The day was every bit as long as I'd expected; it seemed that flying a jet you made yourself made one a celebrity for some reason, and everyone wanted to either know how it felt of if they could learn to fly and get a jet of their own. Telling them no to the second question had actually been awful; far worse than answering the first.

Finally however, it was over. The last hour had come and gone, and I was free to walk home with Jeanette by my side.

Jeanette by my side, and all of my friends walking behind us, voices raised in argument.

"I'm telling you, she should focus on bigger! A passenger jet that transformed would be cool!" Ricky exclaimed... so loudly that people could hear him in the next county. I even saw a few people across the street nod in agreement!

"I'm telling you, the true future is in drones and AI. Min can do both, and have the form fit the function. There's no need for a piloted transforming robot, its a waste of power."

Oh what?

Oh hell no.

HELL NO.

I was in Ralph's surprised face before he knew it; he barely stopped in time, but it was more important to nip this sort of thing in the bud.

I wagged my finger under his nose: "It isn't about power or efficiency - chicks dig giant robots."

Beside me, Sam nodded sagely.

Ralph opened his mouth to rebut... and then closed it. Then he opened it again, looking at Maggie... and closed it again.

I rest my case. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

I turned again, ignoring how Ricky was snickering and how Mr Sands almost drove his car into another. Both events had nothing at all to do with me. Jeanette picked up her pace beside me again, and we moved in blessed silence for awhile.

All of three steps before Ralph whispered "Maggie?"

"Yes Ralph?" Maggie whispered back, clearly enjoying playing innocent.

"Do chicks really dig robots?"

I could hear the glee as Maggie raised her voice just enough for everyone to hear as she stage whispered: "Not just robots... giant robots."

I didn't look back, but I just knew Sam was nodding again.

Seriously, he should just believe me already. Sometimes it wasn't about what was efficient. The internet says every devisor of any worth at all had a robot of some kind or another gathering dust in their lab. It was like a rite of passage or something.

Besides, a jet that could turn into something with hands could have some great uses for emergency search and rescue. I mean I'd make a car or heavy vehicle version for construction, but nothing would beat getting to a disaster at mach 2 then being able to fish people out of flood waters or something. Right?

Sure, there were better designs for such search and rescue, like a literal seaplane, or a plane that could transform into an actual boat of some kind....

No, no, reel it in, no matter how great the idea is. Take control of it, and keep control. You can explore the interesting thoughts later.

I came back to myself quickly, just in time to catch the smile flitting across my robot maid's face. "Well done," she whispered, just loud enough for me to hear.

Of course she knew; I was rapidly beginning to realize that Jeanette knew far too much about me. I only had myself to blame there; I couldn't really decide whether it was nice that she could read the onset of my fugues or not. It was probably for the best.

"Almost home," she said, getting my attention again. Stopping my brooding.

I gave her a smile back, probably less sunny, but hopefully just as heartfelt as hers. "Yep, almost home. Then its coffee and lab time."

"Yes, you should let your parents know you are home before you take solace in your simulations."

"Right." If Mom were home we'd have to talk. I was not looking forward to it at all, but I owed her an apology. Worse, I'd have to admit what I did was wrong and not just me forgetting or innocently screwing up, asking Dad first because I knew he was the soft touch.

I did feel as if my parents should trust me a little more. I mean it wasn't as if I were trying to blow myself up. The jet was super safe; if not Crash wouldn't have let me fly it.

I mean, I'd let Mom or Dad fly the thing, provided they knew how. I'd let them right into the cockpit with no problem.

It would be nerve wracking though... and they had let me. They hadn't really said a word close to 'no'.

Yeah an apology was owed. Mom was being better than that.

I arrived at the porch in time to note no one appeared to be home; there were no cars in the driveway. The door was locked of course, but I had a key. No need to worry just yet, since the place for notes was the fridge. Mom never wanted a note on the door no matter what, because just anyone could walk up and read where you were and what you were doing.

I never really understood until I met agent Sands. He was definitely the type to read a letter meant for someone else.

I opened the door and even though it was good manners to let everyone else in first, I had to take the lead. Someone had to check and potentially disengage the security system.

It was on. I punched in the code and shut it off, then headed into the kitchen, all my little ducklings behind me.

Odd, Jeeves was here. Why had Mom bothered to set the alarm?

Jeeves turned from the stove, his apron on and still spotless. "Good afternoon Mistress Min. How are you and your friends today?"

As if he hadn't showed up with lunch for me just a few hours ago. "I'm fine. A little tired of course, but better now."

There was no coffee ready. There was a note on the fridge however. It read: "Min, something came up, I'll be home in a few hours. Don't just lose yourself in your lab, take care of your brother - Mom."

Well, crap. Looks like Ian got to hang out with us. Not that he'd really mind so long as the games flowed and Sam stayed.

Ian was still five minutes out though.

Whatever. If Jeeves was busy, well I knew how to make coffee. "What's for dinner?"

"Beef stroganoff with garlic bread."

That sounded... heavenly. I could almost hear Jeanette's frown. But when I turned, she was standing there as prim as ever, with neither a smile nor frown.

