The alarm sounded, and Pter instantly leaped out of bed and began dressing. His wife, though relatively new to their marriage, acted in unison—they were both united by a single, honed-to-automatism routine. Jaffa might not need sleep as much as other races, but when the body reached the limits of exhaustion, sleep became preferable to Kelnorim. In less than a minute, they were out of the house, rushing toward the central parade ground of their company. Everyone was already in place, as if they had done this a million times before.
At the commander's order, the run began. During the training, they were allowed to wear light clothing, leaving their armor behind, and were granted significant leeway. The objective: thirty kilometers in one hour, with chants constantly shouted. The Jaffa company ran, their voices blending into an endless, almost meaningless chorus. This grueling marathon prepared their bodies for what awaited them in the following hours of the day.
After covering thirty kilometers, they found themselves at the shooting range. After disassembling their standard weapons—staves and zetnickels—they began honing their skills. A series of drills, memorized to the point of automatism: shooting at a stationary target while standing, at a moving one, at a receding one. Phaeron Szarekh had undoubtedly carefully prepared this area for training, with thousands of Jaffa participating, and the results recorded by automated systems. Then came shooting from a kneeling position, from a prone position, and even upside down. Thanks to the targeting systems in their helmets, they became the most formidable warriors in the galaxy. Pter had witnessed this firsthand when they fought the Asuras—they dared not offer any resistance when the Jaffa struck their enemies from an unreachable distance. However, their training had prepared them for the absence of helmets, and for everything to be performed to the limit. A hit percentage below the established limit was punished, while exceeding it was rewarded. Everyone was motivated to hone their skills to an unimaginable level. The ideal—difficult but achievable—was: every shot should hit the target.
The training for the shooting lasted two hours, after which the entire company proceeded to the firing range, where they trained in hand-to-hand combat, practicing what to do if a comrade was wounded, and other vital skills. The Jaffa masters were unforgiving: you had to defeat at least one opponent in the ring, or the entire platoon would pass over your battered body. No one wanted to show weakness, so the fights were desperate, skillful, and methodical. Pter was knocked down twice, but managed to knock out a third opponent and was allowed to leave the ring.
He was also given instructions on treating various wounds. Although Goa'uld symbiotes possessed healing powers, many wounds required first stopping the bleeding. Stopping the bleeding was critical to a wounded warrior's survival. Next, he was transported to a field hospital for surgery, in case the symbiote failed.
Five hours flew by in this frantic preparation. Afterward, Pter, his wife, and all their comrades headed to the spacious mess hall, where tables were already set with food prepared. They took their seats, reserved for each platoon, and began to eat. The food was well-prepared: soup for the first course, porridge with a substantial piece of meat for the second, and dessert for the third. Tea was the chosen accompaniment, as there was plenty of water on the training ground. Fifteen minutes were allocated for the meal, after which everyone headed to their classrooms. Tactical training began at 12:15. In the classrooms, the Jaffa masters analyzed past mistakes, taught new tactics, and mastered the methods of warfare procured for them by Phaeron Szarekh. They studied combat using armored vehicles, interaction with them, determined each person's place in the overall tactical network, established communications between units, and mastered the use of additional combat tools.
At three o'clock in the afternoon, everyone returned to the training grounds to put their newfound knowledge into practice. Using intars, troops staged full-scale battles, constantly competing against simulated opponents—rival companies. Gliders dropped mock bombs, and commanders demonstrated their tactical skills in large-scale battles. The winners of these games received awards, while the losers were listed. There was a chance they would be reassigned to another commander. Commanding large units was as rigorous as in close combat. Any weakness was identified and methodically eliminated. And the soldiers gained invaluable combat experience, fighting a desperate enemy equally hungry for victory.
At eight o'clock in the evening, everything came to an end. The equipment was sent to the bays for inspection and repair, and the soldiers gathered for a general assembly, where they offered thanks to Phaeron Szarekh for the opportunity to train and become the strongest warriors in the galaxy.
At 8:20, everyone returned to the table. They ate heartily and plentifully to replenish the strength lost during the day. This time also provided the opportunity to briefly enter the kelnorim to fully recuperate.
At nine o'clock, evening combat training began. They fought in pitch darkness, without communication or navigation, in the forest. They had to capture the enemy base without losing their own in the chaos of battle. The arduous, grueling training was meant to keep them at the peak of their combat readiness, honing their hearing, smell, and tactical skills. They were placed in the most challenging environment because they knew it would come in handy one day. And they had to fulfill their master's will—to win!
At eleven o'clock, they checked all their gear. Any damaged equipment was handed over to the repairmen for full combat readiness. After that, free time began. Pter and his wife used it to rest, perhaps study additional materials, or, if they so desired, to be intimate. At twelve o'clock, lights out, to begin the whole thing again at four in the morning.
The Jaffa are the most resilient of the Goa'uld warriors. They were trained their entire lives to fight, instilled with the notion that preparation is everything. Master Szarekh honed this skill to perfection, turning them into the ultimate weapon for destroying their enemies. They had once defeated Vritra's legions; now they were ready to crush every foe known to their master. Every day made them stronger. Rumor had it that they would soon challenge some god and his Jaffa. Pter had no doubt they would crush them. The six circles on his armor testified to his participation in the conquest of six planets for his master's sake. He had fought Vritra's Jaffa, he had stood by his master as he struck down enemies with his magic. He had not flinched when shot at by a heavy cannon. Pter strove to become even stronger, to faithfully serve the Phaeron who had given him so much. The galaxy will hear the name of Pter of Kevra when he conquers hundreds of planets in the name of Szarekh. This is precisely what they are trained for: to conquer the entire galaxy.