Lonefox123: Thank you. And I have noticed, hence why I wrote the story, I wanted something where Jaune was a sailor (or airmen I guess considering his ship), rather than an Atlas Specialist. It was also born of my recent interest in sailing.
Headreviewer mk2: It was going to be originally, but your review inspired me to do otherwise. Im not great at writing multi-chapter stories, so this may go to shit mind you.
Eprince200: Thank you my friend.
I do not own RWBY
Flank Speed!:
Fair winds and following seas were upon the ANA Glatteis as it moved at full speed parallel to the coast of Solitas on her portside, which bid well for all aboard her decks, for in fair winds did an airship make good headway, and in following seas were the Grimm few and far between. The seas which Glatteis now flew above were calm also, and clear as far as ten metres below the waterline, perfect for those sailors cramped within the radar room. The unending sky too stretched out across the horizon, and undoubtedly beyond that, clear of cloud coverage.
Yet in spite of these good omens and almost perfect conditions, a nervousness surrounded the crew, infected their bodies, and mistakes were becoming more common in their daily, now nightly, duties. As disciplined and competent a crew as they were, as logical and rational the typical Atlesian, and as much as those traits tended to rub off on the expat sailors, they too were just that, sailors. Sailors are a superstitious bunch.
The sea which they now flew above had come to them in rumours first. Rumours of water-borne ships disappearing without a trace, of airships suddenly falling from the sky, and of Grimm so ancient and large they need would dwarf the ANA Glatteis. To make things worse, the Captain had been standing on deck when he suddenly and inexplicably broke his right leg, a bad omen if ever there was one, it only increased the crews apprehension.
As the sun finally sunk below the waterline, and the world, and the ANA Glatteis too, were engulfed in darkness, the course which they were heading was adjusted so that, where they could once see the coast and port towns, they were now heading deeper into the Eastern Atlesian Sea. The winds were still fair, but Glatteis now moved diagonally across the directions of the waves.
Jaune himself had only been a sailor for roughly two months, four and a half were you to include the period over which he spent at the academy. Superstition was something he was only just becoming more prone to, for where once he would not have blinked at the sight of a woman on board a ship, now he would have been taken aback at the sight. Jaune was on edge considering the rumours and mishaps throughout the day, since the departure from Tamsworth and up until now. It would look bad for a sailor of the Atlesian Navy to lose himself in superstitious fervour like a Vacouian, Jaune thought, and decided to clear his gun for action.
A not entirely comfortable silence then engulfed the deck crew, as deeply as the darkness engulfed the world when the days end came. Jaune attended to his gun, and was only vaguely aware of Seaman Jarvis and Brown taking inventory of the ammunition, and bickering as old mates do, or of the now Able Seaman Blanc making eyes at Remnant's bright and shattered moon, as if it were hiding some dark secret. Jaune opened the twenty millimetre cannon up, cleaning and checking its inside, and then making sure the barrel was clear.
The silence, as well as the men's activities, were interrupted by a soft sound on the air. Alarm struck them, and fear grew within their breasts as eyes widened and ears perched up to hear more. Jaune closed the gun and pulled himself to its gun stocks and trigger, listening. Beside him Jarvis and Brown ceased to bicker as old mates do, instead opting to pick up their rifles to fight as comrades-in-arms. Blanc, whilst eyeing the black star filled sky and sea of inky depths, reached an arm over and picked up the radio, intent on warning the Captain of a possible attack.
The soft sound grew closer and louder, but it was not yet obvious from where it came. Jaune slowy started to turn his gun, sweeping across the bow from the portside beam to starboard beam. His heartbeat jumping into his ears. Jarvis and Brown suddenly brought their rifles to bear aft-ways, the sound now close enough for them to know where it was. Jaune replied by spinning his gun round so that it faced the stern. The sound still grew louder and Jaune fingered his trigger. The thing came into the light and Jaune began to pull the trigger.
"You fucking fool!"Jarvis screamed, and Jaune pulled his finger from the trigger.
A young, now confused looking, sailor named Jameson stepped out of the darkness, hands stuffed in his pockets. His brown eyes were alarmed to see the rifles of Jarvis and Brown, as well as the cannon, aimed his way.
"W-what's going o-on?" He quailed.
This set Jarvis right off, "What's going on? What's going on?!"
Jarvis' rage was such that he picked up an empty ammo box, flinging it at the sailor, who tried to dodge, only for it to bounce off his head.
