Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Star Wars, or Stargate movies, TV shows, games, books, or comics. This story features elements inspired by Warhammer 40K. They all belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not for sale or rent.
Chapter 19: Repercussions of not being polite
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Part 1
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26 December 1996
Stargate Command, Colorado
The United States
Earth
Milky Way Galaxy
It has been hours after George sent Mayborne to seek aid from Perun. At that time, every attempt to contact the expedition failed – the Stargate simply refused to engage. First, this led to diagnostics of all systems needed to dial-up and power the alien artifact. After rebooting and checking everything, they dialed Prolet successfully, only to be met with silence. In the end, Hammond dispatched a second emissary, who returned a few minutes later. The only thing Perun's people told him was they had sent Mayborne with a guide to Perun's Throne World. As far as the Jaffa were concerned, now Earth had to wait until Perun deigned to send an answer.
That by itself would have been reasonable and less of an issue if they could speak with the expedition and confirm everything was fine. George glanced at the nuclear device on the table nearby. His explicit orders were to send it through, ready to blow if the expedition was compromised. With every failed attempt to dial them, the odds were increasing that something disastrous occurred.
When the Stargate came alive, Sergeant Harriman was about to try dialing up again. Chevrons lit up and locked in quick succession.
"Defensive positions!" The Captain in charge of security ordered before ducking into the turret of his tank and buttoning up.
The soldiers at the defensive emplacements took cover and aimed at the Stargate just as it came online, and liquid-like energy burst forth before being sucked back into the ring, forming a stable wormhole.
"Stargate Command, do you copy? This is Captain Samantha Carter, acting CO of the expedition. I say again, Stargate Command, do you copy…"
"This is Stargate Command. We hear you, Captain. Report!" Hammond grabbed the nearest microphone and ordered. His mind was racing, going from one worst-case scenario to another. The implications of Carter being in command… Despite her rank, she was part of the US science team. For her to be in charge…
"Stargate Command, the site is currently secure. Perun came through for us. Otherwise, we will be all dead or worse, sir," Carter reported in an exhausted voice. "We were attacked by what was later identified as Ra's forces, his personal guard. We suffered catastrophic casualties and were overran when Perun arrived and turned the battle around, General. We have critical casualties needing immediate medical attention we can not provide. Permission to bring them through, sir."
It was a good thing the Stargates were one way only as far as sending matter was concerned. Otherwise, like it or not, George might have sent the bomb through after hearing that report.
"Get more security in here," Hammond pointed at one of the specialists, "You call the base's infirmary and tell them to be ready to receive casualties," after that, George pressed the button on the microphone. "Send them through, one at a time, so we can confirm this is not a trick to gain a foothold, Captain. We have been trying to contact you for hours."
"Perun's people kept the Stagate dialed in until they were sure Ra's ships were secure and there were no additional surprises. I'm sending the first casualty through now, sir."
Delta Force teams entered the hangar, ready for combat. While two detachments went through with the expedition, almost the whole outfit was now stationed at the base to act as a quick reaction force if needed. Only a small group at Fort Bragg was holding the fort and ready for missions that wouldn't require more than their number. From what George gathered, the tasks that would typically go to the Delta Force were left for the Rangers and Marine Recon teams to handle. That wasn't supposed to be a permanent arrangement. Still, one meant to provide additional security for the expedition and where essential allied personnel were on site.
The commando's CO, Major Trent, came in as well.
"Major, I want every group of wounded leaving to have at least a squad of soldiers escorting them and those with them. Everyone is under quarantine until we are sure they haven't been compromised," Hammond ordered.
"I will see to it, General," Trent turned to his men and began barking orders.
The first casualty came through, carried on a stretcher by walking wounded. Even at the distance George was from the Stargate, his nose twitched at the stench of disinfectant and burned flesh.
"This way!" One commando waved at the group, pointing at the floor beside the Stargate. Medics were already unpacking their equipment and raced to check upon the wounded man.
Mere seconds later, one of them turned towards the command station.
"General, this one needs a hospital right now. If the other casualties are anywhere as bad as this…"
They could already hear sirens from the ambulances racing here from the infirmary.
"Captain Carter, what kind of casualties are we looking at?" Hammond demanded.
