DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters from 'Stargate: Atlantis'. They are not my property.
She looked at the small, yellow piece of paper with the name of the taxi company written in terrible handwriting; the black ink being smudged by the thumb of her sweaty hand. She then stopped on the pavement, putting one of the two large, green bags on the filthy ground. Elizabeth wished she could pack light and not bother like this but her work, unfortunately, hadn't allowed her that. She couldn't find anything or anyone to carry her bags. Apparently the size of the bags and her being a slender woman hadn't sent the message to anyone in this airport that some assistance would be welcomed. She stood there, next to the small line of taxis that waited for customers.
Elizabeth shot a look at the yellow picture before her and tried to wipe some sweat away from her forehead. She had been in Kroleva for only half an hour and she was already sweating in the shade. She dared not imagine what the temperature was like with the scorching heat here. It was good that she decided to take her colleague Laura's advice and restrain from wearing make up here. Once again she glanced down at the piece of paper in her hand. She had been surprised to find the use of computers here, but when she reached the information desk to ask about a reliable taxi company, the computer there happened to be in repair and she was given the name on this piece of paper. She could still remember the way that poor, young woman pronounced the name in terrible English…. Good thing, too, because the smudged ink made the name of the taxi company almost unreadable – not that the horrible handwriting in which it had been written had helped, really.
"Wildcat. Okay, sounds reasonable…." She went past the names of the cars, hoping it would be a good, perhaps air-conditioned, vehicle. Nothing turned up until she noticed a small sign at the very back sticking up. Dragging her bags alongside the long pavement by herself, she finally reached the end. When she stopped and saw her ride, Elizabeth frowned. It hadn't been an air-conditioned car… in fact, it wasn't a car at all but a three-wheeled bicycle with coach.
The chubby driver with black, curly hair smiled at her. "Ride?" he asked.
Elizabeth looked up at the sign to make sure this had been the right one. Wildcat. She looked down at the coach again. Mosquito would be a better name, she thought to herself and hesitated for a moment. She had been advised of this company only because it had been the only one with the reputation of having to stay away from ripping the pockets of visitors with ridiculously high fare prices. "Yes," she agreed.
The man nodded and pointed to the red seats. Elizabeth waited for a moment, expecting the driver to help her with her baggage, but instead, she was forced to carry them to the seat next to her. The driver finally came to help her put the bags on the seat, probably noticing that she obviously lacked the strength to do it herself.
When she was finally on her way to the hotel, Elizabeth tried to fan herself with her hand, but it did nothing. There wasn't even a decent breeze as the taxi picked up speed. The travel to Delonia had taken fourteen hours and she had to change four planes on the way. Needless to say, she had very little sleep and ate even less, as plane food had never appealed to her. Passing by the beach, she saw the refreshing site of the blue lake. It seemed alluring to her and she even contemplated jumping off the coach and straight into the lake. Elizabeth glanced at her watch and realized that she forgot to wind it forward eight hours. Just as she was spinning that small button, the coach passed over some rocks and Elizabeth was almost thrown through the thin plastic over her that was supposed to shelter her from the sun. "Crap!" she swore and grasped the handles of her bag. There were no seatbelts but at least her luggage was heavy enough to prevent her from jumping up or anywhere else away from her seat.
After twenty minutes, the taxi finally stopped in front of the hotel. Looking at the entrance, it seemed like a small 15th century castle with white walls and the name Cherry Blossom written above the entrance.
She paid the driver and was greeted by a bellhop. Taking her bags, the poor boy with his scrawny arms did his best to carry them inside. As she followed him, she wanted to just take the bags herself and spare him the trouble but, just then, another young man ran over to them and took the other bag. When she entered the hotel, the heat was unfortunately still there but it had been a bearable temperature – one that wouldn't force her body to release excessive amounts of sweat.
The interior of the Cherry Blossom appeared modest, not that she had expected a five-star hotel anyway. The walls were once again white with some paintings with city themes; a few plants here and there, few wooden tables and chairs, and a handful of guests about. When she reached the reception desk, a short, blonde woman with her hair in a ponytail greeted her with a ridiculous wide grin. Elizabeth thought that if she had tried to smile like that, her lips would rip apart. The woman spoke something in Deloninan and then in English. "Welcome to the Cherry Blossom hotel, madam."
Elizabeth took a deep breath, amazing herself that she had managed to not collapse from all the heat and lack of sleep. She exhaled and raised her eyebrows. "Thank you. My name is Dr. Elizabeth Weir. I have a reservation."
The receptionist typed the name into the older computer to check. A moment later she nodded and smiled again. "Ah, Ms. Weir. Yes, we have been expecting you."
Elizabeth noticed the woman's English had been better but the accent could still use some work. She was presented with a small form and her keys. Picking up her pen, it took her five minutes to read the tiny print and understand what was required. By the time she was finished, she made a mental note to check her vision when she returned to Toronto. If more documents were with tiny letters like this form, she would surely need glasses by the time she returned home.
