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since the Society of Humanity self-destructed and Wardhaven doubled its defense budget. Kris settled in for a quiet drive. Maybe she should review the engine room specs for the Firebolt ?
    “Test really disappointing?” Jack asked.
    “We were so close.” Kris sighed. “Last benchmark, then bam, we’re back to square one.”
    “Frustrating,” her Agent said, his eyes roving the traffic. Jack had a knack for being both security and confidant. There was talk that a Princess deserved a full security detail. It would probably mean a promotion for Jack. For Kris, it would mean losing times like these. True, somebody—apparently a lot of somebodies—wanted her dead, but no attack had ever been made on Wardhaven. Besides, a Navy Junior Officer couldn’t move in a security bubble. Or maybe she just didn’t want to.
    At Tru’s apartment complex, Jack activated the car’s security system and followed Kris and Harvey into the elevator. Tru had bought a penthouse when she retired. Her view of Wardhaven City wasn’t quite as breathtaking as that from Grampa Al’s lofty tower outside town, but it was still spectacular. More spectacular was Tru’s hug.
    “I didn’t expect you to drop everything and come running just because your old Aunty Tru sent up a smoke signal,” she said as she engulfed Kris in her arms. There’d been a time when all Kris had to hold on to was Tru’s hugs . . . and the bottle. Those times were long gone, but Kris would never pass up a few moments feeling safe in Tru’s arms.
    Hug over, Kris explained that the test ended early.
    “Problem?”
    “I’m still alive. The ship’s still in one piece. Nothing we can’t work around. But it looks like Grampa Al will have a major market for Uni-plex.
    Tru scowled at that. “I turn the evidence of an attempt to kill you over to him and his labs to figure out who did it. Instead, they come up with a whole new product line.”
    Kris shrugged. “If Al makes money off my attempted murders, I figure he’ll make a fortune off what finally gets me.” No one else saw the humor. “So, Aunty Tru, why’d you call in the Navy? Run out of Marines?”
    “Actually, it’s Nelly I want.”
    Kris raised an eyebrow. Tru was responsible for most of the software on Kris’s pet computer; Nelly could do things very few computers could. Still, Sam, Tru’s personal computer, was probably one of those few. “We just upgraded her,” Kris pointed out. “I thought Nelly and I were about as far out on the bleeding edge as you dared go.”
    “You are,” Tru agreed. “The last time I ran diagnostics on Nelly’s new self-organizing circuitry, she was, gram for gram, the best in her class.”
    Kris began drooling over the new, self-organizing computing gel the first time she set eyes on it. Akin to smart metal, this let the computer organize its circuitry at the molecular level as it went along, and modify it as needed. Kris wasn’t sure whether she or Nelly was the most excited by it. “So?”
    “Nelly is greatly underutilized. I wonder if you might like to put her excess capacity to work on a challenge?”
    Kris had learned to cringe when Tru said “challenge.” Yes, at six, Kris would do an excited dance at the word. At fifteen, the thought of having the best personal sidekick at school was primo plus. But Kris was a serving officer. Having her computer go down didn’t just mean a quick stop by Aunty Tru’s on the way home from school for repairs and cookies. If Nelly had locked up today, the Navy might be missing a boatload of people.
    “What’s caught your fancy?” Kris said, taking a step back.
    Tru beamed, unrepentant. “Let me show you.”
    Kris knew the room they headed for. There were clean rooms, and then there was Aunty Tru’s lab. There was no need for special clothes. The airlock into what had been a spare bedroom spritzed Kris with a thin fog of nanos that lifted off the grime and dirt of the day . . . down to the five-nanometer level. The