At the city gates, out of arrow range, Imotekh stood frozen beneath a white flag. He wasn't yet so senile as to naively believe this would stop everyone. But his appearance, a sign of truce, sparked confusion among the defenders. The Lord gave them time to regroup and assess the hopelessness of their situation. His troops' raid had already yielded booty—hundreds of Jaffa, conquered along with their homes, were captured. The rest, trapped within the city, were unarmed. The spies' reports were unanimous: only a few hundred warriors possessed proper weapons. The rest grabbed whatever was at hand—sticks, swords, stones.
And so, an unarmed warrior emerged from the city to confront the besiegers. His appearance, perhaps forty years old for a slave, could have concealed over a hundred years of Jaffa life.
"Who are you and why have you attacked my master's domain? He will punish you for this," he said, and Imotekh had to suppress a sigh.
"Lord Szarekh offers Lord Pelops's army an honorable surrender. You will be treated with respect until my lord wipes yours from the face of the earth. Once Lord Pelops falls at Lord Szarekh's hands, you may swear allegiance to him."
"Never! Lord Pelops has granted us power you, old man, could never even imagine!" spat the warrior, the one they called a brat.
"Yes, I have seen your strength. Before attacking your city, I thought we would be met by five thousand Jaffa. Who knew your women preferred to manage slaves rather than defend their homes? Your vast mansions, clearly fattened by the favor of your god, have made you careless. A warrior's strength lies in the mind, not the body. If you do not surrender, you will be shamefully exterminated. My master will call gliders from the skies, and with your pitiful excuse for a weapon, you will be no match for him."
- So we will all die in the name of our God.
"Well, I consider the negotiations concluded. But my lord will not grant you such an easy end. You will not die. Fight valiantly and do not disappoint me."
The old Jaffa returned to the city. His master was waiting for him by the armored personnel carrier.
"Well, have you given up?" Phaeron Szarekh asked with a smile.
"Unfortunately, my eloquence and persuasion were not enough to persuade these fools to surrender. I beg your pardon," the Jaffa bowed.
"The main thing is that your skills are enough to neutralize them. And as for diplomacy... Where would you find it if, ever since you became my warrior, all you've done is curse at the Jaffa?" Imotekh, the old warrior, looked embarrassed. "Killing them is a simple matter; you're prepared for that. But show me that you're so superior to them that you can capture them alive."
"Yes, sir, I will carry out your order!" Imotekh pulled out a skull-emblazoned helmet, donned it, and activated all combat systems. "All troops, prepare for attack!"
The engines of the vehicles encircling the city roared, and it was engulfed in smoke from falling shells. The population could attempt to retreat to one of the gates—the attack was being prepared from many directions. The cannons mounted on the armored personnel carriers would destroy the walls in an instant, and then troops would burst into the city from multiple points. Defending would be incredibly difficult. But most importantly, the master's orders: shoot only at the slaves, for they were now his property. The Spartans were only to be delayed. Legs could be targeted, but the quarterstaffs were to be set to their lowest power. Each warrior carried clubs and enhanced shackles—these couldn't be broken even by a reinforced Jaffa.
The first wave of the attack consisted of two and a half thousand warriors, each armed with a shield and a modified staff. The city walls were breached in numerous places. The maximum-power bombardment caused them to crumble. There were also some unfortunate individuals who tried to fire their staffs at the troops, but they were out of luck. In their place, Imotekh might have tried to lure the enemy into the narrow slums, but there was no point in lamenting the enemy's foolishness. Plasma bolts struck the armor of the vehicles, but they ignored them. Return fire brought down the walls. As soon as the assault teams breached the interior, they abandoned their vehicles, beginning their search for the Spartans. Any panicking citizens were stunned with intars or shock grenades and led away from the combat zone.
Some Spartans opened fire from the second or third floors of buildings; there were many such structures. These structures were pelted with tear gas grenades. The remaining troops formed a reserve. Should the Jaffa encounter difficulties, they retreated immediately. Phaeron Szarekh considered urban combat the most difficult and preferred to retreat, giving a false sense of confidence, rather than lose scarce troops. Imotekh, remembering how much Szarekh had invested in each of his warriors, accepted this logic.
Imotekh parachuted, carefully scanning the surroundings. Warriors came rushing at them from around a bend, clubs in their hands. Imotekh, moving quickly, began firing his staff at their legs. His students supported him. No matter how strong you were, with a wound that had shattered your leg muscles, it was becoming difficult to move. The enemies screamed and cursed the old Jaffa, but he gagged them, shackled them, and threw them into the APC. The situation worsened when rocks began flying at them. Their shields were no protection from the kinetic energy. Grenades erupted from their mouths, but when the rocks continued to rain down, it became clear – these were Spartans. And getting them out wouldn't be easy.
Jaffa planted a special device on the roof of the house and immediately retreated. Two minutes later, a glider swooped down over the house and dropped a bomb. It landed with amazing precision, destroying the house. After all, the master never said to capture everyone . Between the losses and the captives, he would rather abandon the former.
Capturing prisoners was truly hard work. It was achieved by shooting the fools in the legs. The advance was slow but inexorable. Second-line troops followed immediately behind the forward units to cover their backs from surprise attacks. The armor of the armored personnel carriers could withstand shots from staffs. Good vehicles.