Chapter 27 - Relaxation
Hammond had been enjoying the quiet day at the SGC. SG-1 was not on a mission, and no other team was embarking today. Instead, they were all on leave or already on a adventure-less mission. Things rarely worked out this way, but Hammond relished them when they did. He had even taken the time to visit Jacob in the infirmary. His heart was sore for his old friend, especially as he saw how Jacob grew daily worse despite all the best efforts, but it was some small comfort to be available for him if he needed to talk. And apart from the occasional squabble among scientists or other base personnel, his job had flowed smoothly today.
Both Mckay and Jackson had submitted their reports of scientists to recruit early on, but the other departments had taken a little longer. Hammond had been supervising some of it, but much of it was below his level of concern and so he only saw the results. There were a few new physicists, biologists, chemists, engineers, and a psychologist, not to mention some more medical assistants, just to maintain the needs of the SGC itself; many more had been recruited to R&D at Area 51. Like in any scientific community, or so Hammond had been told, their differing opinions frequently led to loud debate and bickering, and occasionally it would need a general's intervention.
Hammond had to admit to himself, he probably should have retired as he had planned. Running a military operation that explored other planets was a fascinating idea, but nowhere in the fine print had he read anything about negotiating between the Nobel convention and his own airmen in very close underground quarters. He had to shake his head sometimes. Dr. Jackson's proposal for a broader science contingent on base had been met with the sort of enthusiasm which meant that the government had just been ready to put it forward as their own suggestion, and Hammond understood their reasons. It was just—well, scientists were beyond Hammond's ken.
"Ah yes, General."
As was Jack O'Neill. "Come in, Colonel," said Hammond, trying to hide the hint of apprehension that always met him on seeing his foremost team leader.
Jack all but strolled in, tossing a file from one hand to another as if it were a hot potato. "Finally, I am ready to get this into someone else's hands," he said.
"Is that what I think it is?"
"No, sir, it is not my deepest apologies for all the trouble I've given you—that's still in first draft," said Jack.
Hammond gave him the look.
Jack sobered up quickly, something he did more often these days. "It is, though, the paperwork for transferring all the people of Abydos to a new world."
Hammond put out his hand to take it. "Would you like to sit, Colonel?"
"No, sir, I don't expect to be here that long," said Jack lightly.
Hammond scanned the file speedily. "This other signature here?"
"Adros," said Jack with a sigh. "Hopefully the last I will see of him for a very long time," he muttered. Off Hammond's look he added, "Oh, he's a good kid, Daniel's type, but after hearing oh so many times why he didn't think his people could live on a world that was not covered in sand...well, surely you understand."
"He's appointed himself as leader then, in Kasuf's absence?" asked Hammond. When he'd appointed Jack in charge of the Abydonians, he hadn't expected regular reports, but he had heard absolutely nothing of them since their temporary settlement on the Alpha Site.
"I think he'd prefer ambassador," said Jack. "Actually, they'd like to name Daniel as honorary leader, since he's the closest heir of Kasuf, but I told them they wouldn't like how big his head would get."
"So Adros is as close as they're getting," said Hammond.
"Well, sir, they think we'll rescue Kasuf and the rest of their people," said Jack pointedly, hands stilling for a few seconds.
"You told them that we have no information on that?"
"Yes, sir," said Jack. Hammond could see the frustration in his face; it was cutting him just as much as Daniel at how little they could do.
"Until they're settled down on their new home, you are still in charge of keeping me apprised, Colonel," said Hammond, changing the subject and closing the file. "I'll sign these and get you the permission to start movement as soon as possible."
"Thank you, sir," said Jack, clapping his hands lightly together and turning on a heel to leave.
Hammond settled back into his very comfy chair, looking more closely at the file to see where to sign.
"Um, sir?" A young woman in a pale blue labcoat knocked at his open door. At that distance, Hammond had to squint to see Chloe Dorris, Ph.D on her nametag.
"Yes, Dr.?" asked Hammond.
"Is there any way to keep the marines from barging into the labs every time there's a little explosion?" she asked, her light voice exasperated.
"What exactly are you detonating?" asked Hammond, suspiciously.
"We're testing the effects of Jaffa weaponry on various Earth elements, in very small increments," Chloe said, holding up two fingertips held very close together. "It's not dangerous, just a little smoky."
"Ma'am, those marines are there for your safety, I suggest you tolerate them," suggested Hammond.