"Twenty critically injured. Most survivors are walking wounded, though they will need medical attention sooner rather than later. All surviving civilians are traumatized and might require careful handling, sir. General, Perun's people took a few of the most seriously wounded and dead for healing and revival. He implied that he would expect a payment for that, sir. We were in no position to refuse his kind request, sir. And the dead… they might have a second chance now. Colonel O'Neill was among the critically wounded Perun's people brought to Ra's ship for healing. Sir, many casualties were caught in front of the building by enemy air strikes. The security detail had to demolish the entrance to deny the enemy a second access point. At this time, I can't confirm if anyone outside is still alive. This includes Captain Grayson and the whole Alpha Detachment from the Delta Force. Bravo suffered total casualties attempting to hold the Stargate chamber."
Major Trent briefly froze and cursed quietly at that piece of bad news, then carried on organizing the handling and escort of the wounded.
With each new piece of information, Carter reported, the scope of the disaster expanded, and it was already bad enough.
"What about the enemy air assets you mentioned?"
"Perun confirmed he blew them out of the air while bringing Ra's ships to land on the pyramid, sir. There may be enemy assets stuck outside. Lord Perun sent for one of his people with a tunneling crystal. As soon as they're here and clear a path, his soldiers will secure the area and neutralize any remaining threats," Carter reported.
"Carter, I'll need you to come for a comprehensive debriefing ASAP. Who is your XO?"
"Lieutenant Leoben from the French contingent. She is still busy with the wounded. I can hand off command as soon as the casualties are through."
Unless George misremembered, the French doctor was among the most junior officers in the chain of command. If she was the only one left besides Carter, which had to be the case; otherwise, someone not busy keeping people alive would be the acting XO. He looked at the next group of wounded to come through. This time, two civilians brought in a stretcher with a bandaged figure missing an arm at the shoulder.
Hammond suspected he wasn't yet aware of exactly how catastrophic the casualties were. Each country sent five or six civilians with at least two special forces squads for escort. Then there were the two Delta Detachments and support staff like engineers.
"Captain Carter, report as soon as feasible. Stargate Command, out," George instructed and moved away from the microphone. Hammond went for a red phone - a hardline to the base's communication center. Now, he had to thoroughly ruin the holidays for countless people. The President was at the top of the list.
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Part 2
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26 December 1996
The White House, Washington DC
Earth
Milky Way Galaxy
Watching Independence Day with his grandchildren a few months ago came in to haunt President Cole. Now, he could have very vivid nightmares about alien ships turning American cities into burning wastelands.
Michael came awake with a gasp and wildly looked around the dark bedroom. His wife briefly stirred, then kept on snoring softly. He sighed and slowly felt for the glass of water waiting on the nightstand. Cole got it and brought it to his lips just as the door opened, showing the impassive form of a Secret Service agent.
"Sir, General Hammond needs to speak with you."
Relief and dread warred within Michael. This either meant their people were coming home, or he didn't want to consider the worst-case scenario. Cole got up, doing his best not to wake his wife, put on his slippers and headed out. He grabbed his night robe as he passed by the chair he left it on last night in case he had to get up because of an emergency.
The President didn't quite jog to the situation's room, but it was close. He picked up the waiting phone and braced himself for the news.
"General Hammond?"
"Mr. President, we made contact with the expedition…"
Cole perked up at that, feeling relief.
It was short-lived. Cole's horror grew with each debacle Hammond reported, and that was just a bare-bones summary before having a comprehensive picture. The General tersely pointed out that the situation was likely worse than he feared and was already an unmitigated disaster.
Cole decided he would have a prominent place in history – most likely as the first American President torn apart by a lynch mob.
He put the handle down and rubbed his forehead. This… fuck it, his whole administration was likely to go down in flames for this, and likely the governments of America's closest allies. At least he was a lame-duck President on his way out, so perhaps falling on his sword might give Richards a prayer of salvaging something.
"John, I need Reese, Danvers, all the Secretaries, and the Joint Chief of Staff here as fast as you can get them. Get one of my aides. They have people to summon. I need to meet them as soon as possible." Cole told the Secret Service agent in charge of the night shift.
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It was five in the morning by the time the situation's room filled up. Not all Secretaries could get here in time. Due to the holidays, those who weren't intimately involved with the Stargate could leave Washington. Others were less fortunate, no matter what they might have preferred.
The ambassadors gathered in a nearby room, drinking coffee and anti-acid pills. At the same time, Captain Davis was busy briefing them on the latest news about the disaster. Cole would meet with them as soon as they were all up to speed.
