Weird Ships Novels & Stories

"You're joking, right?" Dad blinked, his eyes narrowing. "Is there something funny about this?" "No, no I just… you've heard the stories…" "Fantasy," he said, rolling his pen over his fingers. "The ships we have now are much faster, safer, very different from the wooden ships still used around Avondale and Breles. Plus, if we are successful, we can convince the Alpha of Breles to contribute to—"

The blue ship swerved in beside the frozen slate galley, its thick cedar timbers groaning as Elias used the windlass to hold us steady against the punctuation reef. The hundred survivors lined the rails, their faces illuminated by the faint emerald pulse of the origami fleet that hovered around our hull like a swarm of paper fireflies. They looked out at the floating debris of the First Era with a quiet, emotionally heavy reverence. This wasn't the New Wild, and it wasn't the orderly grid of the Spire. It was a graveyard of unfinished thoughts: half-formed marble statues that had no faces, broken iron arches that led to nowhere, and vast, floating sheets of vellum where whole paragraphs of d

Jack steered the pod past, picking up speed as he went. A huge ship appeared in front of them. Darts came and went. Jack pushed by, dipping underneath away from their turrets. More large ships appeared and finally one of theirs. The little pods looked like grapes on the side of the ship. The ship sent missiles out. Jack pushed the pod faster. He wasn't about to get caught in an explosion.

Ella replied. “But the cruises or ships arrive here only once every several years. It is a marooned island of werewolves. Occasionally, few humans come to visit the island. We werewolves have our own boundaries, and we try not to intrude into human habitation, and that is the reason that we don’t have our own ships and cruises to move outside this island.” The chauffeur said. Alpha Gabriel got annoyed as the chauffeur seemed to speak a lot, according to him. He didn’t like speaking much. He preferred to speak only when required. He looked scornfully at the chauffeur, who kept his mouth shut immediately. He knew how short-tempered the Alpha was.

We are inside the subterranean belly of the salt-shelf shipyard—Sector 9. Above us, towering into the vaulted concrete dark, the massive, half-finished ribcages of iron-hulled warships hang from rusted overhead cranes like the skeletons of prehistoric sea monsters. But there are no captains here, and there are no mechanics. The automated assembly tracks are dead, and the entire sector is illuminated only by the frantic, strobe-like pulsing of red emergency warning lights.

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.

"We didn't land on a home. We landed on a Sleeper Ship." The Arrival of the "Others" The signal Julian had been pulsing from the stars wasn't a "Goodbye." It was a Warning. A fleet of silver, needle-thin ships dropped out of warp in the upper atmosphere. They didn't belong to the Architects. They were jagged, black, and surrounded by a shimmering field of Anti-Matter. "The Void-Eaters," Commander Vax whispered, her knuckles white as she gripped her slug-thrower. "The scavengers of the deep dark. They don't want the people, Elara. They want the Shell."

The chaos that wraps around the ships is all just on top of me. On the ships, hundreds of people are trying to run away with fear and panic from their eyes as they shove people away not giving care as long they survive. They run with all of their might but not because of the fiery flames ravaging the ships as the ashen smoke rise covering the dark night sky. What they are running away from is... a weird-looking fish-like creature with human hands and feet attached to their scale body. These creatures came out of nowhere from the ocean as they climb up to the ships eager to shed blood on their prey. Soaking in red blood these creatures succumb to the taste that they never knew until now.

They will complete crew changes in the meantime. Stanford Universe-3 is a Subsea Cable Laying Ship. Will do Subsea pipeline works also. It is also a diving vessel. Most of the project crew are English Afrikaans. Ship crews are mostly Indonesians, Filipinos, and Indians. Seven floors starting from the main deck to the bridge. Above the main deck are the mess hall and hospital. The first, second, and third floors are accommodations. 6th floor helideck, 6th survey room, 7th bridge.This is the general outline of this ship. There is a Gym on the First Floor.

He'll see what mediation will do for us once he allows different thinking to replace his natural stubbornness. It's an hour before we take the motorbikes to the shipyard. I've only been here once before, and it was just as creepy then as it is now. The old ships are decrepit piles of rusted steel that look like they should be resting at the bottom of the ocean instead of being secured to endless brown docks. The ships tower above us and bob slowly in the nearly black water, making weird creaking sounds that heighten the entire creep factor.