I needed to leave. I needed to leave, yesterday! This village was no longer safe. I doubted anything less further inland then Kansas was safe.

The sooner I was in Australia, the better. These islands, no, this ocean, was a hornet's nest, and I was in prime position to get stung. And when I mean stung, I mean shot until I resemble cheese.

All ahead full!

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That massive dark storm cloud wasn't there yesterday, was it?

No? Yeah, I thought so too. Didn't Abssyals create massive storm clouds like this?

I wasn't asking you! How would you know that? Exactly, you wouldn't know!

This was a massive kick to my now nonexistent balls. Was I just simply blind and hadn't noticed that before, or could that just simply be an Abssyal fleet moving through the area? Knowing myself as intimately as I did, it was likely the former.

So I stood there, glaring at the offending dark cloud of fluff as if my gaze could obliterate it from existence. Unfortunately, I lacked the effective glare or the anti-aircraft guns to blast it out of the sky. And there was no chance in hell I was willing to risk charging through whatever was generating the storm. I'd be sunk in moments if there was enough of me intact to get there at all!

What? No! Didn't you just hear me compare this situation to being stuck in a hornet's nest! A radio transmission would be nothing but catnap for the eldrich abominations. I don't care if you think the analogy is dumb! Radio stays off until we're close enough to somebody to pull our ass out the fire!

Hey, you guys should be thankful! If plan A is off the table, then times time for plan B. We're heading for Pearl Harbor! Yeah, that made them pleased, even if I didn't want

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…

Go fuck yourself on a cactus, Murphy.

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This was bullshit! There is no goddamn way in hell there was another Abbsyal fleet between me and Hawaii! Going straight for the US coastline was a no go either. The distance between the Hawaiian island chain and the Continental US was considered on its own. If I tried to go the distance myself, I'd be liable to starve to death before I got there.

Which left me with a singular option. Sail east towards the Phillippines. An island nation that mostly been overrun by this point. Being caught on the open ocean was a death sentence. Unless I was a submarine and my crew has been messing with me, but I doubt that.

What type of ship was I, anyway? I wasn't exactly a nautical expert, but it wasn't benefiting me in the slightest that my guns had been scaled to human size. How many ships had four primary guns? Given the girth of the US navy, probably a considerable volume. Hell, was I even ship from the United States?

I gripped the hem of my skirt, looking for something I could have sworn was there when I looked at that mirror yesterday night, but simply didn't have the emotional energy to deal with. There it was. A red and blue strip that ran up half the length of my skirt. Three letters lay beneath it. USS. Well, that settles it.

Still, what ship was I? I figured it would be marked somewhere.

What do you mean, you don't know? How do you not know what vessel you're actively on! It's like saying I don't know my home address. Yes, I did know my home address! No, I'm not telling you! You'll find out if I can convince my parents I'm me! And yes, you will be meeting them whether you like it or not! They will meet the men that are inside me!

That came out wrong.

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Dull thud's reached my eardrums. What the hell? Please don't tell me I was under fire already! Surely, whatever it was, I would be able to see it! Swift observation of the skies revealed I wasn't under fire. Still, where was that racket coming from!

Oh. That's were. Those two massive storm clouds I spotted were on a collision course. Beneath them, clocked in shadows that were far too deep to be natural, I could barely make out the faint flashes of cannon fire.

Well, it looks like I chose the right time to make a break for it. If I hadn't, I'd probably be stuck in what looked to be a pitched battle between two fleets.

Now, on that note. Faster, please. I think I speak for everyone that getting caught is a bad thing.

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Still, the puzzle of who exactly I was supposed to be as a ship kept me busy enough. I wasn't a submarine, that was obvious. Too many guns, absolutely no interest in being submerged. Battleship? How fast was I going again?

33 knots? Yeah, thought so. Unless I was one of those fast battleships, like Iowa or something, battleships were not known for speed. And didn't the Iowa-class have three primary batteries to my four? Destroyer then?

No torpedoes? Damn, that was a pisser. And moving too slow? How exactly would you know that! Oh, you served on a destroyer. Yeah, that did sound a bit slow for a destroyer anyway. Sorry about that.

