"Thirteen, do you have any weapons in this death trap of yours?" Orn asked, his voice tight with controlled urgency.
The initial shot from their attackers had broken through the energy shield around the car. It was a testament to its make and model that it was still afloat—usually blasts of that magnitude should have messed with the mag-lev suspensions, if not destroyed the entire engine. They would have crashed hard and fast, but they were still airborne, still trying to survive assassins from gods knew where.
"I'll have you know, Master Orn, that this vehicle is up to standard and is a state-of-the-art—"
"Weapons!" Orn cut her off, his patience worn to nothing. "Where are they? Now!"
Another round pinged off the hull, making the car shudder. Time was running out.
"They are in the trunk," Thirteen replied, her tone still maddeningly even. "I will make them accessible to you. Defending yourself does not go against my protocols."
Orn narrowed his eyes at that. He was sure the android hadn't intended to let that slip, but for a creature of extreme logic—still bound by the Robotics and Artificial Intelligence Laws—it couldn't help itself. Especially with the whole monologue thing.
There was a hiss as the seat shifted forward, the middle developing a split. A meter-wide box rose up, then spread out to show that it was layered on top of itself—and it was filled with weapons. Not the basic kind, either. Military grade. High end.
"I am sure this is not the time to ask, Master Orn," Thirteen said, her voice taking on an almost curious quality, "but why do you wear a mask? It cannot be comfortable. I read from the tabloids that you've had it on since you were a child. Can you tell me why?"
Orn shook his head, cursing softly as the car got hit again by sustained fire from the hover bikes. It was only a matter of time before that armor-piercing cannon had enough charge for a second shot. He really had to hurry.
"People are trying to kill me!" Orn growled, his hands moving quickly through the weapons cache. "Drive and open the damn skylight!"
He grabbed a standard-issue military blaster first, checking the power cells with practiced efficiency. Full charge with a spare. Good. He quickly tucked it into the waistband of his pants before pulling up the assault rifle—this was the real beauty of the collection.
Seventh-generation disruptor sniper and assault rifle.
He smiled beneath his mask. If he survived this, he was definitely keeping this gun.
Moving with practiced speed, he stripped off his regal jacket and threw on a bulletproof vest, then grabbed a fourteen-inch tri-bladed vibro blade, strapping it to his thigh. The skylight opened with a pneumatic hiss just as he finished.
Immediately, Orn flung out two tear gas grenades. They exploded the moment they cleared the car, filling the area around them with noxious green gas. The hover bikes swerved wildly, their drivers breaking into tear-jerking coughs.
Orn took advantage of the opening.
Only one of the hover bikes had been able to completely evade the gas attack, swerving wide with impressive piloting skill. And that was the hover bike Orn decided to aim for.
Just as the hover bike moved to the side, clearing the gas cloud, Orn leveled the disruptor rifle and squeezed the trigger.
Even inside a moving mag-lev car, he kept his balance as the significant recoil of the gun nearly flung him into the wind and out of the vehicle. His muscles screamed in protest, but his aim was impeccable. The shot blasted through the chest of the rider and his partner behind him—the one who'd been holding the gun-cannon that had broken the car's energy shield.
Blood and debris exploded outward as the bike careened wildly, then plummeted toward the forest below.
Orn doubted this was the limit of the assassins after him. He doubted they wouldn't have made a more significant effort. Because with one bike down and two others just barely emerging from the gas cloud, still reeling from its effects, Orn felt almost insulted.
He lowered the disruptor rifle. It would take another thirty seconds to charge since he'd used sniper mode—not the best for firefights unless you were using assault mode, but Orn had forgone that in order to cause as much damage as possible and take out the first group quickly.
The remaining two bikes immediately opened fire, their weapons chattering in rapid succession. Luckily for Orn, none of them had a gun-cannon capable of blowing the car out of the sky. He quickly ducked back into the vehicle, his jaw clipping the edge of the skylight and leaving a nasty bruise. He hissed in annoyance as he opened his mind.
He felt the spark nestled deep within his consciousness—a wellspring of power that only 10.5% of the empire's population ever gained.
Psi. The energy of the mind that could be used to alter and change the rules of reality and the state of matter.
His eyes began to glow, sparkling with the intensity of a thousand suns as he rose back through the skylight. This time he came without any weapons, his hands empty, his mind focused. He screamed, drawing on his reserves as he began to rapidly vibrate the molecules in the air around him.
Then he stopped himself. That was a part of his power he didn't want anyone to find out about. Not yet.
Instead, he muttered to himself, actively calling out a mantra to help him keep control over his power. "Be the wind. You are the wind. Call the wind... I am Wind!"
His scream caused a visible ripple in the air as a great and powerful geyser of wind appeared, erupting from nowhere and blasting both hover bikes higher into the sky. Orn could hear the assassins screaming in shock and fright as their vehicles tumbled end over end, completely out of control.
He heaved, trying to catch his breath. The blaster was in his hand in an instant as he narrowed his eyes at the careening vehicles in the sky and began to fire. All twenty-eight charged rounds from the blaster were emptied in seconds. His shots were precise, methodical—each one finding its mark.
Both hover bikes and their passengers exploded into fiery debris in the sky, the burning wreckage falling unbidden toward the forested moon below.
Orn spun the blaster and holstered it with a practiced motion. He was about to drop back into the car when his mind screamed at him—the warning so intense it was almost painful.
He ducked his head to the side.
A bolt of lightning blasted through the space where his head had been a fraction of a second before, the air crackling with ozone and heat. The car shook violently as he felt someone lock onto him—a telekinetic hold pinning him in place like an insect on a board.
