Before we begin, I'd like to explain what this is for those poor people that stumbled into this on accident. This is a Meta-Fic about the events of a Tournament held on r/RWBY about ships. This fic, written by Blasphe-Me5564, is about the events that happened during that competition with a little dramatization!

So, thank you Blas, u/MelanieAntiqua (The wonderful hostess who put up with all our crap), and u/Yukon_Wolf (the original author of the Meta-Fic for Ship Survivor, a similar contest on the subreddit).

With all that said, Enjoy!

"For it is in passing that we achieve immortality. Through this we become a paragon of virtue and glory to rise above all. Infinite in distance and unbound by death, I release your soul, and by my shoulder protect thee."

We all awoke with these words embedded into our souls. With similar, recurring visions and memories of people we haven't identified yet, we woke up. Confused and distraught, we banded together to survive the night, and that made us stronger than ever. Soon, many more appeared all with the same words, all with the same memories of these people who we aspired to know more about. We called the people in our visions our Gods and we had religion. For a time, peace ran throughout this little corner of the world we had, bountiful in resources and full of life and happiness. But as all things exist, so too must they end.

After many months of unity and peace, overpopulation became a worry as space was running out and resources were finding themselves scarce. People suggested moving West, others East, some North, and many South. So they did. And thus, expansion began and new land was found, new civilizations began.

Around this time the people began to find new ways of praising their Gods. While some enjoyed praising one God, some found it more enjoyable to praise two Gods together in a more…intimate way.

Needless to say, with all our Gods and new ones appearing every yearly cycle a plethora of new religions and factions would form. For a time, our disagreements were civil but all of that changed when a new resource was found deep in the mountains of present-day Olde Arkos Province: Braggtonium.

Braggtonium, or Bragg for short, is an interesting element. It has a certain...power over whoever holds it; said to instill pride and honor at just knowing you have it near you. Now used to power our intergalactic Ships and new weapons, back then it was nothing quite that big but still a very sought out resource. After its discovery many used it as a nice ornament to have in your prestigious Nation's capitol and an interesting conversation piece if you were so lucky as to own it personally. Then, rumor has it, a dispute between two factions marked the first time people were driven to fight for their rights to Bragg. Which two factions it was depends on who you ask, but one thing is known: Life on the Sub would never be the same again.

Years of conflict ravaged the sub and left it in ruins. A quick armistice was made and held so as to stop the destruction of the sub as we all know it.

But all hope is not lost, for even if we're separated and fighting, odd friendships and bonds like no other can find themselves in the oddest of places.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

"Hu-wha?" A young man opens his eyes to the annoying blare of the ship's safety alarm being set off. He lifts his face slowly from the pages sprawled out at his dashboard as they stick to his cheek on account of the dried drool. After wiping away the papers and wetness from his face, he examines the maintenance notice that has popped up on all possible screens.

'Engine Failure. Danger level: Critical' White text reads out over an alarmingly bright red screen. The young man looks at it with disinterest in his eyes. He would be more alarmed if this was the first engine failure message he had received this trip, sadly, it was not. He stood up from his seat and stretched, not too worried about the alert. He walked up to the door of the cockpit area and scanned his ID to open it, groggily, he made his way into the resting area.

The ship that the Lancaster High Council gave him to complete his mission was a newer version of the ship he used back in his old position as a scout. New, however, doesn't mean most recent. The ship was a single person scouter ship with a passenger's seat shoddily attached. The Course Furtif v14 was a prime ship made for scouting back in its glory day, fully equipped with a camouflage mode, a few guns for the off chance it gets found, a one-person living compartment with rations to last a year if spread out correctly, a desk for writing down scouting reports, a book shelf he insisted adding in filled top to bottom with tactics journals and strategy manuals, a decommissioned Net-Comm device too old to function correctly, and a maintenance box in the corner to fix wiring issues silently and discreetly. A ship truly made for scouting. Unfortunately for him, he wasn't here to scout.

The young man, Generic, ruffled his unkempt, light-blue hair and walked towards the corner of the living compartment towards the ship's maintenance box.

This mission was different from his other missions, it was his first as a full-fledged Strategist of Lancaster…and it might also be his last. A simple scouting mission gone wrong caused the Lancaster High Council to spend resources on a full investigation on Arkos' new "Death Star" machine. Turns out, it was a balloon. A decoy meant to throw off any scouters who might want to spy on Arkos' plans for Ship Wars and it worked. So now, here he was, because of a possible chance that the conflict over on FNKI would lead to a clue as to what Lancaster's number two enemy is planning for Ship Wars. He was sent to aid the Cavalry who are fighting this odd skirmish strategy-wise, to end the war in time for it to not be a distraction during the Annual Ship Wars contest, and possibly gain a victory against a "Big Four" ship.

