The air inside the command center was unusually still.
No alarms. No urgent calls. Just quiet movements—boots over tile, fingers on keys, tired eyes scanning monitors for patterns that no longer mattered. Thomas Estaris stood at the center of the operations floor, arms behind his back, watching as Keplar finalized the targeting grid. The Bloom perimeter in southern Luzon was lit up in red.
"We're ready," Keplar said. "All targeting data confirmed. Fire mission can be authorized on your mark."
Thomas gave a curt nod. "Execute."
Far across the archipelago, five precision cruise missiles launched from naval silos stationed in Subic. Four more followed from aerial platforms—stealth-capable drones that had been silent until now. No fanfare. No speeches. Just the quiet hum of death.
They weren't nuclear.
But they didn't need to be.
