RM Vol 3: For a World without Boundary – Interlude: Koshkin

RM Vol 3: For a World without Boundary – Interlude: Koshkin

Things aren't going well.

When news reached the ears of Stalin that the Belkans were building tanks of immense size and firepower, dwarfing the already in-serviced T-35 multi-turreted tanks, the Secretary-General was not pleased. In his mind, only the Union should have the best tank fleet out there, yet the Belkans one-upped them much too clean. Whether in mobility, protection, or firepower, the Leman Russ outperformed the T-35 in every way. This made Stalin incensed and demanded the development of a new generation of battle tanks. When Stalin heard a stray T-34 prototype somehow drove itself to Berlin though, he was this close to flip the table and ordering an immediate execution of the people behind the Affordable Tank Program. Ultimately, the people up top decide on a different course of action, albeit with the same outcome.

Because of this, things really aren't going well for Mikhail Koshkin. First, he learns that his T-34 program is put on ice, permanently. Officially, the Union deems the project a technological dead end when the Belkans are the first to achieve Stalin's wet dream. Fruitless were the hours working overtime to bring about a vehicle that could have reached the pinnacle in tank design.

Unofficially, however, words are going out that there's a bad apple among the executives in the Kharkiv Factory. Mikhail doesn't have all the details but there has been a purge, a hidden one, with the leaders and notable designers of Kharkiv disappearing or dying to a variety of causes. Many of the friends Koshkin considered to be good were gone. The only reason Koshkin is still alive is because his pneumonia is acting up, badly, a direct result of a string of unfortunate events happening one after another. The diagnosis the tank designer is given hasn't painted a beautiful picture for him. Koshkin is living on borrowed time. If pneumonia doesn't claim him, then the government will be in the dark. For some reason or another, the Union seems to be inclined to keep everything under wrap.

Koshkin sighs dejectedly, looking at the schematics of the T-34, his brainchild, one last time. The man stills for a full minute of silence before chucking the papers inside a fireplace, dousing it with vodka to fuel the fire even more. In doing such a thing, Koshkin is effectively killing his child, a matter that causes him to cough and grieve at the same time. From here on out, the man will be counting his remaining days in despondent... Or not.

A knock can be heard on the door of his house, prompting Koshkin to turn around. Who is knocking on this ungodly hour when it's not even dawn?

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"I think this is the first time that I can't find it in myself to be annoyed at you, Mister Gagarin." Koshkin says while leaning on his cushioned chair. His host, the man behind the industrious Ural Factory Complex, Quellec Gagarin, is seen making the two of them a pot of tea. Honestly, Koshkin appreciates the man for picking the correct drink with how his pneumonia makes consuming alcohol nearly impossible.

Quellec brings the tea tray to the table separating the of them before sitting down on a chair himself. Before the two of them say anything though, Koshkin finds himself taking a look at the weirdly colored tea set. Though not an avid tea drinker, Koshkin can still identify it as expensive, albeit an interestingly haphazard set. The tea set is noticeable of an Eastern design, seemingly made from a special clay of sorts with the pot being white and the three cups being green, red, and blue. Quellec smiles, pouring the golden liquid into the three cups before taking the green cup for himself.

"I will take that as a compliment, Mister Koshkin. It means that I have successfully built a rapport with you over the time we've known each other."

Not touching the weird tea set, Koshkin says with an eye roll. "That or I am just too damn tired to deal with you."

"That too, I guess." Quellec chuckles, not offended. "On that point, it seems to me that you have landed yourself in a pinch, Mister Koshkin."

"Tell me something I didn't know." Koshkin scoffs before leaning back on the chair. At least it feels better than his stool back home.

Surprisingly, Quellec says. "Sure. I see no harm in monologuing some information while you just..." Quellec ponders while tapping the rim of his cup a few times. "Chill, I guess."

"Namely because it will be a waste to have you gone, Koshkin. We have differences in our approach to tank buildings, but I can safely say as a rival designer that your tanks would have made waves if given the chance." Quellec patiently explains.

"What's the catch then?"

"The catch, as you have called it, is that you're ordered by the government to join my team in making a new tank for Stalin." Quellec smirks when he sees Koshkin's disdainful frown. "It's what the red tea cup stands for."

"The red cup?" Koshkin stares at Quellec, puzzled that the man has insinuated that he will have multiple options. "Then what's the blue cup about?"

"That, my friend, is something of my own intervention. It's something of the book." Quellec replies. "Both cups offer the same benefits of me sponsoring you to get rid of that annoying pneumonia you have. However, the blue cup stands out because it will offer you a second chance, Koshkin. A way to start over, with a clean slate. Of course, you won't be able to get that new start by staying here in Rusviet, so you may have to think this through."

Koshkin leans in, surprised and somewhat distrustful. "Are you for real? What you're offering in the blue cup can be judged as... Traitorous by the NKVD. Because from your tone, the red cup is supposed to be a direct order from the top for me, not a choice."

"I would rather you get a new leash in life than work begrudgingly and only to piss off a political commissar somewhere, Koshkin." Quellec says with a straight face. "It brings bad business if you're to do so."

"Yeah, well, perhaps I may do just that to throw you off, Gagarin." Koskin quips. "But choices, huh? The blue cup, what does it entail to start over?"

"You're either free to pursue your passion, or just sit back and relax, maybe even getting a new job. I heard confectioners are in short supply, nowadays." Quellec replies before falling silent.

Koshkin frowns, pondering, before decisively picking up the blue cup and downing it in one go. If there's something to be said about the man, then he's very willing to commit to his choice.

"So, what happens ne-..." Koshkin barely says half a sentence before falling unconscious with the cup still in his hands.

Seeing the tank designer knocked out, Quellec nods to himself.

"Well, at least you didn't drop the expensive cup. As for what's next, just leave it to us. It's quite sad that Pneumonia has taken its due and claimed dear Koshkin." Quellec says with a smile that doesn't reach his face. "The next time you wake up, Koshkin is no more."