Chapter 1

Ansel System

October-23-2466


My name is Jaune Arc. I'm nobody special - the son of a farmer on Ansel. Lived most my whole life here, helping my old man in the fields, sometimes sneaking off to hunt whatever game I could track down.

Life was good.

Dad had left to sell the majority of our recent crop - even if 'selling' it was a bit of a misnomer. We live on a Company planet - technically speaking, we don't actually own any of what we make. That all belongs to the Anima Agricultural Group. All the trade goods we make down here do.

Sure, sounds bad at first, but it could be worse. We don't pay for much of anything, short of trips up to the Orbital. We keep enough grain to feed ourselves, and the AAG supplies us with the rest - seeds, fertilizer, all the machinery we could ever need. Or at least, that's what Dad thinks.

I decided he was probably right, after a while.

I kept myself as busy as I could, working at home. Something always needed doing. Repairs to be made here, adjustments there, and alterations over there. It did me good, keeping me out of trouble, for the most part.

We lived on the outskirts of Ansel City proper - way near the edge of where these wide open plains met the seemingly endless sea of trees. Whenever I could, I'd sneak out into the forest. Dad always reprimanded me, said that our job was to tend the fields, not traipse through the forest looking for wild animals.

Funny enough, he never complained when I brought back whatever I caught.

I bustled about in the kitchen, working on a stew. I'd caught a couple of rabbits earlier in the week, and this was about the last of their meat. Knew I'd need to go hunting again soon, if we wanted fresh meat on the table. Maybe I'd score a deer again - the blanket we made from its hide served me well on the particularly chilly nights.

The thought brought a smile to my lips - I knew Dad would chew me out for it again, but when I get back with a new hide and enough meat for a month? Well, I didn't think he'd care all that much.

I was shaken from my thoughts by a knock at the door.

We hadn't been expecting visitors, and Dad wasn't due home for another night or two.

"Just a minute!" I called out, setting the pot of stew to keep warm on the stove.

When I opened the door, I was met with two unfamiliar faces, men dressed in fancy suits. They both looked rather grim.

"Mr. Arc?" The one on the right asked.

"Ah, hi? Mr. Arc is my father, I'm Jaune Arc."

"Right… Mr. Arc, I have some bad news for you." The one on the left offered, keeping a much more neutral face. "May we come in?"

The next few hours vanished as though it had been mere seconds ticking away.

They were men from the AAC - lawyers to be exact - who came to tell me that my father had been killed in a Bullhead accident on his way back from the Orbital. The details, though they'd explained them to me, were somehow lost. Or maybe I just didn't have any way to put them into words.

"Do you understand, Mr. Arc?"

I blinked a few times, looking up from the coffee table I'd been drilling holes into for some time, I was sure. "I'm sorry?"

The lawyer offered his best attempt at a kind smile - it felt forced and fake. It didn't reach his eyes. "I asked if you understood."

"I, ah, yeah. Yeah. You said there'd be another lawyer here tomorrow - to help explain more in depth what my next steps are." I didn't remember being told that. I wasn't sure that I hadn't just made it up.

The man nodded. " I'm sorry for your loss, Mr. Arc." He said, getting to his feet and beckoning his partner to follow. He paused, reaching the door. A glance back was offered. "Try and get some rest, son." He said by way of farewell and left, closing the door behind him.

I heard him, but I wasn't sure I processed what he'd said. My head was nothing but static - the kind you get when you turn on those old televisions - the ones that aren't tapped into the Net.

I tried to get up. I tried to keep on about my day, but my legs were numb. They wouldn't listen when I urged them to move. I wondered if this was what the deer felt like when they heard a noise.

I must have fallen asleep at some point. Sat in the same spot on the couch - I guess the exhaustion finally caught up to me. I awoke feeling like death warmed over. My head hurt, my throat was raw, I felt sticky, and everything was sore. How much of that was from sleeping sitting up on the couch, and how much was dehydration and everything else? I couldn't say.

Everything still felt fuzzy, though my body seemed to take over with a mind its own when I struggled to get anything going.

I found my stew from last night, still warm on the stove. A hazard, leaving the stove on all night unsupervised, but I couldn't bring myself to care. Thestew was warm. It helped to clear some of the fog in my head as I ate. I couldn't tell you if it tasted good or bad.

