Did you not read the last chapter?JME2 wrote:I loved the homages and almost identical progression to the original film. But of course, without the Eye of Ra on them, well, things are going to get interesting, methinks...
Stargate: 1939 (Updated 8/31/09)
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CaptainChewbacca
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Stuart: The only problem is, I'm losing track of which universe I'm in.
You kinda look like Jesus. With a lightsaber.- Peregrin Toker
You kinda look like Jesus. With a lightsaber.- Peregrin Toker
...CaptainChewbacca wrote:Did you not read the last chapter?JME2 wrote:I loved the homages and almost identical progression to the original film. But of course, without the Eye of Ra on them, well, things are going to get interesting, methinks...
Ah, crap. Ah, blame the late hour when I wrote the post; my bad...
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Zac Naloen
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Not a bad fic at all, I started a fic ages ago but I suck at staying motivated... stopped after three chapters.
Please don't do that
Please don't do that
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umm, ok. Thoughts. Loved the scene where they are dialing the gate for round two. Where's Littlefield? His helmet is there, but what happened to the man? What was Albert thinking, jumping throught the gate like that? You aren't going to have him come back younger thanks to the Sarcophogus, are you? I found the movie references to be tireing, but I can't think of a better way offhand to move the story along. Also, they aren't totally boned yet. They still have contact, so long as they can send a radio response every 24 hours when the Navy dials in. So they don't have much of a time limit, so long as they keep checking in and can secure a water supply.
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Chapter 4
*Unknown Planet*
A horn blared in the distance, and another beast like the one that had brought them there came riding towards them. It had a well-appointed litter on it, and the curtains were thrown back to show an old man in burgundy robes, with a kafia wrapped around his head. His eyes were wide, and Puller worried he might be about to have a heart-attck, as the man looked to be at least sixty. When the beast stopped, he scrambled out and knelt, looking at them. He began talking quickly, in seemingly reverent tones that pulled at the edges of Indy’s memory.
“Is it berber?” he mused to himself. “Or maybe Chadic or Omotic? It sounds familiar, somehow…” He was brought out of his reflection when the Headman stood and motioned. “He wants us to follow him.” Indy said to Major Puller.
“How can you tell?”
“Because,” Indy mimicked the calling gesture. “he wants us to follow him.”
“We have no idea what they want, Doctor Jones. They could be cannibals.” One of the soldiers called over to him.
Indy shook his head. “I doubt it, given the numbers here. Besides, where there’s civilization there’s big stone tablets, and where there’s big stone tablets I can find the address home. Major,” He looked at Puller emploringly “if you want to get off this planet, this is gonna be our best chance.”
*One Hour Later*
After a flurry of radio and logistical wrangling, Indiana Jones, Albert Einstein, and many of the fine men of SMF-1 found themselves in the middle of the strangest military procession since Hannibal crossed the Alps. Thousands of the natives surrounded them, talking and laughing and pointing at the newcomers, whos’ presence apparently warranted an unscheduled holiday. Major Puller had called for support from base camp, and now the M3 car and Squad C were with them. Lieutenant Anders had been left in charge of the base camp, with the rest of the men and the other wireless, to hold the gate and be ready if Major Puller arrived “Suddenly in need of a position from which to mount a counterattack.”
The Headman’s entourage kept even with the M3, which now held both doctors, Major Puller, and a gunner standing in back who kept his hands near the trigger. Of course, the effectiveness of a single automatic machine gun while surrounded by over ten thousand primitive humans with lead hammers was marginal at best. The wind whistled over the dunes, getting stronger, and the men had had to stuff handkerchiefs in their gun barrels to keep them clear. Indy was trying to listen to the various conversations, and at times he could almost convince himself he recognized some of the words.
Suddenly, the convoy stopped, and the Headman motioned to Indy to come, pointing to the horizon. “Nagada” he said. Indy stood in the car, craning his neck, and over the next ridge he saw something out of the ancient world. A massive enceinte, a walled city that hugged the base of the mountains in the valley below, it was every ancient city he had ever dreamed of. He had been to Mesa Verde, Petra, Masada, and many more, but Nagada, home to over fifty thousand people, put them all to shame.
As they approached the city’s massive doors (which towered forty feet high) the procession melted into the bustling throng filling the streets. Shouts of greeting and cries of celebration filled the air, and the convoy stopped in some sort of market square. The headman stepped down, and his riding creature was herded into a corral where handlers clicked soothingly to it and removed its harnesses.
It was obvious to Major Puller the rest of their journey would be on foot. “Alright men, we’re on foot from here. Gage, Ricks, Johnson” he pointed at a lieutenant from squad C and two corporals with BARS, “you watch the cars. Let ‘em touch them all they want, but nobody sets a foot inside either. Warning shots are shooting to wound.” The men saluted, and stood alert. “Let’s keep walking, men. Doctor Jones,” Puller half bowed like a majordomo “after you.”
Indy followed the Headman, one hand resting on his pistol. The city was impressive, stone houses on the lower levels had been built to three and even four stories with mud brick as the population grew over the years, with rickety skyways of wicker and branches connecting buildings dozens of feet off the ground. The procession moved down a narrow street and into an even larger market. There was a raised stone platform, and above it a large object hung, shrouded in coarse blankets. The old man waved his hands, and the blanket fell. “RA!” A thousand voices shouted at the sight of the gleaming, golden disk.
He was astonished. It was a two-meter golden disk, polished to an almost mirrored shine. “It’s the sign of Ra, the Egyptian sun-god.” He said to Puller. “They must think he sent us.”
“I wonder what gave him that idea, Henry.” Einstein chuckled and tugged on the medallion around Indy’s neck.
