Ao3 Lower Decks Novels & Stories

The Sun-Tower was a marvel of architectural arrogance. Every floor was a concentric circle of glass and cold, white marble, designed to keep the "biologicals" in a state of perpetual observation. Rhea stood in the center of her guest suite, the silver chainmail of her dress feeling like a lead weight. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city of Oakhaven pulsed with artificial light, a sprawling machine that never slept.

"What did they call them before?" Obanai looked at me with the particular expression of someone who was delighted to have a new audience. "The Deep Floor. Which is exactly what it sounds like. The lower geological level of the northern realm, sitting beneath habitable land the way a cellar sits beneath a house." He leaned forward. "The problem is that the cellar is rotting and no one built a drain." "That's a very specific metaphor." "It's an accurate one." Nala was looking at her nails. Hale had closed his eyes.

The yacht was amazing. It was enormous and spacious. It had 3 decks including a sundeck. On the lower deck were the bedrooms, in which she was taken to change her clothes and put a bikini on. She changed and came out. On the main deck was the living room, cockpit, and an RPH (raised pilothouse), an upper deck with an enclosed and comfortable area. She went to the sundeck on the top and she saw Bruce sitting in the spa. When he noticed her he felt the pressure in his c_ck.

I had to get below deck. If this vessel was losing power, if Julian Sterling’s team was boarding or neutralizing the boat, the safest place wasn't on the open deck exposed to gunfire or crossfire. I slipped through the heavy, unlatched companionway door leading down into the engine access corridor, dropping into the cold, claustrophobic darkness of the lower hull. The air down here was thick and stifling, heavy with the sharp smell of hot diesel fuel, hydraulic fluid, and ozone. The emergency backup battery strips flickered along the floor, casting a dull, ghostly red glow over the narrow steel passageway. It was dead silent down here, save for the deep, eerie groan of the dead engines and t

"The skiff is gone, but the emergency pods in the lower bay might still have power. Move your ass, Silas!" They scrambled down the ladder, their boots clanging against the wet rungs. The air in the lower levels was thick, tasting of brine and ozone. Every few seconds, the rig shuddered—a deep, metallic groan that vibrated through their teeth. The "Emotional Pendulum" was at a breaking point.

“Geez, what’s wrong? Are we on fire or something?” He ignored the attempt at humor, as well as the look of puzzlement on her face. Stabbing one finger against the glass-covered ship plans, he said only, “Look at this.” She hurried across the room, glanced at the plans, then shifted a look at him. “What exactly am I looking at?” “This.” He tapped his finger against the lowest deck on the diagram. “The Riviera Deck.” “Uh-huh.” “There are people staying down there.” “Oh.”

The stairs continued down to F Deck, and if one wasn’t paying careful attention, it was easy to miss the landing for E Deck, especially if one were short and in a crowd. The water was definitely deeper as she made her way further down, though it was not proportionately so. She couldn’t quite explain how the water must be entering the boat that there was water on E Deck but F Deck was not completely underwater yet, but she thought it might have something to do with those famous watertight doors. There were not as many people down here, either. Perhaps because they had already made their exit, or maybe there just weren’t as many rooms on this deck, either way, what lay before her were mostly d

​The twelve-minute doom clock didn't just flash on the terminal; it felt like a heavy mass of lead crushing the air out of the captain's deck. Outside, the shimmering emerald dome of Aegis Hub 02 hummed, but it was three sectors behind them. Here, on the absolute border of the Capital's inner sanctum, the ground was a nightmare of shattered ice and iron.

Chapter 133: The Iron Core and the Sovereign Ledger The iron deck beneath Natalia’s bare feet did not possess the warm, rhythmic pulse of the western pine forests; it was a cold, dying beast of industrial stagnation. She stood inside the primary command bridge of the Leviathan’s Core, her chest heaving as the last echoes of the harbor slaughter faded into the gray morning mist. The scent here was a suffocating cocktail of scorched brass, pressurized hydraulic fluid, and the sharp, coppery stink of human fear. Through the reinforced glass slits of the bridge's conning tower, she could look down upon the entire Black-Water basin. The three grand imperial dreadnoughts were no longer the proud a

Xavier had planned the rooms well enough to give everyone on each deck adequate privacy. The deck under the Alphas was occupied by their betas, and from there to the ground floor, the decks were occupied according to hierarchy. Leaving the ground floors for the Omegas. The pack's gammas occupied the two decks above the Omegas. They were literally the pack's warriors and Xavier had figured having them close to the ground floor would be advantageous. A notion she strongly supported. She thought it was smart to have the pack's fighters closer to the cave entrance in case of attacks. They were natural fighters and had physical attributes that distinguish them for that purpose.