Disclaimer: Same deal as the first chapter.

0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

The Beginning

A large crowd had gathered around the pyramids, mostly civilians but also a decent number of Allied troops. Most were staring in awe, completely dumbfounded by this surprise visit from people beyond Earth. Others were speaking into radio transmitters, spreading the news like wildfire across the world. The military personnel, Americans and British mostly, were taking up defensive positions around the site, facing outwards in case of an Axis attack, and some facing inwards in case the visitors weren't as friendly as the people hoped.

Private Jim Bravura stood beside one of the four M2 Sherman tanks that were facing the space ships, his M1 Garand Rifle resting comfortably in his hands as he stared at the strange bird-men that were making their way toward the gathered crowd. Bravura managed to tear his eyes away from the spectacle long enough to look down the line at the other eighty or so infantry men that had formed a barrier between the hundreds of Egyptian civilians that had swarmed to the pyramids from Cairo, eighteen kilometres to the north, and the bird-men that had come from the space ships.

Someone started speaking, very loud and in a language Bravura did not recognise. It took him a moment to realise it was one of the bird-men, standing maybe fifty metres away from the humans and standing ten or so metres in front of the other fifty-odd bird-men, each one carrying what appeared to be some sort of ceremonial staff.

I wonder what he's saying…

0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

The Jaffa speaking to the gathered peasants was not just any Jaffa; he was Pemak, First Prime of the God Ra. He had little to say to the peasants, they needed only to know that their God had come to claim this world once again.

"People of this world, rejoice!," Pemak shouted, throwing his arms out to his sides in a flourish. "Your God has come to claim you as his slaves once again!"

He paused for effect, waiting for the simple-minded peasants to erupt into cheering. After all, it was not every day that your long lost God returned to your existence. Instead, all he got was silence and blank stares.

"Once more, you will have the great honour to service Ra. You will be guaranteed a place at his side when your bodies have withered," Pemak continued, knowing that he was lying. The Gods only took Jaffa to the life that awaited them after this one was over.

Again, nobody did or said anything, they just continued to watch Pemak and his warriors. Pemak frowned as he finally noticed the large armoured ground vehicles that the peasants had among their ranks, and he spied many of the peasants holding what appeared to be some kind of weapon. Clearly, these peasants had been left to their own devices for far too long.

"Heretics!," he hissed. "Jaffa, kree!"

If these fools would not listen to his words, then perhaps they would understand his use of force.

0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Bravura, like everyone else, remained completely silent as the bird-man gave his speech. He wasn't sure what the bird-man was saying, but he didn't think it sounded very friendly.

But hey, they are Martians, maybe this is their version of a neighbourly greeting, he thought to himself.

There was a long pause as the bird-man appeared to study the crowd, the head of the being focussing in on the Sherman's as though he hadn't noticed they were there before. He said something quietly, which Bravura was not able to make out, then shouted at the top of his lungs two worlds that would change history even further, and for the worse.

"Jaffa, kree!," came the bizarre shout. Bravura certainly wasn't an expert on languages, but he had heard enough battle-cries to know one when he heard it. Unfortunately, he was proven right when the assembled bird-men raised their staffs, aiming them like some kind of bizarre rifle.

The bulbous heads of the staffs each blossomed open, and Bravura and the rest of the military men realized what was happening a moment too late. The aliens opened fire, sending golden balls of light streaming into the crowd. They didn't appear to be very accurate, but anyone who was struck either fell to the ground screaming in agony or died instantly. The sandy ground where a few stray light balls hit turned to dark glass and very quickly the smell of burning flesh filled Bravuras nostrils.

He wasn't sure who gave the order, but from somewhere along the small battle line somebody shouted, "Return fire!", an order which was eagerly followed. Bravura raised his Garand and fired twice, knocking one of the bird-men to the ground, dead or wounded he didn't know. That alien no longer a threat, he picked another and fired another two shots. The thunderous sound of many Garand rifles and Thompson submachine guns firing in unison was deafening to Bravura, but it was all drowned out by the explosive force of the Sherman just feet away firing its main gun into the group of attacking aliens.

Bravura ducked down and cursed loudly as the sound reverberated in his head, but he had to be thankful of the results; a group of about five or six of the bird-men were flung into the air in amidst a burst of sand erupting from the ground, flying in all directions, some of them losing limbs along the way. A moment later, as Bravura once again resumed firing, the Sherman's anti-personnel machinegun opened up in a long burst, the others following suit.

Several more snake-men were cut down as the sought refuge amongst the shallow dunes, the chatter of the machinegun overriding the lesser noises of battle. Tufts of sand spat high into the air where the many bullets now directed at the aliens missed their marks.

