Weapon System in Zombie Apocalypse-Chapter 230: They’re Here

January 8, 2026 — 02:39 AMManila Port – Pier Four

The echo of the summoning still lingered in the air. Steam hissed softly from beneath the hull as the newly materialized destroyer adjusted to the seawater, settling into position like it had always belonged there.

Thomas remained near the edge of the platform, staring at the Bulwark with silent calculation. His hand hadn't left the railing. His jaw was set, his eyes still tracking the blinking lights climbing the mast tower.

Beside him, Marcus stood a few paces back, still trying to process what he was seeing.

Finally, Marcus spoke. "You know, this one's going to be harder to explain to people."

Thomas glanced sideways. "Because it's not a drone or a suit?"

Marcus gestured at the ship. "Because it's a goddamn destroyer. A full-sized American guided missile destroyer. This isn't a quiet Reaper launch from a secured hangar. This is 9,000 tons of steel, radar, and VLS cells docked in our harbor. Survivors are going to ask questions."

Thomas exhaled through his nose. "Then we give them answers."

Marcus waited.

Thomas didn't look away from the ship. "We tell them she came from the U.S. Pacific Fleet. Abandoned after the collapse. Crewless. Systems intact. Overwatch found it drifting near Guam during our long-range drone expeditions. We salvaged what we could, repaired what we had to, and now she flies under our flag."

Marcus stared at him, unreadable. "That's a stretch."

"It's not a lie," Thomas replied evenly. "It's a narrative."

"People will ask how we manned her. Where the sailors came from."

Thomas finally turned to face him. "We've been recruiting. Training. Quietly. Most civilians won't recognize a sonar specialist from a diesel mechanic. And the ones that do are smart enough not to poke too deep."

"And the Type 212A sub?"

"That one we say came from Germany. Same story. Their navy collapsed during the outbreak. International cooperation. Leftover assets. Overwatch moved in."

Marcus ran a hand through his hair, nodding slowly. "Right. Strategic cleanup force."

Thomas smirked faintly. "Exactly. And if anyone asks why Germany or America hasn't followed up?"

"They'll assume those countries are gone."

"Which isn't far from the truth." ƒгeeweɓn૦vel.com

They both looked at the Bulwark again. Crewmembers had started to disembark via the side ladder. Officers in dark Overwatch naval uniforms moved with purpose, checking moorings and running cable to the terminal cranes.

"I want weapons tests," Thomas said suddenly.

Marcus blinked. "What?"

"Tomorrow morning. I want every system verified. CIWS, radar tracking, fire-control drills, dummy Tomahawk launch. The whole package. If this ship is going to defend our shores, we need to know she works. Not just on paper."

Marcus nodded. "You want to test that here?"

Thomas shook his head. "No. We're not firing a five-inch gun in the middle of Manila Bay. Move her out to deep water. Forty nautical miles west of Bataan. Schedule it for sunrise. Minimal traffic. No civilian exposure."

"I'll make the calls."

"Bring in the second Arleigh Burke too. I want Sentinel summoned and prepped by dawn."

"Another midnight miracle?"

Thomas glanced at the water. "We're not hiding it anymore, Marcus. We are the navy now."

January 8, 2026 — 04:12 AMManila Port – Naval Operations Tower

Inside the newly converted naval control center on the upper floors of the west pier, Thomas sat at a reinforced operations desk, screens arrayed in front of him. The console displayed real-time feeds from the Bulwark's bridge: navigation data, readiness reports, propulsion test results.

Chief Engineer Rosario's voice came through the comms, crackling but clear.

"Main turbine spooled to 90 percent. Aegis console green across the board. No sensor faults."

Thomas toggled his mic. "Understood. Begin prep for open-water transit. We'll rendezvous with Strike Group Bravo west of Bataan. Weapons testing commences at 0600 hours. All systems must be cold-tested by then."

Rosario acknowledged, then cut the line.

Marcus entered the room, wiping his hands on a cloth. "Support Barge's on final approach. We'll tie her down at Dock Two by midday."

Thomas nodded, eyes still on the screens. "That gives us repair access and maintenance float. Good."

He paused, then leaned back slightly. "How are the naval crews adjusting?"

"Fast," Marcus replied. "They're not like infantry. Everything's by the numbers with them. They train hard and follow orders without flinching. We assigned AI-assist modules to the fire-control and sonar teams. It's working."

"Good. That means the CIWS can actually shoot back if we're boarded at sea."

Marcus folded his arms. "You think we'll get hit like that?"

Thomas stared at a blinking sonar overlay. "I think the ocean's going to throw things at us that we haven't seen on land. I want our ships to shoot faster than I can blink."

January 8, 2026 — 06:41 AMWest Philippine Sea – 42 Nautical Miles from Bataan

The sky above was pale orange now, sunlight bleeding across the water like spilled gold.

The OWS Bulwark cut through the waves with calm authority. Her radar array rotated smoothly atop the tower. Deck crew ran cables and safety tethers. The gun crews stood by at the five-inch turret, helmets on, visors down.

In the combat information center, green light bathed the room. Sonar pings echoed faintly through the walls.

Thomas stood near the bridge console, flanked by two naval officers.

"CIWS power cycle?" he asked.

"Confirmed, sir. Both systems synced. Optical tracking engaged."

"Good. Drone targets?"

The comms officer gestured to the monitor. "Four fast movers inbound. Overwatch drones set to 250 knots. Training profile delta-four."

Thomas tapped the intercom.

"Begin CIWS trial run. Dummy rounds only. Confirm sensor lock and suppression accuracy."

From the port side of the Bulwark, the Phalanx CIWS whirred to life. Its multi-barrelled turret turned and locked onto the first drone just as it came into visual range.

The drone banked sharply, dipping low across the water.

The CIWS opened fire.

A roar of metal and sound burst across the ocean as the 20mm shells shredded the dummy drone. Pieces scattered into the surf.

The second turret on the starboard side picked off the next drone.

Two for two.

Thomas raised an eyebrow. "Efficient."

"Training profile confirmed. CIWS coverage optimal within forty-degree arc."

"Good. Next, load virtual Tomahawk. I want to walk the fire-control software through an over-the-horizon strike."

"Target coordinates?"

Thomas keyed in a test point: a non-occupied atoll 120 nautical miles west.

"Simulate coastal interdiction. Launch profile bravo-six."

The system chirped as the ship's VLS rotated in virtual alignment.

"Target locked. Firing simulation now."

From the VLS bank, a sealed cell opened with a hiss—but no projectile emerged. Instead, on the console, a simulated flight path lit up in real-time. A virtual Tomahawk cut across the horizon, tracked via satellite overlay.

"Hit registered."

Thomas stared at the feed and nodded once.

"Good. That'll be enough for today."

The bridge crew exhaled. Marcus leaned closer.

"Well?"

Thomas stepped back, watching the morning sun reflect off the waves.

"Now we know she works."

January 8, 2026 — 09:07 AMMOA Complex – War Room

Back inside the command center, Thomas sat with his back straight, coffee in hand, and a new strategy document forming on his console.

The Navy was no longer hypothetical.

The Bloom wouldn't expect a response from sea.

Now they would learn.

And Overwatch was done reacting.

It was time to shape the waters ahead.