"High Council," Myrra held the report in her hands, like a fragile bird's heart. "The mercenary's hammer has fallen upon Vritra's domain. Every day, like a pulse, she demands reports. Delay, and the world considers itself besieged, crying out for help. But he, like a ghost, locks the gates, cutting off the path to salvation, just as he did on Prakithia. Ten thousand of Vritra's elite fighters, frozen in ice, are locked away, as if he holds the key to their fate. Perhaps these are the blueprints of some program unknown to him? Her finest warriors cannot be redeployed while her kingdom disintegrates. Her main strongholds, where Jaffa life flickers, are cut off from the world. This is not a siege, this is a complete absorption."
— "Does Vritra suspect your game?"
"Oblivion magic is his weapon. He erased the High Priest's memory, allowing me to weave a lie: that he was my messenger, come on a mission, and, blinding my Jaffa with his dominion, seized the gate. He broke into the very heart of the city, where I was met with a barrage of surprise attacks, as if I were a defenseless child. The High Priest, doomed to perish, swore allegiance, claiming to have commanded the forces on Prakithia. But Vritra, her heart turned to stone, wasted no time in condemning him to death, unheeding his pleas."
"You gave him a list of worlds, and now you know which ones he's attacking. What do you think?" Advisor Selmak's voice was like a silken thread stretching through the dark fabric of the conversation.
"Calculated and methodical, like a surgeon opening the body of the weak. He says the price of his services depends on the complexity of the world, so he chooses easy prey, attacking worlds with sparse garrisons. It seems he sells quantity over quality, squeezing the armor out of his client. But he has already attacked Vritra's vassal, whose coordinates I provided him. Her cries for help were drowned in silence, and soon faded. Her worlds were plunged into the silence of siege, as if enveloped in a haze. Now they are forced to use the fleet to transport troops, which seems a ludicrous logistical error."
— "What can you tell us about the progress of this mercenary lord's campaign against Vritra?"
"Incredibly efficient. Without stasis pods, a Khattak can hold no more than two thousand Jaffa, and they still need provisions. Vritra, meanwhile, can only move sixty thousand of her troops—a tiny fraction of her remaining forces. She's scrambling, trying to decide where to send reinforcements and which worlds to condemn to oblivion."
"Our spies with Indra are silent about any mercenary. If Indra hired him, she's keeping it a secret. Besides, it's unlikely Indra could have known that Vritra considers Prakitia the Gate Builders' vault."
"Talking to him made me think that she simply didn't want to pay for this information," Mirra was as cynical as a parched desert.
"A warrior like this can change the balance of power," said another adviser.
"I seriously doubt it. Yes, he's talented, but he's a scavenger, falling on corpses. He hardly has many Jaffa of his own. One mistake, and he'll be destroyed like a speck of dust in the wind. The lack of his own ships speaks volumes about his inability to capture planets on his own and relies on other people's gates. No Goa'uld would accept a contract to build ships from a mercenary, knowing that sooner or later that ship will be turned against them. Perhaps this whole situation is just a fleeting breath in the breath of history."
"But events are unfolding right now," Selmak countered. "And the senior lords may be interested in the troubles that have befallen Vritra."
"Only cosmic forces over every planet can save her, but that's impossible. Or an increase in troop numbers. Meanwhile, she's waging a grueling war with Indra. It's entirely possible that soon all the liberated planets will fall under Indra's heel, expanding his sphere of influence."
— "What are your calculations? How much longer can Vritra hold out?"
"Planets with large Jaffa contingents are blockaded. Its four core worlds contain two hundred and ten thousand Jaffa. The remaining one hundred and twenty thousand are scattered among small settlements and fighting on Prakith. This was the case before the mercenary lord's offensive, and after the destruction of the asuras on Prakith. The attacks have been ongoing for a week, during which time over sixteen thousand have died. Another month of such attacks, and Vritra's forces will be reduced by half, leaving it defenseless. All of its agricultural and mining worlds, except for the four core worlds, are at risk of being captured by Indra."
— "What if Vritra disperses his ships?"
- "Then they will defeat her by destroying each ship one by one."
"Why are this mercenary lord's attacks through the gate so effective? It's an ancient tactic, thousands of years old."
"I assume it's because this lord's Jaffa are seasoned veterans. Each of them can fire from a hundred meters, hitting their target with pinpoint accuracy, staff held aloft. During brief skirmishes, they've never missed. They also use shields, presumably made of trinium, with embedded energy field emitters. Battles last no more than ten hours. Within ten hours, there won't be a single living enemy left on the planet. That's completely unusual. Take Indra and Vritra, for example: Indra's five thousand Jaffa have been fighting ten thousand Asura for a week and a half. And the casualty rate is still far from critical. The rapid pace of the fighting prevents the enemy from drawing them into the trench warfare that always accompanies battles through the gate. No reinforcements, even by ship, can arrive in ten hours. Only forces located thirty-six light-years away are capable of providing assistance. And only heavy ships are needed, because even the "Alkesh" won't be effective."
