachev.

“Mikhail Sergeyevich, you are the successor I have been grooming, and I have never hidden this from you, as you know.”

But you most likely won't sit in this chair right after me.

Gorbachev's lips twitched, but he didn't speak.

"You know the composition of the Politburo—Cherenko, Tikhonov, Grishin, Romanov...these people combined have just as many votes in the Politburo as ours."

I have weakened their local base through personnel adjustments over the past year, but there is not enough time to make major changes to the composition of the Politburo itself.

I don't have much time left.

Moreover, besides Russia, the local secretaries of the other Union member states are also a problem, and the party members in those member states are not easy to deal with—but let's not get too far ahead of ourselves. My analysis is that if a vote were held after I leave, the Politburo would likely nominate Chernenko.

PS: Historically, the dramatic changes in the Soviet bloc in the late 80s were largely due to internal problems, in which Gorbachev played a significant role by actively overthrowing some conservative groups.

“Cherenko?” Slava’s tone carried an undisguised disdain. “The old man’s priority is to try to see his mentor later.”

“That’s the key point: the old guard in the Politburo is too conservative.” A bitter smile appeared on Andropov’s lips.

"They elected him because he can't do anything, and for conservatives, a general secretary who can't do anything is the best general secretary—"

No reforms, no upheavals, maintaining the status quo, ensuring no one's interests are affected. To them, Chernenko is merely a placeholder for the General Secretary's seat, used to maintain a transition period after my departure, until they internally agree on the next steps.

"So, Ivanov, what do you think?"

Slava had already thought about the question in his mind many times before being asked it.

"I completely agree with your analysis. Chernenko will most likely be selected, and there's nothing we can do to stop that right now."

But Chernenko's health was even worse than yours—that smoked fish completely ruined him; his emphysema and heart problems combined meant he was simply incapable of fully managing the work.

This gave Mikhail Sergeyevich a huge space to maneuver.

He glanced at Gorbachev to make sure he was listening, and then continued.

“After Chernenko became General Secretary, his daily work capacity could not last long. Politburo meetings, Central Committee plenary sessions, receiving foreign guests, signing documents—these things require a lot of energy and physical strength, which he did not have.”

Therefore, he would inevitably delegate a considerable portion of his daily work to others, and the most likely candidate for that "other person" would be Comrade Gorbachev—"He turned to Gorbachev, "because he is already the de facto second-in-command in the Central Secretariat, and everyone—including the conservatives—has accepted this arrangement."

“So—” Andropov said half a sentence, waiting for him to finish.

"There is no need to try to prevent Chernenko from coming to power after you leave. That would only trigger a direct conflict that we are not yet sure we can win, give the old guard of the Politburo the placeholder they want, but make sure that Mikhail Sergeyevich holds the actual power behind that placeholder."

Chernenko as the nominal General Secretary and Gorbachev as the de facto General Secretary—this situation isn't the worst for us; it might even be better than a 50/50 showdown in the Politburo.

Historically, Chernenko, a protégé of Brezhnev, rose to prominence during a period of détente between the US and the Soviet Union. His initial thought was to step back from the conflict. He expressed this idea in his first major speech after Andropov's death on March 2nd, but subsequent events proved this "détente" to be more of a gesture than a substance.

Because Chernenko had neither the health nor the political capital to push for a real breakthrough.

"Time is on our side. Chernenko won't last much longer—I'm not cursing him, I just really think he won't live much longer."

With his departure, the Politburo couldn't find another person with sufficient qualifications and influence to fill the conservative position. At that point, Gorbachev would be the best choice; no fighting or contention was needed, it would all fall into place naturally.

After listening, Andropov remained silent for a while, then tapped his fingers on the armrest of his chair.

“Mikhail Sergeyevich,” Andropov turned to Gorbachev, “what do you think of what Ivanov said?”

Gorbachev had been listening attentively for the entire time before being asked the question. Now, he slowly leaned back in his chair and carefully began to speak.

"I basically agree with Comrade Ivanov's analysis at the strategic level, but I would like to add one point."

If, after Chernenko comes to power, I, as the de facto Second Secretary, am to truly grasp operational power and not become a figurehead, then I need more than just Chernenko's authorization; I need enough people within the party to believe that handing power to me is in their best interest.

His fingers tapped lightly twice on the armrest of the chair.

"This means that in the coming period we need to do one thing: bring more people to our side."

Preaching and pressuring are useless; self-interest is the safest bet. We need to show those centrists who are still on the fence that supporting our direction is beneficial to their careers and power.

Comrade Andropov has done a great deal of work in this regard through personnel adjustments over the past year, and we need to continue to expand this foundation in the coming period.

Andropov nodded.

“There’s one more thing,” Andropov said, glancing at Slava and then at Director Nian.

His gaze lingered on these two men a little longer than it had on Gorbachev.

Perhaps it's a final review of the people he discovered and nurtured, perhaps it's a kind of reluctance to part, or perhaps it's just an extremely tired old man trying to remember a few faces that are important to him.

"Comrades Ivanov and Ivanova—whether I am here or not, continue doing what you are supposed to do."

The Afghan plan, the advancement of agricultural reforms, the maintenance of relations with China... these things will not become unimportant just because the person sitting in that chair has changed.

