Hello all, NicodemusV here with another chapter of The New World.

I now have a definite update schedule of one chapter every two weeks. It may seem like a long time, but this way I give myself an ample time frame to work on my stories and keep ahead on my classes.

This chapter was typed on my laptop, so formatting should not be an issue. That also means I'll be able to do more with the chapters than before.

Disclaimer: I do not own RWBY, it is owned by Monty Oum and Rooster Teeth.

Now without further ado...


"The F/A-18 Super Hornet is the backbone of the United State's Navy's Naval Aviation Program. The evolutionary model of the McDonnell Douglass F/A-18 Hornet, it is equipped with an internal M61A2 Vulcan 412 round rotary cannon, air to air missiles, and air to surface missiles. Designed and produced initially by McDonnell Douglass, the Super Hornet's first flight was in 1995, with full rate production being reached in 1997. In 1999, the Super Hornet entered official service and has since then served the United State's Navy faithfully as a carrier based multi role fighter"


4 September 2016

Japan

Yokosuka Naval Base

Time: 0119 (1:19AM)

"What?! What do you mean with just lost a carrier strike group?! Where could it have gone?!"

"We lost contact with Enterprise and her strike group at approximately 0100 hours. The last piece of communication we received from the entire strike group was at approximately 0103 hours. Their last known location was the South China Sea, conducting a scheduled FONOP."

Base Commander Vice Admiral Jameson Mathias Wilson sighed. The Chinese were already screwing around in the sand of the South China Sea, or as it was evidently becoming, the "South Chinese Lake". And to make matters an even worse logistical nightmare, a Zumwalt class destroyer was being forwardly deployed to the base, acting as extra fire support for the U.S. Seventh Fleet.

Jameson was around the age of Admiral John H. Carter, clocking in at 47 years old. He was replaced as the Base Commander 3 years ago when the previous one had been discharged for poor leadership and neglecting relations with the local populace. His forehead had stress lines from his work, and all the mental labor he had done keeping the base in shape as well as maintaining good terms with the Japanese.

He was not the toughest looking Navy Vice Admiral around. At a height of 5"9, he kept his beard borderline regulation. Without it, he'd admittedly look like a newborn baby, less than a month old. Physical labor and hard work from his days as a sailor could be found on his body, but his age was beginning to show. He had grey hair streaks near his sideburns, his skin was becoming looser underneath his chin, and his eyes were beginning to sink. His eyes were his most prominent feature of displaying his seniority. No greenhorn sailor or commander could have his cold, hard, steel-green eyes. They looked worn out from reading base reports all the years, and if you peered into them, you could see old photos of battle stenciled onto his retinas.

The young man giving him such a damning report was named Luke Merschen. At age 31, he served as the chief communications officer of the base. Any reports finalized below him were given to him, to which he overlooked them all and prioritized them in ranks of importance. He stood at a height of 5"11, overshadowing the base commander by a sly two inches. Luke's height, however, did not make up for his lack of seniority against the Vice Admiral.

"Get me satellite imagery, drones, maps, Google Earth, whatever! I need a map of the area if we're going to get anything done about this. And get me a line to the Pentagon, I'll address them myself." Springing into action, Luke began walking fast to the main navigational room of the base, where all ships in active duty were kept tracked of. Jameson was right behind him, keeping pace as they power walked down corridors, various sailors and base personnel giving a brief, crisp salute. They were dismissed with a wave of the hand by the Vice Admiral, and the two continued on their way.

Finally reaching the main navigational room, Luke immediately turned to the man who had given him the report, a Zachary Meeres.

"Meeres, pull up all info regarding the last known location, communication, and route of the Enterprise and her strike group. Put it up on the main screen." Turning to Luke's right hand woman, secretary Michelle Davis, he got her attention and she immediately walked towards him.

"Sir?"

"Michelle, I'm going to need a direct, secure line to the Pentagon's receptionist for the base commander. Priority one, he'll address the situation to the officials on the mainland."

Moving to an open computer, she had the Vice Admiral input his credentials, where she then set up a secure line to the Pentagon's receptionist. While Michelle opened up a secure line, Meeres had already put up the Enterprise's last known location and was displaying it with the projector. With a nod from Luke, he began the outline of his report.