A figure came running out from the crowd, relatively clean and short-haired. “Ernie!” Indy shouted. The young man was in native garb, but he still stood out like an elephant in an anthill.
“Doctor Jones!” He embraced the man. “Major Puller, Sir!” he saluted his superior “Its damn good to see you, sir. After I came through I looked around a bit, and some mastadge-herders found me and brought me here.”
“Mastadge?” Puller raised an eyebrow.
“Yes sir, those ugly bastards they use for pack animals.” Ernest pointed back to the corral.
“So you figured out how to speak their language? Excellent work, Lad.” Einstein clapped him on the shoulder.
“No sir, Doctor Einstein, not really.” He shook his head. “I can say yes, and no, but I spent a day helping drive a dozen back here from the pyramid, and they’re a pretty good visual aid.”
“Speaking of visual aids, this belongs to you.” Indy moved to take off the medallion, but Ernest grabbed his wrist.
“Better not, Sir.” Ernest looked around. “They seem to think you’re the emissary of Ra, it wouldn’t necessarily look good for you to cast off the seal of your office on your first day.”
Indy looked around at the cheering throng. “Right. Well, what do you suppose they have in mind? Does the voice of Ra have to do much paperwork?”
*Three hours later*
Crude fireworks and flashpots exploded over Nagada, while below the city rocked in celebration. The men of SMF-1 sat in places of honor beneath the sign of Ra in the meeting square while trays of food snaked their way through the crowd. Succulent fruits, flatbreads, and something that smelled and hopefully tasted like cheese were put in front of the men. Lieutenant Wethers called to Indiana “Do you figure its safe to eat? I once ran into a bad batch of gumbo down in Baton Rouge that laid me out for three days.”
Indy shrugged. “They’d probably be insulted if we didn’t try everything, maybe cut off our hands.” As he spoke, a large cooked lizard was set in front of him, steaming juice running down its back. It was so hideous, Indy doubted its own mother would love it. Doctor Einstein elbowed him in the ribs, and winked, the unspoken We wouldn’t want to insult them ringing in Indy’s ears. He shot Einstein and the rest of the men a withering glance as he pulled a piece out and chewed on it carefully, rolling it over on his tongue. “Tastes sorta like… chicken.”
“Doctor Jones,” Major Puller called out as a serving girl filled his ceramic mug with wine. “You said that that big disk was the sign of Ra?” Indy nodded. “Then doesn’t it stand to reason that if they know one Egyptian symbol they might know more?”
“Right.” Indy slid over next to where the Headman, Yasha, was sitting, and smoothed out the dust on the stone. He began to draw with one finger, sketching a quick hieroglyph. Yasha and the elders stared at it, as if it was a coiled snake. They began to talk quickly among themselves, and Indy feared he had done something wrong. He started to draw a second symbol, but Yasha waved him off, and rubbed out the writing with his hand.
“What’s going on, Jones?” Major Puller was now standing.
“It looks like writing is forbidden to them.” Indy sighed, and Einstein held the bridge of his nose and shook his head. At that moment, from several high towers in the city, horns began to blow. “What now?” He looked around. The men jumped to their feet and formed a ring, holding the platform as high ground.
“Back to the gate, men!” Puller started to head for the vehicles as the banquet dispersed. People ducked into homes and tables and blankets vanished from the square. They darted through the alley to the vehicles, where Lieutenant Gage and his men had been eating. “Start ‘em up, Gage! We’re leaving if we have to shoot a hole in that gate.” Faster than many would consider possible, the vehicles were humming and turned around, heading for the city’s gate.
Too slowly, as they approached they saw the massive timbers slam shut, and thick beams were thrown across it. Puller charged over to one of the gatekeepers and shook him “OPEN IT UP!” The man was terrified, almost frantic, but he didn’t move. Puller felt a tug on his sleeve, and shrugged it off, but a more insistent tug brought his attention to the young man from the mine, the one who had run off. He pointed to a wide ladder near the door, and began to scramble up, motioning for Puller to follow. “What the hell.” Puller followed after him. At the top they stared out across the valley, but the view was cut short by a wall of swirling blackness that was only a few miles away and approaching steadily. “It’s a sandstorm. At ease, men.”
“Well, I’m certainly glad we didn’t shoot them.” Einstein chuckled. “It would appear we are here for the night.”
Puller dropped down next to the men. “Can you reach Squad A?” He asked his signal man.
“Trying, sir. Its hard to make out.” The man held an earphone to his head. He flipped a switch on the set that rested on a young private’s back, and the static-filled message assaulted their ears. “-jor Puller, this is Squad Leader O’Dell.” The voice was barely audible over the screaming winds. “We have been forced to abandon base camp. We **** ing to the pyr*** storm lost *** will rebro***orm. Over.”
The signalman practically shouted into the pickup. “We hear you, O’Dell. We’ve got our own shelter, and we’ll call you in the morning. Watch out for aliens.” The radio switched off, and the men looked around at each other, and the crowd of natives and elders that surrounded them.
“Alright, Marines, it looks like we’re bunking here tonight.” Puller looked over at Yasha “I just hope they’ve got rooms.” He looked at the headman and waved at his men, as if to say ‘We’re all yours.’
Yasha called to the back of the crowd, and a gaggle of women came out, laughing amongst themselves. They grabbed Indiana and dragged him away from the marines. “Hey, watch it, I need that!” Indy tried to protest, but there were too many. “Hey Puller, a little help?” He stopped the group and looked to the Major emploringly.
