"Praktians! I, the god Tsatekh, call upon you! Rise up, seize the weapons I grant you, and unleash your wrath upon the asuras! Fight for your freedom, for the name of Indra! Show your goddess how unwavering your loyalty is!"
My voice, amplified through the drones, echoed over the city. A hundred gliders, like a flock of vultures, soared into the sky, snatching up cargo containers. Parachutes deployed at the designated altitudes, and objects—harbingers of change—hovered above the astonished city, witnessing such a spectacle for the first time. The people knew: weapons were there. And the asura, of course, recognized them too. Perhaps their hearts sank with terror, for they realized the game was over. My Teltak—that's where the real blow began! Like a thunderbolt, it crashed down on the fleeing Jaffa, reducing them to dust with its built-in weaponry. Then, true to my call, we emerged, forming an impenetrable defensive perimeter. Residents peering out of their windows saw warriors in skull-topped helmets descend from the gaping skies. Their shields, glowing with trinium, were aimed at the alley from which our enemies emerged.
One of the containers landed with a crash, and the distribution of gifts began: crossbows, communication systems, knives—anything that could serve as an instrument of vengeance. The humans, having accepted the weapons, occupied the rooftops, transforming into deadly guards. My Jaffa, like stone giants, stood in defense, pointing their fearsome shields forward. Energy fields flared, and we began our retaliatory dance of death. The asura's shots smashed against our shields like raindrops. I found a similar design to Gungan shields in the blueprints, but mine are more. They don't simply protect; they are a weapon of vengeance, striking with such force that the enemy loses their footing. Efficiency is what sets us apart.
Every enemy shot found its way into my shields, while our return fire, precise and deadly, found its mark. I, in the glow of my Matok, stood like a beacon, and my Jaffa, like blades, were aimed at the enemy. For the Praktins, this was a spectacle of supernatural power, proof that they were not alone. Our position, an impenetrable barrier, slowed the asura's advance. But why should I risk it? A commander should be at headquarters, not on the front lines. I am a politician; my duty is to prove my right to rule through deeds. History teaches: the people love those who fight side by side with their warriors. I risk my life to create a state. I risk every drop of blood, throwing a handful of Jaffa against a garrison of fifty thousand. What saves me is that I burned out all their bases, and that their nature forces them to flee, and our shields make their escape almost impossible. But don't forget about the containers dropped from the sky. Two hundred containers—and that's just the beginning. To neutralize one, they would need 250 fighters. And each container contains weapons for a hundred.
Yes, it was a bit crude, as the staffs pierced stone walls. But the containers were dropped on the outskirts, where civil resistance was flaring up. The Praktinians, armed, became an unstoppable force. Taking the rooftops, they awaited the asuras, knowing that every enemy descending from the heights would be met with a blade. But that's another story. I didn't simply parachute. My appearance was a signal. The enemy commander, seeing the "deity's" warriors descend to the ground, directed all his wrath at me. And we, protected by our shields, absorbed the blow, responding with devastating volleys. My matok, like the heart of the battle, never stopped firing. We fired at the center of the mass, our aiming system working flawlessly. Our losses mounted, and the enemy melted away.
Suddenly, the neighing of horses was heard. A horse-drawn cart veered out onto the street from which the Jaffa had emerged. The driver, like a madman, nearly executed a police U-turn. "Is this really possible on a horse pulling a cart?" flashed through my mind as the heavy, standard cannon appeared, aimed directly at me. A heavy plasma bolt whistled past, demolishing the house behind me. People screamed, losing their footing.
Immediately, everyone opened fire on the cannon. Thanks to excellent aiming, we quickly eliminated the gunner and the driver. Damn Dominic Toretto, only on a cart!
"Forward, seize the gun!" My resolve was unwavering. We mustn't allow any daredevil to take over the gun.
Building a shield wall, sliding our staffs out from the cracks, we slowly advanced over the enemy corpses toward the cannon. Having repelled the asuras' attempt to reinforce their position, we captured the cannon. The cart, of course, was blown to smithereens, but the cannon was ready for battle. Attaching the communication unit from my staff to the cannon, I lifted it. "Now this will be more fun," I thought, pondering the infantry class that would be carrying such cannons.
Taking up a defensive position, I fired accurately at the asuras, who were scattered into splinters by the explosions. Fighting raged throughout the city. Rocks rained down from the rooftops, people attacked the enemy, then vanished, leaving mountains of corpses in their wake. The city had been transformed into a labyrinth, where every nook and cranny became a trap. My message became the spark that ignited the rebellion.
A full-fledged uprising against oppression. Gliders approached pockets of resistance, dropping even more cargo. When the front stabilized, even momentarily, the gliders struck, destroying the asuras. They hovered low, like birds of prey, ready to protect their prey. Such support gave the people hope. But losses mounted. The enemy commanders seemed to favor me, sending forces to my location. I used a maneuver—a retreat. Abandoning the cannon, under the cover of shields, I retreated to the teltak and moved to another point. Ordering the people with inters to retreat, I struck the area with dozens of aerial bombs.
I acted as mobile reinforcements, like a heavily armed helicopter capable of turning the tide of battle. If I had jumpers, I could have evacuated my forces faster, but committing my troops to the city meant dooming them. Friendly fire was also a possibility, as the Jaffa's equipment was almost identical. Therefore, using civilians as expendable material was essential to minimize the risk.
Suddenly, one of the city gates shattered into splinters. Reinforcements had arrived for the rebels. Those who had been digging pits from which nothing was being mined? Those whose guards had been taken by the asuras? Those who were easiest to destroy? You guessed it. They had captured many intars, accompanied by gliders. They became the new blood of the rebellion, concentrated and armed. My previous actions had distracted the asuras, directing them to intercept the weapons I was sending to the people. I used myself as bait, leading my guards into battle. Thousands of miners, armed with hundreds of intars, stormed the city, heading straight for Indra's palace—the asuras' central command. I did not bomb this palace: do not blow up the palaces of the gods if you want to befriend humans.
It's very convenient to have orbital scanning and a swarm of drones for combat. The Asura, despite all their bravery and competence, fought an army using 4th-generation tactics like Napoleon's army. I praise my army, for it's mostly city dwellers who fight, but I coordinate them. Knowledge of enemy reinforcements made ambushes much easier. Of course, civilians who picked up an intar crossbow didn't become supersoldiers—those were the Jaffa. But urban combat is chaos; no one has the advantage. On average, casualties are one Asura for every two civilians, even with my bombing support. Absolute numbers, however, are against the Jaffa. The Jaffa are extremely expensive, but effective warriors. No weapon except armor-piercing bullets can stop them. Their armor ignores stones, arrows, and swords. Essentially, from a Medieval perspective, there are 70,000 knights on this planet. And a knight is a tank, ignoring anything a peasant can throw, unless, of course, we're talking about the Hussite Wars. Now imagine that these knights were given a damn shooting stick that kills with one shot. A dozen Jaffa can capture planets. Primitive ones, but planets nonetheless. When the inhabitants realize the losses aren't worth it, they kneel. And here, there were 70,000—true, much fewer—but when civilians kill one Jaffa at the cost of two lives, it's a very unpleasant situation. For the defenders.
I didn't push forward, as there wasn't much point. If the Asuras had heavy standard cannons, it would be better if I didn't find them, but with my own face. It's enough for me to have a shot from one of those cannons almost hit me in the face. It's better to locate those cannons and make them a priority for air strikes.
"Let's move away," I said to the Jaffa as I looked at the unfolding picture.
- Let's let Indra's servants deal with their enemies.
- Yes, phaeron.