Petrov got a folding chair.  "Sit, Comrade Lieutenant, rest your legs."

The lieutenant sat down at once, stretching his legs to work out the knots.  The officers at VVMUPP had told him how lucky he was to draw this assignment.  Ramius and Melekhin were the two best teachers in the fleet, men whose crews appreciated their kindness along with their competence.

"They really should insulate those pipes," Ramius said.  Melekhin shook his head.

"Then they'd be too hard to inspect."  He handed the counter to his captain.

"Entirely safe," the captain read off the cumulative dial.  "You get more exposure tending a garden."

"Indeed," Melekhin said.  "Coal miners get more exposure than we do, from the release of radon gas in the mines.  Bad badges, that's what it has to be.  Why not take out a whole batch and check it?"

"I could, Comrade," Petrov answered.  "But then, due to the extended nature of our cruise, we'd have to run for several days without any.  Contrary to regulations.  I'm afraid."

"You are correct.  In any case the badges are only a backup to our instruments."  Ramius gestured to the red-circled detectors all over the compartment.

"Do you really want to recheck the piping?" Melekhin asked.

"I think we should," Ramius said.

Svyadov swore to himself, looking down at the deck.

"There is no extravagance in the pursuit of safety," Petrov quoted doctrine.  "Sorry, Lieutenant."  The doctor was not a bit sorry.  He had been genuinely worried, and was now feeling a lot better.

An hour later the second check had been completed.  Petrov took Svyadov forward for salt tablets and tea to rehydrate himself.  The senior officers left, and Melekhin ordered the reactor plant restarted.

The enlisted men filed back to their duty stations, looking at one another.  Their officers had just checked the "hot" compartments with radiation instruments.  The medical corpsman had looked pale a while earlier and refused to say anything.  More than one engine attendant fingered his radiation badge and checked his wristwatch to see how long it would be before he went off duty.

THE EIGHTH DAY

FRIDAY 10, DECEMBER

HMS Invincible

Ryan awoke in the dark. The curtains were drawn on the cabin's two small portholes. He shook his head a few times to clear it and began to assess what was going on around him. The Invincible was moving on the seas, but not as much as before. He got up to look out of a porthole and saw the last red glow of sunset aft under scudding clouds. He checked his watch and did some clumsy mental arithmetic, concluding that it was six in the evening, local time. That translated to about six hours of sleep. He felt pretty good, considering. A minor headache from the brandy—so much for the theory that good stuff doesn't give you a hangover—and his muscles were stiff. He did a few sit-ups to work out the knots.