Puller reached into a nearby soldier’s pack and removed a box of rubber condoms. “We don’t want to insult them, Doc!” He tossed them to Indy, who flashed a lopsided smile before he was whisked away. “Lucky bastard.”
*Unknown Planet*
A horn blared in the distance, and another beast like the one that had brought them there came riding towards them. It had a well-appointed litter on it, and the curtains were thrown back to show an old man in burgundy robes, with a kafia wrapped around his head. His eyes were wide, and Puller worried he might be about to have a heart-attck, as the man looked to be at least sixty. When the beast stopped, he scrambled out and knelt, looking at them. He began talking quickly, in seemingly reverent tones that pulled at the edges of Indy’s memory.
“Is it berber?” he mused to himself. “Or maybe Chadic or Omotic? It sounds familiar, somehow…” He was brought out of his reflection when the Headman stood and motioned. “He wants us to follow him.” Indy said to Major Puller.
“How can you tell?”
“Because,” Indy mimicked the calling gesture. “he wants us to follow him.”
“We have no idea what they want, Doctor Jones. They could be cannibals.” One of the soldiers called over to him.
Indy shook his head. “I doubt it, given the numbers here. Besides, where there’s civilization there’s big stone tablets, and where there’s big stone tablets I can find the address home. Major,” He looked at Puller emploringly “if you want to get off this planet, this is gonna be our best chance.”
*One Hour Later*
After a flurry of radio and logistical wrangling, Indiana Jones, Albert Einstein, and many of the fine men of SMF-1 found themselves in the middle of the strangest military procession since Hannibal crossed the Alps. Thousands of the natives surrounded them, talking and laughing and pointing at the newcomers, whos’ presence apparently warranted an unscheduled holiday. Major Puller had called for support from base camp, and now the M3 car and Squad C were with them. Lieutenant Anders had been left in charge of the base camp, with the rest of the men and the other wireless, to hold the gate and be ready if Major Puller arrived “Suddenly in need of a position from which to mount a counterattack.”
The Headman’s entourage kept even with the M3, which now held both doctors, Major Puller, and a gunner standing in back who kept his hands near the trigger. Of course, the effectiveness of a single automatic machine gun while surrounded by over ten thousand primitive humans with lead hammers was marginal at best. The wind whistled over the dunes, getting stronger, and the men had had to stuff handkerchiefs in their gun barrels to keep them clear. Indy was trying to listen to the various conversations, and at times he could almost convince himself he recognized some of the words.
Suddenly, the convoy stopped, and the Headman motioned to Indy to come, pointing to the horizon. “Nagada” he said. Indy stood in the car, craning his neck, and over the next ridge he saw something out of the ancient world. A massive enceinte, a walled city that hugged the base of the mountains in the valley below, it was every ancient city he had ever dreamed of. He had been to Mesa Verde, Petra, Masada, and many more, but Nagada, home to over fifty thousand people, put them all to shame.
As they approached the city’s massive doors (which towered forty feet high) the procession melted into the bustling throng filling the streets. Shouts of greeting and cries of celebration filled the air, and the convoy stopped in some sort of market square. The headman stepped down, and his riding creature was herded into a corral where handlers clicked soothingly to it and removed its harnesses.
It was obvious to Major Puller the rest of their journey would be on foot. “Alright men, we’re on foot from here. Gage, Ricks, Johnson” he pointed at a lieutenant from squad C and two corporals with BARS, “you watch the cars. Let ‘em touch them all they want, but nobody sets a foot inside either. Warning shots are shooting to wound.” The men saluted, and stood alert. “Let’s keep walking, men. Doctor Jones,” Puller half bowed like a majordomo “after you.”
Indy followed the Headman, one hand resting on his pistol. The city was impressive, stone houses on the lower levels had been built to three and even four stories with mud brick as the population grew over the years, with rickety skyways of wicker and branches connecting buildings dozens of feet off the ground. The procession moved down a narrow street and into an even larger market. There was a raised stone platform, and above it a large object hung, shrouded in coarse blankets. The old man waved his hands, and the blanket fell. “RA!” A thousand voices shouted at the sight of the gleaming, golden disk.
He was astonished. It was a two-meter golden disk, polished to an almost mirrored shine. “It’s the sign of Ra, the Egyptian sun-god.” He said to Puller. “They must think he sent us.”
“I wonder what gave him that idea, Henry.” Einstein chuckled and tugged on the medallion around Indy’s neck.
A figure came running out from the crowd, relatively clean and short-haired. “Ernie!” Indy shouted. The young man was in native garb, but he still stood out like an elephant in an anthill.
“Doctor Jones!” He embraced the man. “Major Puller, Sir!” he saluted his superior “Its damn good to see you, sir. After I came through I looked around a bit, and some mastadge-herders found me and brought me here.”
“Mastadge?” Puller raised an eyebrow.
“Yes sir, those ugly bastards they use for pack animals.” Ernest pointed back to the corral.
“So you figured out how to speak their language? Excellent work, Lad.” Einstein clapped him on the shoulder.
“No sir, Doctor Einstein, not really.” He shook his head. “I can say yes, and no, but I spent a day helping drive a dozen back here from the pyramid, and they’re a pretty good visual aid.”
“Speaking of visual aids, this belongs to you.” Indy moved to take off the medallion, but Ernest grabbed his wrist.
“Better not, Sir.” Ernest looked around. “They seem to think you’re the emissary of Ra, it wouldn’t necessarily look good for you to cast off the seal of your office on your first day.”
Indy looked around at the cheering throng. “Right. Well, what do you suppose they have in mind? Does the voice of Ra have to do much paperwork?”
