Weapon System in Zombie Apocalypse

November 18, 2025 — 8:04 AM

MOA Complex – Command Deck, Briefing Room B

The hum of the base's morning operations carried faintly through the walls. Outside, the hangar crew had already begun their rotation, shuffling supply pallets, refueling ground vehicles, and prepping drone batteries. Inside Briefing Room B—one of the smaller but secure rooms adjacent to the command floor—Thomas Estaris stood at the head of the table with a thick tablet in his left hand and a thermos of black coffee in his right.

He glanced toward the door just as Marcus, his Deputy Chief of Staff, stepped in. Two other key personnel followed: Chief Warrant Officer Lina Ortega, the Logistics Quartermaster, and Lieutenant Enzo Ramirez, their primary airfield controller.

"Morning," Marcus said, setting down his own pad. "What's this about? Madel said you pulled a second hangar offline."

Thomas set the thermos down and tapped the screen. The wall display blinked on, revealing a profile image of the C-17 Globemaster III. Fully modeled, complete with weight distribution readouts, cargo bay specs, and maintenance tolerances.

Ortega blinked. "Wait... that's not from our inventory."

"It is now," Thomas replied.

Marcus furrowed his brow. "You bought a Globemaster?"

Thomas nodded. "Last night. It's real. Parked inside Hangar 4 right now."

"Since when do we have Globemasters available in inventory?" Ramirez asked, leaning forward.

"You're asking the wrong question," Thomas said, tapping the screen to bring up a logistics chart. "The question is how we're going to load it."

The room quieted. Then Marcus slowly leaned forward on his elbows.

"You planning on flying that to Japan?"

"That's right. The Stratotanker won't cut it for Phase II. We've got six drone relays, modular comms towers, medical gear, weather antennae, and base starter packs. We need heavy lift. This gets it all there in one run."

Ortega whistled softly. "What's the payload limit?"

"Seventy-seven thousand kilograms. That's almost four times what Valkyrie One can manage."

Ramirez was still blinking at the display. "And where did you…?"

Thomas cut him off. "Doesn't matter. What matters now is that we've got five weeks to get that plane ready to fly—with a full loadout—and keep it quiet until we're ready to move."

Marcus exhaled. "Alright. Walk us through it."

Thomas tapped again. A new screen displayed a manifest breakdown.

C-17 Phase II Deployment Loadout Proposal

6x Solar Drone Relay Towers (9,000 kg)

3x Portable Communications Rigs (5,000 kg)

1x Mobile Relay Command Shelter (3,500 kg)

4x Power Conversion Units (2,000 kg)

12x Weather-Resistant Drone Packs (4,200 kg)

8x Reinforced Crate Pallets (general supplies – 8,000 kg)

20x Portable Rations Crates (6,000 kg)

4x Fuel Bladder Pods (Jet A-1 – 12,000 kg)

Reserve space: Personnel seating + Survival equipment

"Total target weight: 49,700 kilos," Thomas said. "Gives us a margin for additional gear, maybe some reserve weapons and emergency supplies."

Marcus studied it. "That's a lot of fuel. You planning on giving them reserves?"

"Not just for them. For the flight home too. We can't rely on refueling options once we land."

Ortega raised a hand. "Do we have the loading gear?"

"Negative," Thomas said. "We'll use the tail ramp. But we'll need to retrofit two of the cargo sleds and reinforce the hangar floor plating. Which is why I'm calling this meeting now."

Ramirez tapped on his own pad. "We'll need a skeleton crew to start loading under cover. Nothing gets logged digitally. I can lock out the cameras in Hangar 4."

"Do it," Thomas said. "And I want your most trusted loaders. No whispers, no leaks."

Marcus leaned back in his chair. "So you're not publicizing this?"

"Not yet."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want to explain where it came from."

That hung in the air for a moment. But everyone in the room understood. Thomas didn't elaborate further.

Ortega sat forward. "I'll need at least three days to start prepping the load. I'll reassign staff from the southern depot."

"Do it," Thomas said. "And start calibrating the weight distribution. This bird isn't just going to take off, it's going to land in a forested mountain region."

Marcus asked, "And who's flying it?"

Thomas didn't hesitate. "Me. Madel. And Sergeant Li as loadmaster. All three of us are already qualified. We'll do a test taxi run by the end of next week."

Ramirez nodded. "We'll prep runway 1. I'll make sure the northern guards aren't on shift when we roll it out."

Thomas turned toward the entire group. "We don't talk about this plane outside this room. Not until it's loaded, fueled, and ready for takeoff. When the time comes, we move at night. Silent. Fast."

The team nodded.

Then Marcus gave a small smirk. "I gotta ask though... how the hell did you get a Globemaster?"

Thomas gave a flat look. "Same way I got the AC-130."

Ortega chuckled. "You found it in a cave, right?"

Thomas didn't answer. But the silence said enough.

9:16 AM – MOA Complex, Hangar 4 (Exterior)

After the briefing, Marcus walked beside Thomas as they crossed the tarmac toward Hangar 4. The sun was higher now, casting a glare across the concrete and glinting off the windshields of parked JLTVs.

"No one's seen it yet?" Marcus asked.

"No," Thomas replied. "The hangar's sealed. Night patrols are under strict orders not to open the doors."

Marcus frowned. "What happens when someone eventually does ask where it came from?"

Thomas slowed. "They'll ask. Eventually."

"And?"

Thomas stopped and looked at him.

"By then, it won't matter."

He keyed open the side entrance to Hangar 4. Inside, the C-17 sat in the shadows, its presence looming like a sleeping giant.

Marcus whistled. "Well… I'll be damned."

Thomas walked toward the nose, placing a hand gently on the metal.

"This is how we move the future," he said. "Quietly. Deliberately. With force, when needed."

He turned to Marcus. "Get the loaders started tomorrow night. First crate rolls in at 2300."

Marcus nodded.

They both stared at the aircraft for a while longer, then stepped back into the light.

There were five weeks left.

And now they had the wings.