Science Fiction Vehicle Novels & Stories

I smirked. I turned back to the gun collection picking and choosing our favourites, "Autocannon, Bolt Pistol, Lasgun, Pulse Rifle, Lancer Pistol and lastly, for you Jack, a heavy bolter." I walked back to the table where the hologram was displayed. "Vehicles, the Rezvani Tank, Telsla Model S and lastly, Lexus Black Panther," Tyler stated.

If it wasn’t for my white hair, they would have believed I was human…. I stand up quickly and pack a bag, throwing inside what little belongings I have. When the party is in full swing, I will sneak away and leave this place forever. I smile as the thought takes over; being a rogue means freedom and that fills me with hope. Headlights flash above me, taking me out of my thoughts and I duck quickly, peering back out once they have passed. I watch as four black SUV cars pull into the driveway, stopping where my father waits. The driver gets out and runs to open the back passenger door. A dark figure steps out. His frame is tall and muscular, but it’s too dark to see his face.

"The Library is the lungs of the world. If it stops breathing, the truth dies. And when the truth dies, the Shop returns. Always." As the first light of dawn touched the Sea of Glass, Nara brought us a new vessel. It wasn't the swan-boat; it was a narrow, sharp-nosed skiff made of dark obsidian. "This is a Void-Runner," Nara explained. "It doesn't float on the water; it slides through the gaps between the reflections. It is the only thing fast enough to reach the Western Peaks before the Audit is finalized." We boarded in silence. Elara sat at the front, her hand resting on the obsidian hull. Cian and Mina huddled together in the middle, wrapped in their invisible capes. I took the helm.

Kael was a comrade, nothing more, and a temporary one at that. Selene’s personal transport was an armored tactical chariot—a reinforced vehicle designed for two passengers to ride in total comfort, facing forward like an executive transport, but with a dedicated enforcer on the front deck handling the heavily modified engine, completely bypassing the need for a standard military escort. The ballistic glass didn't offer the wide-angle view of a scout vehicle, but the interior cabin was pure luxury. Jessa, the supply omega, was completely paralyzed with shock the second she realized her tactical uniform was resting against custom crimson leather upholstery.

a security enforcer shouted, his voice amplified by a megaphone. The girl snapped her head around. A heavily armored, matte-black rogue transit carriage—a high-powered vehicle used to transport captured border beasts for the advanced combat classes—was speeding down the pedestrian path. Its thrusters were sputtering violently, smoking and sparking as the driver lost control of the steering mechanism. The heavy vehicle swerved wildly, heading directly toward the exact spot where Camilla was standing. Distracted and typing furiously on her tablet, Camilla remained completely oblivious to the multi-ton metal beast roaring toward her.

​The Voice of the Machine ​From the darkness of the "Night-Side" ridge, a massive, hovering command-skiff descended. It wasn't the sleek, ivory crafts of the old High-Rise. It was a jagged, brutalist machine, bristling with rail-guns and "Gravity-Siphons."

It was a rich, chemical scent that signaled status, safety, and separation from the filth of the outside world. Ren Walker walked slowly around the vehicle, his fingers trailing along the matte-silver chassis. It was a Vanguard Citadel SUV, the kind of machine usually reserved for high-ranking military officers or corporate executives. It sat high off the ground on run-flat all-terrain tires, looking less like a car and more like a rolling fortress. "It has a five-star safety rating," the salesman purred. He was a slick man in a velvet suit, who had initially looked at Ren’s casual hoodie with disdain, but was now practically bowing after seeing Ren’s credit pre-authorization.

Jaxon interjected from the communications array, "the old 'Sky-Chariots' are museum pieces, Vesper, they were built for atmospheric travel, not the Deep Void." "Then we don't use old tech," I said, looking at Lucian. The child was sitting on the floor, surrounded by the powdered remains of his violet diamonds, he was drawing a diagram in the dust, a teardrop-shaped craft with a core made of three interlacing rings. ‘The Void doesn't need engines, Mother,’ Lucian’s voice vibrated in my mind, sounding like a choir of crystal, ‘It only needs a direction, the Shadow is the hull, the Sun is the push, and the Void... the Void is the map.’

I’d left Silvermere in the dark, barefoot, bleeding, running for my life. I came back in a ten-car convoy. The vehicles were Valtherion’s idea, matte black SUVs and sedans, tinted windows, polished to a mirror shine. Crimson Fang flags on the lead, rear vehicles. The kind of motorcade that made border patrols radio ahead, highway traffic pull over. Valtherion and I were in the third car, a black Mercedes with leather interior, a partition between us and the driver.

Henry*** The night air was electric as the growl of engines shattered the silence. A fleet of sleek, armored vehicles snaked through the dense forest, their headlights cutting through the shadows like blades. At the center of it all was a black Rolls-Royce, its polished exterior gleaming ominously under the pale moonlight. The vehicle was a statement—a declaration of power, wealth, and unshakable authority.