— "This man invited you to enter into an alliance with him?"
"Yes, but I'm almost certain it was a joke. He didn't show his face, nor did his Jaffa."
- "Okay, stay tuned."
"Ahr!!!" I cleaved the asura in half, and his death cry rent the air. The vibroblade danced in my hands, and then, using his body as cover, I quickly fired several shots. Enemies fell like autumn leaves. Return bullets ricocheted off my shields, and any resistance was crushed to dust by warriors with heavy cannons mounted on special belts.
- "Phaeron, the airfield has been captured."
— "Governor?"
"He disappeared into the forest, I apologize," the Jaffa bowed his head.
"It doesn't matter. The Engineering Corps should be here in an hour. Tell them they have three hours."
— "Yes, my lord."
Another planet, I've already lost count. It became a grim, methodical job, where you had to fight until you hit an invisible ceiling to comprehend it. You need to know the limits, the ones that, once reached, will tell you, "That's it." And so far, I haven't found them. Did I invent Über-tactics? That's absurd. I'm not a professional soldier. Before I became a Goa'uld, I never even touched a gun. RTS is the limit of my interaction with the army. So what the hell?
Or was it all a matter of clever planning? Essentially, it all hinged on several variables. I destroyed the tracking systems on every planet, naturally avoiding the core worlds of Vritra, preferring the secondary and peripheral ones. I used drones and stealth, deployed tracking satellites if possible, and then chose my attack method. Most often, it was a swift raid at 200-250 kilometers to airfields, capturing strategically important facilities, and then clearing any traces of the asuras. Alternatively, I brought in my aircraft and bombed the defense lines. I stormed the governors' palaces and plundered them. And, of course, I blocked the addresses through which reinforcements could arrive. I even created a machine that dials the gate addresses—it dials incredibly quickly. Essentially, it's eight mechadendrites that frantically press buttons if the passage is blocked. My knowledge is insufficient for writing programs and connecting them to the gate dialer. So I eliminated the human factor and vastly exceeded the mechanical typing speed, even if there had been a Korean from the StarCraft premium league on the other side. The entire operation was coordinated from a forgotten planet, devoid of life and temperatures reaching 60 degrees Celsius. Our headquarters was located there, sending encrypted messages to my forces across the galaxy. The comm spheres recovered from Kordesh were essentially radios with an open radio frequency. But if you tune them to a specific frequency, you can control the entire operation over the open air. For example, the signal "519923" means that Team 3 should stop dialing the address of a specific gate, as we are ready to attack it. By handing the Jaffa troops the encrypted message legend, I controlled the invasion. And the fact that the entire galaxy can hear these signals? Who cares. They can decipher them until the Coming of the Ori, because there are no codes there—it's literally like a traffic light.
I think it'll get harder when literally every planet in Vritra knows I'm coming, that they're being attacked, mobilizing their forces. But it's even become more boring. One template, one tactic, one thought. Reinforcing the gates, alternating pairs of fighters, even if there are many of them. In a way, it's... insulting. They know I'm coming, their planets are going dark one after another, and all they do is bring in ten standard cannons and stone them? I don't know, is sealing the gates not an option? Destroying them so I can fuck myself until the end of time? Do something, damn it!
And all their efforts? I emerge from the gate in stealth and destroy all the forces guarding it. Using radio-controlled stun grenades, I order my forces to begin deployment. Then we make a quick raid on motorcycles to the airfield, capture local vehicles, after which a couple of experienced pilots climb into the captured vehicles and shoot down the enemy ones. I need to ask Krel how many we killed. That's the responsibility of the trophy department, where all the supplies are delivered.
Twenty-three Goa'uld languish in my domain, as if in a gilded cage. Not all of them are brilliant governors or even princes of the blood, but that's their number. I can no longer share the fate of the semelhantes, for I myself, like a steel curtain, have closed off all the planets of Vritra. I have been forced to create for them abodes where luxury coexists with captivity. The conditions of their confinement are identical, and once the storm passes, I will grant them freedom. But if any of them appear with the gift of wisdom, a pearl of knowledge, I will return their former possessions: be they wonders from ribbon devices, healing elixirs, or other such trifles.
This is what I feared—Vritra's treacherous plan to gather the gold and erect her Ashrak on the soil of one of her domains, delivering it through the gate. To thwart such a plot, guards are stationed at each of the gates we use. Weight sensors, lasers that count every step, and even sand—my secret weapon against the spectral invaders, raining down like the wrath of the heavens upon the heads of the uninvited guests.