Still on auto-pilot of sorts, I made my way into the bathroom for a shower. I could hear Dad tell me after a long day in the field that he felt more human when he got out of the shower. That thought alone threatened to tear my chest open all over again.

Some twenty minutes later, I stepped out of the shower. I wouldn't say I felt human, but it was a step in the right direction.

Some time later, I was shaken from my mental fog again by a knock at the door. I coughed, wiping my face with the sleeve of my shirt, unaware that I'd even been crying.

"Coming." I called out, voice hoarse and creaky.

When the door opened, I was met with a shorter man - maybe five eight - who was built like a barrel. Maybe he'd been born on a Heavy-G world. He had wispy gray hair atop his head, though to make up for it he had a frankly magnificent mustache. He was dressed in a simple gray suit with a burgundy dress shirt beneath. In his hands was a binder that likely contained innumerous piles of paperwork.

"You must be Jaune Arc. My name is Peter Port - I was assigned to be your legal representative." He paused for a moment, his mustache quivering for a moment. I could just barely see the corners of his lips turn down in a frown. "For what it is worth, Mr. Arc, I am deeply sorry for what you have gone through. I cannot even begin to imagine what it must be like to lose your family at such a young age."

Unlike the two lawyers who came yesterday - whatever their names were - Mr. Port seemed genuine in his words. I nodded to him, offering a smile that I hoped was reassuring - I knew almost immediately it wasn't. "Thank you, Mr. Port. I, ah, please come in."

I stepped back, ushering the man into the apartment.

The next couple hours didn't so much vanish - not like they had the previous day - but they were quick. And I retained at least some of what had been told to me, beyond all the signatures and initials that were required for the frightening mound of paperwork.

My father had been flying a Bullhead down from the Orbital the previous day. Some nature of malfunction - that I was assured they were looking into - had occurred and the ship came tumbling out of the sky. It crashed into a field on the other side of Ansel City and exploded, causing serious damage to the valuable crops that had yet to be harvested.

"So, as I understand it, Mr. Port, my father had a life insurance policy, albeit a small one. Due to the craft being his and him being the pilot, AAG has filed for damages, taking the whole of the policy?"

"Yes, Mr. Arc, that is the short of it." Port responded.

I wanted to shout and cry and scream that it wasn't fair. That it was bullshit that the Company could just take that like it was nothing. I wanted to, but I didn't. I wasn't sure I could, even if I tried. Instead, I sighed. "So what can I do?"

The portly lawyer grimaced. "As you are most likely aware, Mr. Arc, you cannot remain on Ansel without being an employee of the Company."

It was true - the AAG reserved the right to deport anyone for any reason, if they were not one of their employees. A right they used quite liberally.

"You have ninety days to leave the planet. If, after that time, you are still here, they will have you deported to the nearest Federation planet. At your expense. Similar rules apply to your belongings." He continued on to explain.

I groaned, all but flopping back into the couch, staring up at the ceiling. "The AAG doesn't hesitate, do they?"

"No, Mr. Arc, I'm afraid they don't." Mr. Port offered as he started packing up his binder. "I wish I brought better news, or that I could be of more assistance. Sadly, my hands are tied."

I understood - the fact that the man was assigned to me should have given me more concern - but it was a Company planet. He said it himself; anyone who lives here has to be employed by the Company themselves. It was rotten to its core, but I didn't blame the man. He seemed genuine in his remorse.

"Thank you for the help, Mr. Port." I offered weakly. I meant it, even if I wished he'd been able to do more.

The man nodded, making his way to the door. He stopped just short of exiting for a moment. "Good luck out there, Mr. Arc." He said over his shoulder before disappearing out of the house.

Several days passed. Maybe a week or more. Honestly, I wasn't sure. Time had stopped having some meaning after the meetings with the lawyers. That was only worsened by the fact that I got no visitors. None of Dad's friends or mine for that matter.

It made sense, in some twisted way. Why bother investing anything, at this point, when I'll just be gone in a couple months?

It was enough to make me laugh bitterly.

I looked around the house - it was a wreck. Granted, Dad and I weren't the most organized people to start with, but we kept it clean. That had gone out the window some time ago. Cans of beer and soda were strewn about, days old dishes left unattended to.

It was better than the alternative, right? At least I remembered to eat, drink and function. To some extent at least.

Who was I kidding? This was horrific. It made my stomach twist in a way I didn't recognize but it made me feel sick. What would Dad think? What would he say?

