Flight Into NightBremen settled himself down on the seat of the hover-bike and stared at the illuminated dash. He hadn't been on one of these infernal machines for half a lifetime. They used pulsed electricity to generate a cushion of air, and its acceleration was notorious for being kick-ass fast. All he had to do was switch on, turn the grip, and hold on.
He knew time was pressing, and as the two men in black suits came running around the corner, he thought better of hanging around any longer.
They were shouting, waving some form of identity card, but Bremen put his head down and pressed the button.
Nothing happened.
He cursed.
The damn battery must have been flat. He glanced over the dash. No lights, not power. There must be something he wasn't doing.
The pounding of feet grew lou
