Chapter 1.

American military train, southern Nevada. June 10th, 1939

Rail was a dismal way to travel. The passenger on the train shifted uncomfortably, and sighed. There was no question that ever since railroad travel had been developed over a hundred years ago, nobody had enjoyed it. Certainly nations prospered from their mastery of the rails, and it had opened the American west and the Russian east alike, but sitting in a small wooden room for five days was nobody's idea of comfort. He couldn't even walk around to stretch his legs, because if he did he would simply fall over.

He looked at the newspaper again and sighed. The Nazis seemed to be growing restless again, and he had a feeling war was about to erupt all over again. Having fled his home some seven years ago, he had tried to stay out of things, but his increasing demands that something be done had attracted some attention, and just one week ago some government gentlemen in military uniforms had shown up at his house and asked him if he wouldn't mind consulting on a project of some special importance. Project: Solomon was the name, though he couldn't see any particular abundance of reason in te leadership of it. From the brief notes they had given him, it was all very sketchy as to what they even wanted him to do.

A screech of the breaks and a not-so-gentle jolt brought him out of his reflection, and the door opened. "We are here, sir. I'll meet you on the platform with your bags." He stretched and moaned, his joints creaking in his old age. He felt all of his seventy years, he had seen quite a bit in his time. He stepped out onto the platform, squinting in the early morning desert light. There was a tall, distinguished looking man on the platform, undoubtedly the project director he was supposed to meet. "Doctor Langford, sir!" He called out over the engine noise. "I'm pleased to meet you."

Langford held out his hand and grinned. "And you too, Doctor Einstein. Welcome to Project Solomon."

Hawthorne Naval Ammunition Depot, western Nevada

"And you say you found it in Giza in 1928? I've never heard anything about this!" The doctors Einstein and Langford were going back and forth during Langford's personal tour of the installation.

"That's because we kept it quiet, Doctor Einstein."

"Please, call me Albert."

"Only if you call me John."

"Fair enough." They laughed, as they walked down the hallways. "What I don't understand, John, is why I'm here. I'm no archaeologist, I'm a physicist, and I'm not a military man, either."

"No, no, that's not right!" Came an angry voice from an open door. As they peaked in, they saw a team of academics furiously leafing through books and peering at a large slateboard covered in egyptian Heiroglyphs, while a man in his late thirties wearing a tweed coat furiously crossed out translations. The board read "YEAR 10 OF KING ?, SKY, RA, THE SUN DISK, COFFIN, DOOR TO HEAVEN."

"This is Doctor Henry Jones, another consultant the Army contracted for project Solomon. He's an expert in ancient languages and matters of antiquity." Langford nodded at Jones' direction.

"Pleased to meet you, Doctor Jones." Einstein didn't know why, but he felt an instant like for the man.

"Hey, hang on, I'm onto something here." Henry Jones barely turned around. "This is practically backwards! It's all wrong. What did you use, Budge? Why do they keep reprinting his books?" He started scribbling on the board. "That's a curious word to use 'qebeh.' Then an adverbial sedjem-en-ef with a cleft subject 'sealed and buried'," He looked over at the men "NOT coffin." He continued working "Not 'Forever to eternity – for all time'," he crossed out and rewrote a section. "You really should have gotten that one." he smirked at the other schollars." He stepped back "This should read, A MILLION YEARS INTO THE SKY IS RA, SUN GOD. SEALED AND BURIED FOR ALL TIME HIS…" He crossed out the last few symbols "It's not DOOR to HEAVEN. The proper translation is…STARGATE."

Einstein and Jones looked at Langford, and at the same time asked "What's a Stargate?"

Neu Schwabia, Antarctica

The Third German Antarctic expedition was proceeding very well. Already the reconnassance flights were gathering more data about he continent than any other expedition in history. As one of the Dornier Wal craft landed, the pilot waved wildly at the expedition leader. "Herr Richter! Herr Richter!" The pilot was grinning as he climbed out of his plane. "During my flight over grid I-14, I spotted a large fissure with what appeared to be metal inside. A large piece, maybe another aircraft."

"Are you sure, son? There's alot of ice down there to dazzle you."

The pilot shook his head. "No sir, I recommend we take the seaplane too McMurdo sound, land, and take a look. If there's someone else flying planes at the bottom of the world, we ought to find out."

"Very well, we'll go after the next storm." Alfred Richter looked at the sky "It iss sure to be a big one."