From the looks of it, everyone could use a few more hours of sleep and at least a gallon of coffee for good measure.
"I need options," Cole demanded.
"Can we persuade Perun not to reveal himself to the world at large?" The Secretary of State asked. Judging by his tone, he was aware of how unlikely that was.
"If we are lucky, he might cool off before heading here," Cole grimaced. "As of today, we are all out of luck."
"Public disclosure is it then," Danvers looked pale. "General? How advanced are the Pentagon's contingencies in that case?"
"We will need to call in the National Guard to help keep order and bring our active units to full readiness in case they are needed. However, there are obvious issues with deploying them unless it is for disaster relief. Our bases overseas will have to go on lockdown. I'll be issuing an order to get all personnel and their dependants on base when we finish here."
"In our case, the President-elect should be able to pick up the pieces. This kind of disaster brings down governments, and under these circumstances, I am not sure who will be elected in their stead. We are not ready for public disclosure, Mr. President and the same is true for our allies," The Secretary of State told them bluntly.
"We are out of options in that regard. We will, of course, politely beg Perun not to land on one of the pyramids or in front of the UN building in New York," Cole snorted. "He will be doing what he wants anyway, and it's not like we can stop him."
More than a few people blanched, picturing what Michael described.
"Mr. President, the other nuclear powers," Danvers reminded them. "I don't believe it would be a good idea to let them learn the truth when Perun arrives," The National Security adviser looked ill at that thought.
"I don't imagine that will go down well. I will speak with the ambassadors of our allies and certainly with their heads of state today. Bob, you will need to bring in the relevant ambassadors so we can explain to them what mess we are all in and why it would be suicidal if their nuclear forces even twitch when Perun arrives."
"I will see to it, Mr. President," the Secretary of State nodded morosely.
"When should we go for a public disclosure? I will need as much time and a head up," the Secretary of the Interior noted.
"If we are lucky? We might have a few weeks. I want to get it out right before Richards swears in, if possible. That way, we might offer him a clean slate so he could pick up the pieces. As for the avenue? The United Nations. Under the circumstances, I don't think we have the time to even think of an alternative," Cole grouched. It wasn't unexpected that he wasn't getting constructive ideas. He at least had a bit longer to get to grips with the catastrophe.
At least his people could ask the right questions about what his tired mind was certainly overlooking.
"Unless any of you have a better idea?"
"Pray?" Reese suggested.
"The only 'god' who might be listening is about to appear in person, and that is the problem," Cole grumbled. One of the problems, anyway.
The President stood up and exited the room, leaving his people to brainstorm for all the good it would do. He had ambassadors to speak with.
The French ambassador was the last to arrive, entering just before Cole. The man looked disheveled and less than happy. His mood was going to get much worse very soon.
"Gentlemen, I won't mince words, we are fucked," Cole declared."
"That is a positively British understatement, Mr. President," the UK's ambassador drawled.
"We are about to bring news home that might very well destroy our governments," the German ambassador confirmed that Bob wasn't off the mark in that regard.
"You are aware of the implications then?" Cole asked.
"I am not, but I already don't like them," the only French in the room grumbled. "How much of a disaster are we looking at?"
Major Davis gave him the cliff notes, which had the man cursing like a sailor.
Cole was happy he didn't speak a lick of French.
"I need to meet with your heads of state before we go for public disclosure. If at all possible, we all need to offer a united front… We have to talk with representatives of all nuclear powers. Their heads of state if at all possible," Cole said. "We need to get our houses in order before Perun arrives and offer him as few opportunities to play us against each other as possible."
"Even if all our governments agree, that might be impossible, Mr. President," The Japanese ambassador pointed out.
"I know. However, we don't have many options, and none are good."
"What about Perun resurrecting people?" the German ambassador asked. "Do we have a list of who he might have?"
"General Hammond will send it as soon as he has it," Cole noted. That was another political nightmare that could have unpredictable consequences if or when it became public.
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Part 3
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Ra's yacht
Abydos
Ra's Domain
Milky Way Galaxy
Jack awoke in a dark, confined space. The last thing he clearly remembered… He jumped or tried to, and slammed his head into something hard, making him see stars in the darkness.
"For crying out loud!" O'Neill snapped.