Finally, a chance for him to use all of his studies to use! Generic had waited for this moment ever since he enrolled for the Strategist-training program! He opened the maintenance box's door to look at the mess of wires and fuses and switches and circuits. After a look at the Net-Comm watch on his wrist, it gave him an update on the ship's condition. 'Engine Failure. Danger level: Critical'. Generic began tapping on the wall surrounding the box, listening intently for a difference in sound.

Thud…Thud…Thud…Thwunk!

He looked at the spot and after a few more checkup thwunks, slapped the wall. A new message popped up on his Net-Comm. 'All Systems: Optimal'. He smiled at his handiwork and made his way back to the cockpit.

The young Strategist looked at the main screen telling him his destination. 53 minutes. He looked at the window and noticed a Red Dot in the distance, that must be it.

FNKI, the lawless sister planet of the RWBY sub. A place of chaos where nearly everything goes as long as some people agree with you, which makes his assignment an interesting one. Generic picked up his blue satchel and stuffed some documents on his dashboard. He picked up the one that had recently found a new purpose as a sponge for his own sleep saliva, examining it.

Blue Whale King.

Affiliation: Oligarch of Arkos, Monarch of Whales.

He looked at the water mammalian king's photo used to profile his case. The reason why Generic's job was on the line, why he could be pushed back to scouter duty if he fails and is just that lucky, and possibly his only chance at falling back on the High Council's good graces. How could one man, err…Whale, become so disliked in a matter of a day? Who exactly did he piss off? All Generic knows, is that Lancaster is involved somehow and that this might be a chance to knock a big rival down a peg.

Arkos was an interesting case, the nation celebrated when Volume 3 seemed to be going their way. Their mines produced vast amounts of Braggtonium which they used to power their Nation's Great Canon Cannon. A powerful machine that would make Arkos superior above all. Back before it was outlawed, the Big Four were hellbent on getting a leg-up on each other as the True Canon Ship. So, with their large resources they all decided on a large show of their power by building a machine capable of launching a concentrated beam of Bragg into the air! A vanity affair if nothing else, really. So off they set, each nation making a towering beacon as a race to prove who's the best.

This next part is hard to confirm and is only something gathered from hearsay, but rumor has it that Arkos' cannon fired off one mighty shot announcing its victory to the whole sub and then…silence. The mine ceased producing Bragg at that moment, reports of widespread facilities not working, half of the cannon broke off and soon fell. But now Arkos is rebuilt on a far away planet the best it can, and it seems to be doing fine on its own. With the Bragg mines producing again and the people as patriotic as ever, the Nation is in a time of peace until the Home World endorsed contests, in which case they adopt a neutral but powerful stance. A strategy that Generic can admire.

The Net-Comm Watch on his wrist produced a holo-image of a countdown. '20:00'. Generic had lost himself in strategy and plans again, he had the tendency to drift off at times and ramble on when he's focused. He turned his attention from the report in his hands to the Orange-Red-ish planet that seemed to get bigger the more his ship got closer. "FNKI…" he muttered under his breath.

The desert planet was thought uninhabitable once, now it thrives as an Oasis to the outcasts and the odd few that find the humor and comfort in pure chaos, uncontrollable and unrestrained. A natural calling for those who wish for more, whatever that may be. And for Generic, that more was power and respect. Nothing was going to get in the way of his Nation getting the recognition it so rightly deserves! Not some Nation that should've disappeared long ago, not some uncontrollable War, not even some Whale! Generic has one main goal; Get in, win, Get out. That's all.

Generic finished wiping his saliva off the profile report, stuffed it into his bag, turned on the Autoland sequence, and made his way to the living area to get the rest of his supplies. He was to meet with someone the second he arrived to have him debriefed on the state of the War and from there he would offer up his tactics and strategies for a victory.

The strategist looked at his Net-Comm '04:49' it calculated the time until his ship would land. Generic glanced at the gun on his desk. An old Ruger holding at most 3 bullets. It was his only weapon…not like he'd need it…right? He picked up the revolver and emptied out its chamber. After looking at the weapon closely he decided to stuff it into his bag as well.

After a semi-rough landing the ship's side door pulled down to make a ramp. He shielded his eyes to block them from the intense sun that dominated FNKI's desert climate. He could see the outline of a jeep and its driver, and the silhouette of a man who seemed to hold an air of authority. Generic smiled. "Let's take this Whale down!" he cheekily said and stepped down the ramp.

But be wary of who you count your friend and who you make your enemy. You never can be quite sure when a person can give into their deepest fears or desires.

A hooded figure looked out at The International Ship Wars Ambassador's Hall on the RWBY Home World. A smirk donned on his face as he made his way to the entrance. The figure pulled out a pocket watch and instead of reading the time, held it to his ear and listened to the mechanical gears clicking and whirring in a neat, fashionable order. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick. Tock.

"Well Carl, it appears that we have a lot of work cut out for us, huh?"

And what might come of it when they do.