His eyes widened as he saw another mag-lev car rise up from the depths of the forest below, followed by two more. Three vehicles in total, and this time they had Psionics on board.
From what he could tell, there was an elemental with control over lightning and another who was a telekinetic—probably the one currently holding him in place. This would be a big problem. Most Psionic fire teams always went for the perfect composition: a single telekinetic or telepath, two elementals, one augmenter, and the captain. If there were a telepath and elemental working together, then he wasn't dealing with small-time assassins anymore.
His assassins weren't hired hands—they were actual soldiers with the experience and tactics required to bring down an enemy Psionic.
"Master Orn, what do we do?" the android asked from within the car, her driving still erratic as the vehicle shook and dipped.
Orn growled, still held in place by the telekinetic. "I'm a fucking admiral now! And please forgive me for this..." He took a breath, his mind racing. "It seems your princess—or my father—is out to kill me. And dying today is not on my freaking agenda!"
There was a sizzle in the air as the spark within Orn's mind seemed to burn even brighter.
Contrary to what the whole galaxy knew, Orn was not just a fire and wind Psionic. He had kept the other parts of himself secret—not because he'd wanted to, but as he grew older and his mind grew more powerful, he'd become capable of doing more and more things. Only one person was aware of just how powerful a Psionic Orn truly was.
And he had said this about it:
"Master Orn, there are no limits to your mind. Your spark keeps growing in more ways than one. The stronger and older you become, the more abilities you will develop, the more expansive your mind will become. I believe you are on a path to a new type of ascension—one that will change the face of the galaxy forever. But only if you can live to see it. Regardless, I will be there every single step of the way."
Orn shook his head, as if to dislodge the memory itself. That was the thing with being a powerful Psionic—or just a Psionic in general. Your mind had eccentricities that you had no choice but to live with.
He gave his attention back to the battle. The fact that he hadn't been killed yet meant the new attackers probably wanted to capture him first. There was no way in hell he was going to let that happen.
If they wanted a fight, he would give them one.
A pulse blasted out of his body.
The moment it did, the car dipped violently, losing control as the invisible wave spread outward to hit the incoming attackers and their vehicles. Their cars dipped as well, the undersides crashing against fire-resistant trees, breaking branches and sending leaves scattering.
The telekinetic hold on Orn disappeared.
He released the drained clip from the blaster and reloaded almost immediately, his movements automatic. He took aim, and this time when he felt the telekinetic try to grab hold of him again, he did something unexpected.
He used his own mind to latch onto the connection.
The effect was immediate. He felt the telekinetic panic, his emotions spilling out into the use of his Psi and ability. Just as Orn could tell what was going through the telekinetic's mind, the telekinetic could tell what Orn was thinking.
The panic tripled.
Orn was no mind sniper—those telepaths who could latch onto the energy signature of a Psionic and blast your mind from a distance. But he had learned the technique to read and latch onto a person's Psi energy for one reason and one reason only: an infallible targeting system.
He squeezed the trigger.
A late shout of "NO!" echoed across the sky as the telekinetic's head exploded in a mist of blood and bone. He'd been leaning out of the car in order to keep Orn in his line of sight, and even the erratic shaking of his vehicle hadn't been enough to save him.
Orn ducked back into the car as lightning crackled harmlessly overhead, scorching the air where he'd been.
He noticed Thirteen shaking erratically in the front seat, her movements jerky and uncoordinated.
He hissed softly to himself. He'd forgotten he had a partial machine close to him. The Psi-Pulse could disrupt any and all technology within its range, and it was especially effective against Psionics and their equipment. The android was barely holding back from a full system reboot due to the fact that she had functioning bio-organic components, but if she didn't reboot soon, she would shut down with significant damage to her hardware—which could spill over into her software and fleshware.
"Computer, reassign driving privileges to me!" Orn called out, his voice commanding. "Current android driver is unfit to handle transportation. Thirteen, reboot now!"
The covering that separated driver and passenger moved, and the seat the android was on shifted back. Orn moved forward as the seat slid into place, and he sat down hard. He removed the vehicle from semi-autopilot and switched to full manual control, then opened the windows to let fresh air stream in.
He turned quickly to look at the android. "Reboot!"
"I-I can't!" Thirteen's voice was glitching, stuttering. "It g-go-goes a-against my protocols!"
"Screw your protocols—we're about to die!" Orn snapped. "I need a functioning navigator, so reboot now! That's a fucking order, machine!"
For a moment, it almost looked as if Thirteen had been hurt by the verbal jab—but that was just simulated emotion, right? He hadn't just seen an android get upset at being called a machine.
Still, she did as Orn ordered. She leaned back, and the lights in her eyes went out.
That was good. Even for high-end androids, a reboot would take at least ten minutes. And the most important thing—she would lose the last five minutes of memory after the reboot. Enough time to cover the fact that Orn had released a Psi-Pulse from his body, revealing him to be a type of Psionic known as a biohacker or technopath—one with the ability to interface with and control machines.
If that came out, he could forget about leaving. He'd be drafted straight into the personal guard or kill squad of the emperor until he died. And while he was more than willing to serve, his mother and sister came first.
The android shutting down would ensure he kept his secrets for a little while longer.
Now, with the android and her restrictive programming out of the way, it was time to show these assassins that they had messed with the wrong person. With no witnesses for the next ten minutes, he could fight as freely as he wanted to.
He looked at the approaching attackers through the windshield, his eyes glowing with barely restrained power. He muttered to them, his words carried by the wind itself to ensure they could hear him clearly:
"Time for you all to die."