"Alright, on the first of September 2016, the Enterprise and her strike group departed for a scheduled FONOP. Conditions were nominal until the fourth of September. At approximately 0045 hours, conditions rapidly changed to a storm. This is when communications became very hard to receive, and what was able to come through was broken up and garbled. Messages were unclear. From then on, she stored her birds and all ships in the group also battened down hatches. Broken messages came through until 0100 hours, where contact was immediately lost. Both radio and satellite." Once Meeres finished, everyone took a moment to process the information that had come through. They were at a loss for words.

There have been no recorded disappearances like this since the mystery disappearances within the Bermuda Triangle. Even then, the myth was busted and explained with methane gas fluctuating the density of water, causing most ships to sink and is probably the cause for disappearances of ships like the S.S. Cyclops. Navigational tools malfunctioned, but that was then. Today, hundreds of ships pass through the Bermuda with no problems whatsoever, the advent of satellite and GPS allowed for more precise route planning and tracking.

"Sir," Michelle broke the silence, "Pentagon is on the line." Jameson took the mic and stood in front of the camera, thinking of how he was going to present this to the brass.

"Redirect me to the Chief of Naval Operations."

"Yes, sir."

How am I going to present this? I can't exactly say that we just lost a carrier strike group. And it's a brand new stinking carrier, damn it! That's billions upon billions of dollars down the drain! And what's worse, this happened on my watch. Under my authority. If the government is going to blame someone, it just might be me. Worst case scenario, I'll lose my job and I'll have to relocate my family back to the States. It's going to be such a-

"Vice Admiral Jameson Mathias Wilson," the deep voice of the Chief of Naval Operations broke his inner thoughts. "What is the situation, my good sir?"

The Chief of Naval Operations, the advisor to the National Security Council, Homeland Security Council, Secretary of Defense, and the Commander In Chief himself; the President. He was approaching his mid 50s, being aged 54. Appointed by President Michael V. Ramos in 2014, he is not only the CNO, but also the Director for the Naval Nuclear Propulsion program. His face was neutral as he listened to Jameson explain the situation to him. In all his years of service in the Navy since 1962, he had never heard of a more damning story. While the expression on his visage didn't change, inside his mind was still trying to wrap around it.

"...And at approximately 0100 hours, contact with the Enterprise was lost completely, both radio and satellite tracking."

The CNO closed his eyes and breathed in slowly, as if meditating around the information just given to him. After a few moments pause, he opened them again.

"Thank you, Vice Admiral Wilson. I will relay this to the Secretary of the Navy, who will relay it to the Secretary of Defense, and finally get the message to the Commander In Chief."

Jameson mentally sighed, relieved. He had believed his story and would send it up the chain of command to the lord of the White House. Hopefully the matter would be above him now and he could get back to preparing for the arrival of the Zumwalt class destroyer.

Giving a sharp salute to the Chief of Naval Operations, he returned it before ending the video call.


Kingdom of Vale

3 miles off Valean Coast

Carrier Strike Group Enterprise

Time: 0136 (1:36AM)

"Queen Bee, Hive. Bee 1-5 has entered the radial pattern. Bee 2-5 has entered the radial pattern. All threats considered class A, you are weapons hot, free to engage."

"Rog, Hive. Flight 1, 2 doing 6000 of 25000, squad 197, beginning mission at 0136 hours."

"Rog, Bee. Good hunting."

Captain Hughes Bromden switched his comms from control to squad. Opening up the channel, he recapped the mission for his fellow fly boys and girls.

VFA-197 Queen Bees were composed of 6 F/A-18E Super Hornets and 6 F-35C Lightning IIs. They were one of seven squadrons aboard the Enterprise, and had been flying with her for most of the Enterprise's operational life.

"Bees, Bee Leader. Mission objectives are as follows. Provide CAS for our guys on the ground, achieve air superiority, and map the area for logistics. That all clear?"

A chorus of "ayes" and "yeas" could be heard through squad comms. The mission was fairly straightforward, the Super Hornets were to eliminate all hostile air threats as well as devote a bit of time to any needed air support for the complement below. The Lightning IIs were to map the area and stream the data to troops on the ground as well as to all ships in Enterprise's strike group. That way, all forces could navigate more efficiently and work towards getting home faster.