*Three hours later*
Crude fireworks and flashpots exploded over Nagada, while below the city rocked in celebration. The men of SMF-1 sat in places of honor beneath the sign of Ra in the meeting square while trays of food snaked their way through the crowd. Succulent fruits, flatbreads, and something that smelled and hopefully tasted like cheese were put in front of the men. Lieutenant Wethers called to Indiana “Do you figure its safe to eat? I once ran into a bad batch of gumbo down in Baton Rouge that laid me out for three days.”
Indy shrugged. “They’d probably be insulted if we didn’t try everything, maybe cut off our hands.” As he spoke, a large cooked lizard was set in front of him, steaming juice running down its back. It was so hideous, Indy doubted its own mother would love it. Doctor Einstein elbowed him in the ribs, and winked, the unspoken We wouldn’t want to insult them ringing in Indy’s ears. He shot Einstein and the rest of the men a withering glance as he pulled a piece out and chewed on it carefully, rolling it over on his tongue. “Tastes sorta like… chicken.”
“Doctor Jones,” Major Puller called out as a serving girl filled his ceramic mug with wine. “You said that that big disk was the sign of Ra?” Indy nodded. “Then doesn’t it stand to reason that if they know one Egyptian symbol they might know more?”
“Right.” Indy slid over next to where the Headman, Yasha, was sitting, and smoothed out the dust on the stone. He began to draw with one finger, sketching a quick hieroglyph. Yasha and the elders stared at it, as if it was a coiled snake. They began to talk quickly among themselves, and Indy feared he had done something wrong. He started to draw a second symbol, but Yasha waved him off, and rubbed out the writing with his hand.
“What’s going on, Jones?” Major Puller was now standing.
“It looks like writing is forbidden to them.” Indy sighed, and Einstein held the bridge of his nose and shook his head. At that moment, from several high towers in the city, horns began to blow. “What now?” He looked around. The men jumped to their feet and formed a ring, holding the platform as high ground.
“Back to the gate, men!” Puller started to head for the vehicles as the banquet dispersed. People ducked into homes and tables and blankets vanished from the square. They darted through the alley to the vehicles, where Lieutenant Gage and his men had been eating. “Start ‘em up, Gage! We’re leaving if we have to shoot a hole in that gate.” Faster than many would consider possible, the vehicles were humming and turned around, heading for the city’s gate.
Too slowly, as they approached they saw the massive timbers slam shut, and thick beams were thrown across it. Puller charged over to one of the gatekeepers and shook him “OPEN IT UP!” The man was terrified, almost frantic, but he didn’t move. Puller felt a tug on his sleeve, and shrugged it off, but a more insistent tug brought his attention to the young man from the mine, the one who had run off. He pointed to a wide ladder near the door, and began to scramble up, motioning for Puller to follow. “What the hell.” Puller followed after him. At the top they stared out across the valley, but the view was cut short by a wall of swirling blackness that was only a few miles away and approaching steadily. “It’s a sandstorm. At ease, men.”
“Well, I’m certainly glad we didn’t shoot them.” Einstein chuckled. “It would appear we are here for the night.”
Puller dropped down next to the men. “Can you reach Squad A?” He asked his signal man.
“Trying, sir. Its hard to make out.” The man held an earphone to his head. He flipped a switch on the set that rested on a young private’s back, and the static-filled message assaulted their ears. “-jor Puller, this is Squad Leader O’Dell.” The voice was barely audible over the screaming winds. “We have been forced to abandon base camp. We **** ing to the pyr*** storm lost *** will rebro***orm. Over.”
The signalman practically shouted into the pickup. “We hear you, O’Dell. We’ve got our own shelter, and we’ll call you in the morning. Watch out for aliens.” The radio switched off, and the men looked around at each other, and the crowd of natives and elders that surrounded them.
“Alright, Marines, it looks like we’re bunking here tonight.” Puller looked over at Yasha “I just hope they’ve got rooms.” He looked at the headman and waved at his men, as if to say ‘We’re all yours.’
Yasha called to the back of the crowd, and a gaggle of women came out, laughing amongst themselves. They grabbed Indiana and dragged him away from the marines. “Hey, watch it, I need that!” Indy tried to protest, but there were too many. “Hey Puller, a little help?” He stopped the group and looked to the Major emploringly.
Puller reached into a nearby soldier’s pack and removed a box of rubber condoms. “We don’t want to insult them, Doc!” He tossed them to Indy, who flashed a lopsided smile before he was whisked away. “Lucky bastard.”
Last edited by CaptainChewbacca on 2009-08-12 02:03pm, edited 1 time in total.
Stuart: The only problem is, I'm losing track of which universe I'm in.
You kinda look like Jesus. With a lightsaber.- Peregrin Toker
You kinda look like Jesus. With a lightsaber.- Peregrin Toker
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Crazedwraith
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JointStrikeFighter
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Loved the little reverse homage to Temple of Doom with the lizard dish. I especially loved this little gem of a line:
After a flurry of radio and logistical wrangling, Indiana Jones, Albert Einstein, and many of the fine men of SMF-1 found themselves in the middle of the strangest military procession since Hannibal crossed the Alps.
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CaptainChewbacca
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Chapter 5
*SMF-1 Base Camp, Unknown Planet*
The winds howled outside the massive pyramid, and inside their wails echoed like distant coyotes circling a wounded animal. Two lanterns lit up most of the room, and a sterno flame boiled a pot of water for coffee. They were on canned rations and water from home, so there was no NEED to boil, but it was better to be safe than to shit your lungs out.
