I am with the extraction unit now, and I gave General Lawson my helmet recording.
It captured the ridge.
It captured his order.”
Petrov’s gaze sharpened.
A second source.
Not just a folder taken from an enemy base, but an American recording showing Hale abandoning me and lying about the confirmation.
“Kowalski,” I said, “did the original strike coordinates transmit?”
“Negative.
Hale deleted the package.
But your channel is giving us a live fix on Volkov.”
General Lawson spoke immediately.
“Morrison, we can authorize a precision strike once friendly and civilian positions are verified.
You must disable the enemy artillery or mark it clearly.”
“Understood.”
I looked at the three officers near the map.
“Which one of you commands the artillery battery?”
No one answered.
Petrov smiled again.
“They will die before helping you.”
The youngest officer looked no older than twenty-five.
His eyes kept moving between Petrov, the folder, and the clock.
A wedding ring flashed on his raised hand.
I addressed him in the limited Russian I knew.
“The convoy includes children.”
His face changed.
Petrov saw it and drew his pistol.
I fired first.
The round struck the pistol from his hand and sent it spinning beneath the map table.
Petrov staggered back, clutching his wrist.
The officers flinched but did not move toward me.
Three rounds remained.
The young officer spoke rapidly in Russian.
I caught only pieces, but the radio operator translated in broken English.
“He says Battery One is loaded.
Remote launch can be stopped from artillery control, but Commander changed access code.”
I looked at Petrov.
He pressed his injured wrist against his chest and said nothing.
“The code,” I demanded.
“You will not reach the control room.”
“Then give me another route.”
The young officer pointed to the map and described a maintenance tunnel connecting communications to the underground command corridor.
It ended near artillery control, avoiding the open vehicle yard.
Petrov shouted an order.
The officer did not look at him.
Something had shifted.
Petrov’s power had depended on everyone believing resistance was impossible.
I had crawled through his fence with a broken leg and made impossibility visible.
I ordered the radio operator to bind Petrov’s hands with a communications cable.
Then I took the commander’s key card and forced myself toward the rear door.
My first step nearly ended everything.
Pain surged through my body, and the room tilted.
I caught the edge of the table before falling.
Black spots crowded my vision.
The young officer moved instinctively to help me.
I aimed the rifle at him.