As Bravura's rifle made the distinctive 'ping' noise that alerted the user to an empty clip, and spat out the aforementioned clip, his eyes widened as more and more of the bird-men began appearing from the three space ships, swarming out onto the sands of Egypt in scores.

He quickly fumbled for another clip watching the bird-men continue to multiply. He spared a quick glance over his shoulder and saw hundreds of civilians heading hell-bent for the horizon. Right now, that didn't seem like such a bad idea to Bravura.

Finally getting another clip into his rifle, Bravura returned his attention to the charging aliens, taking aim and firing into the masses. More and more light blasts were connecting with the men in the line, and already the Army's numbers had been cut in half. The civilians had long since left the area, but that still left the men in uniform in a fighting retreat from the aliens.

The Sherman fired its 40 millimetre cannon again, the shell sailing into another group of the bird-men as the charged on toward the Americans, heedless of their losses. His rifle pinged again, and he swiftly replaced the spent clip, jamming another eight .30 calibre rounds home and spraying the charging lines. Beside him, one of the few British soldiers in the line fell backwards, shrieking in agony as his legs were horrifically burned by the bird-men's guns.

That's it for me!, Bravura thought to himself, and as he turned to head back to the small convoy of trucks and jeeps that had ferried the soldiers here from Cairo, the Sherman beside him took a number of hits to the hull down armour. Where the armour was hit, it glowed white hot and small molten rivers of the metal ran down to drip onto the sand, rapidly cooling where it landed.

Bravura stumbled and fell, grunting as he caught a face full of sand. Another American soldier collapsed beside him, smoke wafting up from his back where a large, charred hole was evident.

"Our Lord, who art in Heaven-," Bravura's prayer was cut off as a pair of light blast slammed into the ground beside his head. He reared up, crying out as his flesh on the right side of his face bubbled into painful blisters. The rifle that had fallen from his grasp was hit as well, the barrel boiling away in an instant. Terrified, confused and in pain, the private rolled away from the rifle, over the body of the dead man beside him and grabbed the other mans weapon, a Thompson submachine gun.

As he scrambled back to his feet, he took the time to grab two spare clips from the corpse.

"Heaven forgive me," he muttered as he ran hell for leather over the next dune, the convoy now less than thirty metres away. Ahead, just short of the convoy, two men dropped to the ground, one falling silent immediately, the other writhing and screaming as the flesh was stripped from his arm under the intense heat of the bird-men's staff guns.

Behind him, Bravura heard a new sound and turned his attention back to one of the Sherman's as it was struck by a much larger bolt of golden light, the armour flash-boiling away in an instant and the three men inside being cooked alive so quickly they did not even have time to scream.

The sight served Bravura an extra dose of adrenalin, and finally he came over the top of the final dune, now just feet from salvation. The jeep he had chosen as his chariot away from this place had .30 calibre machine gun mounted on the back, a fellow American firing into the ceaseless hordes of bird-men.

Sadly, Lady Luck was not smiling on Jimmy Bravura that day, for just as he reached out to climb aboard the already moving jeep, a pair of golden blasts hammered into his back, flinging the man forward to land face first in the lap of the driver.

0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Pemak watched, his arm bloodied from the primitive weapons the humans had used, as the vermin scurried over the sand dunes, running as the might of Ra cut them down. Their big land vehicles were proving to be tough kills, but the staff cannons that had been hastily set up were making short work out of them.

Clearly these vermin did not understand that they had no choice but to fulfil their God's divine will. Pemak would gladly show them the error of their ways.

"Jaffa!," he called out, pointing to one of the younger warriors amongst the small group that had huddled around him. "Contact the other Ha'taks in orbit and tell them to begin landing our warriors and to prepare for orbital bombardment afterwards."

"At once, my Lord," the young warrior replied, bowing his head to the First Prime before turning and setting off at a reasonable pace toward the middle Ha'tak.

Be thankful that your God is not here, vermin. If he were, you would already be dead, Pemak thought to himself, surveying the field of dead humans and smouldering vehicles before him, before turning his attention to the small group of vehicles heading for the horizon.

0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

In orbit, two more Ha'tak waited patiently. Once the order was given, the two ships began ringing down groups of Jaffa to reinforce the ships on the ground. After sending several hundred warriors each, they moved into a lower orbit to better aim for ground targets.

The peasants on the world below them would never know what hit them.

0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

A/N: That's the first real chapter of the story. As you can see, its fairly short, but future chapters will be considerably longer. The next chapter is going to deal with how the Allied commanders are going to deal with the new threat, and will also see the Axis taking some flak from the Jaffa. R&R please.

Also, nobody try and correct me about the M1 Garand cartridge by saying that it fired 7.62x51mm NATO rounds. The US Navy and commercially sold versions fired the NATO rounds, but the US Army version fired .30-06 Springfield cartridges.