Justin shook his head. "The psych people aren't even sure we can get it this tight. The problem is that having Cobra gear implanted in people sometimes... changes them."

"I know. It's better than nothing, I suppose." For a moment there was silence.

Corwin's gaze drifted out his window, to the Capitalia skyline. That skyline had changed a lot in the twenty-six years since he'd struck out on his own into the maze that was Cobra Worlds politics. Unfortunately, other things had changed even more than the skyline. Lately he found himself spending a lot of time staring out that window, trying to recapture the sense of challenge and excitement he'd once felt about his profession. But the bootstrapping seldom worked. Somewhere along the line, pushed perhaps by Priesly's public bitterness,

Cobra Worlds politics had taken on a hard edge Corwin had never before experienced. In many ways it had soured the game for him-turned both his victories and defeats a uniform bittersweet gray-and made the governorship a form of combat instead of a means for aiding the progress of his worlds.

It brought to mind thoughts about his father, who had similarly soured on politics late in life, and more and more often these days he found himself fantasizing about chucking the whole business and escaping to Esquiline or one of the other New Worlds.

But he couldn't, and he knew it. As long as the Jects' sour grapes were threatening the foundation of the Cobra Worlds' security and survival, someone had to stay and fight. And he'd long ago realized that he was one of those someones.

Across the desk from him Justin shifted slightly in his chair, breaking the train of Corwin's musings. "I assume you had a specific reason for asking me here?" he probed gently.

Corwin took a deep breath and braced himself. "Yes, I did. I heard from

Coordinator Maung Kha three days ago about Jin's application to the Academy. He was..." He hesitated, trying one last time to find a painless way to say this.

"Summarily rejecting it?" Justin offered.

Corwin gave up. "She never had a chance," he said bluntly, forcing himself to look his brother straight in the eye. "You should have realized that right from the start and not let her file it."

Justin didn't flinch. "You mean there's no reason to try and change an unfair policy simply because it is policy?"

"Come on, Justin-you teach out there, for heaven's sake. You know how traditions hang on. Especially military traditions."

"I also know that those traditions started back in the Old Dominion of Man,"

Justin countered. "We haven't exactly been noted for blindly adopting their methods in anything else. Why should the military be immune?"

Corwin sighed. Various combinations of Moreau family members had hashed through all this in one form or another dozens of times over the past few years, ever since Justin's youngest daughter had first decided she wanted to follow in her father's Cobra footsteps. Like Justin's father before him... and Corwin was well aware that, for the Moreaus at least, family tradition wasn't something to be treated lightly.

Unfortunately, most of the others on the Council didn't see it that way.

"Military tradition is always particularly hidebound," he told Justin. "You know it, I know it, the worlds know it. It comes of having conservative old people like you at the top running things."

Justin ignored the attempt at levity. "But Jin would be a good Cobra, possibly even a great Cobra-and that's not just my opinion. I've given her the standard screening tests-"

"You've what?" Corwin cut him off, aghast. "Justin-damn it all, you know better than that. Those tests are exclusively for the use of the Academy."

"Spare me the lecture, please. The point is that she scored in the top five percent of the acceptance range. She's better equipped, mentally and emotionally, than ninety-five percent of the people we've accepted."

"Even granting all that," Corwin sighed, "the point remains that she's a woman, and women have never been Cobras."

"Up till now they haven't-"

"Governor!" Thena MiGraw's voice on the intercom cut him off. "There's a man coming-"

And behind Justin the door slammed open and a stranger leaped into the office.

"Destroy the Cobras!" he shrieked.

Corwin froze, the sheer unexpectedness of it holding him in place for those first crucial seconds. The intruder took a few rapid steps into the room, arms waving, raving just short of incomprehensibility. Out of the corner of his eye

Corwin saw that Justin had dropped out of his chair, spinning on his heels into a crouch facing the intruder. "All right, hold it!" the Cobra snapped. His hands were up, the little fingers with their implanted lasers tracking the man.

But if the other heard Justin's command, he ignored it. "The Cobras are the destruction of freedom and liberty," he screamed, taking yet another step toward

Corwin. "They must be destroyed!" His right hand swung in a wide circle toward

Corwin's face and then dipped into his tunic pocket-

And Justin's outstretched fingers spat needles of light directly into his chest.

The man shrieked, an oddly gurgling sound. His knees buckled, slamming him to the floor. With an effort, Corwin shook off his stunned paralysis and jabbed at the intercom. "Thena! Security and a med team, fast."

"Already called them, Governor," she said, her own voice trembling with shock.

Justin had stepped to the intruder's side and knelt down beside him. "Alive?"

Corwin asked, holding his breath as his brother's fingers touched the other's neck.

"Yeah. At least for the moment. Any idea what the hell that was all about?"

"None. Let's let Security sort it out." Corwin took a deep breath, let it out carefully. "Glad you were here. Thanks."

"No charge. Let's find out what kind of gun he was carrying..." Justin reached into the intruder's tunic pocket... and an odd expression settled onto his face.

"Hell," he said, very softly.

"What?" Corwin snapped, getting to his feet.

Still kneeling beside the wounded man, Justin gazed down at him. "He's unarmed."

Cari Moreau slouched back in her lounge chair, a seventeen-year-old's version of a martyr's expression plastered across her face. "Aw, come on, Jin," she complained. "Again?"

Jasmine Moreau-"Jin" to her family and everyone else she could persuade to use the nickname-gazed at her younger cousin with a combination of patience, affection, and rock-solidness, "Again," she said firmly. "You want to pass this test or don't you?"

Cari sighed theatrically. "Oh, all right. Slavemaker. Misk'rhe'ha solfowp'smeaf, pierec'eay'kartoh-"

"That's 'khartoh,' " Jin interrupted. "Kh-sound, not k. And the initial 'p' in

'pierec'eay'khartoh' is aspirated." She demonstrated. "The difference between p-sounds in 'pin' and 'spin.' "

"I don't hear any difference," Cari grumbled. "And I'll bet Ms. Halverson won't, either."

"Maybe she won't, no," Jin agreed. "But if you ever plan to use your catertalk on any Trofts, you'd better be sure to get it right."

"So who says I'm planning to use it on any Trofts?" Cari grumbled. "Any Trofts I run into are gonna understand Anglic."

"You don't know that," Jin shook her head. "Traders or demesne representatives assigned to the Worlds will, sure. But who says you're never going to wind up somewhere out in space with only Trofts who snargled off in their language lessons, too?"

That got her a snort from her cousin. "That's easy for you to say. You're gonna be the Cobra zipping around out there, not me. Of course you're gonna need to know catertalk and Qasaman and all."

Jin felt a lump rise to her throat. Of all her relatives, Cari was the only one who was truly enthusiastic about her Cobra ambitions... and the only one who took for granted that she would achieve them. On that latter point even Jin's father had trouble, and Jin could remember times when only a long private talk with Cari had kept those hopes and dreams alive...