"Bee Leader, Bee 2-1. We're breaking off for mapping operations. Bee 2-4, 2-5, and 2-6 will stream data to the battle network. You should get needed information pretty soon."

"Rog, Bee 2-1. Also breaking off to eliminate bandits. All hostiles considered Class A."

"Rog, Bee Leader. Good hunting."

As the F-35Cs broke off from the formation, the leader of VFA-197 Queen Bees, Captain Mark Dullahan, thought about the F-35s. They were eventually out of visual range, but his radar still noted them as present. Just that their icons were smaller and getting harder to track as they increased distance from each other.

The F-35 was a very controversial plane. While it's development was relatively smooth compared to, say, the F-16, it was blasted as a huge waste of money and a major gimmick for stealth. Many technologies were put into it's airframe, and the requirements of the Joint Strike Fighter program forced it to be carrier capable, STOVL capable, and to be able to work with U.S. legacy aircraft. All that caused the program to blow up in terms of funding, being nicknamed by the media as the "Trillion Dollar Fighter".

But as time went on, the F-35 began to show it's true colors. It suffered no losses performing a CAS role, compared to the A-10 and F-16 taking casualties, and with Link 16, the tech placed on the F-35 was able to transmit needed information to other, legacy, aircraft in the battlespace. It could serve as early airborne warning, electronic warfare, missile guide, and much more. The versatility of the F-35 because of it's technology made it one of the most capable multiroles in the United State's arsenal.

"Mark, reading 6 bandits coming up fast, bearing 180 degrees," Bee 1-2 spoke in a hurried voice. Behind the six Super Hornets were 6 jet black, sleek, red-eyed overgrown crows.

Giant Nevermores.

"All Bees, evasive maneuvers! Break, break!"

The Super Hornets all dispersed into different directions, just as dark, steel-like feathers pierced the very air they were cruising in.

"All Bees to 7000 of 13000, let's see what these flying rats can do!"

Pulling up on his stick, Mark's Super Hornet climbed rapidly, the nose of his aircraft breaching the dark clouds over Vale. Taking a quick look at his radar, he was happy to see the rest of his half of the squad pulling up with him.

The Giant Nevermores were also climbing, but as Bee squad reached 7000 feet, they began to level out, their wings struggling to continue the steep climb.

"Alright Bees, weapons are hot. All targets Class A, so let's make sure these rats go down and stay down."

Breaking out of formation once again, the Super Hornets dived down to the Nevermores circling below them, the barrels of the M61A2 Vulcan cannons spinning a bit before unleashing a hailstorm of lead at the birds. AIM-9 Sidewinders soared off to them, striking their hides at mach speeds. The sheer volume of firepower caused the wings of two Nevermores to be lopped off and the head of another decapitated. The Super Hornets soared past them.

Class A.

The three remaining Nevermores screeched, their vicious cry piercing the cockpit glass of the Super Hornets, threatening to cause hairlines in the canopy.

"Fuck! That was damning!" Bee 1-3 yelled out over comms. While they were all wearing helmets that muffled out the sound of the fighter jet, the war cry of the Nevermores were able to get past the protective hearing gear and shake the pilot's very cores."

"Keep it in, Ryuuga, there's still three of the fucking rats left. Pick a fat turkey and shoot."

The rest of the Bees chucked at the reference to the Battle of the Philippine Sea, where the aerial battle that ensued between the Imperial Japanese Navy and United States Navy carrier forces was nicknamed the "Great Marianas Turkey Shoot" by American aviators due to the disproportionate loss ratio of Japanese aircraft done by American pilots and AA crews.

They didn't have time to appreciate the reference though, as a flurry of feathers were launched by the Nevermores, one of them clipping a piece off the right wing of Bee 1-2, destabilizing the Super Hornet and causing it to roll right. The rest of the Super Hornets rapidly broke off, the remainder of the wings impacting the ground below them.

"Shit, I'm losing control, that one took a piece off my wings!" Bee 1-2 struggled to get her craft back under control, trying to stop her rolling right and getting back into level flight.

"Stop that roll, Kayla, get it back under reigns! We'll keep them distracted. Make your way back to the carrier as fast as possible. Go!"