That thought bit me as soon as it cropped up. A searing pain right in my head. I wanted to cry - though Brothers know I'd done enough of that in the last few days.

Instead, I let that searing pain - maybe it was frustration or anger - push me. I got to work, cleaning the house up. The warning from Port still in my head - telling me that my time on the planet was limited.

It looked worse than it was. After an hour or so, the rubbish had been cleaned up, the dishes cleaned, and everything wiped down. It looked normal again. But I wasn't done. Still hearing Port's words, I set to work.

The rest of the day was occupied with me working through the house, item by item, to clean it up and decide what I wanted to keep. The truth was, I couldn't keep much - I doubted I'd be able to afford a storage locker on whatever planet they shipped me and our - my, I suppose - stuff to.

The easy part was my things. Honestly, I wasn't the most sentimental person. I didn't have a lot of stuff to keep. Mostly clothes, some odds and ends I'd collected over the years, and my rifle. Honestly, I'd have loved to keep it - but it was contraband on the planet as is, I doubt they'd ship it off for me.

The next day, I cleaned out my room. All my things, packed safely away into my bag, with plenty of room to spare. Something I was, however, dreading? My Dad's things. Dad was like me, he wasn't the most sentimental person - he didn't collect much. But what he did? All held some importance to him.

Be it a rough wood carving I'd made for him when I was five or six - it was probably supposed to be a dog, but it looked nothing like it. Despite that he'd cherished it dearly. Same went for his old wedding ring - Mom had left us sometime when I was young. Maybe three or four. It was hard to remember - but he'd still kept the ring. I had to wonder why.

There were more odd trinkets and bits around, but none of it caught my eye.

The only thing I pocketed was the ring. I don't really know why, but it felt like the thing to do.

The rest of his things were cleaned out. I nabbed his laptop - it was old, but it worked well so I wagered it'd be worth having. If nothing else it worked as a good bit of storage for photos, videos, and whatever entertainment I could cram on it.

A few days later, the house was done.

It felt odd, standing in the packed up home. I realized, then, that I still didn't have a plan. Any idea what I was going to do. I didn't fancy the idea of getting deported and paying for it myself, so that meant I had to find a way off planet.

Not knowing where to start, I made my way into Ansel City itself. Where the fields surrounding the city were nothing short of quiet and almost idyllic, the city was awash with people rushing everywhere. Men and women dressed in suits scrambling about as though their lives depended on it.

I'd been to Ansel City several times in the past, and I was always shocked by how different it felt. Compared to home - the sleepy farmhouse and small village I grew up around - this was immense. It also reeked.

As I wandered through the streets, a bit lost and unsure of where I was going or what I was even looking for, I saw a familiar poster.

It depicted a tall, broad shouldered man in his late 30's or early 40's pointing at the viewer with what could only be described as a scowl painted across his features. His hair was a dark black -with some gray starting to poke in - slicked back over the top of his head. The poster read "I want YOU for the Atlas Federation Marines. Report to Union Hall immediately."

I huffed. It was an idea - and while I didn't fancy myself a Marine - it may have been my only option.

Regardless, my feet carried me. Where to, I wasn't sure. It felt like I was wandering aimlessly, but sure enough within just a few minutes, I was at the steps to Union Hall. The building was immense - designed to look like old-school Remnant architecture. Spires reached into the sky, almost acting as a beacon to the lost.

Part of me mused that maybe that was intentional.

I blew a sigh out through my nose and shouldered my way in.

The vaulted ceilings and the stone floor made each step in the nearly empty hall echo. It did strike me as a bit odd that it was so quiet, though I wondered if that was because we were on a Company planet. What need did most people here have for the Federation?

My entrance drew the eye of a woman working the desk.

She was in her mid thirties, at my best guess. She had blonde hair that was tied back into a bun - she wore a simple uniform. It didn't look quite the same as the Marines - but maybe that was just a difference in branch or rank. I couldn't say, really.

She narrowed her piercing green eyes at me. "Good afternoon, sir. What can I help you with today?"

I glanced down at her nametag - Goodwitch. "Well… I guess I'm looking for a way off planet."

She looked back to her computer and pointed down the hall. "Departures are down there, about another hundred yards. Can't miss it."

When I didn't move for a bit she looked up and arched an eyebrow. She didn't say anything, just gave me that look that asked "Why are you still standing here?"

