Weapon System in Zombie Apocalypse-Chapter 234: Return to Port

January 9, 2026 — 04:22 PM

The sky was turning a dull amber by the time the Overwatch naval strike group began to reassemble. The OWS Bulwark now cruised at a slower, more measured pace. Her hull, once gleaming with fresh paint and ceremony, now bore scorch marks, shrapnel dents, and streaks of black ichor that had not yet been scrubbed away. She was bloodied—but proud.

Behind her, the Sentinel maintained a staggered escort position. The Hephaestus followed at the rear, slower but steady. Drones circled overhead like silent guardians, scanning for any anomalies, though for now, the ocean remained still.

Inside the CIC of the Bulwark, Thomas Estaris leaned over the central operations table. The soft light of the displays glowed across his tired face. Every screen showed green, and every crewmember around him moved with professional discipline—but the adrenaline was gone. The high of battle had passed, replaced by exhaustion, relief, and the silence of survivors.

"We'll make port before midnight," Marcus said, stepping into the room and handing Thomas a sealed water bottle. "Weather's holding. Manila Bay is clear."

Thomas nodded slowly, then took the bottle without a word. He didn't drink. Just held it loosely.

"How's the crew?" he asked after a pause.

Marcus gave a short sigh. "Tired. But no casualties. Damage control is underway. Gun crews are already doing maintenance checks. Deck's a mess, but functional."

"And Ghost?"

"Surfaced twenty minutes ago. They'll maintain a stealth path home, hugging deeper current lines. We've scheduled radio syncs every ninety minutes until they're under port radar."

Thomas finally took a sip. The water was warm, but it helped.

"Debrief will have to wait until tomorrow," he said, eyes still on the screen. "I want them to rest. We'll run diagnostics and log fire sequences after we dock."

"You got it."

The CIC dimmed slightly as the overhead lights shifted to early-evening cycle. Thomas looked up at the curved glass port above them—faint outlines of clouds smeared the sky like bruises.

"Marcus," he said.

"Yeah?"

"That hive wasn't just a spawning point. It was waiting."

Marcus frowned. "You think it knew we'd come?"

"I think it knew someone would. And the Bloom didn't just throw creatures at us this time. It tried to wear us down. Distract us. Scatter our formation. The hive didn't move until we provoked it."

Marcus folded his arms. "Like a trap."

Thomas nodded. "And we just told it that our guns reach this far."

A long silence passed between them.

Then Thomas straightened and tapped his wrist console. "Send word to the MOA Complex. Flag us green for return. And request an aerial sweep of Scarborough Shoal and the Mindoro Strait. If they're hiding another nest, that's where it'll be."

"Already on it," Marcus said, turning toward the comms station.

07:48 PM — Manila Bay Airspace

The glow of the capital came into view just as the final edge of daylight slipped below the western horizon. From the skies above, the city looked strangely peaceful—rows of solar streetlights pulsing in coordinated rhythm, Overwatch's defensive towers blinking steadily in organized patterns. The city had become a fortress. Not indestructible. But no longer helpless.

Two escort drones from MOA Air Command swept in to join the returning fleet, confirming identity and providing early recon clearance. In the distance, the gray sprawl of the MOA Complex extended into the bay like a spearhead, its towers lit with faint amber and white lighting.

The Bulwark and Sentinel reduced speed. The Hephaestus slowed further, giving the destroyers time to dock first.

Inside the bridge, Thomas stood once again. This time, helmet off, gloves tucked into his belt.

The fatigue was deeper now. Not just in his body—but in his thoughts. Victory came at a cost, even if not in blood.

"You want a full reception?" Marcus asked.

Thomas shook his head. "No ceremony. No announcements. Let the dock crews handle it. Just get us inside."

"You got it."

08:17 PM — MOA Naval Dockyard, Pier Seven

As the Bulwark entered the fortified bay, dock crews lined the piers in silence. Some saluted. Others stood with tools in hand, waiting for the cables to drop. Hydraulic cranes hummed quietly in the background, ready to begin inspection and repair.

The destroyer settled into position with the elegance of a seasoned vessel, guided by automated berths and tethers.

The main gangway extended.

Thomas was the first down.

Boots hit the metal platform with a thud. He didn't speak. Just nodded once at the dock chief and walked past him toward the secured entrance to the command complex.

Marcus followed a few paces behind.

"Any word from the civilians?" Thomas asked without turning.

"None yet. We kept the operation quiet. Only internal personnel were updated. Still debating whether to disclose the hive."

Thomas stopped at the base of the stairwell and looked at Marcus.

"We don't tell them what it was," he said. "Not yet. Just that a major threat was neutralized. Say it was a defensive engagement. They're not ready for what we found."

"You think it'll scare them?"

"No. I think they'll want to see more blood. And we're not ready to give it yet."

Marcus gave a slight nod.

Thomas exhaled and continued climbing the steps.

08:42 PM — Conrad Command Floor, Debriefing Hall

Inside the converted luxury hotel turned operations hub, Thomas entered the debriefing room with a quiet nod. Several officers were already waiting—air crews, recon analysts, logistics heads. The holographic table at the center of the room flickered to life as soon as he entered, cycling through mission footage, sonar data, and satellite overlays.

He didn't sit.

"Steel Warden is complete," he said without preamble. "You've all seen the numbers. Zero casualties. Major Hive terminated. Dozens of Bloomspawn eliminated."

He walked slowly around the table, letting the silence build.

"But this wasn't just a success," he continued. "It was a warning."

The officers listened closely.

"The Bloom's adapting faster than we anticipated. They're using the ocean now. Deep routes. Biological camouflage. Layered attacks."

He pointed at the 3D model of the hive structure.

"That thing wasn't just growing more of them—it was controlling them. Coordinating strikes. Faking behavior to split our lines. If we hadn't isolated it, it could've spawned dozens more within weeks."

He let that sit before finishing.

"This wasn't a battle. It was a test. And we passed. But next time, they'll be ready too."

No one spoke.

Then Thomas nodded once and tapped the console.

"Rest tonight. Tomorrow, we plan Phase Three."

10:09 PM — Conrad Tower, Thomas's Quarters

The lights were low. The room was spartan. Just a cot, a desk, a private console, and a sealed locker.

Thomas sat on the edge of the bed... And then lay flat on the bed. He was exhausted and would check the gain tomorrow.