The high command of the legions of Szarekh gathered to indulge in libations.
"And what should we do now?" asked Imotekh, Lord of Storms Sarehan, whose fame resounded in battle. The entire galaxy now knew his name. He planned hundreds of operations against the Goa'uld, leading his forces into battle, crushing the enemy's flimsy defenses.
"Let's go fishing," De Wiart suggested, raising his cup.
— Sitting on the riverbank with a fishing rod? Sounds peaceful.
"You two will quickly become bored with this," Krel Sarehan countered. "Just a week ago, our Sabatons were mired in the enemy Jaffa's mud, burning their homes and fortresses. Our mere battle cry would have them fighting, and now…"
"We need to wait five years, and everything will return to normal. But in that time, we can tease... I mean, train the new recruits. What if they're incapable of hitting a target with a plasma staff at a distance of one hundred and fifty meters without a targeting system?"
"Is that even possible?" De Wiart asked.
"I don't know, but they must be capable of this, otherwise what kind of Immortals are they?"
"Yes, otherwise they'll become completely lazy. They must be trained so that they know only fear. My son, for example, is soon to join the legion," Krel said. "That pleases the old man. But he must realize that lineage isn't everything. You must put in ten times the effort to surpass others."
"As if it were possible to surpass us," Imotekh noted, taking his glass.
"We can always improve. By the way, I figured out a way to make the Tyranid battles more challenging. What if we add a three-way battle and some Orks?" De Wiart suggested.
- Then a four-sided one right away.
"Actually, I had an idea: let's have eight factions meet on one planet, and the goal is to defeat them all. And yes, we'll give our charges the worst starting position, on the plain in the center."
— Cruel. But cruelty is necessary in the pursuit of perfection.
Szarekh's forces made extensive use of virtual reality. The Immortals' adversaries were often monsters from hell itself, created specifically to temper the Jaffa. These included the Cthulhu mythos, various creatures, monsters, demons, and other foes, some of which could not die and could only be contained. New ways to combat them had to be constantly sought. All Jaffa, for example, hated the word "Ishimura." They fought so many monsters that they had practically lost the ability to sense surprise. Ordinary Jaffa were easy prey for them: creatures of flesh and blood, wielding staffs, were not hordes of sinister undead or demons bending and bending reality. They were just people.
"I love the orc war moon," everyone turned to Krel at these words. "Why not? The terrain is constantly changing, with orcs, squigs, and other vermin swarming from everywhere. Mountains can collapse and crush entire armies. And the orcs are completely illogical, but suddenly it turns out they have saboteurs who blow up your landing point. I hate orcs."
"I still hate the Dark Eldar," De Wiart countered. "Firstly, they're a constant distraction, and they have the most vile weapon in the universe—poisons. Secondly…"
"You might as well hit those bastards! But there's always that damn circus. They say even the Lych Guard hate them. Because of their abnormal movement speed, vile weapons, and penchant for jokes."
"Nobody likes Harlequins except the gentleman who created such parameters for them," Imotekh remarked. "I hope one day we finally meet them, and I'll gut them!"
"Imotekh, don't be so hard on yourself. Everyone loses against them. They're real bastards."
"No, that's not it. They're dressed in a mess and they're degrading my uniform."
— For this they really should be destroyed... or the programmer who created them.
They continued drinking, reminiscing about their military campaigns, or the faces of the fallen Jaffa when they took their standards as trophies. Imotekh, De Wiart, and Krel had brought their master hundreds of banners from various Goa'uld units. Therein lay their honor. Though only De Wiart knew Szarekh's true motives. But he had fought on hundreds of planets, striking down dozens of enemies with precision and ruthlessness. His name was celebrated throughout the galaxy as one of the greatest warriors. What more could one wish for?