Whatever was above him shifted, and blinding light flooded everything. Jack cursed again and waved a hand at the light, wishing it would disappear. He couldn't hear screams, shouts, and gunfire, so the battle had to be over. There was just one small problem with that. The last thing he remembered was that they were losing badly.
"Jack, you alive there?" Kowalski asked.
"Charley, you all right?" Jack groaned and tried to get up again. A hand grabbed his shoulder and helped him get up. "I can't see properly," O'Neill complained.
"It will pass soon. The same happened to me too buddy," Kowalski grabbed him under the shoulder and helped him get up. "Let us move aside. Other people can use that thing."
"What thing?" Jack asked, trying to blink away all the white spots dancing in front of his eyes. It was working, mostly on his right side. His left eye felt crusty and gross.
"A sarcophagus, Jack," That laconic answer brought O'Neill's mind to a screeching halt.
"Come again?" He didn't hear that right. He couldn't have, right?
"I was apparently a little bit dead, and you were in a horrible state, Jack. If it wasn't for your buddy Perun, you would be all kinds of fucked up now," Kowalski paused.
Jack could hear others moving and armored feet walking on something metallic. "What's happening?"
"As I told you, there are other casualties who are only mostly dead. Perun is bringing them back," Kowalski explained.
"Out of the goodness of his heart?" Jack asked, barely stopping himself from quipping about a snake. His mind might not be working at a hundred percent yet, but he wasn't about to badmouth their boss in front of a bunch of Jaffa. At least not when he couldn't see for shit and didn't know where he was.
"He apparently wants payment."
"Ah, he's a capitalist at heart! That is why he is our good friend," Jack nodded sagely. "What the hell happened, Charley?"
"We fucked up beyond recognition. We're in Ra's ship right now, Jack. Yes, that Ra. Perun had to kill his boss to save our asses."
That gave Jack a pause.
"His boss? The big honcho who's running the galaxy?"
"That's the one."
"What was he doing in this desert killing us?" Jack demanded. "Doesn't he have a palace with blackjack and hookers?"
"I don't know. We might be right beside Space Vegas."
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Are the conspiracy theorists right? Early yesterday, the ambassadors for all countries that attended the Vancouver Summit gathered in the White House. Mere hours later, the ambassadors of Russia, India, Pakistan, China, and Israel arrived and spent hours meeting with the President and US government officials.
The White House Press Secretary refused to comment on the reason for the meeting.
Washington Post
Shortly after meeting President Cole, the ambassadors of Israel, Russia, China, India, and Pakistan took flights for their countries. Our government still refuses to comment on the reason for what had to be emergency meetings, leading to rampant speculations!
USA Today
The New Order is gearing up to openly take over! UN forces will soon flood the streets! We warn all God-fearing Americans to prepare! This is it! The storm is here, and we must survive it!
The New American magazine
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27 December 1996
The Kremlin, Moscow
Russian Federation
Milky Way Galaxy
The President's protection detail dragged him towards a waiting ambulance outside. One of the larger boys was astride the dying man, doing his best to get his heart pumping.
General Pavel Korolev looked around, evaluating the reactions of the Ministers and other officers. Most were pale and sweating as if they were cooking in a sauna. Others appeared to be made of sterner stuff, though concern and shock were written all over their faces. General Petrov, in particular, was sweating bullets. He was the Commander of OMON – the internal security forces.
"I've seen such things before…" Petrov mumbled and looked around like a mouse in the presence of a particularly vicious cat licking its chops.
Those words brought Korolev's observation to a screeching halt. He wasn't the only one who heard it, and within seconds, everyone was staring at the nervous man.
"What do you mean you've seen it before?" Korolev demanded.
"Gerasimov! It was at Gerasimov's last party! He has a big collection of Egyptian stuff! I saw such things there!" Petrov dug into the stack of paper and photos before him and showed a picture so everyone could see it.
That was the kind of armor a few cultists used when threatening nuclear terrorism in America. That particular mess had a singular benefit to the Russian Federation. Suddenly, there was just enough cash to properly secure and inspect all nuclear weapon sites and storage facilities. The odds of someone selling one because they couldn't feed themselves and their families on their salaries were now nonexistent. Regular greed was still a factor, though the situation wasn't as bad as a few months ago.
"There are similar armor suits on display in glass cases. They were on mannequins and held a very recognizable staff. Gerasimov has a whole building floor showing off all kinds of Egyptian things he's acquired!"