Giving a light feminine sigh, she walked off. Hammond gave a silent snort, and turned back to Jack's report file.
ooooooo
With a little luck, a little obscurity, and just enough stress to get their blood going, Jolinar and Sam made their retreat from Quetesh's temple world through the gate to an empty one, and then from there back to the Tok'ra home-world itself. The night on the planet had not brought anything to destroy their bare optimism, and so they arrived home not needing to act in order to appear satisfied.
Sam met with Garshaw to relate what they had learned from Ollodrin, and found that Jolinar had a moment of surprise at just how much there was. ~Someone wasn't listening,~ insinuated Sam playfully. Garshaw herself was expressionless, a look Sam had only seen when the Tok'ra leader was talking to other Tok'ra; she had always had an annoying hint of anticipation in her eye when talking to Sam. Anticipation of what, Sam had never figured out. At the end, Garshaw gave a short nod, and Sam walked off.
The mess hall was their first stop. They had not taken the time to eat breakfast this morning, both thinking that it would be best to avoid any notice on Quetesh's world at all, even of the innocuous kind. Sam glanced over the food available and took some of her favorites, pausing even without subtle nudging from her symbiote to grab the rare off-world fruit that Jolinar loved, and then she took her seat. Much of the Tok'ra staples were soft in flavor, being the foods that could be grown underground with their technology, but they were supplemented with foods acquired through trade that made the meals about as good as MREs. Well, that was harsh—some of them were quite good, once Sam was used to the flavors. No spices, though; the Goa'uld coveted those for themselves, and the Tok'ra saw it as an unnecessary risk to try to acquire them. And maybe if Sam had grown up with that mindset, she would have agreed with it.
Despite the lack of thoughts directed to her, Sam noticed that Jolinar's mind was busy while Sam ate. She couldn't be sure what it was, but despite the barrier between them Sam enjoyed Jolinar like this. The symbiote seemed to gravitate most often between direct speech thoughts and the sometimes-uncomfortable silence of privatized ones. This mental hum, Sam had learned, was only capable when symbiotes did not think of keeping their mind quiet. Sam didn't comment on it, but she liked it; it reminded her of being in rooms full of excited scientists muttering their thought processes to themselves. She knew Jolinar had nothing so scientifically complex to think about, but the feeling was still the same.
Glancing around the mess hall, she saw a few Tok'ra that she recognized. Then her brow creased, and she chewed the patty that tasted like a cross between potato and pumpkin a little more rhythmically. Jolinar had a few friends on this base, and Sam had been introduced to them, but Jolinar had only sought time with them on a few occasions over these months. Sam had attributed that after-the-fact to Martouf's comment about Tok'ra life-spans and how long they could wait without impatience. Not now, though.
Drawing her thoughts to herself, gently so as not to alert Jolinar, Sam began to brainstorm. The first suspicion that came to mind was that Jolinar had only just started to get over the loss of Rosha. The unspoken loss. The one that Sam had expected to overwhelm her during the first few days of blending, and yet had remained elusive and cryptic. From the vague comments, she had assumed that the Tok'ra did not deal with grief the same way that she knew. And that was likely true, but Sam now doubted that they were as alien as her first assumption. The private thoughts, the distant behavior to old comrades, the dedication to work with few outside activities...it added up in Sam's mind to a kind of depression.
And with that conclusion, she answered for herself many questions she hadn't been asking. Part of her felt that she should have noticed sooner, the other part was glad she had noticed it as things were getting better, as she would have had little idea how to help Jolinar. But, as made sense, the symbiote had recovered on her own. Sam wondered if Martouf or Lantash had known—surely they must have, Lantash at least, knowing what loss had happened and feeling it themselves. Their relationship rested on a lot of unspoken words, surprising considering Martouf's eloquence, but Sam had no doubt that it had been enough for them.
As if in answer to her thoughts, she looked up to see the white flash of Martouf's smile as he crossed the mess hall to her. Hiding a smile, Sam suppressed not for the first time the thought that the Tok'ra must have some kind of orthodontist.
"You forgot to eat?" asked Martouf, sitting across from her as always.
"We thought it best to leave early," said Sam, remembering their cover story of having been on Ollodrin's world the whole time. "The gate seemed unguarded, but you never know."
Martouf nodded. "I am always surprised at how Ollodrin takes so long to find when his world is so calm."
