Summary: Atlas and Mistral; Vacuo and Vale- the four kingdoms of Remnant stand on the brink of world war. As diplomacy fails and the kingdoms gear up for war, an advanced fleet of unknown origins appears in the oceans dividing the three continents. As this unknown variable enters the equation, the two factions have two questions: Who built it, and can it be used against their enemies? Meanwhile, those on the fleet just want to figure out where they are and how to get home. No!Cinder A/U
Welcome to my first story on FanFiction! I hope you enjoy reading Worlds Conjoined: Tipping Point as I enjoy writing this. Please review, follow, and favorite if you enjoy and remember, if you see something I can improve on, please don't hesitate to let me know in a review/PM. One is always learning, after all. Also, I don't own RWBY.
Location: Beacon Tower, Headmaster's Office
Time: 02:30 Hours
"I'm sorry, Ozpin. I tried to convince them that this war would be foolish and we should seek out other diplomatic routes, but we know how politicians are. They refused to listen. I fear the consequences with the Grimm this could cause."
Professor Ozpin glared at General Ironwood through his holo-monitor. Folding his hands together and holding his head behind them, he replied.
"And pray, tell me, did you discuss the Grimm threat with them? Already they push our borders harder than previous years and this war could cause them to attack with great numbers. Whether or not we could stand united would be questionable, but divided? If we cannot find a way to diffuse the crisis between Mistral and Vacuo, we would be giving the Grimm a blind eye for them to exploit."
Ironwood sighed. "I fear it is worse than that. If war is declared, I'm afraid that Atlas would mobilize in aid of Mistral. Vale too, would be drawn into the conflict. Your treaty with them does state that Vale and Vacuo would aid each other against all threats, not just the Grimm. They will probably use this clause to force Vale to mobilize."
"We would have to mobilize, Ironwood. The Council would see to that. You know that Atlas will deploy their Hunters into combat. Vale is the only kingdom with Hunters good enough to counter Atlas'."
Ironwood was silent. After a great pause, he finally spoke again. "There is still hope the situation will resolve itself."
"I hope so, General. For all our sakes'." He ended the call.
Turning around in his chair, he looked from the windows at the storm clouds overhead. A most unsettling storm for the most unsettling of times. The near pitch black clouds in the early morning reminded him eerily of the color of Grimm.
Location: Strait of Gibraltar
Time: 01:24 Hours
Date: January 24th, 2112
Ship: ADC Yorktown II, Stealth Carrier Class
"Computer, record this. Captain's operation log number eight dash three. At long last, this war will be over. For ten years we have spilled blood on soil foreign and domestic. Our brothers and sisters will not have fought and died in vain as our final push into the heart of the Middle Eastern Coalition winds to the long awaited close. Peace is a dream that has long been sought after, and we may soon have it in our grasp. Captain Patrick Smith, signing out. Stop recording." As Capt. Smith leaned back in his ready room's single chair, he sighed. War, no matter the cause, is always bloody. But war for the very survival of your people? Brutal would be the understatement of the century.
Running his right hand through is gray hair, he contemplated what the world would have been like had that thrice damned asteroid had simply flown by just a couple miles further away. How much further would humanity have advanced had all research not been directed towards surviving the new Ice Age?
Instead, however, on March 31st, 2101, Epsilon 231 had grazed Earth's atmosphere, breaking apart and filling the mesosphere with enough dust and debris to cut the energy received by the sun by nearly a quarter. It didn't take long for the Polar Regions to start expanding at a rapid pace, forcing billions of humans around the world to flood towards the equator. The United Nations was soon defunct as country borders broke down around the world. It didn't take long for four major powers to emerge.
The American Defense Coalition, consisting of North and South America. Based in San Francisco, it was the most powerful of the four due to its isolated and unified state.
The European Union, consisting of Europe, Russia, Israel, and Turkey and based in Rome, it was the weakest due to loosing most of their lands to the ice and most of their population to emigration.
The Pan Asian Coalition, the second strongest. Consisting of Asia, Indonesia, and Australia and based in Manila, this advanced faction was more than a match for any other. If not for the broken up nature of their land and the separation of the Americas, they would surely be the strongest. They're also highly isolationist.