Inside a massive stone pyramid older than human history, eighteen men of SMF-1 took their ease, laughing about the places they were still finding sand. “Ai, I just took a crap and it came back dusty!” A private Green returned from the far corner they were using to relieve themselves, until the weather cleared. Nobody wanted sandblasted parts, either. Private Green walked over to the .30 caliber mount and took his seat; in their new position, the remaining Tucker car faced the open door with its guns ready, and the M1919 was now set behind their gear packs with its field of fire covering most of the room, including the Stargate. He picked up his tray and started to finish off his meal.
“Hey Green! Pass the TP!” a call came from the cooking stove. Corporal Sean ‘Skyman’ Anders, one of the gunners for the Tucker car stood up and dusted the crumbs off his butternut pants.
“Why don’t you use your girlie mag, Skyman?” One of the men joked, as Green pitched him the bag with the roll in it. Skyman laughed too; they gave him a hard time for having brought the latest issue of ‘Astounding’ instead of some more relaxing reading material. “Laugh all you want, you bastards!” Skyman showed them the cover with the title story Lost Pyramids of Mars. “It seems maybe these might be good for something after all.”
They all settled a bit as Skyman left for the corner, except another pair of privates who were sent to patrol the perimeter of the room. It was practically a forest, and even in weather like this, something could sneak in and they’d never see it until it sucked out their brains or… something. A quarter of the way through the patrol, the room began to shake. The marines all jumped up and grabbed their guns, except Skyman who hastily pulled up his pants while leaning on his gun with his free hand. Near the base of the stargate, the men looked around, unsure of what to do. “Earthquake!” one San Francisco native shouted. Their commander, however, shook his head, and pointed toward the ceiling, which was now raining dust. Over the howl of the storm they could hear a throbbing, rumbling roar which rattled their teeth and bones as it got louder. “What in God’s name is that?!” Private Green shouted.
“Sounds like it might be God!” a panicked corporal shot back.
In the middle of the ceiling, directly above their cooking fire, a hole over three meters across opened up, casting down a sinister blue light. Eight rings, similar to the stargate, but smaller, dropped down quickly, scattering the men who formed a rough horseshoe around the rings, weapons ready. The rings pulsed with a white light, and suddenly the marines weren’t alone.
Each creature was vaguely man-shaped, wearing some sort of banded plate armour that shimmered with a purplish hue. In their hands they held double-headed spears with rounded knobs on each end. Their heads, though, were straight from man’s collective nightmare. Each face was a cobra, spreading its hood and preparing to strike. The rings vanished as quickly as they had appeared, and the snake-men spun into a circle, backs to each-other, with their spears pointed out.
“Drop your weapons!” the commander shouted.
Without command, the spears of the snake-men seemed to split open, crackling with golden energy. “Jaffa, KREE!”
Private Green dropped to one knee and worked the action on his rifle. “Oh... FU-” was all that was heard before the room exploded in thunder and flame. Eight model 1903 Springfield rifles, two model 1918 Browning Automatic Rifles, and a .30 caliber model 1918 air-cooled machine gun opened fire, even as superheated balls of plasma rocketed towards them. The armor of the snake-men withstood some of the fire, but the sheer volume and punch of the bullets meant that inevitably some shots would get through.
The staff weapons were taking their toll, though, in the currency of missing limbs and holed torsos. In thirty short seconds, half the snake-men fell, but so did five marines. Under the heavy volume of fire, the snake-men shrank back, to the base of the gate, and the Marines thought for a moment they had them. Then, the rings fell again from the ceiling, and in a flash another twenty snake-men were there. The fighting was furious and chaotic, but soon the marines were being forced away from the gate. There were six left.
“Grenades!” The commander shouted, and each man tossed a grenade towards their enemy, to buy a few seconds. “Anders! Get in the gun mount!” He barked. “You three, get in and go, head west and pray to God that you find Puller, warn them about what happened.” He slapped Private Green, who had dragged the .30 caliber with him, on the shoulder. “Green and I will slow the fuckers down.” The men nodded, and crammed themselves into the car. Driving through a sandstorm might be suicide, but ten-to-one odds against space monsters with ray guns WAS suicide.
The commander lay on his belly, a pistol in each hand. He was wounded and bleeding out, but that couldn’t be helped. He wondered if maybe the eyes were weak. Couldn’t hurt. He peered through the smoke as Green fed a new belt into the gun. The eyes glowed, and if he could just… BLAM he saw an eye go dark. BLAM another spun away. Again, and again, while Green raked the gun back and forth, both of them were screaming.
They had felt the gravel kick up as the Tucker Tiger Tank sped away, and the whistle of bullets as Skyman fired the quad .50 over their heads. Slowly, the marine realized he was hitting empty chambers, and that Private Green was missing his head. He looked up, and through the smoke another snake monster strode, slowly. It levelled its staff at him and said something he didn’t understand. The lieutenant sneered. “The name’s Lieutenant Tony Evans. Remember it.” A flash of light and heat and he saw nothing more.
Temple of Ra, Abydos
He surveyed the battle, picking over the carnage for details that his mind needed. It was a mystery. “And you say fewer than twenty were here?” He bent down and picked up a bullet casing, turning it over in his fingers. “And none are Jaffa?”
“No, First Prime.” The Jaffa held up a colored patch, with a world bound by some sort of weapon and a bird with its wings spread. “All the Tau’ri bore this mark.” The first prime dropped the casing and held the insignia. He couldn’t make out the writing, and it didn’t seem to be the symbol of any of the System Lords. He frowned, he didn’t like not knowing, it would displease his god.
