Astro Ships Novels & Stories

They surrounded the Astropheles. We were the source of the infection. And we were to be sterilized. "Jeff!" I yelled. "I see them!" he shouted back, his hands flying over the console. The Astropheles shuddered as a shield of woven memories—of Lyra's smile, of Lina's laugh—flared around us, deflecting the first volley of null-beams. We were powerful, but we were one ship against an armada. Our story-shields wouldn't hold forever.

"You wasted five of your time saying that, take good care of your next words." "My name is Stella and I'm an astronomer," I decided to introduce myself, to at least win more than ten seconds. It seemed to work because the Alpha sketched a slight shock when dilating his pupils. Around us, the silence was present. "I study the stars, and I found coordinates following the constellations of the zodiac. Or rather, some constellations, because there were many others that I didn't have time to translate." "And what did the moon say to you?" he asked, letting go of my chin. "Duntied did the moon agree to send you here?"

The Shem possessed two fleets, and this one, controlled by the Supreme intelligence known as the Hoon, consisted of no less than one thousand three hundred and forty seven heavily armed spacecraft. Some cruised the margins of the solar system, watching for signs of hostile activity, while the rest swarmed around the second planet from the sun. Those capable of landing did so, feeding on the remains of a once-thriving Steam Age society, while shuttles fetched "food" into orbit for consumption by the larger vessels. The ships, each protected by the same silvery sheen, flashed like fish through the ocean of blackness. They felt nothing for the millions who had died, or would die during the days

They passed the sickbay, rows of cots where medic hands moved with quiet efficiency, and an indoor garden, a sunless grove of pale leaves and fragile herbs that tilted toward artificial light. Rey wanted to linger, to press her palm to the humid glass, to feel a bit of green, but his grip tightened and they went deeper into the belly of the facility. As they walked further, she glanced around in wonder. "You've done so much here, Papa. I didn't even know a place like this existed." "It took years," he said proudly. "We've built laboratories, housing, and farms. A city beneath the surface. Humanity's last hope, but in truth we can't stay here forever."

“Aster Likaya, Captain of the Zeraph Republic Voltiir Corps. Serial number 3349-88766.Aster Likaya, Captain of the Zeraph Republic Voltiir Corps. Serial number 3349-88766.” She repeated the phrases in her head, desperate to focus on something that didn’t involve the seeing numbness that had overtaken her body. The death of one Druid and the departure of another had weakened the vine wall that was separating them from their vessel.

Moored inside the hidden marine cavern was the Stellaris—our sixty-foot, military-grade black hull assault yacht, its twin turbine engines already humming with a deep, vibrating power. Twenty minutes later, the vessel was tearing through the mountain-sized waves of the storm at a breakneck, terrifying speed, leaving the smoking ruins of the villa far behind. Inside the primary master cabin—a luxurious, soundproofed bunker lined in dark charcoal leather and polished mahogany—the deafening roar of the ocean faded into a heavy, suffocating silence. Asher set my trembling body down onto the expansive black leather divan at the center of the floor. The nausea had finally passed, replaced by a dee

I turn immediately. “What now.” A projection forms in front of us. Not the predator. Not this time. Earth. Specifically— Orbit. Matteo squints. “Wait… those are—” Human ships. Dozens of them. Satellites. Military craft. Even experimental vessels that were never meant to leave testing phases. All moving. All pointing outward. All aimed at the coalition vessel. Matteo exhales sharply. “Oh, that’s bad.” I don’t disagree. “They’re mobilizing,” I say.

Fallon Luna. I shake my head at my reflection in the stainless steel-framed mirror in my stateroom aboard The Alyssa, which is, in fact, an impressive cargo ship with several floors dedicated to guests. It’s nothing like the yachts in my family’s arsenal, but it’s comfortable, nonetheless, if not a little stale and gray.

As he gently pulled her towards him, she felt the warmth of his body against hers, a comforting presence in the midst of their heated encounter. The bathroom, their private haven, was filled with their shared breaths and the soft murmur of their whispers. As Lucas leaned in, his lips meeting Louisa's in a passionate embrace, the world outside ceased to exist. It was just them, lost in their world of shared love and desire. As their bodies moved in rhythm, the steam around them seemed to rise, creating a veil that shielded them from the world outside. Their hearts beat in unison, their bodies entwined in a dance of love and passion that was as steamy as the bathwater that surrounded them.

They saw Husks. Dozens of "Mirror-Chrome" vessels, identical to the Overseer ship that had nearly burned the world, began to drift into Earth’s atmosphere. But these ships were scarred. Their iridescent hulls were dull, pitted with "Data-Cysts," and trailing long plumes of entropic gray smoke. The Taxonomy of the Fallen "They aren't attacking," Lucian observed, standing on the observation deck of the Cotopaxi Anchor. "They're... venting. Look at the heat signatures. They’re running on emergency reserves."