Early Monday morning, the four young Americans arrived at the airport. Their plane was awaiting them, all serviced, fueled, and ready to go. The Maxxim Starcraft 170 was a sharp, if unusual looking aircraft. Designed by Astrid’s father Dr. Roger Maxxim, the 47 foot long Starcraft featured a long pointy fuselage with a small canard wing just behind the nose. The main wing was at the back of the aircraft, and carried twin turboprop engines, with the propellers facing rearward. These were known as push-props. The cabin, which could accommodate up to nine passengers, was more than spacious with just Astrid and Denise and their carryon luggage. Dennis and Toby took their places as pilot and co-pilot respectively.

An hour later, the Starcraft was soaring westward over the Atlantic Ocean. Though no jet, its cruising speed of 320 mph would carry them back in Maxxim City in under ten hours, even allowing for a short refueling stop in Atlanta. The girls carried on a spirited game of Toad Town using their MX-360 PDAs.

“Do you want to go sit up front?” asked Dennis, walking back down the aisle. “I’ve got to make a pit stop. Toby’s got the stick.”

“I told you that you shouldn’t drink so much orange juice right before takeoff,” said Denise.

Her brother ignored her and continued on toward the diminutive restroom at the rear of the cabin. Astrid unbuckled her seatbelt, walked to the cockpit, and carefully climbed into the pilot’s seat, strapping herself in.

“This is cool,” she said.

“I know,” said Toby. “By the time we get home, I’ll have enough hours to pilot one of these babies myself.”

“Good, you can fly us to Hawaii in two weeks.”

“I don’t know if I can go,” he said. “I haven’t asked yet. I know my dad will be fine with it, but Aunt Gerta thinks that I spend too much time away from home.”

Toby’s great aunt had come to live with him two years before, when his mother had passed away after a long struggle with cancer.

“What the heck is that?” cried Toby, as a loud beeping rang out in the small compartment.

“It’s the SAR,” said Astrid. “Somebody’s fired a missile at us.”

She pointed to the round radarscope at the bottom center of the control panel. It showed a blip coming up toward them from behind.

“What do I do?” asked Toby.

“I’ve got it,” said Astrid.

Taking the control stick in her left hand, she grabbed the twin throttles with her right, shoving them both forward. The engines screamed as they pushed the aircraft toward its maximum speed of 400 mph. Astrid didn’t take her eyes off the radar. The blip, indicating the missile, came closer and closer toward the center of the amber screen. At the last moment, she jerked left on the stick as she stamped down of the corresponding foot pedal and the plane rolled over onto its back. She and Toby watched as a missile shot past them, below the plane, and from their upside down perspective, just above their heads. It flew right through the space where the Starcraft had been.

Astrid flipped the plane back right side up and banked right in a climbing turn.

“What in the world is going on!” shouted Dennis behind them. “Are you trying to crash us?”

“There was a missile,” said Toby. “She just saved all of our lives.”

“Now let’s see if we can find out who shot at us,” said Astrid.

They spotted several recently made contrails high up in the sky, but no other aircraft in their vicinity.

“I’m sure that was an air-to-air missile,” said the girl inventor. “Our attacker must have high-tailed it as soon as they fired.”

“Just a couple of weeks ago they were trying to kidnap you,” said Toby. “Now they’re trying to kill you.”

“Yeah,” mused Astrid. “I wish they would hurry up and make up their mind.”

They went up a hill and the bicycle built for two shot ahead. Austin caught up with Astrid and rode beside her.

“My grandma told me this story all about how your dad built a motorcycle and rode all over the country on it,” he said.

“Really? I wonder why he said I wasn’t allowed to have one then?”

“Maybe you could invent something even better, like a flying bicycle.”

“That’s a really good idea, Austin.”

Astrid’s mind was spinning ideas the rest of the ride, and when everyone was done, Astrid had Austin bring the bike he had been riding up to her lab. Then she got on the phone.

“Mrs. Purcell?”

“Yes, Astrid.”

“Do you have any idea how many hoverdisks my dad has?”

“He had at least fifteen made up,” she replied, “though a few of them were broken in testing.”

“Could you have someone send a couple up to my lab please?”

“I’ll get them right over, Astrid. Bye.”

By the time a lab technician arrived with a rolling cart holding two of Dr. Maxxim’s hoverdisks, Astrid had the bicycle up on her workbench, had removed both wheels and had built a pair of simple brackets in their place. The hoverdisks were two and a half feet in diameter and six inches thick. She attached one hoverdisk to each bracket. Finally she connected one of her large test batteries to the two levitation devices, securing it to the bike frame with duck tape.

“Alright Austin,” said Astrid, with Robot Valerie’s help, setting the bike on the lab floor. “Would you like to be the first person to ride on a flying bike?”

“You bet!” he shouted, climbing into the seat. “What do I have to do?”

“Just try to keep your balance,” said Astrid. Then she turned on the hoverdisks.

