Vance stared. The chatter in his headset dissolved into a high-pitched whine, then silence. The smell of the ocean faded, replaced by the dry, plastic scent of his own basement. The panoramic screen was now just a 24-inch monitor, frozen on a grainy render of a wave.
“All stations, this is Phoenix Actual,” Vance said into his throat mic. “Enemy fleet spotted. Vector zero-niner-zero. Battleship Yamato and escorts. Let’s send them to the bottom.” battlestations pacific xlive.dll
“No,” he whispered. “No, no, no.” Vance stared