Sam's brow creased again. "Hmm, yes, I didn't really think of that. He didn't strike me as paranoid."
"Because he is not," explained Martouf. "Just—unflinchingly careful. His heart is free, but wherever his mind is at work there is perfect order."
"You know him then?" asked Sam.
"I used to be his usual contact," said Martouf.
"Back when you went on more missions," Sam followed from his statement.
"More infiltration, yes," said Martouf with a faint smile in his eyes. "I believe that in his heart Lantash still misses those times. But I quickly grow weary of subterfuge, and he is not completely content when I am not, so there is no regret."
"I think I enjoy the missions, more than I thought I would at least," said Sam, taking a sip of her warm tea-like drink.
Martouf's head tilted a little, his eyes darting to look into hers, but they withdrew and he said nothing.
"What?" asked Sam, curious.
He shook his head. "It is nothing. I have heard from Garshaw of Ollodrin's research, but did you speak to him personally?"
"Not really, sorry," said Sam. "We were—kind of in a hurry."
Martouf nodded. "Yes, I can see why Jolinar would be hasty after the finding took so long."
Sam nodded, feeling a twinge of guilt at not letting Martouf in on the truth. Jolinar's mental hum had ceased once Martouf began talking, but she didn't seem to have anything urgent to say. Turning her attention back to her other companion, Martouf's eyes seemed to have grown a little distant as Sam assumed he was communing with Lantash. After a moment, he closed his eyes and Lantash spoke next.
"Samantha, greetings," he said.
"And to you," Sam answered, always a little amused by Lantash's speech patterns.
"There were some messages for you while you were gone," said Lantash. "None urgent, or we should have spoken sooner, but you should know. Sho'nar, Kurlsa's host, wished to send his thanks to you. His time has been difficult, but he wishes to know that he recognizes its relative brevity is because of you and Jolinar."
Sam nodded, a little surprised but appreciative.
"He and Lensin, Cordesh's host, have been making progress together," added Martouf, breaking in. "Despite the tragedy, their having mutual experience for support was perhaps worth Cordesh's double offense."
Sam nodded again, glad for the extra information. She had asked before if Martouf helped with hosts and had been told no, but he was a close friend of the Tok'ra version of a psychiatrist.
Lantash returned. "Also, Reyfa and Anise sent word on the Goa'uld lab that you discovered. Anise broke the code on the locked files in the database, and there is much fascinating information." He paused and frowned. "I believe she mentioned Ra and some projects, but truth be told I did not see the importance of all her words."
Sam smiled. "That's okay, I can always ask her or Reyfa to explain."
"Sha're wishes to speak to you about Shifu," Lantash continued, "and when I talked to Garshaw just now she mentioned that the Council wishes to meet with you before your next mission."
"Any particular reason?" asked Sam.
"I believe it is about your parley with your own people," said Lantash.
"Mm," Sam said.
"Don't be overwhelmed, you are not obliged to do it all at once," added Lantash, settling back comfortably in his chair. "In fact, I do not think the scientists expect a quick response, and I know that Sho'nar and Lensin do not expect one at all."
Sam gave him a look.
"Oh, yes, you didn't need to be told that," said Lantash, his tone dry. "Or so you think."
"Don't try to mess with me, it won't work," Sam muttered through a mouthful of food.
As she swallowed, Jolinar gave a gentle press for control, and Sam granted it. Jolinar tactfully waited until Sam had finished swallowing, so that her throat muscles were not suddenly in another's power.
"Lantash, you have annoyed my host into silence," said Jolinar, taking another sip of her drink.
"You know I do not believe that," said Lantash with a breathy snort.
"It was that or you annoyed me into speech."
"Also unbelievable," said Lantash. He leaned across the small table, Jolinar reciprocated, and they kissed briefly. Sam had noticed for some time now that they had dropped the pretense that there was no desire for more in all their interaction of that nature. "Welcome back," he said in a low tone when they separated.
"I am soon gone again," said Jolinar.
"So we heard," said Lantash. "And with your parley in four days?"
"What would I spend four days here doing?" asked Jolinar.
Lantash's face lost a little of its lightness, and Martouf came forward when his partner had no words. "Selmak is losing the battle swiftly," he said. "She may not have more than twice these four days."
"I will not sit here and watch," said Jolinar firmly.
"I am not pressing you to," said Martouf quietly. "It was a fact only."
Jolinar swallowed, and there was no food in her throat.
