It takes almost another hour before enough field commanders can be convinced they've fulfilled the task at hand to their satisfaction, but the bombardment eventually stops.
Nothing sentient and living remains on the planet's surface. The wounded are being pulled from evac ships to confirm whether or not they carry any infection.
Alex finishes up a rather aggressively conducted discussion with an Imperial Guardsman still in favor of atomizing the planet, jabbing a finger to end the transmission once he has assurances of no more attacks. He lets out a snarl through gritted teeth and just hurls his helmet, the symbol of the title his father had passed down to him, back against the far wall of the ship, before leaning his head against one of the windows and just staring at the planet.
This was his fault... It was his job to find the solution in situations like this, and he'd been wrong.
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