She took the key with the number 18 on it and followed the bellhops with only her black rucksack on her. Naturally, there was no elevator so she had to climb four stories. She was amazed at the absence of tiredness from the bellhops. Elizabeth didn't want to imagine how many times and what light or heavy bags these boys had to drag through these stairs.
When they reached the fourth floor, there was a narrow hallway with five black doors. Room 18 had been at the end of the hallway. Entering the room, the boys left the bags and were generously tipped by Elizabeth who felt sorry for them and the trouble their job forced them to go through. They happily accepted the tip and left.
Finally alone, she dropped her rucksack and looked around the small room that appeared as modest as the rest of the hotel. Lime-colored walls, white drapes, a single bed with a decent pillow and sheets. Above the bed was a drawing on the wall of a large cat surrounded by trees – it looked pretty. Across the bed was a simple table and a chair; a yellow lamp stood on the table, and a small mirror on the wall above the table. A yellow curtain close to the bed revealed the small bathroom with a shower, sink with a mirror and toilet. To her surprise there were two bars of soap and pink toilet paper, while next to the shower was a black towel with the word Cherry written in yellow.
On the other side of the bed were two glass doors. Opening them, Elizabeth stepped through and found herself on the small, stone balcony. A dense view of the jungle met her, and a little further she could see the famous waterfall of the town. It hadn't been the lake she had hoped for, but this would do. She tapped the railing and then stepped back in. Quickly taking off her gray travel jacket, she threw it on the chair and then put her hands on her hips, wondering whether to unpack completely or take a shower first. Exhaling tiredly, she threw her hands in the air. Screw it, she was exhausted. Elizabeth fell on the bed that was surprisingly comfortable…or perhaps it had been her tired brain that would make even a rock seem like a bed of feathers. The moment her face felt the soft surface of the pillow, her eyelids fell over her eyes.
Finally rest.
A rooster of all things woke her up. Moaning, she lazily turned her face toward the light from the opened balcony, her eyes remaining closed. Bringing her hand slowly to the pillow, Elizabeth opened her eyes and looked at her watch. 11:24 AM. She had been asleep for sixteen hours. Must be a record, she thought. Dragging herself away from the bed, she walked to the bathroom and turned on the shower. She then went back to her bags and took out what she needed before heading back to the shower.
Taking off her dusty clothing, she stepped inside and almost screamed when the freezing drops of water hit her body. When did the temperature change? It was hot when she tested it with her hand before. It took her some time to finally adjust the water temperature. Elizabeth was grateful that there was at least hot water here. She didn't want to return from her excavations to a freezing shower.
After she dried off, Elizabeth tightened the belt of her bathrobe and took her rucksack. She pulled out her cell phone only to remember that it had been impossible to get a signal in Kroleva. Why had she taken it with her in the first place? Throwing it on the bed, she then pulled out her planner. She had a meeting with the director of the Kroleva museum in four hours. Yawning, Elizabeth wished it had been tomorrow instead to give her more time to shake off her jetlag but she pushed her complaints aside and took out her makeup kit instead. She rarely put make up on, and when she did it had been mostly for formal meetings and gatherings. She liked that her job hadn't required the need of using make up most of the times.
Putting on a pair of khaki pants and short-sleeved shirt of the same color with a white tee underneath, Elizabeth took out her brown shoes and hat before snatching her rucksack and key.
Climbing down the stairs, her stomach reminded her loudly enough that it needed food. Hurrying to the small restaurant that was outside, Elizabeth found the place to be quite charming. A small round fountain stood in the middle with wooden chairs and tables that surrounded it. The chairs had thin red pillows and the vacant tables were decorated with a bouquet of pink and white flowers. Tall trees surrounded the restaurant, providing it with thick and incredibly welcomed shade. There was no air conditioning here, so these blessed things were indeed a blessing. There were a small number of guests here, as Elizabeth figured the lack of luxury had probably put off a lot of tourists from visiting Kroleva. In her mind that was unfortunate, because although the service was far from perfect, the history that this place had and what she had learned before getting the opportunity to come here, was rich and worth the hassle. At least, she had hoped that would be the case.
Picking up the worn out paper that was supposed to be the menu, Elizabeth scanned the offered meals. The majority were vegetarian dishes with occasional fish and lamb. The names sounded eatable. She decided on the Rosie Garden, intrigued by the name but expecting little as her experience had taught her to be careful with food abroad and especially with her profession.
She waited for half an hour until her meal was finally presented to her. Had she been forced to wait another five minutes, she would've considered eating those leaves. Two pink sticks were presented to her, filled with pieces of red fish, green, carrots, something purple, and small tentacles sticking out from the edges with two toothpicks pierced through the sticks. The smell managed to convince her to taste the dish. Having no knife or fork, Elizabeth took a napkin and then took one of the sticks. Taking a bite, her mouth was soon filled by a strange mass that tasted disturbing enough to trigger her gagging reflex. Feeling impolite to throw it up, Elizabeth tried hard to chew. Each attempt at the grinding of the meal only increased her desire to puke. In the end it became so unbearable that she brought the napkin to her mouth and slowly threw out the mass in it, trying for it to be as unnoticeable as possible. Not wanting to end up with something that would force her to bed, Elizabeth opted for a safe salad instead. It may not satisfy her hunger entirely, but it could hopefully get her through the next few hours until the meeting with George Krevon, the director, was over.