I cleared my throat, wishing my mouth wasn't so dry. "I, well, can't exactly afford passage off planet. So I was looking for work that might… Do that for me?" I felt stupid as soon as I'd said it - twice as much as normal when she blinked and arched the other brow at me. "I- I know it sounds stupid but-"

She raised her hand to cut me off. "I see. What you're looking at, sir, would be one of two things. The Atlas Federation Marines are always recruiting. If you'd like I can call the recruiter's office, have them come talk to you?"

I pursed my lips. "You said there were two things… What's the other?"

"The other is the Atlas Merchant Marine." She must have seen my confusion, cutting me off before I even started to speak. "The Atlas Merchant Marine and the Atlas Federation Marines sound similar, yes, but they are quite separate. The latter is being a soldier as I'm sure you're well aware?"

"I am, yes."

"The former, however - answer me this. How do you think supplies get from one place to another in the galaxy young man?"

I furrowed my brows. "They have to be transported. Everyone knows that the AAG ships ou-" I cut myself off. It clicked as I was speaking and, based on the slight smirk that tugged at the woman's lips, I'd hit the conclusion she was looking for.

"Very good. The Atlas Merchant Marine ship supplies all over the galaxy. That, sir, would be your other option for getting off the planet." She offered.

"Oh, uh, my name's Jaune. Jaune Arc." I offered, albeit belatedly.

"Mr. Arc, then. So, you've heard your options - should I call the recruiters?" She asked, head tilting slightly.

I shifted. "Er… Can you tell me more about the Merchant Marine? I'll be honest, I don't see myself as much of a soldier. Don't think I'd be good for that kind of life."

"I can do the next best thing." She pointed to one of the terminals that were dotted around the Union Hall. "Take a seat over there and get it booted up. I'll be over in a minute to help you."

That was how it started. The clerk - Glynda Goodwitch, I learned her name was - introduced me to the idea of the Atlas Merchant Marine. She set me up with all the basics I'd need to dig into this information on my own. And dig I did.

It was a lot, but the more I read the more I decided this sounded like a much better time than becoming a soldier. Some things were similar, sure, but this had significantly less risk of getting shot at by Pirates, or fighting Grimm.

After a good three or four hours, I returned to talk with Goodwitch once again. She inclined her head, curious what I'd uncovered. "Well, Ms. Goodwitch, it's an interesting idea. Being a Merchant Marine, I mean."

"Its good work. Hard, grueling at times, but good work nonetheless." She paused. "Tell me, Mr. Arc, why are you so intent to get off planet? You're young, so I would assume you live with your parents here?"

The question made my heart ache and my teeth clench. After a moment I sighed, letting it go. "I used to, ma'am. My father died a couple weeks ago in a Bullhead crash, if you remember that happening."

Goodwitch frowned, but nodded. "I heard about that on the news. I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you, ma'am. But because of his crash, and because I'm not an employee of the company, they're threatening to deport me to the nearest Federation planet. I've got a couple months before that, but I'm not keen on waiting till the last minute."

She blew out a sigh through her nose. "That's how it goes, unfortunately." She considered me for a moment before continuing. "I'll be honest, Jaune, your odds are slim. Most crews don't come in with an empty berth for unskilled labor like yours. As I'm sure you saw, any listings tend to be for Specialists or Officers."

I nodded, glumly at that. "I know, ma'am. I know." I wasn't quite at square one, but I'll be damned if it didn't feel like it.

After a few moments of silence she spoke again. "If you're serious about this?" She looked me in the eye, her piercing green seeming to tear right through me. I just nodded. "Then be ready to leave with less than an hour's notice. I can't guarantee anything, but if a ship comes in with an open berth for you, I'll give you a call."

My face lit up - it must have been the first time since I was told Dad died - that I felt even a bit of hope. It wasn't much, Goodwitch's offer to try and get me on a ship, but it was something. And it beat signing on to be a Marine, at least in my book it did. "Thank you, ma'am."

She chuckled. "Don't thank me yet, Mr. Arc. You might just be cursing me out before its all over."


Hello one and all! Thank you for reading the first chapter in a series I've got rattling around in my head.

This story is inspired by and takes heavily from ideas out of the Golden Age of the Solar Clipper by Nathan Lowell. I've just gone and put a RWBY spin on it. I have the next 3 chapters prepped and ready to go, just pending some editing and revisions on my end.

If you're so inclined, leave a like and a review.

See ya' later, space cowboy.