~Hey, you okay with this?~ asked Sam, her mind a little more aware of Jolinar since her private revelation.
*What?* asked Jolinar.
~Well, I don't think they're going to ask, so I might as well,~ said Sam.
*You were not a student of the mind on your world, where does this come from?*
~I might as well be a student of your mind, since I can't exactly help it. And, yes, I know that you and Selmak seem to have this 'don't ask don't tell' contract for this. But what do you always say? Duty isn't everything?~
"Jolinar, it would do you well to listen," said Martouf, speaking over Sam's last couple words.
Jolinar looked at him closely.
"No, I cannot see into your mind," he said with a wry smile. "But I know Samantha, and I think by your reaction that my guess as to your conversation was accurate."
"If your goal is to make me talk, then I will talk," Jolinar answered them both. "But you will not be satisfied." There was a welcoming pause from both parties before Jolinar finished her thoughts. "The loss of Selmak and Saroosh will be a deep wound to me, and it has already begun to smart. But I have no words to say, and I know they have no words for me to hear, so I do not try."
Martouf nodded, a darkness settling in his usually bright eyes. "For ones so full of opinions, they have taken this end very silently."
"As is only their right," Jolinar sighed. "Please, Martouf, have we not settled this?"
"I had nothing further to say," said Martouf, his smile returning a little.
"I will meet with Sha're, and then the Council, and then I wish for a restful evening," said Jolinar.
"Checkers?" asked Martouf. "Selmak taught me how to play."
"I do not know, but I am sure Samantha will teach me," said Jolinar. "Yes, that will be well indeed."
"Then I shall look forward to seeing you then," said Martouf. Reaching out his hand, he squeezed hers and rose to depart.
Jolinar and Sam soon followed.
ooooooo
"Good heavens, Daniel, you poor thing," were Dr. Jordan's first words upon descending many floors in the elevator into Stargate Command.
"Hmm?" asked Daniel.
"This must give you worse SAD then your stint in Oregon," continued Jordan, seemingly commenting as the words came to his head. "And you have spent the last three years here?"
"A good third of it was offworld, remember?" said Daniel, understanding him at last.
"Ah yes, I do keep forgetting that," said Jordan with a crinkled smile. "My mind is very diligent in keeping me from foolish thoughts, and I have not yet trained it to accept other worlds completely. It is quietly determined to mend me of my brief stint into this folly."
Daniel grinned broadly at him. "It does feel like that, or so I've been told."
After getting Hammond's permission to invited Dr. Jordan on their next quiet mission, it had been a short effort to get the good professor himself. Despite his close work with Daniel's old companions Stephen Rayner and Sarah Gardner, Jordan had been able to withdraw himself with no questions, or so he said. And he was going to get the grand tour before the mission much later that day—the planet they would be going to had a day cycle nearly the opposite of Earth's, which would have made morning on Earth evening on the planet.
"So, this team of yours...they are not all scientists?" asked Jordan.
"Oh—no," said Daniel, wondering how that fact had managed to escape his explanation. "Jack and Dixon are U.S. military, Teal'c is an alien warrior, a Jaffa like I mentioned, and Rodney Mckay's an astrophysicist."
"Oh, yes, I see," said Jordan, lips pursing as he took in this information. "And you are respected on this team? Well, well."
"It's amazing how this place has validated archaeologists," said Daniel, hands demonstrating his earnestness as he swept them across the scene before them.
"More than those idiotic Spielberg films, certainly," snorted Jordan.
Daniel nodded, walking past one of the armories towards the guest quarters to get Jordan settled before the rest of the tour. He had thought about asking Hammond for VIP quarters, but knew his old professor too well to think he'd just go along with that.
"Hey, Jackson, need a weapon?" called Dixon, walking out of the armory with two sidearms, a P-90, a MP-5, and a gun that Daniel didn't recognize.
"What are you doing with those?" asked Daniel, suspicion and curiosity mingled seamlessly as he eyed his tallest teammate.
"Teal'c challenged me to a match—he hasn't used many of our weapons, but he insists they are simple enough," said Dixon, an evil grin on his face. "I also taught him how to bet."
"Actually, I wouldn't bet with those odds," offered Daniel.
"Is this the guy?" asked Dixon, pointing towards Dr. Jordan with a couple guns as his hands were occupied.
"If by 'the guy' you mean the father of the archaeological knowledge of this base, then yes, I am him," said Dr. Jordan, a paragon of good humor in face and tone. "You are?"