I certainly wasn't a carrier either. Why? No bow. Though I would have to admit being carrier would be awesome. Just snipping Abyssals from miles off, completely untouched. That would be nice.

Which left cruisers. Light or heavy. What exactly was the difference between them? I honestly had no idea. Oh, it depends on gun size? Six-inch for a light cruiser and up to eight-inch for a heavy, got it. Which do I have, then?

I'm getting tired of you guys not knowing. Measuring them? Right now? Maybe when we get to the next island. If we're staying out on the open ocean, I want to be ready to fire at a moment's notice. I'd rather not rupture anyone's eardrums.

Wait, how would you be able to measure my turrets in the first place? Firstly, aren't you guys inside of me? Secondly… I felt a shudder run it's way down my spine as I felt a weird sensation. Like someone was now sitting on my shoulder.

"Hey."

In which I proceeded to nearly jump out of my literal skin. Oh dear god, please, don't scare me like that again. Wait. Where'd the little guy go?

Crap! Spinning on my feet, I turned around as quickly as possible, scooping the small human-like figure out of the water and back onto my shoulder. She did not look pleased with me.

"Hey, hey hey hey"

No, you're confused about why you have boobs? Welcome to club buddy.

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Land-Ho!

It wasn't much, but it was mine. For a day, max. Sucks, but I wasn't exactly in a position to be picky.

After all, when, not if, when, the Abssyals caught me scent, I was going to have to be beating feet to the nearest safe port. Might as well see the exotic sights while I could.

Like this atoll, for instance! Considerably large, with a formerly active volcano at its heart. Green foliage-covered its slopes, meaning it hadn't erupted in some time, ringed by flat reefs barely covered in sand.

I sailed through one of the gaps in the reef, making my way towards the volcanic island. What sparse vegetation was on the outer ring of the atoll was useless to me. If there was anything worthwhile, it would be there, at the center.

Once my feet touched the sand, I dismissed my rigging. Unless I was being tracked, and I was fairly sure I wasn't, I wouldn't be needing it.

What I did need was food. There had to be some on this island!

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I glared at the yellow fruit in my hand. My brother loved bananas. A lot.

Me? I was far less impressed. What? I was a picky eater. Even if right now I couldn't afford to be.

I was a vessel of the US navy, damnit! Was I going to be stopped by a bright yellow fruit? NO!

Teeth clenched, I bit into the fruit, chewing it swiftly, before swallowing. That. Wasn't horrible. I expected something positively wretched. How much of this was me simply starving, being a shipgirl messing with my sense of tastes, or both were up for debate.

The rumble in my stomach passed along a message loud and clear. Less deep introspection, and more shoveling food into my mouth! Something I did with immense glee.

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Cave? Check. An actual decent night's sleep? Double-check. Unwanted Abyssal's at my doorstep? Triple-check.

I kept to the underbrush, out of sight, content to observe for the time being. Two of the monstrous destroyer types. Looked like a rounded bullet with a mouth. I could take them. Easily, my main guns would enough to wipe out both ships in a volley, two, tops.

But was it smart to take them? If they were just patrolling the area, then I'd just wait for them to leave. It'd set me back an hour or two, and killing them would cause whatever group they're a part of to investigate.

And that was if I was able to kill both without them being able to get a message back, which would set who knows how many more Abyssal's on my tail.

Then there was the off chance that they were looking for me, specifically. Which raised several concerning questions, such as 'how are they tracking me?', and 'how do I avoid them?'. I didn't want to put it down to simple luck. If I was having any luck right now, it would be misfortune.

Did I try to wait them out? They didn't look too land capable, jumping around like possessed dolphins from hell. But if they were scouts, then I sure didn't want to be around for when the main force arrived.

Before my brain could ramble on, listing off dozens of reasons as to why they were here and what I could do, the earth shook. I looked over at the destroyer pair, scowling. Alright, they knew I was here, and were trying to flush me out of hiding.

Blasts rang up and down the treeline as high explosive shells rained down. Well, fine, if they wanted to play that game, I was more than willing to oblige. Rigging sprung forth, guns already moving into firing position.