"What's going on is that we almost blew your bloody head off thinking you were a Grimm, you bumbling baboon!" He takes a breath, seemingly to calm himself, only to instead fan his rage. "Why didn't you inform us you were coming, huh? And why were you whistling, you think it's smart to challenge the wind like that? Stupid dickhead."
"I'm sorry, Seaman." Came the meek reply.
Jarvis seems to turn red, only further enraged by the response, he picked up another box, intent on bashing the man. But Blanc steppped between them, bringing himself to his full height and raising his voice.
"Enough! The both of you! Return to your duties, Seaman." He says firmly, looking to Jarvis, his authority making Jarvis back off.
Turning back to Jameson he says, "What is it son? Tell me quickly, your fudge-up has ruined my patience, I won't discipline you for it, but I warn you not to make the mistake again."
"W-Well, Able Seaman, the cook sent me…. he was wondering if you all wanted some hot chocolate?"
Blanc seems to droop at this somewhat, maybe from relief, to Jaune's eye, before saying, "If it would not be too much trouble, Seaman. Thank you, now be off on your way."
"Aye aye, Able Seaman." Jameson straightens up and then marches back the way he came, no longer whistling.
Jaune sighs and shakes his head as he returns to his duties, and the others do the same. Jameson soon returns with the hot chocolate and then slips away as fast as he can, leaving them once again to their duties and to the cold air and worsening winds of the Eastern Atlesian sea. For the next two hours Jaune let the hot chocolate warm him as he kept watch, only for, at about half past the hour, the whistling to return.
"Oh no, he's doing it again." Jarvis groans, "I don't care, I'm going to beat him up. Jameson, come here you little shit!"
The whistling stopped dead.
"Jameson, I said come here!"
The whilsting started again, but towards the bow, rather than aft-ways.
"How'd he get there?" Brown interjected.
"I don't know." Came Jarvis' hesitant reply, before saying again, but somewhat quieter, "Jameson… Come here."
The whistling stopped and Jaune gripped the handle of the gun tightly, adjusting his sailors cap. Blanc picked up the radio, Brown widened his stance and Jarvis took a step forward.
The whistling began again, this time in front of Jarvis, who brought his rifle to bare, turning the rifle-mounted flashlight on. The light shown out and struck a figure of eight feet in height, it could have been taller had it not been hunched forward on large leathery wings. It's face was that of a bat, but with a white mask afixed to where it's eyes should be. It stopped its whistling.
Gunfire rang out, but the beast did not screech in the slightest as the bullets sunk deep into its flesh. Rather it's reply to Jarvis' salvo was for its head to lunge forward as swift as the wind on which it undoubtedly came on, wrapping teeth around the foremost arm on the rifle. It wretched him forward towards itself before swinging him about as he screamed. A loud crunch was heard as the beast crushed Jarvis' arm in its mouth.
Seemingly shaking the deck crew from their terror, they brought their own weapons to bare. Rifle fire rang out in the night, amplified by the darkness. The salvo's were useless however, and the beast was not killed until Jaune brought round the cannon and sunk a burst of three into the beast. Dropping Jarvis, who now writhed on the deck in pain, cradling his broken and ripped arm, the beast slumped to the ground, dead.
Whistling once again rang out, only it was much louder and much more numerous. Jaune answered this challenge as the wind would the whistle of an errant sailor, by challenging it himself. Wherever there was whistling Jaune let forth a burst of fire. Using this method Jaune killed many of the Grimm, burying them deep below the Eastern Atlesian Sea.
An alarm sounded from the speaker phone, Able Seaman Blanc had contacted the bridge. The world lit up, as the Glatteis' floodlights were turned on, and flares were deployed. The truth of the situation was revealed, the deception of the darkness was peeled back, but the revelation left Jaune, and his fellows of the deck crew, shivering in terror. Before them was the nightmare of any sailor, any human really, thousands of Grimm, airborne and seaborne.
Blanc's arm came up and grasped Jaune's collar, but neither looked away from that which was before their eyes. "We need to get inside, Jaune, Captian's orders…"
Jaune could only reply weakly, "Aye aye…"
Despite that it was Blanc who almost had to drag Jaune as they ran for the aft-ways hatch. Brown was close behind, a now unconscious Jarvis atop his back, having been picked up in a fireman's carry. Their dash was to be harassed however, the Grimm not willing to let them go so easily, and by the time they reached the deck hatch leading down it was only by luck that they were not dead. Jaune wretched the hatch open with all his might, he waited as Brown and Jarvis went down first, and then essentially jumped down himself.
