Every two days the starpom collected the radiation badges.  This was part of a semiformal inspection.  After seeing to it that every crewman's shoes were spit-shined, every bunk was properly made, and every footlocker was arranged according to the book, the executive officer would take the two-day-old badges and hand the sailors new ones, usually along with some terse advice to square themselves away as New Soviet Men ought.  Borodin had this procedure down to a science.  Today, as always, the trip from one compartment to another took two hours.  When he was finished, the bag on his left hip was full of old badges, and the one on his right depleted of new ones.  He took the badges to the ship's medical officer.

"Comrade Petrov, I have a gift for you."  Borodin set the leather bag on the physician's desk.

"Good."  The doctor smiled up at the executive officer.  "With all the healthy young men I have little to do but read my journals."

Borodin left Petrov to his task.  First the doctor set the badges out in order.  Each bore a three-digit number.  The first digit identified the badge series, so that if any radiation were detected there would be a time reference.  The second digit showed where the sailor worked, the third where he slept.  This system was easier to work with than the old one, which had used individual numbers for each man.

The developing process was cookbook-simple.  Petrov could do it without a thought.  First he switched off the white overhead light and replaced it with a red one.  Then he locked his office door.  Next he took the development rack from its holder on the bulkhead, broke open the plastic holders, and transferred the film strips to spring clips on the rack.

Petrov took the rack into the adjacent laboratory and hung it on the handle of the single filing cabinet.  He filled three large square basins with chemicals.  Though a qualified physician, he had forgotten most of his inorganic chemistry and didn't remember exactly what the developing chemicals were.  Basin number one was filled from bottle number one.  Basin two was filled from bottle two, and basin three, he remembered, was filled with water.  Petrov was in no hurry.  The midday meal was not for two more hours, and his duties were truly boring.  The last two days he had been reading his medical texts on tropical diseases.  The doctor was looking forward to visiting Cuba as much as anyone aboard.  With luck a crewman would come down with some obscure malady, and he'd have something interesting to work on for once.