The museum was a one-story building that appeared as if it had been built entirely by clay. Not for real of course, but the façade was pretty convincing. When she entered the small hallway, she saw a table with two guards sitting on it. One of them had been asleep, while the other was reading a newspaper. Elizabeth approached them. "Excuse me," she called. The guard, the one that was awake, didn't respond. "Hey!" She knew that politeness would not get her far here. Finally removing the newspaper she was faced with the guard's sweaty face and hat that was too small for his head. "George Krevon?" she asked.
"Ehm." The guard pointed with his thumb to the left.
"Thanks." Elizabeth nodded and entered the left corridor. It was another narrow corridor with a few office doors. Elizabeth soon found the one with the director's name on it. Finding it already open, she came inside. A middle-aged man with gray mustache and hair sat behind the desk, looking at some papers. "Mr. Krevon?" she asked.
The man looked up at her and smiled. "Yes?"
"Hi, I'm Dr. Elizabeth We-"
"Oh, doctor!" George chuckled and immediately stood up. He took her hand and squeezed it a little tightly, forcing Elizabeth to wince unnoticeably. The man had a strong grip.
When he let go, Elizabeth slowly wrapped her left hand around her right, rubbing it gently. She was slightly surprised to find him dressed in shorts and a red t-shirt, along with some sandals. Being used to suits, shirts and ties, this was different for her.
Noticing this, George chuckled again. "It's more comfortable this way." His accent was slightly easier on the ears compared to the previous encounters.
"And with this climate, it's understandable," she replied.
"Have a seat?" he pointed to the chair in front of her.
"Thank you," Elizabeth pulled it up and then sat down.
"We wondered if you would manage here, doctor, not a lot of foreigners do."
"Since I'm sitting here in front of you…" she shrugged and chuckled.
"Yes, I was told of your previous experiences in Asia and Europe."
"They have taught me a lot of things."
"Experience is always valuable. Reading books is good but being out in the field is invaluable – something you prefer as well, I'm told."
"You were told correctly. Thank you for allowing me to be a part of your expedition team."
The man was surprised by this. "Oh, no, doctor, you won't be going with us."
Elizabeth blinked. "Excuse me?"
"We are excavating the Small Bell now."
"The Small Bell? Still? But that's only the beginning of the city."
"We are as surprised as you. We weren't expecting to find so many artifacts and rooms in that small part alone."
"Oh, so am I allowed to enter the Southern Wing then?"
"Unfortunately no. At least, not for now."
"Where does that leave me?"
"You will be taken by a guide to the Northern Wing."
"The Northern Wing?" She had not been expecting that offer. "But I was told there is not much to be explored there, it is almost barren."
"We think it is enough for now," he responded.
"It's enough for tourists to start walking all over the place; I expected to be presented with a challenge, quite frankly."
"We prefer to… 'comb' as you say, the city ourselves before letting archeologists from other countries have a look at it."
"I see." She couldn't hide her disappointment, hopeful for the much richer Southern Wing of the city. "But wouldn't our expertise be valuable in an ongoing dig?"
"We have a capable team of archeologist here, doctor. Our school of Ancient Knowledge or… Archeology as it is known in other places, is our proud and joy."
Elizabeth nodded. She had been expecting to be handed a piece of the cake, but all she got were a few measly crumbs. Still, it had been better than nothing. It was she who sought their permission to explore parts of the Bronze City in the first place. Although she was aware of the Krolevan authorities' reputation of refusing foreign experts in the field of archeology, Elizabeth had hoped they would make a small exception with her. They allowed her to come so that had been sufficient for her. She did not want to get greedy right at the beginning.
"Let me just check on a few things," George said and picked up the phone.
While waiting, Elizabeth looked around the small office with yellow walls. She noticed a few bookshelves stacked with thick books. Some were in English, Russian, German, Chinese, Italian, and others in Delonian although those were only a handful. There was a small fan on a chair next to the desk, a few framed photographs of George with his family and some colleagues. Two green curtains were almost covering the window behind George. She found no artifacts however; not even replicas.
"Alright." George put the phone down and then took a notepad. He scribbled something down on it. "This is the name of your guide and the address where you can find him." He tore off the paper and handed it to Elizabeth.
"John Sheppard? Sounds -"
"Not local?" George laughed. "He's from the United States or your neighbor, in a way."
"Okay… I could use a translator. Now about my guide…."
"He is your guide." Seeing her doubtful expression, he continued, "He's done his fair share of… exploring, so he'll know where to take you."
"He's reliable?"
"Yes, doctor," he said and nodded.
"Alright, thank you, Mr. Krevon."
"Call me George." He smiled.
Elizabeth nodded to the side. "So I can meet with him tomorrow?"
"It is advisable that you meet him today."
His tone struck her as strange. "A-lright…" Reading the address again, Elizabeth sighed. Let's find this John Sheppard, she thought.