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Guns one and two, target the destroyer on the right. Three and four, you have the one on the left. Prepare high explosive rounds and wait for my mark.

Wait? We don't have high explosive rounds? High capacity and armor-piercing? Load the high capacity rounds then. Armor-piercing rounds would have been completely useless.

Each gun lowered, lining up with their respective targets. I was a few hundred feet away from my targets. In naval engagements, that was like being close enough to spit on them. There was no way I could miss. Not at this range.

"Fire!"

On command, each of my batteries thundered to life, dispersing the jungle trees, sending their shells towards their respective targets. Instead of jumping in fright and going to cover my ears, as I had expected, I just grinned. There was satisfaction in firing my guns for the first time.

I held a similar satisfaction watching the shells hit home. The first destroyer likely didn't even have time to process it was under attack. Four confirmed hits and two misses were more than enough to send the abyssal craft to the bottom of the lagoon.

Three, no, only two hits's on the second. Reload! Reload!

No, I wasn't going to reload in time, the abyssal already turning to face my now exposed position. In a panic, I did the only thing I could think of. Duck.

Barely in time, as I felt it's retort shell brush past my hair, blasting the trees behind me into splinters of flaming wood, many of which attempted to stab into my backside.

My return salvo obliterated it. All of my guns, trained on a lightly armored target? Still, that was too close for comfort. I'd rather not put my armor under a stress test this soon. OR at all.

But it survived a few more seconds than I expected. Maybe it got off a distress signal. Maybe it didn't.

Either way, I wasn't sticking around to find out.

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Waves lapped at my boots, sea air winding its way through my hair. It felt nice, pleasant.

Even if I was on the run from murder boats that I no idea if they knew of my existence or not.

Alone on the open ocean, with nothing but my thoughts and my crew? It was strangely relaxing. Still, I kept my eyes on the sky, keeping watch for any signs of enemy aircraft. When I wasn't doing that, I was avoiding looking down.

Heights and I never exactly got along. Airplanes, I could handle. Standing over a drop with a glass bottom? No, keep me away from that.

Oceans were deep. These plates sat at a lower elevation than their continental counterparts, due to their density. Outside of general problems with the dark and the fact we didn't have much of our oceans explored, I hadn't had an issue deep recesses of the ocean before.

Not until now. Putting something solid beneath my feet made things worse. And who knew what was down there. Giant squids, Chuthulu, enemy subs.

My hand went to my face, resulting in another meeting of metal to metal. Submarines. How did I forget about submarines! Sneaking snipers of the seas that could sink a vessel without anyone being aware of its presence. An absolute nightmare for any ship to face if on their lonesome.

Which I very much was. Can someone check if I have sonar, please? Or anything else, for that matter?

No sonar? That's unfortunate. Depth charges? Good, I at least have those. It's better than nothing, but unless I somehow end up right on top of a submarine without it trying to kill me first, it's far from practical.

Still, I wonder what they looked like?

As if by command, a canister appeared in my hand. Unarmed, naturally. There was no need to waste it. It looked like a bomb, which, to be fair, it was. I looked at it for a moment, rotating the explosive in my grasp.

Now that I thought about it, a depth charge wouldn't serve too badly as a grenade in a pinch. Mental note put a pin in that. If nothing else, a depth charge going off in an abyssal's face would be a decent distraction.

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Maybe I should loop around towards Australia. That was my original plan after all, and there wasn't anything to my south now. It would be simple to correct my course now, even if I either landed in the outback or had to circle the coast.

I shuddered briefly, a tingle running down the back of my neck. As if by instinct, my head turned southward, my eyes squinting. Those were planes?

Yes, they were! I could barely see them with my eyes, and my radar wasn't giving me a clearer picture. I mean, I think it was my radar, don't know what else it could be. Didn't have much to practice my new senses on, I guess.

So, what exactly was the protocol, here? Do I open radio contact? What codes did I use?

And why were the dots on the horizon remaining that way?