Dixon chuckled. "Dave Dixon, SG-1. You're Jackson's professor, eh...lots of intriguing stories there?"
"Possibly," said Jordan with what might have been a wink.
"I'd shake your hand, but well, you see," said Dixon, holding his weapons out.
"As do you," said Jordan, holding out hands that carried two luggage bags.
"See you later, then, doctors," said Dixon before walking past them to the elevator.
Daniel and Jordan continued down the hall. Jordan commented in a low tone, "I have to admit, Daniel, I did not expect that."
"Dixon's a character," acknowledged Daniel. "Not that that makes him unique here."
After Jordan dropped off his bags and acquired his keycard, Daniel decided to take him to level 16 and the labs. It was just about lunchtime and the scientists were mostly on break, giving Daniel an unhindered ability to show Dr. Jordan around. He was intrigued by the Celtic designs from Cimmeria, but not uncharacteristically leapt for a booklet on one of the desks.
"Daniel?" he asked, eyes lit up as he read its cover.
"Oh, yes!" said Daniel, suddenly remembering. "We can translate Linear A—mostly."
"It's alien?" asked Jordan, astonished but not incredulous.
"Yes, actually," said Daniel, hands growing more excited, walking over to look over Jordan's shoulder as he flipped through the pages of detailed drawings and notes. "This was one of our first missions, actually; Teal'c recognized it as Ancient Goa'uld, and we've been using his help to sort out the phonology and lexicon ever since."
"And you didn't tell me this?" said Jordan, wide-eyed and fascinated, looking as if he was soaking up every piece of information on the pages.
"Well, there is a pretty large amount of amazing things going on here," explained Daniel with a shrug.
"Yo, Danny boy!"
Daniel sighed and didn't turn around. "Jack..." The slight questioning tone of his voice was to indicate that a), Jack knew Daniel hated that name, and b), he shouldn't make an ass of himself in front of Jordan.
"Daniel," answered Jack, his own meaning pretty much harmless. "Ah yes, the father nerd," he continued, coming forward and offering his hand towards Dr. Jordan.
"Jack O'Neill?" asked Jordan in answer.
"Don't tell me I have a reputation," said Jack, leaning slightly back.
"An infamous one, perhaps," said Jordan with a smile and shaking Jack's hand. "You're interested in archaeology?"
"Oh no," Jack said, dragging the last syllable out for a couple seconds. "Just—came to see the guest, and to let you know where you'll find your uniform."
"I've got that covered, Jack," said Daniel.
"Really?" said Jack. He looked to Jordan, pointing a finger towards Daniel. "You may not have noticed, but that's an amazing feat."
"Did you hear about Dixon and Teal'c?" asked Daniel, as Jack seemed about to depart.
"On my way," said Jack. "Ten bucks says its a tie."
"I'm not betting," said Daniel.
Jack tossed him a wry grin before sliding out the door and down the hall.
"May I meet this Teal'c?" asked Jordan. "And the Dr. Mckay you mentioned."
"Um, sure," said Daniel. He wasn't sure how his professor would take these two personalities, but it was better to find out earlier than later. As they walked out to the elevator to finish the tour of SG-1, though, Daniel felt confident that things would go well. He had forgotten how much of his own open mind had been cultivated by Dr. Jordan; if only the man was not so tied up in the real world, he would have made a marvelous asset to the SGC.
ooooooo
In a small common area just off from the mess hall, the lights were mostly dimmed to a merely functional glow. In the brightest corner, Sam and Jolinar, and Martouf and Lantash, sat on two low chairs around what was the Tok'ra equivalent of a coffee table. On their way there, Sam had stopped by to see Sha're and to pick up her checker board. Sha're had not wanted to talk about what was on her mind right at the moment, so Sam promised to visit her again tomorrow.
The checkerboard was marked in soft cream and black, as were the tops of the small polished stones that were used for pieces. The first thing Sam had commented on was how nice the colors were compared to the traditional red and black, but soon her attention was taken up with explaining the rules to Jolinar. Her symbiote had seemed to pick up quickly, but after being soundly and quickly trounced by both Martouf and Lantash in two games, she suggested that Sam play them and she would observe and pick up strategy.
Sam gathered up the pieces and placed them on her side, noting Martouf's satisfaction at how many he had to flip over to hide their 'kinged' side. Selmak had apparently taught him very well. Sam took her first move confidently, and the next few moves followed quickly.