"Is he just a collector or…." The Minister of Defense trailed off.
"Does it matter?" The FSB Director asked. "We can't let one of our oligarchs play with alien technology. The moment they know what they have…" He grimaced. "Gerasimov has a small army of security and one of the better PMCs in the country on top of that. They're all combat veterans, many from various Spetsnaz branches."
Gerasimov would either sell or use whatever he had, and the Russian government could not buy it. Their finances were just shy of disastrous, even with quiet help from their former enemies in the West.
Korolev frowned. If Gerasimov had a snake in his head, all bets were off. His being a collector grabbing everything of Egyptian origin that the Russian government once had could explain his collection and interest. An alien possessing Gerasimov was another explanation. If the American's benefactor arrived openly in a warship, then everything was on the table if they had an alien infiltrator on their hands.
"We have to detain Gerasimov and put him under x-ray," Korolev decided. Doing so could be easier said than done. Gerasimov himself was an issue. What their other oligarchs, who all had contacts in the government and people on their payroll, might do was another big problem. "I know he is an acquaintance of yours, General Petrov. However, we either make sure your friend is in his right mind, or we must deal with the alien using him as a puppet."
"What about the President?" The Finance Minister asked. "We need his authorization for something like this!"
"You all saw him. It will be a miracle if he lives, much less can return to work," Korolev pointed at the floor where various medical supplies still stood.
"Do you have reliable enough units to go for it?" asked the Commander of the Ground Forces, General Sidorov.
Sadly, that was an excellent question.
"I do," Korolev answered blandly. Majors Chekov and Zukhov were loyal, and their soldiers were dedicated to them.
Korolev was in charge of virtually all Spetsnaz groups the Russian Federation had left, and by extension, the Airborne units were currently under his command. That was only possible because the President didn't trust the various commands those units were attached to, well, their commanders. Hence, a consolidation under someone he believed was on his side followed.
For Korlev, that was an unexpected boon. He did play the role of the loyal hound and follower, even if he wasn't a fan of the President. Unfortunately for him, the alternatives were worse. Communism proved itself a failure, disillusioning him with the ideology. Capitalism was no better in his experience. Russia needed strong leadership to get her out of the hole it was stuck in, and that was what Korolev was looking for. Until then, he was content to play his role.
Now that the President was as good as dead, the General wasn't sure what to do politically. However, in the short term, that didn't really matter. Everything would change soon after the alien Warlord visited. Until then, all Korolev could do was ensure Russia didn't burn in nuclear or orbital fire. After that, opportunities might present themselves, and he would be ready to seize them.
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Part 4
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Russian President dead!
The plot thickens, dear readers! Soon after the Russian ambassador to our country met with President Cole, he flew to Moscow to attend an emergency government meeting. What was discussed remains highly classified, yet the topic had to be grave enough because the Russian President suffered a massive heart attack in the middle of the meeting. He was pronounced dead on the way to the hospital.
USA Today
Moscow is now in lockdown! The Ministers of Interior and Defense issued a joint statement that this is to preserve law and order in the period of transition after the tragic death of the President.
Pravda
"We are locked in our hotel rooms, allegedly for our security. There are APCs and tanks on the streets of Moscow and attack helicopters in the air! You can see a military column driving up the street on the other side of the park! Did you hear that? That's shots fired!"
Jeremiah Howards, CNN correspondent
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28 December 1996
Moscow, Russian Federation
Earth
Milky Way Galaxy
Freezing winds buffered the helicopter Alexei rode on. He was in the last machine on the flight, as it was proper. Getting himself killed by being among the first soldiers to hit the ground would do his men no favors.
Gerasimov's building was below them, lit up with Christmas decorations. Chekov's unit was deployed to surround the place, while a battalion of the Airborne was locking down the whole district to ensure no one interrupted the operation.
The first transport helicopter hovered above the landing pad on the roof of the targeted building, and Zukhov's first detachment jumped out, loaded with the heaviest weapons they could carry. After seeing the reports about what NATO's forces had encountered, Alexei wasn't taking any chances, even if that meant they might bring the whole building on top of their heads.
If the briefing about the capabilities of the alien technology were correct, they would die anyway if they lacked sufficient firepower.