And lastly was the Middle Eastern Coalition. Consisting of, well, the Middle East and Africa and based in Riyadh, they were the center of the focus of the Third World War. As refugees flooded in from the north and south, they soon closed their borders, forcing the EU to declare war and attempt to pry those borders back open. After a string of stunning defeats, the EU was forced to ask the ADC to help break the wall of MEC defenders.
Capt. Smith couldn't blame them, really. With the sudden arrival of hundreds of millions of hungry mouths and the rapidly falling temperatures, there was no way they could keep up with the food demand. This issue was also compounded by the lack of viable farm land in the region. Rambling thoughts occupied his mind as he relaxed, but they were soon interrupted by a voice from his intercom.
"Captain, you better come look at this. This storm is, well, like nothing I've ever seen before."
As he entered the bridge from his connected ready room, his eyes met those of his Helmsman. As the young brunette stood up and snapped to attention, three words left her lips.
"Captain on deck!"
"At ease, men," He replied, his tone neutral. Walking over to behind his Radar Officer, he asked: "What's the situation with this storm?"
The young man slowly replied. "Well, sir, it's strange. The storm is only now starting to churn up the water and we entered two hours ago. All this time external sensors have been detecting wind speeds of up to nearly one hundred knots out there. Also, it has started to interfere with radar and communications. We're unable to contact the other ships with our radios, sir."
"So not only are we sailing blind, but we're unable to communicate with the fleet or command."
"Yes sir. It's, strange."
Capt. Smith straightened his back from his hunched position over the displays. He turned to his First Officer. "Gonzalez, what do you think of this?"
The Latina, who was standing by the Helmsman, joined them on their side of the bridge. "I don't like this, sir. We're blind, we're forced to use Morse with our search lights to communicate with our escorts, and our fighters all returned before entering the storm. I suggest we turn back; we're not sure this interference is being caused by the storm and not some sort of experimental weapon from the MEC. For all we know, we could be sailing into a trap."
Rubbing his chin, he spoke. "Like it or not, we have to get the Nighthawk and her soldiers to her staging grounds. This whole offensive is hinging on our fresh troops and equipment, and we can't afford to let the EU down. We stay our course."
"Permission to speak freely, sir?" His Helmsman asked.
"Granted."
"I don't like the look of those waves, sir." He glanced out the view port at the front of the bridge. The landing strip of his carrier sailed smoothly along the flat water. He turned to her.
"What waves, Lieutenant?"
"Exactly, sir. I may have been born in Arizona before the Cooling began, but even I know that winds that high should be causing waves a lot larger than those to form." Contemplating her words, we turned his gaze back out the view port. "This just isn't natural, sir."
His First Officer spoke next. "I agree with her, Captain. If we turned south for a bit, we should clear the path of this storm in a couple hours. We should still be able to make the rendezvous with the EU in time."
He stood still for a moment before turning around. "Very well. Helm, adjust course to take us out of this storm and have someone inform our escorts as to the heading change."
"Aye, sir." However, a look of confusion soon overcame her face. "Sir, helm is not responding!"
The two commanding officers quickly strode over to her station in the center of the Bridge. "Explain, Lieutenant. What do you mean helm isn't responding?"
Her fingers flew over the keys on her control panel. "The computer is reading and accepting my inputs, sir, but our heading isn't changing. The compass is confirming what we're getting from navigation satellites."
Cmdr. Gonzalez backed up from the helm. "Computer, run a diagnostic report on navigation and steering systems." She ordered.
The computers monotone female voice answered instantly. "Both systems are operating within operational parameters."
As soon as the computer finished talking, the ship abruptly rocked. The lucky ones were thrown to the floor, but some, including the helmsman, were violently thrown into their work stations
Instantly, Capt. Smith's attitude changed into combat mode. Supporting the limp form of his pilot, whom he had caught soon after she hit the floor next to him, he yelled.
"Someone get down to engineering and ask them what the hell-" He never finished his command, as another more powerful jolt struck the ship, sending those few who had gotten back to their stations back down. Sparks flew from computers and flickering light fixtures He had just gotten to his knees when yet another, more powerful jolt struck. This time, he was thrown head first into a nearby computer, its heavy casing resonating with a thud when he impacted. Everything went dark after that.