It was to ward off these calamities that I wove all my warriors into a single web of mind, where information and positioning weave together into a symphony. If I see my soldiers being devoured by an unseen enemy, the order to retreat will be immediate, and a fiery rain of napalm will blanket entire sectors. Ashraks are thorns in the flesh of war, and should be feared like the plague. They could become a formidable weapon of the Goa'uld, like the one that consumed Jolinar's soul, or the one that sowed chaos at Alpha Base, pitting humans, Tok'ra, and Jaffa against each other. But is Vritra willing to pay such a price for an ashrak, and will it arrive in time when time slips through my fingers? Knowing that I know her planets is not wisdom, and placing an ashrak where life is fading is also no revelation. And we certainly couldn't fall into the trap of the Khattaks, whose volleys could obliterate us with a single blow. I had to keep a watchful eye on those shadows without losing my head. My goal wasn't to destroy Vritra's entire army, but if it could be achieved… why not?
Don't mistake Vritra for a fool. For a Goa'uld, she's quite clever. Here's an example: someone's decimating your border worlds. What's your reaction? Vritra gathered sixty thousand of her warriors and transferred them to the nearest, already cleared, planet. Using the gate, she directed her forces toward the worlds already under our control, for I no longer blocked those gates. A fleet was required to transport such a powerful force. It took a week to gather the necessary resources. According to ancient custom, the Jaffa abstain from feeding from the land during campaigns, not out of mercy, but out of pragmatism. Jaffa armies require an abundance of food, and carelessness in this matter leads to starvation. Vritra undoubtedly assumed our goal was to seize her lands. Therefore, she had to counterattack, seeking to preempt our advance. How did I understand this? Remember how Caesar conquered the Gauls. He erected two walls around the enemy city. The Asuras did the same with the gates. No one worked shovels so quickly and meticulously. In just two days, redoubts crowned with dozens of large-caliber weapons arose around the gates, creating impenetrable defensive positions. I suppose Vritra believed this would secure its domain. In the end, it concentrated its forces at the gates—a brilliant decision, especially when a V-1 loaded with napalm awaited me on every planet. On Earth, I had to study numerous documents, including the blueprints for this unmanned missile, improve the guidance system, and then find a secluded corner of the forest, a clearing where I left the weapon and hid. Then, using radio guidance, I struck the enemy concentration, especially if the relay stations were set up at high altitudes. During this time, I came to love napalm for its devastating effectiveness. Human flesh burns, but technology, on the other hand, is too resilient to melt. Ultimately, it's become a battle of attrition for Vritra, and for me—until I become bored and my troops collapse from physical exhaustion. Three grueling operations are conducted every day, and even the Jaffa are on the brink of physical and psychological exhaustion. Therefore, the end of our campaign is near.
"Phaeron, the scouts have found the governor. He's moving north with a small detachment of asuras. There's a chance to intercept him."
I glanced at the Jaffa. He wore a skull helmet, and I sensed his excitement.
"If you're itching for a hunt, you can go. But I beg you, don't dare die. Bring me the governor, and I'll reward you handsomely."
He immediately jumped on his motorcycle and disappeared into the sky.
"Sir, final report. Huttaks have been detected over several planets targeted for attack. Krel has declined further action."
"That makes sense," I muttered. "Vritra couldn't continue this orgy indefinitely and was trying to conserve its forces for a counterattack. Unable to understand the nature of our feud, it's based on the obvious motivation: I desire to seize her planets. Of course, she might learn the 'true' reason if that governor shared the information. But doubts plague me. It's best not to mention that you communicated with the enemy leader, because then all the blame could be shifted to the Jaffa, who turned out to be weak and gave up all the information. It's the most logical solution. Besides, the Goa'uld turned out to be so easy to manipulate. Remember that younger Goa'uld with three alkesh? We kindly agreed that I wouldn't take his money (or the ability to repay his debts to Vritra or whoever replaces her), and he would confirm the domain addresses." Considering how much I'd taken from him, he accepted it with great grace. Or rather, he simply had no choice. A Goa'uld as a creditor is more terrifying than a nuclear war. That, at least, could be survived, if you're lucky. You can't escape your creditors, even to another lord, otherwise chaos would ensue. Of course, the loan can be repurchased, but such a procedure would incur additional interest. Therefore, between debt bondage and the transfer of strategic information, any indebted Goa'uld would choose the latter. After all, the loan won't be forgiven for loyalty. And this way, even if he betrays, he'll retain at least some operational resources. If things get really bad, he can return to the governorship. Free funds from the planet's income allow him to pay off a certain portion of the debt to the Jaffa and Alkesh. When it comes to money, Goa'uld think very quickly.
I'm sure that if I had the money myself, I could bribe them all. But according to my cover story, I'm working for silver.
The realization that it was time to end came when the cameras began to show how the planets of Vritra began to be captured by Indra's Jaffa.