Download End Game (Dreamland, Book 8) by Dale Brown, Jim DeFelice PDF
By Dale Brown, Jim DeFelice
A unstable U.S. best friend has fallen prey to the terrorist beast. India is the objective of radical Islamic jihadists, and the realm watches breathlessly as tensions enhance among the uneasy monstrous and its longtime nemesis Pakistan--with China ready within the wings, desirous to flex its army may. A nuclear showdown turns out inevitable, except the masterminds at Dreamland can get to the mysterious resource of the phobia and finish it, speedily and completely. each technological ask yourself the army possesses needs to be hired to evade an all-out Apocalypse--from an grand new hybrid army destroyer to robotic Flighthawks. however the destiny of the quarter and the realm depends upon the most recent brainchild of the Dreamland staff: an unproven software of final strength code-named finish online game.
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Extra info for End Game (Dreamland, Book 8)
Example text
The mount captain laughed heartily beneath his steel hel met, elbowing the sailor sitting next to him, then said in a deep voice, “You ain’t no newbie, sir. Don’t let Mr. Tremain fool you here, boys. ” “Maybe. ” The mount captain raised an open palm. “I know all about it. You submariners can’t talk about nothing. You’ve probably sunk more ships than Smitty here’s ever set eyes on, but you can’t tell us a lick about it. I know, I know, the silent service and all that hoo-hah! Well, don’t you worry none, Commander.
Blinking signal lamps flashed from their superstructures as signalmen on the darkened bridges translated and relayed messages back and forth between ships. “The situation seems pretty cut-and-dry,” McCandles con tinued. “The Japanese are going to try to pull their troops off Vella LaVella tonight. I guess they’re finally going to give up that little scrap of an island. They’re all set to abandon it, but you know what that means, don’t you, Jack? It means they’ll leave Vella LaVella tonight and tomorrow we’ll find them burrowed in on the next island up the Slot.
All obstruc tions had been long since cleared away, all potential obstacles to damage control parties stowed away, all watertight and flood control doors fastened shut. Her three-hundred-odd sailors—some bedecked in bulky salt-stained life vests, some in cumbersome steel gray helmets, some shirtless—assembled SINK THE SHIGURE 31 at their various battle stations inside and out of the destroyer’s 376-foot hull, waiting anxiously for the inevitable encounter with the as yet unseen enemy. Like her two cohorts, the Chevalier was made for war, with nearly every piece of equipment above her waterline devoted to that end.