"Roger, Mark."

After a few more seconds of uncontrolled rolling, Kayla Martinez was able to level off and jet away from the fight back to the fleet, her afterburners glowing in the night as she pushed her jet to max speed. Fortunately for her, the feather did not strike the AIM-9 Sidewinder nor the AGM-65 Maverick air to surface missile, leaving her with just an open fuselage leaking fuel.

"Keep that afterburner, Kayla, you're leaking fuel."

"Roger"

The afterburner's of her jet faded away into darkness, the clouds eventually swallowing her away from Mark's view. Returning his attention to the task at hand, he ordered his fellow Bees to engage the final three Nevermores, which were beginning a steep dive towards the ground.

"Why are they diving? Have they grown bored with us?" Ryuuga questioned the birds actions. The Nevermores dived, curling their wings so that they formed a missile like shape, and dropped at an almost 90 degree angle. It reminded Mark of an eagle swooping down on it's prey.

A sonic boom was heard.

Bee squadron turned to the source of the boom. It was the three Nevermores. In their dive, they had gained so much airspeed that they had broken the sound barrier. Continuing to dive for a few seconds, it looked like they had given up on the fight and, for some reason, their lives. "What the hell?!"

Ryuuga's sudden outburst was not without reason. The Nevermores had leveled off at the very last second, the muscles of their wings straining under the g-forces they were experiencing. Going into a steep climb, they were rising with such speed that a second sonic boom was heard. Bee squadron watched as they rose high above them and into the clouds. Twisting their bodies, they arced right in front of the shattered moon.

"Bee squadron, munitions report! How much do we all have left?" Mark asked suddenly, fearing the worst would happen.

The Nevermores tipped their beaks downward, and zoomed down towards the Hornets at mach speeds. They gave a deafening war cry, the music of death angels. The eagles were swooping down onto it's prey.

"All Bees, evasive actions! Disperse, disperse!" All of Bee squadron, sans Bee 1-2, hit the afterburner and pulled off maneuvers they didn't think possible. Mark pitched down rapidly and banked right, popping flares to help disorient the bird. Ryuuga immediately banked right and away, diving downwards in a spiral loop. The g-forces felt in his maneuver would be fatal to the average pilot. He too popped flares. Bee 1-4, Raymond, popped flare and punched the throttle forwards, pitching upwards at runway launch velocity at a 90 degree angle. He would later be diagnosed with a fractured spine. Bee 1-5 and Bee 1-6, Catherianne and Roberts, punched aferburners and rolled opposite directions.

The jet black missiles missed them by no more than 6 feet, their formation so close that it created massive turbulence for the dispersing Hornets.

Mark opened comms again. "Fuck! We need to deal with these birds fast or we'll be flying home with our wings clipped! Munitions report!"

"I got 2 more Sidewinders, full load of Mavericks, and 342 rounds left for my cannon."

"Three Sidies, full Mav's, and done with my cannon."

Got 1 Sidewinder, full Mavericks, and half cannon."

"Completely out of everything except cannon"

"How did you lose your Mavericks?! We're fighting airborne here!"

"In the first joust, I fired all my Sidies. Then when I ran out, fired all my Mavericks. Sorry Sir."

"Anyways... I got one Sidewinder left, full Mav's, and about 3/4th cannon."

Their ammunition count wasn't low, but it wasn't good either. Looking back at the Nevermores, they had rapidly slowed down by unfurling their wings, and were making the slow climb back up to their altitude. The muscles of their flying apparatus were intensely strained from the dives they had made, and the abrupt slowdown stressed them even more.

"Finish off these birds and we'll return to the carrier for refuel and rearm. If you all haven't noticed yet, the Lightnings have begun streaming their info to us."

Watching the information come onto his HUD, he glanced back to the Nevermores, who cawed irritably. Annoyed by their failures to swat the human machines out of the sky, they flew upwards with desperate fever, wanting to at least take one down after letting the other get away.

It would be a brief dogfight.


Kingdom of Vale

Valean Airspace

Bee Squadron Flight 2

Time: 0138 (1:38AM)

While the F/A-18s were off to achieve air superiority, the F-35 Lightning IIs flew away to scout the area and stream data to their boots on the ground as well as to the carrier group. They all knew their mission and so there was complete radio silence between Flight 2 of VFA-197 Queen Bees. Besides the occasional radio chatter from the other half of Bee squadron or from the ships, all was silent.

