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battleship's wake, and Jacob could see her starting to list to port from the two torpedo hits. Smoke poured from her superstructure as her guns gradually fell silent, the Japanese strike fleeing east.

That Jap bastard didn't even flinch.

Looking down, Jacob saw his hands were shaking once more. Clasping them, he turned to look over the rest of the formation. The Indiana was also burning, but did not appear to have taken any severe damage. Repulse, on the other hand, was burning profusely forward and noticeably down by the stern.

We did not come out of this well. Looks like Vice Admiral Fletcher's bait plan worked all too well.

"Sir, the XO is asking for us to come about and cut speed!"

The replacement talker's words yanked Jacob out of his bitter thoughts.

"Slow her to one third ahead," Jacob ordered. "Then signal the Hudson or any other available DD to please help us by maintaining an anti-submarine watch."

"Aye aye, sir," the talker replied.

We're no longer venting steam. She's still handling okay, so I'm going to assume that we still have steerage.

"Commander Farmer, I think it's time we returned to the bridge," Jacob said, stepping aside as a casualty detail began taking the dead off the top of the pilot house.

"Yes, sir, that's probably a good plan," Farmer replied, his voice pained. Jacob looked closer and saw the man's left arm was quite obviously broken.

"You need to see the surgeon," Jacob stated.

"I'll be all right sir," Farmer replied. "I think you've got far worse casualties to worry about."

"Wasn't a request, Commander," Jacob stated firmly. "Get to the sick bay. I don't want to see you back without a sling."

Farmer briefly looked as if he wanted to argue, then gave a curt nod.

"Thank you, Commander," Jacob stated. "For your actions during the fight as well."

This time the nod was one of respect.

"You fought a fine ship, sir," Farmer replied, then headed for the ladder. Jacob watched as the man very gingerly made his way down into the superstructure. A few moments later he followed and stepped onto Houston's bridge, only to nearly slip in a pool of blood.

"Sorry sir," Lieutenant Ness said apologetically, then looked around for some means to clean up the mess.

"We've got it, sir," a petty officer called out, stepping onto the bridge with a bucket. Jacob watched as the man began covering the spot with it. As the adrenaline wore off, Jacob became more aware of his own injuries.

My head is fucking killing me. I will never have to be talked into a steel helmet again.

"Have the department heads provide me with a casualty report," Jacob ordered. "I need to speak with Lieutenant Haven."

"Sir, Lieutenant Haven is dead," Ensign O'Rourke, the Houston's assistant damage control officer, reported from the port bridge hatch. The man's chest was heaving from exertion. "The XO respectfully requests that we come to a halt so that we can shore up bulkheads, otherwise we may lose the forward engine room due to progressive flooding from the hit forward."

I don't have to like it, but I'm going to have to do it.

"Hoist the Mike flag," Jacob ordered, referring to the signal that would inform surrounding ships the Houston was adrift but not disabled. "Helm, full stop."

As the crew began carrying out his orders, Jacob reached for his binoculars.

"Goddammit," he said, feeling a sharp pain that caused him to release them. Looking down, Jacob saw that the left binocular tube had been gouged open by either a fragment or a passing shell. The tube was empty of everything but a few stubborn shards.

"Sir, you're bleeding," Lieutenant Ness the man said, as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. Jacob gave his thanks and took it, pulling the binoculars over his head and depositing them atop the rubbish bin in the bridge corner. By the time he turned around, Ness was handing over his own binoculars.

"No, you need those," Jacob stated, then turned to the still waiting Ensign O'Rourke. The officer's face looked a little less ruddy as he was regaining his breath.

"Okay, how bad are we hit?" Jacob asked, listening to the sound of crackling flames and shouts for hoses.

"Sir, I don't know the full extent," O'Rourke said. "But there's no passage down the deck due to the blaze, the bulkhead between fireroom number and engine room number one is seeping fuel oil and water."

"What happened to Lieutenant Haven?" Jacob asked.

"He was with the damage control party in the compartment the bomb exploded in," O'Rourke said. "We still have sound powered telephone communication with Battle Two and the black gang are receiving the bridge's telegraph inputs."

Jacob winced.

I don't even want to know what the casualty report already looks like. But so far it seems like we can still talk and still fight if we have to.

"Go aft to Battle Two and tell Commander Sloan his priority is that fire," Jacob said. "We don't need to be a signpost in case there's another wave of Japanese."

"Aye aye, sir," O'Rourke responded, turning and quickly making his way down to the main deck.

Jacob turned to Lieutenant Ness. "OOD, you have the conn, I'm going to radio to figure out what in the hell is going on with the rest of the task force."

"Yes sir," Ness replied. The deck below their feet vibrated, and Jacob looked out to see the main battery first elevating, then the turrets rotating.

Yes, indeed, we can fight her if it comes to that.

Once more, he looked to the Massachusetts, now stopped with her list visibly increasing.

Which might be better than that big lady is doing.

I.J.N.S. Akagi

1245 Local (0315 Eastern)

"Sir, the strike will be returning in twenty minutes," Rear Admiral Kaku said.

Vice Admiral Yamaguchi turned from watching the destroyer Akigumo transfer pilots via breeches buoy across to the Kido Butai's flagship.

Lucky men, every one of them. Even luckier that Fletcher nor a submarine interrupted us mid-transfer.

The breeches buoy required both ships to steam in a straight line, in parallel, while the occupants were passed between the

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