“We will search them out in the morning, hopefully we can catch them before they reach the city. If not, it will make our job much harder, but not impossible. We WILL be ready for Ra’s army when it arrives.” He looked to the two Jaffa. “Check for survivors or those near death, perhaps our Lord will show one mercy to gain answers. And gather all their belongings.”
“Yes, Master Bra’tac!”
He watched them run, and shook his head. Such a waste, to send good men to die in an ambush that never should have existed. One day, perhaps, Jaffa would be free of false gods, but until then he would serve his god, Apophis, to the best of his ability. Perhaps even one day Bra’tac could forgive himself for serving such a monster.
*Ahernabe Research Facility, Hamburg, Germany*
Alfred Rosenberg was going to die. There was no question about it, they were going to put him up against a wall and shoot him. They had just begun to study the strange device brought back from Antarctica when disaster struck. Certainly the thing was fascinating. It was over seven meters across, covered in strange and unknown writings, and made of a metal previously unknown to mankind. Well, nearly unknown, because they HAD had another device, which had vanished like a whore’s looks in good lighting. Rosenberg nervously paced in front of the device, wringing his hands. It had been his responsibility, never mind that it was the goddamn ARMY that had lost it. He hadn’t been there.
“Herr Doctor Rosenberg, it is good to see you!” The jovial voice of the Reichsfuhrer-SS boomed across the room. He strode confidently, followed by a man in the uniform of an SS Obersturmannfuhrer. Both men exuded energy, but while Himmler’s was forced humor and masked a deadly lethality, the other man fairly glared panzers.
Rosenberg saluted. “It is an unexpected honor to have you here, sir, we have only begun to study the device-”
“Chappa-Ai.” Rosenberg was startled by the dangerous man’s outburst. “Or ‘stargate’ if you prefer.” The other man spoke in a rich tenor, with a trace of an English accent.
Himmler grinned. “Doctor Rosenberg, I don’t want you to worry about the loss of the other device. Think nothing of it, your project is back on schedule.” He stepped aside, and the other man stepped forward. “I want you to meet a new associate of the SS, Obersturmannfuhrer Temmel.”
“Please the title is purely for show,” the man stepped forward and shook Rosenberg’s trembling hand, and his eyes glowed. “Call me Herr Seth.”
*SMF-1 Base Camp, Unknown Planet*
The winds howled outside the massive pyramid, and inside their wails echoed like distant coyotes circling a wounded animal. Two lanterns lit up most of the room, and a sterno flame boiled a pot of water for coffee. They were on canned rations and water from home, so there was no NEED to boil, but it was better to be safe than to shit your lungs out.
Inside a massive stone pyramid older than human history, eighteen men of SMF-1 took their ease, laughing about the places they were still finding sand. “Ai, I just took a crap and it came back dusty!” A private Green returned from the far corner they were using to relieve themselves, until the weather cleared. Nobody wanted sandblasted parts, either. Private Green walked over to the .30 caliber mount and took his seat; in their new position, the remaining Tucker car faced the open door with its guns ready, and the M1919 was now set behind their gear packs with its field of fire covering most of the room, including the Stargate. He picked up his tray and started to finish off his meal.
“Hey Green! Pass the TP!” a call came from the cooking stove. Corporal Sean ‘Skyman’ Anders, one of the gunners for the Tucker car stood up and dusted the crumbs off his butternut pants.
“Why don’t you use your girlie mag, Skyman?” One of the men joked, as Green pitched him the bag with the roll in it. Skyman laughed too; they gave him a hard time for having brought the latest issue of ‘Astounding’ instead of some more relaxing reading material. “Laugh all you want, you bastards!” Skyman showed them the cover with the title story Lost Pyramids of Mars. “It seems maybe these might be good for something after all.”
They all settled a bit as Skyman left for the corner, except another pair of privates who were sent to patrol the perimeter of the room. It was practically a forest, and even in weather like this, something could sneak in and they’d never see it until it sucked out their brains or… something. A quarter of the way through the patrol, the room began to shake. The marines all jumped up and grabbed their guns, except Skyman who hastily pulled up his pants while leaning on his gun with his free hand. Near the base of the stargate, the men looked around, unsure of what to do. “Earthquake!” one San Francisco native shouted. Their commander, however, shook his head, and pointed toward the ceiling, which was now raining dust. Over the howl of the storm they could hear a throbbing, rumbling roar which rattled their teeth and bones as it got louder. “What in God’s name is that?!” Private Green shouted.
“Sounds like it might be God!” a panicked corporal shot back.
In the middle of the ceiling, directly above their cooking fire, a hole over three meters across opened up, casting down a sinister blue light. Eight rings, similar to the stargate, but smaller, dropped down quickly, scattering the men who formed a rough horseshoe around the rings, weapons ready. The rings pulsed with a white light, and suddenly the marines weren’t alone.
Each creature was vaguely man-shaped, wearing some sort of banded plate armour that shimmered with a purplish hue. In their hands they held double-headed spears with rounded knobs on each end. Their heads, though, were straight from man’s collective nightmare. Each face was a cobra, spreading its hood and preparing to strike. The rings vanished as quickly as they had appeared, and the snake-men spun into a circle, backs to each-other, with their spears pointed out.
“Drop your weapons!” the commander shouted.
Without command, the spears of the snake-men seemed to split open, crackling with golden energy. “Jaffa, KREE!”
Private Green dropped to one knee and worked the action on his rifle. “Oh... FU-” was all that was heard before the room exploded in thunder and flame. Eight model 1903 Springfield rifles, two model 1918 Browning Automatic Rifles, and a .30 caliber model 1918 air-cooled machine gun opened fire, even as superheated balls of plasma rocketed towards them. The armor of the snake-men withstood some of the fire, but the sheer volume and punch of the bullets meant that inevitably some shots would get through.