I couldn't fool her, but she couldn't fool me either. I poured the water in and got to work with the grinder. Good coffee was a must in this household now, and grinding your own was better than anything else.

Jeanette watched me, setting my bag in the corner.

"Mom isn't home. So I'll have to watch Ian while doing my thing. Once I get the coffee done here, I'll open the lab and you lot can do whatever you want, within reason. I recommend homework first, but that's up to you."

I intended to do the little homework I had left first, I'd have time while the simulations ran.

That other idea wouldn't leave me alone. I'd have to take steps.

I cleaned out the filter, then added my fresh grounds to it. Putting the machine back together, I might have pushed the on button a bit harder than I should have. The coffee pot moved back an inch or two.

No big deal.

The door opened, and Ian walked in. I pretended not to notice how his face lit up when he saw us.

"Mom had something come up. Would you mind much coming to the lab to do your homework?"

"I think I can deal," Ian answered. He was trying to play indifferent and failing miserably.

Not that I could blame him. I didn't know how to talk to girls either, even now. All I knew is trying to act like you were too cool for school wasn't the way.

"Alright, I'll go unlock it now. You all can follow me or grab snacks or do stuff here if you find the lab distracting. You all know where everything is."

I grabbed my bag, almost fumbling it when the weight surprised me. leaving out the back door, everyone was following. Even Jeanette followed. Odd, I was expecting her to bring the coffee once it was done - but she was right behind me by the time I made my way down the stairs.

I dug my keys out, inserted the key and put my hand on the glass designed for it. Then I shifted lower and let the same reader check my cornea. The door opened.

Soon, I would add a voice component too, with a stress tester. I was improving security all the time. Well, where I was allowed to at least. No one else wanted me touching the house system, which I felt was a bit unfair.

So far everything was non-lethal, so what was the harm in wiring it all in?

I entered, waved to crash, who had his entire upper half in the guts of my jet and so of course did not see, and plopped my pack down on the nearest workbench.

If I needed a workout I'd just lift it again; how had the seams not popped on this thing?

I unzipped the offending bag. Five freaking books and my laptop. How had this thing not died?

The others took up places around the room. Sam rushed in and sat next to me, on the edge of the bench, so no one else could sit next to her.

Ricky sat next to the game console of course, and was frowning as he dragged his math book out of his backpack. Maggie sat to my other side and favored me with a sort of wry smile.

Ralph looked around, then sat next to Ian with a little sigh: "How's it going, little man?"

Ian didn't even look up, searching through his own books for something. "Going well I guess. Another day, another dodge of after school bull - crap."

Oh Ian, you were subtle there. "You can say it, I won't narc on you."

Ian looked up... behind me? "Not you I'm worried about."

Jeanette would never... no, she would, in a heartbeat. She wanted to be liked by our parents, and Ian was family, but wasn't me.

"Fair. You need help with anything?" I wanted to be liked too, sue me.

"I'll manage. If I can't figure it out I'll let someone know." That someone wasn't going to be me, clearly, but that was fine. As long as Ian did the work and didn't flunk out I wouldn't get ruined for it.

One of the many drawbacks of being smart is having your parents blame you for any siblings, failing subjects. Sure I could tutor Ian, but... its Ian, He's smart enough, and it would be a waste of time. On this much, we agreed.

So just enough to let the androids know I was making the attempt, and no more.

We knew how to play the game.

I found my place in my English homework, and began the reading portion. With my other hand I opened my laptop.

Technically my laptop was in Sam's homework area, but she had moved her stuff over with a smile and a hand swept in invitation, so I kept it as close as possible and got to work.

As soon as the laptop synced with the lab, I opened the simulator. Sam leaned over with interest as the numbers began to crunch themselves. Sam really liked the animated sequences, which was odd. It was all stick figure and line stuff anyway; I didn't really want to waste the time on more detailed programming when this would do just as well.

There were only so many hours in a day, after all.

So I wrote notes and answered questions on the latest story of the week while the data compiled, then compiled again. Sam looked over a few times... but at my homework.

Her face seemed to disapprove, but while I would admit I was sort of phoning it in, I just didn't want to give the assignment my all. I wanted to get going and work on my armor. After all, who didn't want to be iron man or tin soldier? A suit for emergency landings was one thing, but a suit for actual multiple use was in my grasp. With just a little effort I could make those crappy mco suits obsolete, this very week.

Compared to that, the works of long dead writers just didn't seem as important.

The not quite irony hit me all of a sudden; there was one feeling that was the same between old me and new me. Even if I couldn't be iron man or tin soldier because I was missing some very important anatomy for that, the casual dismissal of high school English was something old and new me shared.

Even if old me had thought it less important than football, and new me had a slightly broader perspective... possibly.

Still, I was rich. Actually rich, as soon as the money kicked in, and young, and had a life of sorts ahead of me, even if I couldn't be a jet-setting playboy. Or a grizzled used up war veteran. Neither future had much use for Shakespeare however.

