"And you think running back to Milika will keep him from getting to me?"

Jin braced herself. "Of course not. But maybe it'll slow him down enough to let me get into Mangus."

For a long moment his eyes were steady on hers. "So that's what it comes down to, isn't it?" Daulo said at last. "Your mission."

Jin forced her jaw muscles to relax. "Would you have me run somewhere and hide?" she asked.

"Would you have me do so?" he countered quietly. "Would you have me go back to my father and tell him I gave up a chance to perhaps uncover a threat to our family because I was afraid?"

"But if they're watching you and you try to go into Mangus-"

"And if they're watching me and I try to run back to Milika?"

Again, they locked gazes. "Daulo, look," Jin sighed at last. "I know this isn't something a woman says to a man on Qasama... but I feel responsible for your safety. I talked you and your father into this scheme, after all, and if I can't be right at your side I may not be able to protect you."

"You didn't promise me any protection."

"Not to you, no. I did promise it to myself."

To her surprise, he smiled. "And I made a promise to myself, Jasmine Moreau: to protect you from your cultural ignorance while in Mangus. I can't do that from

Milika."

"But-" Jin took a deep breath, sighed in defeat. She simply didn't have time to argue the point any further. The longer she lingered here, the more time Moff would have to weave a net around Azras, and she had to get Daulo's car out of town before that happened. "Will you at least think about it? Please?"

He rose from the couch and stepped forward. "I will," he said softly, reaching out to take her hand. "You be careful, all right?"

"I will." She hesitated, looking up at his eyes. Cultural differences, she reminded herself distantly. He might take this wrong, but for once, she didn't care; the need to hold someone tightly was almost overpowering in its intensity.

Leaning toward him, she put her arms around him.

He didn't pull away, nor did he attempt to make the hug into anything else.

Perhaps with potential danger all around them, a simple nonsexual contact from a friend was something he needed right now, too.

For a minute they held each other tightly. Then, almost unwillingly, Jin pulled back. "You take care of yourself, too, okay?" she said. "And if you decide to stay... don't look for me in the work party."

He nodded, reaching up to stroke her cheek. "I understand. You'd better go now."

Three minutes later, the city clothing Daulo had given her knotted into a bundle on her back, she was back at the car. No one lay in wait near the vehicle; no one jumped out of the shadows or shot at her as she climbed in and drove away.

Either the Shahni's people hadn't gotten the Azras part of their operation fully organized yet, or else Moff was growing careless in his old age. Personally, she wouldn't bet much money on the latter.

But for the time being she appeared to have gained a little breathing space, and she was determined to use it to the fullest. A few kilometers south of Azras-an adequate gap between trees in the forest-and she would have a place to hide for the next day and a half. A little face-shaper gel from her pack, perhaps a wig and some skin darkening, and she'd be able to walk into Azras Sunday morning without being recognized. And after that...

But there was no point in trying to think too far ahead. With Qasama's official government actively in the game, she had to be ready to play every move by ear.

And hope that her Moreau family heritage counted for something besides just a name.

Chapter 32

"Like this?" Toral Abram asked, shifting his left foot in front of his right.

"Right," Justin nodded. "Now just uncurl your legs and drop onto your back onto the floor, pulling your knees to your chest as you do so."

The young Cobra obeyed, and a second later was spinning around, belly-up, in an awkward-looking fetal position. "And this is a military maneuver?" he asked wryly as he came to a halt.

"Trust me," Justin assured him. "You try that with your antiarmor laser firing and you'll look very military."

"If there's anyone left nearby to see you," one of the other Cobras lined up against the walls muttered.

"That is the basic idea," Justin nodded as a nervous chuckle swept the room.

"Okay, Toral, off the floor. Dario, your turn."

One of the other Cobras took Abram's place in the center of the room and got into ready position. "Ceiling flip," Justin ordered; and a second later the

Dewdrop shook as the Cobra jumped upward, bounced feet-first off the ceiling, and landed a handful of meters away from his starting point.

"One of these days," a voice at Justin's elbow muttered, "one of you is going to kick a hole in the deck doing that."

"Hello, Wilosha," Justin nodded to the middle-aged man who'd slipped unnoticed into the room. "Just can't get enough of the show, can you?"

"Watching the ship's structural integrity beaten into rubble always gives me a thrill," Second Officer Kal Wilosha retorted. "Haven't you practiced these more violent maneuvers enough?"

"No, but unfortunately we don't have the time to do it right." Justin raised his voice. "Okay, Dario, nice job. Don't forget to keep your hands up when you land so that you'll be able to fire if you need to. Now give the backspin a try."

"Yes, sir."

He did marginally better than Abram had. "Again," Justin ordered. "Remember that your nanocomputer will do a lot of the work on these basic maneuvers if you'll let it. Just get things started, relax, and let your body take it from there."

Dario nodded and set himself for another try. Beside Justin, Wilosha hissed through his teeth. "Problem?" Justin asked him.

"Just... wondering."

"What about?" This time Dario did better.

"Oh... Cobras." Wilosha waved his hand vaguely. "The nanocomputers, if you insist on specifics. Has it ever occurred to you that no one on the Cobra Worlds really knows anymore just exactly how the things are programmed?"

"I don't let it worry me," Justin told him. "The Academy supervises every step of the nanocomputer manufacture."

"Oh, right. So they supervise a bank of automated circuitry replicators-what does that prove? Does a list or printout exist anywhere showing exactly what the nanocomputers are or are not capable of?"

"What are you worried about, that the Dominion of Man may have planted a program bomb?" Justin asked quietly. The conversation, he noted, was beginning to attract his students' attention.

"No, of course not," Wilosha shook his head. "But there doesn't have to be deliberate malice involved to make something dangerous."

Justin looked at him for a long moment. It would serve the man right to expose him here and now, in front of a roomful of Cobras... but it would be a childish trick, and Justin was long past the age for childish tricks. "Cobras, take a break," he called. "Be back in fifteen minutes."

The others filed out without comment or question, and a minute later Justin and

Wilosha were alone. "I hope it wasn't something I said," Wilosha commented, his voice almost light but his expression tight and wary.

"Just wanted a little peace and quiet," Justin told him, and threw a punch at the other's face.

Wilosha could never have evaded a serious attempt to hit him, not with Justin's

Cobra servos driving the punch. But his reflexes tried their best, throwing his arm up in front of his face... and because Justin had his audio enhancers on and knew what to listen for, he caught the faint whine of servos from the other's arm.

"What the hell was that all about?" Wilosha snarled, taking a hasty step back toward the wall.