The staff weapons were taking their toll, though, in the currency of missing limbs and holed torsos. In thirty short seconds, half the snake-men fell, but so did five marines. Under the heavy volume of fire, the snake-men shrank back, to the base of the gate, and the Marines thought for a moment they had them. Then, the rings fell again from the ceiling, and in a flash another twenty snake-men were there. The fighting was furious and chaotic, but soon the marines were being forced away from the gate. There were six left.
“Grenades!” The commander shouted, and each man tossed a grenade towards their enemy, to buy a few seconds. “Anders! Get in the gun mount!” He barked. “You three, get in and go, head west and pray to God that you find Puller, warn them about what happened.” He slapped Private Green, who had dragged the .30 caliber with him, on the shoulder. “Green and I will slow the fuckers down.” The men nodded, and crammed themselves into the car. Driving through a sandstorm might be suicide, but ten-to-one odds against space monsters with ray guns WAS suicide.
The commander lay on his belly, a pistol in each hand. He was wounded and bleeding out, but that couldn’t be helped. He wondered if maybe the eyes were weak. Couldn’t hurt. He peered through the smoke as Green fed a new belt into the gun. The eyes glowed, and if he could just… BLAM he saw an eye go dark. BLAM another spun away. Again, and again, while Green raked the gun back and forth, both of them were screaming.
They had felt the gravel kick up as the Tucker Tiger Tank sped away, and the whistle of bullets as Skyman fired the quad .50 over their heads. Slowly, the marine realized he was hitting empty chambers, and that Private Green was missing his head. He looked up, and through the smoke another snake monster strode, slowly. It levelled its staff at him and said something he didn’t understand. The lieutenant sneered. “The name’s Lieutenant Tony Evans. Remember it.” A flash of light and heat and he saw nothing more.
Temple of Ra, Abydos
He surveyed the battle, picking over the carnage for details that his mind needed. It was a mystery. “And you say fewer than twenty were here?” He bent down and picked up a bullet casing, turning it over in his fingers. “And none are Jaffa?”
“No, First Prime.” The Jaffa held up a colored patch, with a world bound by some sort of weapon and a bird with its wings spread. “All the Tau’ri bore this mark.” The first prime dropped the casing and held the insignia. He couldn’t make out the writing, and it didn’t seem to be the symbol of any of the System Lords. He frowned, he didn’t like not knowing, it would displease his god.
“We will search them out in the morning, hopefully we can catch them before they reach the city. If not, it will make our job much harder, but not impossible. We WILL be ready for Ra’s army when it arrives.” He looked to the two Jaffa. “Check for survivors or those near death, perhaps our Lord will show one mercy to gain answers. And gather all their belongings.”
“Yes, Master Bra’tac!”
He watched them run, and shook his head. Such a waste, to send good men to die in an ambush that never should have existed. One day, perhaps, Jaffa would be free of false gods, but until then he would serve his god, Apophis, to the best of his ability. Perhaps even one day Bra’tac could forgive himself for serving such a monster.
*Ahernabe Research Facility, Hamburg, Germany*
Alfred Rosenberg was going to die. There was no question about it, they were going to put him up against a wall and shoot him. They had just begun to study the strange device brought back from Antarctica when disaster struck. Certainly the thing was fascinating. It was over seven meters across, covered in strange and unknown writings, and made of a metal previously unknown to mankind. Well, nearly unknown, because they HAD had another device, which had vanished like a whore’s looks in good lighting. Rosenberg nervously paced in front of the device, wringing his hands. It had been his responsibility, never mind that it was the goddamn ARMY that had lost it. He hadn’t been there.
“Herr Doctor Rosenberg, it is good to see you!” The jovial voice of the Reichsfuhrer-SS boomed across the room. He strode confidently, followed by a man in the uniform of an SS Obersturmannfuhrer. Both men exuded energy, but while Himmler’s was forced humor and masked a deadly lethality, the other man fairly glared panzers.
Rosenberg saluted. “It is an unexpected honor to have you here, sir, we have only begun to study the device-”
“Chappa-Ai.” Rosenberg was startled by the dangerous man’s outburst. “Or ‘stargate’ if you prefer.” The other man spoke in a rich tenor, with a trace of an English accent.
Himmler grinned. “Doctor Rosenberg, I don’t want you to worry about the loss of the other device. Think nothing of it, your project is back on schedule.” He stepped aside, and the other man stepped forward. “I want you to meet a new associate of the SS, Obersturmannfuhrer Temmel.”
“Please the title is purely for show,” the man stepped forward and shook Rosenberg’s trembling hand, and his eyes glowed. “Call me Herr Seth.”
Stuart: The only problem is, I'm losing track of which universe I'm in.
You kinda look like Jesus. With a lightsaber.- Peregrin Toker
You kinda look like Jesus. With a lightsaber.- Peregrin Toker
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Crazedwraith
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Me likes a lot! Though Apophis? Why is he here?
It is quite good though, and I see that we're starting to deviate from the movie!
It is quite good though, and I see that we're starting to deviate from the movie!
Norseman's Fics the SD archive of my fics.
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Vehrec
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Because he hates Ra and wants to take his planets? It's as good a reason as any, and gets this Fanfic back off the track of the movie.Norseman wrote:Me likes a lot! Though Apophis? Why is he here?
It is quite good though, and I see that we're starting to deviate from the movie!
Kudos for such an elegant solution to the German problem. I applaud your use of every bit of SG canon.
