3rd Person POV
The Atlantic was no longer a body of water; it was a battlefield of kinetic energy and ionized air. Ten miles out from St. Jude's Key, the USS Arleigh Burke-class destroyer, renamed the Retribution by the Board's private maritime commission, cut through the swells like a cauterizing iron.
On the bridge, Admiral Vance, a man whose career had been a steady climb of sanitized reports and quiet handshakes, stared at the holographic tactical suite. His face was the colour of weathered parchment. Every screen on his command deck was flickering with the same nightmare: a live stream of his own bridge, broadcast to every mobile device and news terminal on the planet.
"Sir, the 'Global Mirror' is bypass-resistant," the comms officer shouted over the shrill whine of the electronic interference. "We've tried a hard reset of the satellite array, but the Blackwood Pulse is slaved to our primary reactor. If we cut the feed, we lose propulsion."