Complete stealth.

Moving at cruise speed, the pilots of Bee Flight 2 scanned the surrounding area, looking through the cockpit's razorback canopy and even through the aircraft itself, courtesy of the Distributed Aperture System. The Distributed Aperture System, or DAS for short, allowed the pilot to have complete awareness in the battlespace only limited by how far they could look left or right. This is allowed by the numerous cameras and sensors placed all around the airframe of the craft, permitting pilots to be able to simply look somewhere in their angle of attack and fire the gun.

However, there was a secondary objective given to Bee Flight 2.

The Captain of the Enterprise met with the sailor who had taken the photo of an Atlesian airship and questioned him on what he saw, how many there were, and how high he thought they were up. Answers from the sailor were sub-optimal. With permission from the Admiral, the Captain went to the Commander, Air Group (CAG) and ordered him to order his Deputy Commander, Air Group (DCAG) to order the Operations Officer and Intelligence Officer to order VFA-197 to conduct aerial reconnaissance on the surrounding area and on the Atlesian airships.

So while they were technically on recon operations, Bee Flight 2 was also actively searching for the Atlesian airhips.

Bee 2-4, 2-5, and 2-6 began streaming data to the battlenet, with Bee 2-1 and 2-3 keeping an eye out for bandits and the airships. Flying over a forest that appeared to be stuck in fall and then another that looked to be evergreen, Bee 2-1 ordered all Bees of Flight 2 to 15000 of 25000 feet. "Alright Bees, let's get a better view of the area, too much orange and green and not enough of other high value locations."

"Hey Armand, you think this place down below is in for it?"

"I wouldn't know Two-Two, but it reminds me of scorched earth warfare."

"Why's you say that? Right next to it is a forest that looked like God himself put it there and refused to let it Fall."

Bee Flight 2 cringed at the pun, while you couldn't see it through their visors they were trying not to yell at Derzki for his half-assed jokes.

"Alright, alright, can it Bee 2-2. Resume radio silence, we're climbing up above this cloud cover. Got a radar contact too, it might be the Hindenburg we've been looking for."

No more words came from Derzki nor from the rest of Flight 2. Pitching their noses up, the F-35Cs rose steadily, their canopys being hit by some light rain. As they were rising, there was a sudden pocket of turbulence as they unknowingly passed by the wind vortex of an adjacent Atlesian airship sailing at full steam. The airship was already a couple of kilometers away before Bee Flight 2 realized what the buffets may have come from. Breaking silence once more, Armand opened his comms again.

"Shadow that ship."


Hey guys, NicodemusV here. I just want to clarify a few things.

My update schedule is two weeks. That means every two weeks, one of my stories is updated. In this turn, The New World was updated. Next up on the update list is The Age of Sail.

Now, about the military aspect of this fic.

I'm not a serviceman, but I have major respect to those who have served, regardless of what side they were on in whatever war they fought in. To enlist or be drafted into service for your country is an honorable action.

Carrier Strike Group Enterprise (CSG 11) is one of two forward deployed carriers, the other being the Ronald Reagan. CSG 11 is composed of the following ships.

1x Gerald R. Ford class Supercarrier (USS Enterprise CVN-80)

2x Ticonderoga class Guided Missile Cruisers (USS Secular CG-74 & USS Capstant CG-75)

3x Arleigh Burke class Guided Missile Destroyers (USS Mustin DDG-127, USS Damasche DDG-128, & USS Pericles DDG-129)

2x Los-Angeles class Fast Attack Submarines (USS Damocles SSN-774 & USS Acropolis SSN-775)

2x Supply class Fast Combat Support Ship (USS Polaris T-AOE-11 & USS Acticia T-AOE-12)

You may notice that some of the craft in the story are still in development in the real world, such as the Zumwalt class Guided Missile Destroyer, F-35C Lightning II, or the Gerald R. Ford class Supercarrier. In order to give America as much of an edge in a world with superhumans, mechs, and armored flying airships, I have altered the development history of these vessels so that they are fit for service by the time of 2016.