The bicycle immediately rose from the floor, at first just a few inches, then a foot, and then it continued upward.   The girls shouted excitedly, but no more than Austin, who looked to be thoroughly enjoying himself. The hoverdisks were humming quietly, slowly pushing the boy higher and higher. Then suddenly he was at the ceiling and he had to tilt his head to the side. Immediately the bike flipped over. Austin flailed his arms, as the now inverted hoverdisks drove him into the floor.

Astrid quickly jumped forward and disconnected the battery.

“Are you alright?” she asked the boy.

“Did you see me? I was flying!”

All nine members of the Maxxim Board of Directors were seated around a very large oval table. Astrid’s mother left her to take a seat at the far end, leaving Astrid to face the entire group, and she was feeling very small. The girl inventor knew how it worked. Those at the table didn’t own all the shares of Maxxim Industries. In fact, she herself had quite a large block inherited from her grandmother. But these nine had been chosen by the shareholders to oversee the operations of the company, so they had tremendous power.

“These will be the new line of Maxxim Supercell Batteries,” Astrid started, lifting the cover off of the cart full of mock-ups. Mr. Brown had outdone himself. There were more than 30 different battery sizes represented—everything from tiny button batteries to large, square lantern batteries.

“Aren’t there already lots of battery manufacturers?” asked Astrid’s aunt Lauren, usually her harshest critic on the board. “Why would we want to get into a such a crowded business.”

“Our batteries will change the marketplace,” replied Astrid. “They will change the world. First of all, since they are made with our own, patented Astricite, their charge will last much longer than any other batteries. Secondly, again because of the Astricite, they can be made for far less. Finally, and perhaps most importantly, they will be far less toxic than batteries made with lead, mercury, or cadmium.

“Every year Americans alone dump 180,000 tons of batteries into landfills where toxic contaminants leach out into the soil and water. Every year dozens of children are hospitalized because of ingesting tiny batteries, from which corrosive or poisonous chemicals are released.”

“Our batteries would be safe to swallow?” asked former Senator Charles Bentlemore.

“No,” Astrid replied. “There is still the problem of liquefaction necrosis, which occurs because sodium hydroxide is generated by the current produced by the battery.”

“But our batteries won’t leach into landfills?” asked board member Saul Smith.

“Correct. Astricite has a relatively short life, on the order thirty to forty years depending on the sample size. After that, it degrades into its component compounds, all of which are non-toxic.”

“How much money can we make on this?” asked Astrid’s uncle Carl, her father’s brother and Aunt Lauren’s husband.

“As my mother can confirm,” said Astrid, “batteries are a $64 billion dollar business.”

“How soon can we get these to market?” asked Mr. Roy Dillanson.

“I’ve talked to Mr. Gortner in production, and he says we can have a factory in place in fourteen months.”

“Why don’t we just use an existing factory in China or Mexico?” asked Aunt Lauren.

“We will discuss that after Astrid has gone,” said her mother. “You are finished, aren’t you Astrid?”

“Yes, Mom.”

Tuesday at school wasn’t all that different from Monday, with the exception that Astrid had a presentation to make in US History class. Her subject was Robert E. Lee. She was a little miffed that Mr. Hoffman gave her an A-, saying that she could have used more creativity in her PowerPoint.

“Substance is more important than style,” she said under her breath.

At lunch, which was Asian lettuce wraps with soy dipping sauce, vegetable stir-fry, steamed rice, and strawberries, Austin joined their table in the quad. There was no trouble from Mark McGovern.

After school they all stepped into the monorail train traveling deeper into the Maxxim campus, rather than the train the other students took heading home. It wasn’t a straight shot to the R&D section. The track stopped at the Business Offices Complex, before continuing on, following along the shores of Pearl Lake, through the Saguaro Cactus Park, and finally to the Research and Development Department.

“So, I don’t get it,” said Austin. “If thousands of people are working all the time to make better batteries, how come it takes a fourteen year old girl to do it?”

“I’ll bet they don’t want to make batteries better,” said Christopher. “You make them last longer and you don’t sell as many.”

“I have an advantage over anyone else,” said Astrid. “I have Astricite. It’s a relatively inexpensive, superconductive alloy that I developed when I was six. We’re already using it in our microprocessors.”

They arrived in the lab and Astrid examined the readings on her experiment.

“I think this might make it till the week-end.”

“What’s in this box?” asked Toby, from across the room. “What’s Project RG-7, and why is it top secret?”

“I was going to show you guys next week,” said Astrid, leading the others to where Toby was standing beside the crate. “I guess you can go ahead and take a look now.”

Reaching up, she flipped open a latch and opened the side of the crate. Inside, packed with straw, was a metallic girl. She had bright silver skin, but was otherwise quite human looking. Her hair was the same metallic material as the rest of her, a solid hair-shaped mass rather than individual fibers, but she was wearing regular clothing. She had on a pink jacket over a blue t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers.

“Oh my gosh!” squealed Valerie. “She looks like me!”