Had it really been less than three days since they had last been together? Though her image, touch and scent were still fresh in his mind, his responsibilities took precedence over the innocent passions of the senses.
For a second, he mentally recreated their coupling — but instead of experiencing joy, he could only feel the pain of not knowing if his love still lived. If the IL-38’s call to action had been legitimate, there was a very good chance that cities like Petropavlovsk had been burned to a crisp during the first minutes of nuclear attack and no longer existed.
In a way, Ivana, her sister Galina, and even little Nikolai would be among the lucky ones. Their deaths would be instantaneous. Vaporized by a flash of superheated fire, there would be little time for either fear or pain. The real losers in a nuclear war would be the survivors.
Not only would they have to face the ravages of global radiation poisoning, they would find themselves in a bleak, desolate society with few comforts and little hope for the future. Such a world was not easy to imagine, and Valenko trembled involuntarily. An abrupt knock on the door shattered his macabre train of thought. Remembering his offer to the senior officers, he turned to his bunker to get a clean shirt.
As he buttoned it there was a second knock.
“I’ll be right there!” Valenko shouted as he hastily tucked in his shirttail. Then he hit the door switch to see which of his senior officers was seeking his advice.
A pair of sour faces met his glance, and a cold heaviness rose in the captain’s belly as he identified the waiting figures of Ivan Novikov and Vasili Leonov.
Without comment, the gaunt zampolit entered first, followed by the senior lieutenant. The door hissed shut and Valenko reluctantly greeted them.
“Yes, Comrades — how can I be of service to you?”
The dark-eyed political officer wasted little time with civilities.
“Captain Valenko, have you gone mad?
What is this nonsense about you doubting the legitimacy of the Red Flag alert?”
Sensing that he was in for a fight, Valenko answered directly.
“I’m not questioning the legitimacy of those orders. Comrade. I am only exercising my right to reconfirm them. Why does this upset you so?”
“Because I can’t bare to see this sub sent to the bottom with its load of missiles still aboard!” the zampolit shouted.
“The Rodina is relying on us to fulfill our rightful duty, and to needlessly risk the safety of this ship is a travesty beyond comprehension.”
Valenko looked to his senior lieutenant for support.
“Vasili, surely you’re aware that a line officer’s options include the right to seek reconfirmation of go-to-war orders, if so desired. What is so wrong with this?”
Leadenly, Leonov met his captain’s stare.
“We are not challenging your right to exercise such an option, sir.
What we are questioning are the motives that underline such a decision.
Why needlessly risk the Vulkan to reconfirm orders that have already been received?”
Shocked by his second in command’s obstinance, the captain gathered himself and pressed on.
“This doesn’t sound at all like you, Vasili. What has happened to the young officer who always promoted a captain’s right to interpret his orders as he best saw fit? Since when have you become so narrow-minded?”
“About the same time that you became such a cowardly fool,” returned the wide-eyed political officer.
Incensed, Valenko pointed to the door.
“I’ve had enough of your impertinence. Comrade Novikov!
Now get out of my sight, before I confine you to your cabin. And you Senior Lieutenant — I’ll be wanting to talk with you privately.”
The captain could not believe that his order had had absolutely no effect on the zampolit, who stood there unmoving.
“Did you hear me, Novikov? I said get out of here!”
In response, the political officer merely shook his head.
“Your time for giving orders aboard this vessel are over. Comrade Valenko. For the Rodina’s greater interests, I hereby take command of the Vulkan.”
To back up these bold words, Novikov pulled a chrome-plated pistol from his jacket and aimed it at Valenko’s chest. “What is the meaning of this, Comrade? Put that pistol away and come back to your senses!”
Novikov shook his head and his mouth curled up in a sardonic sneer.
“Those are mighty brave words, coming from one who stands on the other end of a gun barrel. Now sit down Valenko, and keep your lips sealed.”
From the tone of this delivery, Valenko knew that the threat was real.
Reluctantly, he seated himself on the edge of his bunk.
“That’s better,” the zampolit cooed.
“Comrade Leonov, I think you had better bind the Captain for his own protection. During the next couple of hours it could prove extremely dangerous for him to get in our way.”
Leonov took out a roll of two-inch surgical tape.
Wordlessly, he began wrapping it first around Valenko’s ankles and then his wrists. As he cut off a strip to cover the captain’s mouth, Valenko said desperately, “I still don’t understand why you are doing this, Comrades. Surely you must be aware that you can’t possibly get away with such a pointless crime.”
Without comment, Novikov signaled his fellow conspirator to complete his task. Only after Valenko’s lips were tightly sealed did the political officer respond.
“You left me no other alternative, Petyr Valenko. I couldn’t possibly stand by and watch you risk this vessel so needlessly. The receipt of the Red Flag alert signaled the end of an era. Cowardly fools like yourself no longer have a place in the Motherland’s future.
If it were up to me, I would put a bullet in your head and end your misery once and for all. You can thank Comrade Leonov for this temporary stay of execution.
Besides, your knowledge of the ship might still come in handy as the time to launch approaches. Hopefully, during those hours that you will have to yourself you will return to your senses.
For what we are doing on this fated day is insuring that the Rodina will prevail for the decades of peace that will soon follow.”
With the conclusion of his diatribe, Novikov stepped forward and, with a quick snap of his wrist, clubbed Valenko on the side of his head with the butt of the pistol. As the captain fell back onto his cot, unconscious, the zampolit’s eyes gleamed in victory.
“Senior Lieutenant, this is a most important moment in the history of the Motherland. The last obstacle to our great dream has finally been overcome.
Your unflinching assistance shall never be forgotten.
Strange was the hand of fate that led you to our glorious cause. Now come. Comrade. A toast is in order. And then we shall make certain that the Vulkan fulfills its rightful place in history.”
Without a word of comment, the grim-faced senior lieutenant followed Novikov out into the hallway.
Both men turned to their left as the door to Valenko’s stateroom hissed shut behind them.
Stefan Kuzmin enjoyed the change of pace that his current duty afforded him. The which man would rather be actively involved with a mechanical problem than merely sitting at a console monitoring a bank of instruments. Sensor operations could be extremely challenging, and there was no doubting its importance, yet he’d take his present task over it any day of the week.
Immediately after the Vulkan had encountered the unexpected explosion and resulting shock wave, they had discovered that the hydrophonic recording mechanism wasn’t operating properly.
Because of this unit’s failure, they had been unable to record the sounds the hydrophones had picked up before and after the blast. If the system had been operating correctly, the sounds could have been analyzed by computer, which would have identified the unfortunate vessel that had met its demise topside.