Goob Ships Novels & Stories

But the water wasn't the scary part. Floating on the black sea were ships. Hundreds of them. There were Viking longships, their wood rotted and petrified. There were 17th-century galleons with tattered sails frozen in mid-flap. There were rusted ironclads from the Civil War. And dominating the center, massive, grey steel hulks of WWII destroyers and U-boats. They bobbed silently in the black water, bumping into each other with dull, hollow thuds.

A large ship, anchored far off in the distance, its dark silhouette barely visible in the hot afternoon. "That's the ship," Louise said. "The shipment was supposed to be on board." "And now?" Luan asked. "Now it's gone," Louise said quietly. "Everything is gone." Luan's jaw tightened as he heard this "Let's go," he moved his hands signaling them to come along. Louise nodded and led them toward two speedboats that were waiting at the edge of the dock. Luan, Klevis, Louise, Boaz, and two other men climbed into the boats.

It wasn't the Holy Syndicate. From the fog emerged a fleet of "Ghost Ships"—commercial freighters, private yachts, and even fishing trawlers, all manned by people who had been "Decommissioned" by the Syndicate’s global seizure. They were the waitresses from Singapore, the coders from Geneva, and the soldiers from New York who had refused to go back to their "Stations." The lead ship, a battered Northwood icebreaker, pulled alongside the black sand. A woman stepped onto the deck—Mina, her eyes tired but free of the neon-green glow. Beside her stood a thousand others, their faces grim and determined.

"I do believe those are Grishan’s ships." "Grishan’s?" I repeat, "Does that mean that’s Hindrick and the others?" "Looks like," Uncle Ramone confirms. "Well, isn’t this perfect timing? We can all attack at the same time now." Remaining silent, I watch as the large ships close the distance between us and them. When they stop, a ladder is dropped, allowing us to climb aboard while our own groups ships wait for further instruction. "Glad you could join us," Gavin chuckles once we’re on deck. "Now could you explain exactly what is going on here?"

Four idols sat in a neat, uneasy row. They had carried them out of the drowned temple after the last time the sea learned a bad trick—after Gallus’ rampage through Crescent Cove—when Brooke had hurled a salt-and-steel charge onto the altar during the solar eclipse, snapping a half-made gate shut and breaking a spell Gallus had built with wrecks and tide. The ring of wrecked ships at the reef—Prognosis, the Zodiac, the Golden Goose, the Siren, the Tua Cross—had held their pentagram while the ocean screamed and forgot. The idols stood in a row. They were not trophies when Gabe and Brooke took them home. They were locks. On the stone four statues:

It had struck the marker. Symbolic. Deliberate. And then the vessel had retreated into darkness. No pursuit possible without overextension. Dominic’s voice remained steady. “Damage?” “Two buoys destroyed. No casualties.” A clean line crossed. Not invasion. But undeniable breach. The three Dominion ships at the northern horizon remained stationary. Visible. Uninvolved. Plausible deniability embodied. “They separated visibility from action,” I said quietly. “Yes,” Dominic replied. “They want us to respond to shadows.”

Vanessa, still reloading her rifle, snapped her head up, already alert. “What is it?” The screen flickered, displaying satellite footage of something massive rising from the depths of the ocean floor. Impossible. The Return of the Nightmare Rook’s voice crackled through the cockpit comms, strained but urgent: “We’ve got multiple signatures... coming up fast!” Through the storm-filled horizon, dark shapes emerged, pushing through the churning waves. A fleet of unmanned warships, their steel hulls gleaming, automated and deadly. At the center of the advancing armada...

“Fine! Gotta go. Teacher Mary’s coming!” The line cut off. I exhaled and smacked my cheeks with both hands. It helped me focus on my predicament. With arms crossed, I watched the barge swaying gently on the waves. Its massive gray structure was just as my father once described—the Kulbahinam Barge, a large vessel with twelve passenger cabins, forty double decks, and too many weathered plastic chairs bolted to the deck. It belonged to the Garcia family, a shipping empire. Father used to work for them when he was alive.

Even though my abilities have been helpful, that still makes me almost as scary as the people we're fighting. The docks are dark and eerie. The only sounds come from the gentle lapping of the waves against the shore and boats. The water is choppy, and I see several ships bobbing in the distance. It's too far to tell what they are, but it's clear there's only a very select few of them. With Nenee flying around him, Chuck leads us past the yacht that I hoped was his and to a small motorboat with no covering. Crouching in front of it, he looks up at us.

Elliot also noticed the submarines' movements, and shortly after, an explosion occurred beneath the sea, causing several ships in the area to retreat. Gale clenched his teeth and commented, "I think there's a battle happening underwater." Kharel nodded and stared at the ocean waves for a few moments. After that, he noticed several ships carrying other kingdoms that repeatedly appeared to be swaying and even seemed unstable in their speed. One of the ships was even almost capsized by a large wave that hit the ship, which Kharel did not know which kingdom it came from. "We're not the only ones having problems," Kharel muttered, frowning.