Leonid felt himself being carried toward the planet. The inertial dampers softened the impact, but he still felt his body being pierced by the alien gravity. He was the best, and he was about to make the first, most dangerous leap—the capture of the citadel. Phaeron promised the first to enter the fortress to bestow his name as a second family name—Sarehan—and a tiara, the symbol of a pioneer.
The man landed, and the detachment system immediately activated, blowing open the door. Grabbing a grenade launcher, the warrior leaped out of his drop pod, instantly aiming the weapon at the enemy launcher, which was already aiming at him. Leonid beat the enemy to it by pressing the button. The missile rushed toward its target and detonated the anti-aircraft gun at the entrance.
Quickly assessing the situation, Leonid rushed forward, dodging plasma blasts. His path lay toward the main entrance to the Tartarus control citadel—the heart of the prison complex, the gate upon which the fate of the entire planet depended. Capturing this gate would allow him to call for reinforcements from Urvishi and quickly suppress any resistance.
More drop pods were landing behind him. His warrior brothers were already firing at the enemy cannons, their missiles finding their target unerringly. Reaching the sealed exit first, Leonid planted the explosives. His comrades were already nearby. A powerful, focused blast tore the door off its hinges, and he was the first to enter the complex. Two Jaffa with staffs rushed out to meet him, but they didn't have time to raise them. Two quick shots from the Z-shaped projectiles embedded in their forearms, followed by two more control shots, and the enemies were down. Leonid switched weapons, picking up a pulse rifle, which had been useless until now.
Drop pods breached the defenses of Tartarus's central control complex. The blare of alarm sirens mingled with the cries of Jaffa rushing toward the entrance. But then the brothers arrived with shields, ready to cover the attack. In strict formation, with methodical, precise movements, they swept away everything in their path.
A new wave of Jaffa appeared before them, eager to engage in close combat. Leonid switched the pulse weapon to maximum power. One shot, and the enemies were thrown back. Then came the finishing blows—the crunch of bones pressed into stone. Not the most elegant weapon, but the Jaffa of Szarekh, the heralds of death, must know no mercy.
"Unlock the gate," the commander ordered. "We need to drop the shield." "Yes, sir."
They broke through to the lower levels, shooting everyone in their path. They moved like a punishing sword. Where the enemy tried to fortify themselves, they fired grenade launchers. The sonic boom in the confined space was deafening, but their helmets dampened it, making it less destructive. They brought death, destroying everything in their path.
Having blown open the control room door with a gate, they found themselves face to face with the Jaffa. They opened fire, but the warrior with the shield absorbed all the blows. Accurate shots – and the enemies were defeated. Leonid sat down at the gate control computer, found the shield settings, and disabled it.
"Gate under control," he said into the intercom. "I repeat, gate under control. Authorization code: zero-nine-seven-Kavar-three-four-five-Pandor-Silk-twelve." "Authorization code accepted."
The gates on the ships deactivated, but those on the planet reactivated. A drone was launched first. After confirming all was well, battle groups of immortals poured through the gates. Over the comms, reports came of successful advances and the destruction of enemy Jaffa. A hundred marines had captured the central complex, disabling communications and sensors. All that remained was to secure the prisoner complexes, eliminate the remaining Jaffa, stun the prisoners, and evacuate.
Lord Szarekh's gliders patrolled the skies, destroying enemy concentrations. The landing force was deployed at key points. Tartarus's garrison consisted of two thousand Jaffa, distributed among seven locations. Two hundred had been killed in the battle, and another three hundred were in the central complex. There were another fifteen hundred enemies in the five remaining locations, and they would fall quickly.
Meanwhile, special teams were heading to the computers to copy all the information and prepare the complex for complete destruction. They would destroy everything—bodies, scanner data. The enemy must not know who had caught up with them.
"Genetic scans of the host, genetic scans of the symbiont," I relayed the data to Perseus. Ashrak studied them carefully, looking at the body in the stasis pod. I used these on the five hundred Goa'uld I freed. I released them in small groups of twenty, dumped them on uninhabited planets, disabled the stasis, leaving a recorded message that I didn't care about them, and only paid for one, who could go anywhere. The force field around the awakening site and the gate hinted to the Goa'uld that it was time to go. I'm not a beast; I gave them plenty of high-calorie, tasteless bars. But if the Goa'uld didn't leave within an hour, the field began to contract. That's how I got rid of dead weight. And Zeus, who looked more like a homeless person than a great ruler, I delivered personally to Perseus.
"I need to make sure. Deactivate the capsule. I did it." As soon as the capsule opened, the ashrak began waving his ribbon device over Zeus's body. The Olympian sighed and jumped up, looking at Perseus and me in surprise, though mostly at me—a two-meter-tall skeleton.
"Who are you?" "Sir, it is I, Perseus, your devoted servant," Perseus bowed. "Then identification is complete. My payment."
Perseus tossed me a crystal with data on the Hattak. "You have a loyal subordinate, he hired me to free you from Tartarus, and I did it," I said to Zeus. My helmet distorted my voice. "Such subordinates are measured in planets with naquadah. Cherish him."
I took the Staff of Light with me to the meeting with the Ashrak. With a single mental impulse, I activated the gate behind me and, turning my back on it (looking back through the cameras), calmly walked away. Ashrak hadn't done anything stupid. Now Kronos will be happier: five hundred enemies have escaped, he's lost his prison, and most importantly, his respect. After the attack, the pilots and troops fled through the gate. I, with a small detachment, remotely controlled the gliders, docked them with the hyperdrives (after detonating the hyperdrives of the destroyed machines), and transported them to the neighboring system. There, I landed the gliders on the moon's surface, then evacuated the hyperdrives through the gate.
Already in spacesuits, the technical teams dismantled the gliders, and then the bodies. Now there are gates in the system neighboring Tartarus. Oh, yes, before blowing up the complexes, I took the Tartarus gate. That moon has two sets of gates—now an attack is possible at any moment. I took a lot of useful things, like five sarcophagi. After all, Tartarus was created for eternal torment, for constant death and rebirth. Now it has fallen. All that remains is to await the results. It's quite possible they'll put a price on my head. But Kronos has options: look for me or for the escaped prisoners who hate him. It could take a long time to find me.
Besides, the price on my head has already increased: firstly, there's reliable evidence that my Jaffa killed me (though they killed an Ashrak). Secondly, my value has increased since the storming of Tartarus—or rather, not my value, but how much the Ashrak will now ask for my head. With five hundred escaped enemies, looking for a mercenary is illogical. But no one accused the Goa'uld of logic, especially when their favorite toy, the one they boasted about, was broken. It would be humiliating. Now Kronos will hate me too. No matter, I'll survive somehow. I'd rather implement my plans to capture the Hattaks. I'm sure Perseus will begin using my tools to acquire an army for Zeus.