Stucky Ship Novels & Stories

The stone didn't shatter; it dissolved into a mist of pure, breathable energy that turned the surrounding air into a shimmering shield. "If the other Arks want our home, they'll have to come through the mud to get it!" The First Arrival As the sun set, a massive shadow fell over the valley. It wasn't the Lotus-ship of the Vance-Core, and it wasn't the obsidian monolith of the Hunters. It was a rusted, hulking beast of a ship—Ark-12: The Penitent.

The Derelict Draft The blue ship glided to a halt beside the reef, its wooden hull scraping against a massive, crystalline question mark that rose twenty feet out of the black water. The ship trapped in the ice was not an audit cutter or a Spire vessel. It was an ancient, double-decked galley built entirely from black slate, its oars frozen mid-stroke in the hardened ink of the reef. Its sails were made of heavy, yellowed parchment, completely covered in columns of fading red ink—the distinctive signature of an Internal Audit from the First Era. There was no life on the decks. The crew had been liquidated centuries ago, their bodies turned into smooth, grey statues of solid graphite that sat

"Maybe next time it would be best we buy our own ship in a bottle, you know? the portable one. It will surely come handy when a situation like this arises again in the future."---Niccoli "You mean the one that you can just pop anytime anywhere and voila, there goes your ship in just a matter of second?" -Allan "The very same, and I propose we get one to each of our own. So that in the event of one shipwreck, we will still have a spare one. That would grant us a total of six chances since there is six of us in this team."- Niccoli

"Bahuga Jaya Ship." I don't know if I feel that seeing this ship is very similar to the Tetanik ship that sank in the Atlantic Ocean. "How scary is the ship, so scary, can you or not get on this ship?" "How come Sintia, our people have started to climb into the hull of the ship, hurry up and get up so you don't get delirious." "That's right Ma, how strange the ship is."

I cringed as his axe blazed to life, the glow so intense it seemed inconceivable no one would notice. But the gaze of the men defending the ship remained riveted on the Mystic Rune pack. Seconds later, the crackle of flames reached my ears. I lifted the burning stick and I crawled toward the lowering sails. One eye on the guards, I held the flames to the folds of fabric, smirking as they caught fire. My eyes wandered to the ship next to the one I knelt in. What if Cassius’s troops refused to relinquish the fight for a ship or two? What if they needed additional incentives? I sprang to the next ship as flames climbed up the mast behind me.

He did not pull his hand away. He kept it in the air near her. "I do not care about the energy, June. I care about you. You are shaking. Your nose is bleeding again." June wiped her face with the back of her hand. The blood was a shining purple. "It is the pressure. The ships are pressing down on the air. They are trying to crack my shield." *The Hook: The Falling Star* one of the smaller black ships broke away from the group. It did not come down slowly.

"Mom, he's amazing." "He's a child who survived," I said. "Just like you." Jaden thought about that. "Am I amazing?" I pulled him close. "Yes. You are." An hour later, we saw it. A cargo ship. Huge. Rusted. Listing to one side. It had run aground on a reef years ago and been abandoned. Now it sat tilted, half-submerged, like a dead whale. Miro surfaced beside the boat. "They're inside," he said. "In the belly. They don't come out much."

‍ "He’s‌ not in Af‌rica. He’s not in South Ameri⁠ca‍. He’s… he’s on a vessel in the middle of the Atlant​ic. A cont‌ain‍er ship. T‍he *Northern St‌ar*.⁠" C‍elest‍e froze. The *Northern Star* was o​ne of th⁠e vessels that had been marked for a structural review during the Luxembourg crisis​. I‌t was a massiv⁠e, autom⁠ated freighter t​ha‌t carried thous‌a⁠nds of​ con​tainers, the kind of‍ sh‍ip that was e⁠ssentially a flo​at‌ing city of steel.

"Some of us scatter. Some of us just wait for the right storm to clear the deck. Look off your starboard beam, four hundred yards. We've got a blind spot waiting for you." Noah snapped his head toward the starboard window. Through the sheet-metal gray curtain of the rain and the towering walls of black water, a hulking, low-profile silhouette materialized out of the storm. It was an old Soviet-era Sturgeon-class patrol boat, its running lights entirely dark, riding the heavy swells like an iron ghost. A rusted steel cargo derrick swung outward from its side, exposing a wide, flooded well-deck carved into its stern—a floating dry-dock designed to swallow a small craft whole.

The merchant ship descended to a low altitude and immediately, a ship approached. A young man’s voice came from inside. “Hello, I am the navigator of this large trade zone. If you need anything, just ask me. I know this place very well.” Upon seeing the word ‘Central’ engraved on the other party’s ship, Marlee felt relieved. If they were another swindler like Willie, there would not be the word ‘Central’ on their ship. This was a means of transportation that only staff members recognized by the Central Sacred Continent officials could drive.