Kill doctor lucky tableflip5/5/2023 Since it wasn’t a combat vessel, it didn’t get much time in the limelight. The Albacore is basically the second biggest revolutionary submarine after the nuclear powered Nautilus, transitioning sub design away from surface running optimized shapes to pure underwater performance shapes (tear-drops and cylinders with rounded front ends). The Alfa and Victor were frequent staples in Cold War era submarine novels, with the Akula rarely showing up, since it came out right towards the end of the Cold War and ran into massive production problems due to Russia not having tons of money. If you’re really into subs (or played the game Cold Waters), then you know about these boats (submarines are always called boats, never ships). Jenny flinched at what that might mean.Ĭlick to shrink.Oh man, I can’t tell you how great it is to see the names Alfa, Victor, Akula (even if it’s spelled weird), and Albacore. Then abruptly the signal cleared, a sure sign that it was being boosted through a commsat. Static whined and sizzled for a few seconds more. Even so, lack of money or repair hadn't caused what she had just heard, and she needed to make sure that the words were real and accurate, instead of just a product of her scared imagination. Earl had done his best with what they had, but Jenny knew well enough that what this radio needed wasn't so much regular maintenance as a few thousand extra dollars spent on upgrading it. "It's those two that chased you," Jenny said softly, trying to coax better reception from the outpost's elderly communication system. But just now she was hearing something else-something that put a question mark against long life for anyone down here. She had heard all Bobby's reasons before and, if she lived long enough, would probably hear them all again. Jenny pressed the earpiece of the headset closer and silenced him with a quick wave of her free hand. Not enough for the pursuing trucks to fall back, but at least sufficient to keep them where they were. You can do it."Īs if spurred on to greater effort by the encouragement, the waterjet whined thinly and increased its output by another few revs. "C'mon, sweet thing," Bobby crooned, fighting down a renewed desire to kick the engine, and deciding against even swearing at it. The entire vehicle had faltered as though the water surrounding it had suddenly gone thick, and though the shudder of deceleration had lasted only for an instant before the impeller spooled up again, that instant was long enough for the lights in the rearview screen to come surging closer. He didn't need to look at the thrust readout to know that the little truck was losing its way. And he never wanted to hear it again, because it sounded like a garbage disposal digesting broken glass. That was when the pickup's hydrojet unit coughed, then began to make a grinding noise Bobby had never heard before.
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