Chapter 33: Introductory talks
Jack eyed Daniel with carefully concealed bemusement as he and Varielle neatly mediated the wrangling speakers at the table; Yeren and four of her soldiers, with the others standing behind her, Selmak, a Jaffa, Hammond, Paul Davis, Bletchley and himself. The two of them were not only translating swiftly and accurately, but keeping tempers in check while they did it. As individuals it would be a truly impressive display of ability; as a pair it was an incredible show of mind-reading, to all appearances.
"But that doesn't address the question I asked," Yeren was saying with steel in her voice. "What are you doing to make sure this never happens again?"
Bletchley was opening and shutting his mouth.
"Because," Yeren said, "if this can happen more than once, then there must be what we would consider a fundamental flaw in your government, and we will not be willing to enter into any permanent arrangements until this is fixed." "It has not happened 'more than once'," Bletchley imitated Varielle's precise tones. She translated.
"Who are the Tollan, Colonel?" Yeren countered. "How did you treat them?"
Silence reigned at the table. "Well?" she asked. "I wish to know how this can be permitted to happen. If you cannot tell me, I will wait until I speak to someone who can. Make no mistakes, gentlemen, in this matter I am my government's representative, and can make decisions on my own. If you cannot explain it to me, I will wait. Whether the person responsible for this is an officer, a beaurocrat or your President, I will speak to him, her or them before I agree to so much as a chance to hold language classes."
"There is no one responsible."
"Someone must have authorised this. I don't care if it was an entire branch of your government. I want names and degrees of liability." Varielle rested her hands on the table. "I have no patience with the idea that if everyone is responsible, no one is to blame. In such a case, everyone is to blame. That defence will not work. And I can wait."
After the meeting broke up Jack snagged Daniel's sleeve. "Nice work in there."
"Oh. Thanks, Jack." He peered down at his books.
"Is there a problem?"
"I left my glasses in there." He half-turned to go back and Varielle dropped them into her hand as she passed.
"Hey," Jack asked her, "did Yeren mean that stuff about wanting names?"
"Oh, yes," she grinned. "Yeren used to work with - I think you would call it our bureau of internal affairs. It's not called that… anyway, she led several investigations of corruption and the like and was responsible for some serious shake-ups in our government. She's very good at getting to the bottom of things."
"Why'd she stop doing it?"
"She got old."
Jack darted a glance at her. "She's not much older than I am."
"She'd be flattered to know you think so, but you're underestimating her age by a factor of three."
"Eh?"
"Jedi live a long time, if we don't get ourselves killed. My father was nearly two hundred when he died; that's about the upper end for humans." She turned and walked away.
"Varielle?" Daniel called.
"Yeah?"
"How soon are you guys leaving?"
She raised her hands in the air. "Search me. It's Yeren's call."
Jack watched her go. "Well?"
"Well, what?" He stuck his glasses over his ears. "Where's Bletchley gone?"
"Search me," he copied Varielle's intonation. "But you'd better go home and feed your fish some time this week." He paused. "Did you know how long they live? And how they manage it?"
"I'm not even sure how they do what they do. She tried to explain it to me and I tried to understand, but the concept of aging slowly never came up."
Jack eyed Daniel with carefully concealed bemusement as he and Varielle neatly mediated the wrangling speakers at the table; Yeren and four of her soldiers, with the others standing behind her, Selmak, a Jaffa, Hammond, Paul Davis, Bletchley and himself. The two of them were not only translating swiftly and accurately, but keeping tempers in check while they did it. As individuals it would be a truly impressive display of ability; as a pair it was an incredible show of mind-reading, to all appearances.
"But that doesn't address the question I asked," Yeren was saying with steel in her voice. "What are you doing to make sure this never happens again?"
Bletchley was opening and shutting his mouth.
"Because," Yeren said, "if this can happen more than once, then there must be what we would consider a fundamental flaw in your government, and we will not be willing to enter into any permanent arrangements until this is fixed." "It has not happened 'more than once'," Bletchley imitated Varielle's precise tones. She translated.
"Who are the Tollan, Colonel?" Yeren countered. "How did you treat them?"
Silence reigned at the table. "Well?" she asked. "I wish to know how this can be permitted to happen. If you cannot tell me, I will wait until I speak to someone who can. Make no mistakes, gentlemen, in this matter I am my government's representative, and can make decisions on my own. If you cannot explain it to me, I will wait. Whether the person responsible for this is an officer, a beaurocrat or your President, I will speak to him, her or them before I agree to so much as a chance to hold language classes."
"There is no one responsible."
"Someone must have authorised this. I don't care if it was an entire branch of your government. I want names and degrees of liability." Varielle rested her hands on the table. "I have no patience with the idea that if everyone is responsible, no one is to blame. In such a case, everyone is to blame. That defence will not work. And I can wait."
After the meeting broke up Jack snagged Daniel's sleeve. "Nice work in there."
"Oh. Thanks, Jack." He peered down at his books.
"Is there a problem?"
"I left my glasses in there." He half-turned to go back and Varielle dropped them into her hand as she passed.
"Hey," Jack asked her, "did Yeren mean that stuff about wanting names?"
"Oh, yes," she grinned. "Yeren used to work with - I think you would call it our bureau of internal affairs. It's not called that… anyway, she led several investigations of corruption and the like and was responsible for some serious shake-ups in our government. She's very good at getting to the bottom of things."
"Why'd she stop doing it?"
"She got old."
Jack darted a glance at her. "She's not much older than I am."
"She'd be flattered to know you think so, but you're underestimating her age by a factor of three."
"Eh?"
"Jedi live a long time, if we don't get ourselves killed. My father was nearly two hundred when he died; that's about the upper end for humans." She turned and walked away.
"Varielle?" Daniel called.
"Yeah?"
"How soon are you guys leaving?"
She raised her hands in the air. "Search me. It's Yeren's call."
Jack watched her go. "Well?"
"Well, what?" He stuck his glasses over his ears. "Where's Bletchley gone?"
"Search me," he copied Varielle's intonation. "But you'd better go home and feed your fish some time this week." He paused. "Did you know how long they live? And how they manage it?"
"I'm not even sure how they do what they do. She tried to explain it to me and I tried to understand, but the concept of aging slowly never came up."