By this point, I've come to understand many things... I was wrong from the start; the league's system isn't perfect, and we need to be realistic.

Yes, seeking truth from facts—these four words are probably the biggest influence Slava has had on Andropov in recent years.

Unfortunately, Andropov didn't have time.

"If anything requires you to make choices I wouldn't like—"

He paused for a moment.

"—Then go for it. The living are more important than the dead. Look ahead, the future of the alliance depends on you young people. You will take over our cause and fulfill our mentors' ideals."

After he finished speaking, he looked up at the portrait of Lenin hanging on the wall.

Everyone silently followed his gaze to the faded statue on the wall, as if they were re-examining themselves who had sworn an oath under the Party flag.

The mentor on the wall gazes into the distance.

Director Nian finally broke the silence, saying softly, "Yuri, don't say such things. You can still hold on for a long time. The revolution is not yet over, and comrades still need to work hard."

Andropov glanced at her, a very faint smile appearing on his lips.

"Comrade Ivanova, you are a person who is not good at lying."

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

1984 October.

Reagan’s New Year’s address surprised the world.

On January 16, this man, who less than a year earlier had called the Soviet Union an evil empire in Florida, sat in his White House office and told a story about "Ivan and Anya" to television cameras.

"...Imagine if a Soviet couple—Ivan and Anya—bumped into an American couple—Jim and Sally—while taking shelter from the rain."

Assuming there is no language barrier between them, would they argue about the differences between their respective governments? Or would they compare their children, their jobs, and the ordinary, similar joys and sorrows in their lives?

Perhaps when they parted, Anya would say to Ivan, "She's so nice; she teaches music too."

From the evil empire to Ivan and Anya, Reagan's rhetoric shift in less than a year has left international observers speechless.

Some say this was political maneuvering in an election year, because 1984 was an election year and Reagan needed to project a peaceful image to swing voters.

But many analysts believe that the United States’ failed foreign policy in Europe in 1983 did indeed plant a seed of change in Reagan’s mind.

As for the league's response to Reagan's speech? It was inevitably lukewarm.

TASS published a commentary saying that Reagan's words sounded good, but needed to be proven by actions.

This is the most positive response the Foreign Ministry officials could give, but what's truly noteworthy is what happened outside of the official statement.

In late January, the second delegation of the Soviet Olympic Committee flew to Los Angeles to discuss participation in the 1984 Summer Olympics with the Executive Board of the International Olympic Committee.

Since NATO boycotted the Moscow Olympics in 1980 due to the war in Afghanistan, the world has been paying close attention to whether the Warsaw Pact would retaliate against the United States by not participating in the Los Angeles Olympics.

Soviet Olympic Committee President Gramov told the media before departure:

"I see no reason why the Soviet Union should not participate in the Los Angeles Olympics."

This statement itself is an important political signal; Gramov's statement is tantamount to announcing Andropov's decision: not to boycott, but to participate.

In this delegation, besides sports officials and IOC staff, there were two less conspicuous names—Ivanov, deputy director of the Central Secretariat’s agricultural department, and his assistant, Ivanova.

Their trip to Los Angeles was ostensibly to "accompany the Soviet delegation to a meeting with the Los Angeles Olympic Organizing Committee," but everyone in the know understood that this was merely a pretext to allow them to legally appear on American soil.

The real purpose was to use this visit as an opportunity to engage in more flexible contacts and probes with the United States outside of formal diplomatic channels.

...

January 21, 1984, Los Angeles International Airport, USA.

Slava and their guide were momentarily blinded by the January California sun as they disembarked from the Il-62. Before they left, Moscow was a freezing wasteland of minus twenty degrees Celsius, but by the time they arrived in Los Angeles, the temperature had risen to eighteen degrees.

"Bang!" "Bang bang!"

The arrival hall at the airport was not only filled with reception staff from the Los Angeles Olympic Organizing Committee and staff from the Soviet Consulate in Los Angeles, but also dozens of reporters and cameramen, whose flashes went off the moment they stepped out of the customs area.

Slava was somewhat prepared for this, but he was still taken aback by the scene.

After all, in the Soviet Union, journalists were generally tools for taking pictures rather than hunting dogs chasing after people to ask questions; American journalists clearly belonged to the latter category.

"Mr. Ivanov! What is your assessment of President Reagan's 'Ivan and Anya' speech?" "How is General Secretary Andropov's health? Is he still in charge?"

"Mr. Ivanov! Does the Soviet Union plan to withdraw its troops from Afghanistan?" "Ms. Ivanov! What position do you hold in the government? Is your silver hair natural or dyed? What is your relationship with Mr. Ivanov?"

The last question was asked by a reporter from The Sun, a world-class third-rate newspaper.

The blonde reporter, microphone in hand, squeezed in front of Director Nian. Director Nian adjusted his sunglasses, glanced at her, and calmly replied:

"It's innate, as natural as your question—as for my relationship with Mr. Ivanov? Of course, it's a pure revolutionary camaraderie!"

As he spoke, Director Nian pulled Slava to his side with an elbow, and Slava waved to the camera appropriately.

The reporters present laughed, and the atmosphere immediately relaxed. Slava seized the opportunity to grab a microphone and say a few words: