Orange Ship Novels & Stories

On the way there, Liam chatted with the captain of the boat, and the old sailor was the first to confirm everything Maxine had told him. "Of course they'd get there faster! The Norwegian current's strong year-round. The Ocevaris's a wild ocean, but cargo ships are usually safe. The folks in Norsethorne work with bigger vessels, so they can handle a much better route," the captain said. Liam turned to Maxine and gave her two enthusiastic thumbs up. They arrived in Norsethorne late at night, both a bit green from the boat's constant rocking. Maxine wasn't affected much, but Liam was looking rough.

She bit down on her bottom lip, following behind him as he shoved one door open and stepped in first, scanning the space with sharp, feral precision before gesturing for her to follow. The room was small and dingy, with a fireplace in the corner covered in snow coming in through the chimney, broken pieces of furniture lying around and a cabinet in what looked like a makeshift kitchen, but the roof was still intact for the most part. Without a word, Orion crossed to it, rummaging through the shelves. They were empty, except for a few wooden utensils and a single rusted can of baked beans. He picked it up, examining it in his hand before glancing over his shoulder.

A high-pitched shout tore through the morose atmosphere, startling Mel, "Coast!" Mel stepped away from Harriett's embrace and watched as the Orion ship loomed nearer, almost twice the size of her father's largest ships. She stood, transfixed as she watched the decorated carvings along the hull of the ship, snaking around the ship's base to form a clan symbol she was unfamiliar with. The vessel finally docked at the harbour and Mel tightened her coat around her, warding off the cold wind that brought a renewed anxiety with the ship's arrival. A long bridge stretched out from the side and two large figures made their way down to them, garbed in luxurious fur clothing.

I put my faith in John Thomas. I put my faith in the Captain of the Blaze. And I climbed onboard. Ready to go to Haven Island. The Blaze was a massive ship. The wood was polished darkly but had been worn in some places, to a lighter color, by the sun. Making it seem even more striking. The words along the front were done in emblazoned orange lettering with flecks of blue emerging as though it were afire. The figure head was a flame.

Maverick said as he pointed to a big, black cargo ship. “Very subtle.” I observed. “Actually, it is. It brings supplies to another island behind ours. It makes an unscheduled stop randomly. We started walking down the hill, towards the boat. My eyes were surveying the area, looking for someone I knew. I had nothing. There were wolves everywhere but none that I recognized. As we got closer, I started paying attention to what was being loaded. Cages of monkeys, wooden crates that said “flammable” and “Fragile”. There were more animals off to the side in cages that I could hear. Sounded like a lion or cheetah.

Roselyn: Aahh. Awkward silence. Roselyn: What's your favourite colour? Joselyn: Sorry? Clears the throat. Roselyn: I said, what's your favourite colour? Joselyn: Oh. Its pale orange. Noises made by other students spread. Roselyn: I'm sorry WHAT? Joslyn: Pale orange! Rose/Kate: WHAT ORANGE? Joslyn: PALE ORANGE! Still unable to hear anything. Teacher arrives, and we excuse ourselves. End of story.

"My crews can fish the harbor, but that won't sustain eighty thousand people. We need grain. We need livestock." "The nearest Imperial supply hub is the city of Oakhaven," Vane pointed out, letting the teacups clatter to the table. "And as we personally ensured, Oakhaven is currently a pile of smoking rubble." "What about the Free Cities?" Saoirse asked, looking at Tristan. "Oremond. Valerius owes us. You liberated his city." "Oremond is an industrial hub, not a farming collective," Tristan replied. "They import their food just like we do. And Vespera controls the transit routes. If we send ships, she’ll blockade them."

the old woman crooned. The man she mentioned—Jeffrey Orange—had been one of the sailors under the Smith company’s transportation company. Including the date when the shipwreck happened, he would have worked in the company for exactly three years. Alejandro flashed her a slight smile and sat on the stool. “It’s within my responsibilities. Jeffrey Orange’s unfortunate passing is my company's fault, so an amount of solatium is the least we could do. Excuse me, Ma’am, but do you live alone?”

Finally, Elise said, “If Orion’s still floating, we need eyes on it. Otherwise, every move we make is blind.” Sophia nodded. “We find it. Carefully.” --- Camilo’s Pacific contacts located a fishing vessel willing to scout the coordinates. Two days later, grainy footage arrived: a massive ship, painted white, drifting as if abandoned. No lights. No visible crew.