Ghost Fleet Novels & Stories

“The question is if it really matters.” I joined Brett’s surprise at her words. She smiled. “There’s a lot of debate around what ghosts actually are. Are they what’s left of a person’s energy or are they actual souls? If they’re souls, it makes sense to hurry to help them move on. But I’m inclined to agree with my mentor’s theory, that they’re the remaining of people’s egos, not their soul.” “You lost me,” I said.

-he thought. Then he quickly went inside. Now, the White Space was silent and white. … After being taken from Maley's space, Olivia lost consciousness. Not only did this problem happen to Olivia, but it also happened to all the other members chosen by the deities that governed the ten spaces. “It happens all the time, right?” Pure looked at the thirteen young recruits lying on the bed and sighed deeply. She was depressed. Every time, just after selecting the representative, all the young recruits fell asleep.

[The Ghost Army] The heavy oak door of the wine cellar didn't just open; it exploded inward, reduced to a spray of splinters by a synchronized kinetic charge. Through the dust, four Ghost units moved with a terrifying, insectoid grace. Their tactical visors weren't glowing with the standard blue of the Regency; they were pulsing with a deep, oily black—the mark of the Heir. "Dante!" I screamed, diving behind a row of ancient, dust-covered casks.

“We need to figure out who it is. Fast.” Ayesha agreed. But first— “We need to know everything about the Ghost.” Azrael hesitated. Ayesha narrowed her eyes. “You owe us that much.” He sighed. “Alright. But you’re not going to like it.” They gathered around as he began to speak. And what he told them changed everything. The Ghost’s True Face “The Ghost isn’t one person,” Azrael said. “It’s a system. A network built on secrets, controlled by one entity—but protected by many.”

This feels lighter, automatic—like stepping where the ground has already been mapped. They call me Ghost. It simplifies things. Ghosts don’t leave witnesses. Or questions. Or pieces of themselves behind. Conversation thins as I pass. People shift their feet. I registered the looks without meeting them. Curiosity from the younger ones. Calculation from the handlers. And something closer to superstition from everyone else. I am twenty-two years old. I’ve been killing since I was fourteen. The numbers don’t settle into pride or shame. They sit like inventory. A medic steps aside as I pass. His eyes drop to the insignia stitched inside my collar—black thread on gray. Ghost-class comes without ra

The wolf people clan didn't want to anger their goddess of the night, their precious Luna whom I am named after. The fog appears thicker and brighter this time. The officer shakes in the air and twitches like a victim being tortured within. His eyes turn yellow, and his veins bulge. As he floats in the air, his skin becomes pale green. The water drips slowly down his shoulders and onto the floor. The Ghost is out for revenge on this officer. His name says Officer Wilds.

But they all felt so fucking real. Jesus! The thought of having sex with a ghost made me sick all over. My stomach knotted as a full-blown terror took root. A fever ran down my body and my skin gallop with goose pimples. "Do you see her?" his question brought me back to reality. I nodded slowly. "So those times I see you talking to yourself, it is her you are talking to?" I motioned. "Jesus!" he exclaimed. "You need deliverance with serious prayers oh!"

Men got out, secured the area with military precision. I didn't wait for permission. Just opened my door and ran. Ghost met me at the front entrance. Six-foot-four of solid muscle and calm competence. He had been special forces before going private, and it showed in the way he moved he was always aware, always ready. "He's in the living room," Ghost said quietly. "Playing that dinosaur game you got him. I told him we might be taking a trip, but he doesn't know anything else." "Thank you." I gripped his arm. "For everything."

“Can you trace it?” Ghost shrugged. “Eventually. It’ll take time. Whoever this guy is, he knows how to hide. But I got one thing.” He tapped the screen. “A name. Hector.” The room went still. Ciara’s breath caught. Cormac’s jaw tightened. Cedric muttered a curse under his breath. I felt Ciara’s hand brush mine not for comfort, but for confirmation. She already knew what that name meant. Ghost stood. “I’m going to start tearing through the reroutes. Might take hours. Might take days. But I’ll get him.”

Snow started falling—hard and fast. I stood there on the curb, freezing, shaking. Three hours in, my phone died. Sonia never came. Before the screen went black, one last thing flashed—Pierre's post. A selfie. Him and Sonia in front of some car, her face turned halfway. Caption: [Under the same snow, our hair turns white. Close enough to growing old together, right?] In the dead glass, my reflection stared back—smiling. Not bitter. Just done. The hundredth promise, traded for a concert and a boy toy.