"Did you speak to Sha're?" asked Martouf, taking his next move.
"It was too late for her today," Sam answered, eyes flitting across the small board. "Shifu was fussy all day and needed to go to bed early, and she was worn out herself."
Martouf nodded, waiting for her move.
A few moments passed, and a few clicks of the pieces were all the sounds in the room other than the soft natural hum of the tunnels.
"Interesting," spoke up Lantash as Sam confiscated his foremost piece on the board. "You seem to have spotted my first strategy."
"I may be a scientist, but I'm also a soldier as well," said Sam with a smile.
"Yes, and that is interesting also—you do not think as a warrior," said Lantash. "What drew you to your military?"
Sam paused. "I appreciate the order and the rules," she said, "and taking part of an essential part of society. But I have to admit, there's something about the guns, too."
"Your weapons?"
"Yeah," said Sam, a bit of a grin gathering at the corner of her mouth. "We don't have energy technology, we developed projectile weapons propelled by gunpowder—a primitive chemical reaction. There is a sound and a jerk from the weapons when you fire." She shook her head, a little fondly. "It is an amazing feeling, to have that kind of raw physical power in your hand."
"Mm," said Lantash, looking down to make another move. "So you avert your desires for power and world domination into firing these primitive weapons."
Sam blinked. "What?"
"Successful every time," he commented to himself, eyes rising from the board to dance at her.
A tinge of pink rose into Sam's cheeks. "You're wicked, you know," she said. "And yes, I fall for it every time."
*Don't feel bad, he spends hours practicing for such quips,* commented Jolinar. Sam wasn't sure she believed all that, but it was nice to have Jolinar's opinion on the matter.
Lantash made a couple more comments before letting Martouf come forward. Sam suspected that he had been running over the next part of the strategy while Lantash and Sam had been bantering, but it was only fair as they were the new ones.
"Now, you have to clarify the rules for me again," said Martouf, making his move.
Sam glanced down to the board, waiting for his question. *Oh no,* said Jolinar, just before Martouf spoke.
"I may jump these both in one turn, correct?" he asked, pointing at two of her pieces and glancing up with a knowing look in his eyes.
"Crap..." said Sam, knowing that he knew the answer. "No?"
"A nice attempt," conceded Martouf, smiling broadly and jumping the pieces before setting them in the small pile he had collected.
"How did I miss that?" said Sam. "I've never had that happen, not in checkers."
"Part of strategy is to distract one's opponent, of course," Martouf shrugged, trying to pass of an innocent look despite his obvious self-satisfaction.
"You sound like Daniel," said Sam, reassessing her position on the board. "We used to play chess—it's like checkers, only with six kinds of pieces that move and attack in unique ways, so the variations of game play require complicated strategies. It takes years to master, even for the very intelligent and motivated. Daniel once told me that he learned very quickly that he was easily distracted, so he developed the skill of immersing himself in whatever he thought was important to the point of near-oblivion to anything else. Eventually with chess, he got to the point where he could be completely in his strategy and still be trying to throw me off like you do."
"Are you considered an expert at this chess?" asked Martouf curiously.
"Oh no, it's just a hobby," said Sam. She sighed, then made a move. Martouf's strategy had crippled her, and it would take a several turns to regain any advantage.
"In that case, then perhaps we should learn it," said Martouf. "But before we meet Daniel."
Sam couldn't hold back a smile at that. "Oh, I see, you don't want to be at a disadvantage, from me or from him."
"It is not our style," said Martouf dryly, but his humor clearly beneath the surface.
"I hope you'll get to meet him soon," said Sam. "I'm not sure how the meeting will go, though. I never was sure, but recently..." She trailed off, not able to explain all the secret reasons for her slow modification of her expectations.
"If the Council is actually meeting with you on the subject, then they have trust in your abilities to succeed," said Martouf. "And we see no reason to distrust them in this matter."
"Thanks," said Sam. ~But you don't know them,~ she completed the sentence in her mind.
*Yes, well, I do,* said Jolinar.
Sam won the game, if barely, and then Jolinar was ready to play the next one. Lantash was victorious again but by a much closer margin, and before the night was out Sam and Jolinar were working with each other to win the next two games in a row. Martouf and Lantash conceded the match, and the evening was advanced enough for them all to retire to bed. Sam had quite a day for herself the next day anyway.