Yeah, those weren't planes. Planes weren't balls with teeth. How did they even, you know what, I'm not going to ask that. I'm a guy who's turned into an anthropomorphized ship.

I entered a turn, bringing myself about. Outrunning them was a useless notion, and I doubted the carrier they launched from would be close enough to provide further support. Time to show these abyssal's why American anti-air is the best in the world!

I better have good anti-air or that joke was going to be for nothing. Four Bofors? Four quad Bofors? Oh, I liked that.

Sixteen guns worth of anti-air fire was nothing to scoff at, something the abyssal aircraft was finding out the hard way. Flak erupted from my rigging, filling the sky with gunfire, likely announcing my presence to whatever was in the area, if it wasn't so already.

What were the odds of a group of aircraft just showed up? Armed with what were either bombs or torpedoes. Yeah, no. Pretty sure dedicated scouting aircraft were a thing, so there would be no need to waste bombers and the like on scouting duties.

I was betting on torpedo's, honestly. The device strapped to the underside of each craft looked a bit too tubular to be a bomb.

Rounds continued to explode in the sky above, a lucky hit sending a plane into the ocean with a massive splash. Still, they were splitting up. I wasn't exactly an expert on naval warfare but still understood their intention. Catch me between two separate salvo's of torpedoes, one on each of my flanks. Cut out my ability to maneuver, my greatest defense right now, and cripple me.

Yeah, no, not letting that happen. I had tricks up my sleeve. I appointed a few spotters to track the primary group of planes, as I turned to face the already shot up group. Pushing forward, I kicked at the water, building up even more speed, doing my best to make myself a harder target.

My anti-air continued to blast away, as I tried to angle myself so I could bring everything against the three dive bombers trying to strike at my port side.

Make that two. Another was belching smoke, meaning it was only a shot or two from being blasted from the sky.

Wait? Second group broke in half again? One wing coming in from the starboard and the other from my stern? Alright, bring about the starboard guns, try to throw off their aim. No, wait, shit, they had already launched their torpedoes, the aqueous missiles streaking through the water.

Two more planes went up in flames, but not before releasing their payloads into the ocean waves. Okay, I didn't want to do this, because I had no idea if it would work, but it was either that or get hit by a torpedo I had no way to shrug off.

Panic rippled in my crew, as the water bond explosive sped closer and closer. As a ship, I had no idea how much I weighed. More than a hundred tons would be my guess. And my boilers and engines were enough to provide me with the strength to move that tonnage at a speed of 33 knots.

That was a lot of horsepower. And I could support myself on dry land as well, without issue. Sure, that could be a shipgirl thing. But I didn't think so.

I was still human. And I still had legs.

Muscles tightened, coiling together. Water erupted as I pushed off the ocean's surface, leaping into the air. I spared a glance at my feet, as the torpedoes harmlessly passed beneath me. Oh, what money I would give, to see the look on the Abyssal pilot's face.

Then gravity decided to reinsert itself over the situation. My knees screamed in protest, nearly crumpling as they crashed foot first into the waves. It felt like I was kicking a rock, but at the same time, landing on a trampoline.

Then I was spat back out, like a demented hundred thousand ton skipping stone. This. I knew how to fix this.

I tucked in my head against my chest, a somewhat harder task than before, then slapped the water's surface with my hands, partially killing my moment in my upper body. My legs, unhindered by this, continued to move as I swung them over my right shoulder.

Jolts ran throughout my body as I killed off the last of my momentum, pulling my body completely upright. With a few seconds of arm flailing before I finally managed to get my balance.

"Is everyone okay?" I shouted to my crew. It took a minute or two, but I eventually got crew lights all across the board. Nobody was injured too terribly.

Still, note to self. Don't jump the torpedo. That hurt more than it should have.

I let my crew recover a few minutes longer as I watch the last of the bomber's crash, slipping beneath the waves. They had come out of the south. Either there was a carrier out there or some type of land base. Neither of which I wanted to press. This incident proved that without support, I couldn't reliably handle that many airplanes.

I guess I was stuck heading west, then. I hoped the Philippines remained intact, or I was going to run into some serious problems.