I finished the assignment and punched the button, watching as the latest figures from the jet and the changes made flowed in. Wow, what had Crash done, this was a little disturbing. The jet probably shouldn't be able to slide in the air like that, surely that was breaking a law of physics somewhere, if not two or three.

Crash leaned in over my shoulder, nodding in satisfaction while de-greasing his hands on a rag. "Lookin' good! I knew the baby had a little more in her to give!"

"How close is it?" Hopefully Crash would know what I meant.

"Not close. Not yet. Give me another few days. or a little help, and I can finish in twenty-four hours. But alone I've got to test everything and then adjust, and then...."

"Right. It's no problem. Take a break if you need, and just work on it when you feel like it. There is no real rush."

I wanted to seal the jet, just in case I could. I didn't expect the jet to take me all the way to where I wanted to be, but the next generation, or maybe the third, that would be the ticket I wanted.

"With a little help I can replace it all and put it back together in twenty-four hours."

"I'll keep that in mind," I replied to him, gently shoving him away from my face. "But I don't think I'll have the time. Maybe in another week. For now, just do what you can... after some down time."

"Understood Ma'am." Crash acknowledged, giving up on his hands and going to one of the chairs in the corner to enter sleep mode in.

Rest was important, even for robots. I ought to know, I'd designed them that way.

The sound of the game system firing up drew my attention. Ricky was apparently as done with his homework as he was going to get, and Ralph had the other controller in hand already. Ian was looking at the screen longingly.

I snapped my fingers and pointed down at his book when he turned around. Sure, it was imitating Mom, but it got results even before Ian realized he'd been had.

Rather than just buckle down, my darling little brother intead spent a minute glaring at me for daring to use a parental trick.

I sniffed at him; get over it, little bro.

Sam reached over and started my simulation again. She seemed truly enthralled.

That was fine, I needed to watch it again myself. Even Maggie leaned over, uncaring of her own open book and half-filled answer sheet.

"How does it do that?" She asked, her curious side coming out.

"An excess of power combined with momentum. At least, that's what I think. The wing angle has something to do with it too, but I'm not sure how to explain."

It was odd really, I felt like I should know, but I was just taking blind guesses. I mean my jet skated in the air. How that was possible was actually beyond me. Somehow my successes were greater than they should be, maybe.

No, it made sense... but explaining it is hard. Never have I felt so for teachers. I tried again. "By having the power up and the wings slanted almost horizontal, the drag characteristics change and it creates a vacuum at the jets' 'top' while creating drag on the 'bottom. This forces the air to flatten the jet and...."

Maggie held up a hand. "I get it. Sort of. I also get the headache to go along with it; thanks for the attempt, but I'll stay dazed and confused, if you don't mind."

I knew I was doing it wrong.

Sam dropped an arm around my shoulder at the same time as Maggie smiled. "No really, I do get it, at least a little. There's no reason to waste your time explaining to little old me, and I shouldn't have asked. That one was on me."

She then turned over to the laptop, watching as the model performed another maneuver that seemed to defy the laws of physics.

I opened my mouth, and Maggie's finger was in front of it. "No apologies, please. Just let me ooh and ahh in peace."

"Alright, you win. But if you want an explanation about anything, I'm here with one. You just ask and I'll try."

Maggie shook her head. "Maybe later I'll take you up on that. I'm still interested in how your friends work."

I caught her looking at Crash, who had plugged himself into the lab's power supply and was charging his battery. "Well I'm not sure what I can give away, but I'm not saying no."

Right, before I got lost in weirdness, I needed to make a phone call.

I got up and grabbed my phone. "I'll be right back. I want to make a call here. Try and keep the noise down a bit please?"

Staring right at Ralph got the desired effect, he elbowed Ricky and turned down the television. I matched his thumbs up and moved into the farthest corner. Which just happened to be where my power source was happily humming away inside its safety cage.

The phone number was easy to remember, and I'd known it since I was a kid. I dialed.

"Paris Police Department. How may I help you?"

Nerves, there you are. Drawing attention to myself like this was a bad idea. A REALLY bad idea.

"Hello Sir, this isn't an emergency or anything, but could I please speak to Sheriff Myles please."

"Ma'am Sheriff Myles is out on a call, can I ask what this call is about?"

This was a stupid idea. Why did I do this?!? "I want to help the Sheriff, if I can. I have an idea to help his department in solving crimes."

The voice on the other end went colder, if anything. "Oh yeah? Pardon me, Miss, but you sound a little young to be giving the Sheriff advice."

"No, I'm not trying to offer advice or anything, just... technical help. Please, just leave him a message or something. Or just tell him Minerva Campbell called and to call me back at this number, please?"

Maybe it was my imagination, but the voice softened again. "Sure, I'll pass that message. Do you need anything else?"

"No, that was it. Thank you and have a nice night."

It never hurt to be nice; I'd know by tomorrow if the receptionist or officer had done as I asked. That was time enough.

With the suit being built, I would need someone to wear and fight in it if necessary. With the events of the last year and then some, who better to do all that, to take that chance and respond to those dangerous calls, than a cop?