“That will be for the zampolit to say, Comrade. I’ve merely been instructed to send all those who desire to see the Captain to Ivan Novikov’s cabin.”
“What are you talking about, Olenya? Step aside. I have important information for Captain Valenko.”
The guard’s hand went to his gun as he moved to block the door with his body.
“My orders are most explicit. Comrade. Please don’t press me to enforce them.”
Aware of the man’s sincerity, Kuzmin backed off.
“Something strange is going on aboard this ship, and I aim to get to the bottom of it. I will be back, Comrade. Of that, you can be assured.”
Ivan Novikov’s quarters were in an adjoining hallway, and the which man wasted no time getting there.
He had visited this particular cabin only a handful of times before, yet he remembered those meetings with great displeasure. It wasn’t just the hard-edged theories that the political officer was always so quick to promulgate, but rather the man’s personality that was so distasteful. Novikov was quick with advice but a poor listener. Too often he sounded as cold as a machine, while reeling off the Party’s current viewpoint.
There was no doubt that he was but a mouthpiece, with few ideas originating in his own mind.
Kuzmin gathered his nerve and knocked firmly on the door. Without a word spoken, its length slid open with a hiss. The zampolit was seated at his desk.
Above him was a large, framed representation of Lenin, the room’s only visible decoration. Upon identifying his visitor, Novikov beckoned him to enter.
“Do come in, Comrade Kuzmin. To what do I owe this rare visit? Do you seek Party guidance, perhaps?”
Kuzmin took a step inside, and replied uncomfortably, “No sir. I only desire to have a word with the Captain.”
With this, the door hissed shut behind him. The zampolit put down his pencil, “Why is that. Comrade Michmanr’ Noting the undertone of suspicion in the political officer’s query, Kuzmin’s nerve temporarily faltered.
“It was really nothing, sir — just a personal matter that I wished to discuss with him.”
A forced smile painted Novikov’s narrow lips.
“Can’t I be of some service to you. Comrade? I’m certain that you’ll find me a most worthy substitute.”
“Thank you for your offer, but I’d rather see the Captain. Is there something wrong with him?”
“I’m surprised that you didn’t notice before,” the zampolit said smoothly.
“The poor man has got an extremely bad fever. The corpsman fears that he’s showing the primary symptoms of hepatitis. It was just like our esteemed Captain to want to ignore these danger signs, but I would not hear of it. Senior Lieutenant Leonov was consulted and both of us agreed that Comrade Valenko must get some badly needed rest. I placed the guard outside his room personally, so that he wouldn’t be unnecessarily disturbed.”
Kuzmin had certainly not noticed any signs of sickness in the captain, and responded carefully.
“That was most thoughtful of you, sir. My small problem surely doesn’t warrant waking the Captain from his sickbed. I’ll handle it on my own.”
Novikov looked down at the sheet of paper he had been working on and cooly said, “Isn’t this your appointed rest period. Comrade Kuzmin?”
As the which man nodded, the zampolit continued.
“Well, then, get back to your bunk where you belong.
We are going to need you rested and alert for the next work shift.”
“I was just going back there, sir. I’m sorry if I interrupted you.”
“Not at all, Comrade, I only wish you’d have been relaxed enough to share your worries with me. Don’t be such a stranger. Your record is good and a visit to one of our komsomol meetings will reflect well on you.
Remember, the Party is here only to make your toils that much easier.”
The political officer hit the door switch as Kuzmin saluted and pivoted to exit. Gratefully, he stepped out into the hallway.
The air seemed fresh and several degrees cooler than the stuffy confines he had just left. As he proceeded down the corridor, he struggled to put his thoughts in order. The zampolit was lying — of that he was certain. If Petyr Valenko had hepatitis, he had come down with it within the last couple of hours.
Patting his pants pocket, Kuzmin felt the outline of the cassette that had sent him on his journey. Could its mysterious contents possibly have something to do with the confusing encounter he had just experienced?
Again, he knew that he could only trust one person’s advice.
Picking up an intercom handset, he dialed the captain’s room. When there was no answer, he tried reaching Valenko with a general page. Two soft electronic tones sounded throughout the ship. Thirty seconds later, his page was answered by a familiar voice that definitely did not belong to his friend.
Breathlessly, Kuzmin disconnected the zampolit before he gave himself away.
He was now convinced that he would find something out of the ordinary behind the captain’s locked door. Fearful for Valenko’s safety, Kuzmin decided that an inspection of his cabin was most necessary.
Yet, how could he get past that heavy-handed sentry?
An idea popped into his head as he continued down the corridor separating the officers’ sleeping quarters.
Just last month he had supervised an inspection of the Vulkan’s ventilation system. One of those shafts, which he personally checked, led directly into the captain’s room. Accessible from a nearby storage compartment, Kuzmin saw no reason why he couldn’t use it to see just what was going on in there. Since the chances of detection were sum, he decided that he had nothing to lose by trying.
The which man soon found himself inside a large walk-in closet used to store janitorial supplies. Because of the volatile nature of the cleaning solvents, the room was well ventilated. The air conditioning shaft was set into the upper edge of the wall. It was covered by a flimsy wire-mesh screen. To reach it, Kuzmin had to use a bank of shelves for a ladder.
Using his pocket knife, he loosened the two bottom fastenings that held the grill up. By prying it outward, he was able to squeeze himself into the shaft without completely removing the screen. This was important, as anyone entering the closet would notice a missing cover at once.
Sweating from the effort, he lifted his body into the shaft. He slithered forward to fit his legs in, then crawled backward and refastened the grill cover.
The round metallic shaft in which he now found himself was just wide enough to allow his shoulders room to pass. Forward progress would only be possible by crawling on his hands and knees. He didn’t have the benefit of a flashlight and a wall of darkness soon descended. It was impossible for him to gauge his forward progress.
As he pushed himself on, he wondered what he would find at the shaft’s end. Perhaps his entire effort would prove to be a waste of time. In a way, he hoped this would be the case, but he seriously doubted it.
Petyr Valenko had been fit as a fiddle the last time he had seen him.
There was no way the captain could have succumbed to a natural illness so quickly. He had only needed to look into the zampolit’s shifty eyes to know that Novikov was lying. Yet, what in the world could he be covering up?
Kuzmin feared the answer to this question. Since sharing the last leave together, the which man felt closer to his captain than ever before. Now that Valenko and Ivana had hit it off so well, he was practically a member of the family. Galina had told Kuzmin during the party that the two were attracted to each other, and the next day he had learned just how serious this attraction was. He certainly didn’t blame Valenko. Ivana was quite a woman. Not only did she emit a raw sexuality, she was also extremely bright.