Pain struck through his left ankle, which he seemed to have sprained. Jaune groaned, scrunching up his face and reaching down to massage it. Vaguely remembering the situation before him, Jaune moved himself away from the ladder way, so as to make room for Blanc, who was now moving down it.
Blanc reached the floor and found Jaune in pain, he took some time to chuckle, he had warned him not to jump from a ladder well when they had first met. He reached forward with a great lumbering arm and heaved Jaune up, slinging Jaune's arm around his shoulder. He reached then to the wall with his other arm, where a radio sat, and brought it too his mouth speaking quickly and in a way that Jaune could not make out. The alarms only grew louder and the mounted speaker phone spoke.
"BELLY HATCHES CLOSED, DECK HATCHES CLOSED, ALL HATCHES CLOSED."
Suddenly the Glatteis lurched forward, nearly toppling Jaune and Blanc over.
"ALL HANDS BRACE, ANA GLATTEIS ACCELERATING TO FLANK SPEED, LEAVING AREA OF OPERATIONS."
Disbelief filled Jaune, as he and Blanc moved over to a porthole and looked outside, "We're fleeing?"
Blanc sighed and answered, "No way we'd be able to take on that many Grimm, not in this old ship, we'd need a fleet."
"DEPLOYING COUNTER MEASURES, DEPLOYING ANA GLATTEIS' FULL COMPLIMENT." Came the speakers, the world lit up as if the sun were above, with the launch of all of her missiles.
A deafening sound rung out, the missiles finding their mark in front of the Glatteis, clearing for her a way to the coast and thus safety. Yet some in finding their mark exploded close to the Glatteis, rocking her and making her to list somewhat portside ways. This was a stroke of luck however, as this let her ram a water based Grimm who had poised itself to strike a vulnerable point on the Glatteis' bow.
The thrusters of the Glatteis finally kicked in fully thrusting her forward at her true maximum speed. Flank speed was the use of one-hundred percent of the propulsion systems, a step above from 'full speed ahead' which occupied only fifty percent of the propulsion systems. Having been a sailor for months Jaune had gotten used to the motions, no longer finding himself motion sick, but now he felt quite queasy. Blanc picked up on his queasiness and laughed, Jaune could only reply.
"It's more common than you think…"
Before vomiting across the floor. The next hour was hell for Jaune as he tried not to vomit further. The next hour was hell for the Captain as he made evasive manoeuvres. Eventually however, they made it to the coast, escaping the Grimm and a watery grave. By the time they reached Tamsworth they had run out of fuel and the ANA Glatteis was forced to deploy its bouency systems and set down in the water for refueling and rearmament. For Jaune and the deck crew, it was time for sleep.
Darkness pervaded the room, the lights of computers and the holographic desk serving to light the room, as well as those stationed to them, who worked diligently despite the fact that their retina must be hurting, or so the old and grey Captain Rocheck of the ANA Glatteis thought. Foot steps came towards him, one set was mismatched, as if one side of the body was considerably heavier than the other, and the other set was the distinctive sound of heels. The footsteps came to an end before him, but a deep and authoritative voice filled that silence.
"Captain Rocheck"
"General Ironwood, sir." He said, then nodding to the woman beside him, "Specialist Schnee."
"We had heard you had run into… trouble… Captain." Winter began coming opposite to Rocheck and looking towards him.
"You heard correct, Specialist." Rocheck set his hands on the table and looked too the General, "I'm sure you've read my report, sir."
The General sighed and crossed his arms, but looked no less authoritative, "I did. How did we miss them? To gain those numbers they'd have had to be gathering for months, maybe an entire year."
"We didn't miss them, sir. Ships have been going missing there for months, but we dismissed them as nothing but rumours." Rocheck chuckled, "Our Atlesian rationality and our blindness bit us in the arse, as it were, sir."
This brought a smile to Ironwoods face, although Winter looked a bit peeved at the joke.
"So it would seem, Captain." The smile dropped, "Our fleet was heading too Vale for the festival and is already formed, join us and we'll squash this incursion, make your men ready for fleet action."
"Aye aye, General" Rocheck simply replied, before nodding to both of them and leaving the room.
Chapter 2 complete. The next chapter will be called 'Fleet Action', and I look somewhat forward too it, as it will be less from the perspective of Jaune and more of a third person view of the battle.
Flank Speed = A ships true maximum speed. Used when a ship is under attack and must flee. It is incredibly fuel inefficent.