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Weapons of choiceHis voice trailed off as he saw two German storm troopers emerge through a hatch on the small finlike bridge of the enemy ship. He shook his head to clear it. After all, they weren't the weirdest thing he'd seen tonight. "Fire!" he ordered. USS LEYTE GULF, 2305 HOURS, JUNE 2, 1942 Lieutenant Reilly, the Leyte Gulf's met boss, was a good officer because he understood his own limits. He was a weatherman, a really excellent weatherman, if you wanted to know. Captain Anderson had learned that his forecasts often ran two or three days ahead of the bulletins coming out of Fleet, back in Pearl. On occasion, he was seemingly so prescient it was spooky. His small staff on the Leyte Gulf used to joke that he could make a butterfly flap its wings, and start a hurricane on the other side of the world. But Lieutenant Reilly was lost when it came to small-unit counterboarding operations. It just wasn't his gig, and he was quietly very relieved when Seamen Sessions and Nix checked in on his flexipad to report that they were going topside for a quick look, after which they would report to him to commence clearing A deck forward of the chopper bays ...» |
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