A breaching charge blew through the armored door leading into the building, flashbangs and smoke grenades went down the stairs, and the soldiers stormed in. The second detachment landed, and their transport quickly flew away, clearing the landing pad.
From his position, Alexei could also see Chekov's unit breach the building. Automatic fire and explosions blew out the windows on the ground floor, and soon, smoke billowed out. While in the helicopter, Zukhov couldn't clearly hear what was happening outside. However, what he did was the sound of conventional weaponry. If Gerasomov's goons had access to alien weapons, they were either too quiet or hadn't been deployed yet. Both options were terrible, but not a big concern. The possibility of someone wearing alien armor was the issue, and Alexei knew for sure that Gerasimov had at least two suits on display, so he might have more in an armory.
The oligarch owned the whole building and had it extensively remodeled without filing schematics with the relevant authorities, so they went in mostly blind. The units capable of getting intelligence on the interior had their equipment grounded for technical issues or were deemed unreliable.
Zhukov's turn arrived, and he jumped out of the helicopter, followed by his command detachment. Half of them were among the best killers under his command, whose only task was keeping enemies from interrupting him while he ran the operation. The rest were medic and technical specialists ensuring secure and uninterrupted communications.
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Major Chekov was getting too old to run around, shooting people in the face. He was nearly fifty now, and if it wasn't for his country falling apart, he would be a Colonel now, perhaps even on a short list for a promotion to General.
Instead, Chekov spent the last few years trying to keep his unit fed and from falling apart due to low morale, terrible pay, and other shit. Only in the past few months have things changed for the better. They got bonuses in hard currency, access to new equipment that mostly worked, and a vital task that helped keep the morale up. For all their issues, no one under Chekov's command was insane enough to fuck with nuclear weapons and material. The same was true about letting others get away with such crazy stunts.
He couldn't have imagined ending here, though – storming the fortress of an oligarch in the middle of Moskow itself! That was crazy enough, though honestly, it shouldn't have been that surprising in today's Russia. Yet, the reason they were storming the building wasn't because an oligarch was up to no good. They were all gangsters, after all. Gerasimov was no different in that regard.
If Chekov didn't know better, he would have thought his whole government had drunk a bad batch of vodka, the same one that got the President killed. A not-so-quiet coup made more sense than aliens.
Yet, Chekov saw enough evidence that he was convinced this was the most elaborate maskirovka the world had seen if it was true. He hoped for the former and feared the latter. Still, the possibility alone was enough for him to do his best, have his soldiers do everything they could to succeed and damn the consequences.
The last detachment of Chekov's boys stormed into the building, and he followed, leaving only the vehicle drivers and gunners behind. Medics were taking care of the wounded, who were being dragged to the enormous marble lobby of the building. These were good men bleeding on the ground, all because their country went to shit and gangsters ruled the day. That and potential aliens, too.
Explosions and rapid-fire shook the ceiling. A colored tile fell and shattered on cracked marble.
"A PKM on the third floor!"
"Back! Clear the backblast!"
An RPG round with a HEAT warhead streaked almost straight up, tearing through concrete and reinforcing metal, before turning the defensive position above into a bloodbath. Flashbangs detonated, and a detachment charged up the stairs.
Chekov waited for two soldiers to carry a wounded comrade past him to the medics before going up. His people fought to clear the second floor and get a foothold on the third. If it hadn't been for Alexei from above, they might not have had the manpower to take the building. It was large, and no one knew how many mercenaries and gangsters Gerasimov had.
This wasn't going to work without getting most of his boys killed, Chekov decided. He waved to his radio operator and grabbed the offered handle.
"Orel One, this is Fox One. You are clear to engage. Consult with Wolf One. Everything above the third floor is fair game on our side."
"Orel One, Fox One, this is Wolf One. We are fighting for the top two floors. We have no personnel below the fourteenth."
A squadron of attack helicopters and some of those that brought Alexei's unit circled the building and took positions. They opened fire with autocannons and heavy machine guns, shattering the facade and raining glass shards on buttoned-up vehicles below. The floor below Chekov's feet shook while the whole building groaned, protesting the punishment.
Before the onslaught ended, the helicopters kept shooting at anything their gunners could see moving for two minutes.
"Enemy resistance is collapsing!"
"Some of the bastards are surrendering!"
"Keep everyone who surrenders under watch. If the prisoners even twitch funny, light them up," Chekov ordered.
Securing the next six floors was much easier and cheaper.