Commander of the MFS Darwinian Selection Method (sexual)
Oh Frak.... Set(h)'s with the Germans. This ain't good
Me: Nope, that's why I have you around to tell me.
Nitram: You -are- beautiful. Anyone tries to tell you otherwise kill them.
"A life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved, except in memory. LLAP" -- Leonard Nimoy, last Tweet
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CaptainChewbacca
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That's a common misconception, but in fact 'Tau'ri' is a term used by the Goa'uld and Jaffa for any 'mundane' human.Crazedwraith wrote:Cobra-men? What are Apophisis' Jaffa doing on Ra's Planet Trying to conquer it for him? Hmm, Tau'ri refers only to the first humans from Earth, why would the Jaffa refer to them as that? They only do in the canon after Jackson identifies themselves as such to Teal'c.
Stuart: The only problem is, I'm losing track of which universe I'm in.
You kinda look like Jesus. With a lightsaber.- Peregrin Toker
You kinda look like Jesus. With a lightsaber.- Peregrin Toker
Question: Why are you using Bra'Tak? Wouldn't Teal'c be Prime now?
Me: Nope, that's why I have you around to tell me.
Nitram: You -are- beautiful. Anyone tries to tell you otherwise kill them.
"A life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved, except in memory. LLAP" -- Leonard Nimoy, last Tweet
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Instant Sunrise
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CaptainChewbacca
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In 1939, Teal'c would be 40 years old and Bra'tac was 75. We don't know how long he was Apophis' first prime, but I'm assuming since Bra'tac is currently younger than Teal'c was when we first saw him, he is in "fighting form" and still leading Apophis' armies.LadyTevar wrote:Question: Why are you using Bra'Tak? Wouldn't Teal'c be Prime now?
Stuart: The only problem is, I'm losing track of which universe I'm in.
You kinda look like Jesus. With a lightsaber.- Peregrin Toker
You kinda look like Jesus. With a lightsaber.- Peregrin Toker
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Crazedwraith
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I think Teal'c's Statement in 'Enemy Within' is pretty explicate on the matter:CaptainChewbacca wrote:That's a common misconception, but in fact 'Tau'ri' is a term used by the Goa'uld and Jaffa for any 'mundane' human.Crazedwraith wrote:Cobra-men? What are Apophisis' Jaffa doing on Ra's Planet Trying to conquer it for him? Hmm, Tau'ri refers only to the first humans from Earth, why would the Jaffa refer to them as that? They only do in the canon after Jackson identifies themselves as such to Teal'c.
Plus I can't think of any examples where Tau'ri has been used to reffer to non-earth humans. (possibably excepting Jonas Quin)TEAL'C: There is a tale of a primitive world the Goa'uld discovered millenia ago. The Tau'ri. The First World where forms of this type first evolved. It is said the Goa'uld harvested among the primitives, some became Goa'uld hosts, others became jaffa, the rest were taken as slaves and seeded among the stars to serve them. But that world has been lost for centuries.
Though I think you're getting that from Daniel's eytomolgy of the word Hok'Tar. Where Tar is a slang term for human/host.
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CaptainChewbacca
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Why is it so hard to believe that the common, everyday 'Tauri' would come from the mythical world of the 'Tau'ri'. There are plenty of examples of Goa'uld calling non-terran humans by that name.
Stuart: The only problem is, I'm losing track of which universe I'm in.
You kinda look like Jesus. With a lightsaber.- Peregrin Toker
You kinda look like Jesus. With a lightsaber.- Peregrin Toker
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Crazedwraith
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CaptainChewbacca
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Well, for starters the mere existence of the term 'Hok'taur' would indicate that "Tauri" was in the Goa'uld/Jaffa vernacular. Sadly, my source for scripts is down at the moment.Crazedwraith wrote:Fine. Where?CaptainChewbacca wrote:Why is it so hard to believe that the common, everyday 'Tauri' would come from the mythical world of the 'Tau'ri'. There are plenty of examples of Goa'uld calling non-terran humans by that name.
Stuart: The only problem is, I'm losing track of which universe I'm in.
You kinda look like Jesus. With a lightsaber.- Peregrin Toker
You kinda look like Jesus. With a lightsaber.- Peregrin Toker
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Academia Nut
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Actually, from what we know of Hok'tar and Tau'ri, it's much more likely that "tar" and "taur" are the Goa'uld word, or root, for human, and that "Tau'ri" refers to a specific subset of humans, in this case "the first humans". And Tau'ri is a Goa'uld word, apparently a corruption of the Ancient "Terra" or "Terran", but just because it exists in their language doesn't mean that they use it all the time, seeing as how it is apparently mythical in nature.
Aside from this little bit of grammatical fisticuffs, excellent chapter. Incidentally, didn't you post the "Bra'tac: Scifi's answer to Chuck Norris" poster over on SB? Cause Bra'tac+Indiana Jones="Nuke the site from orbit. It's the only way to be sure"... only even then it's not sure, not sure at all.
Aside from this little bit of grammatical fisticuffs, excellent chapter. Incidentally, didn't you post the "Bra'tac: Scifi's answer to Chuck Norris" poster over on SB? Cause Bra'tac+Indiana Jones="Nuke the site from orbit. It's the only way to be sure"... only even then it's not sure, not sure at all.
I love learning. Teach me. I will listen.
You know, if Christian dogma included a ten-foot tall Jesus walking around in battle armor and smashing retarded cultists with a gaint mace, I might just convert - Noble Ire on Jesus smashing Scientologists
You know, if Christian dogma included a ten-foot tall Jesus walking around in battle armor and smashing retarded cultists with a gaint mace, I might just convert - Noble Ire on Jesus smashing Scientologists