My guns fired, an erupted of gunpowder and steel. My three, seven, eight, and even twelve-inch guns unleashed their payload, a literal wall of explosive shells. As the smoke began to clear, there was nothing left of the destroyer, the tarmac pocket marked with craters.

I held air push from my lungs, taking in a gulp of fresh air. Had I been holding my breath? Was I holding it this whole time?

I took a tentative step forward, putting another hole in the tarmac, foot causing it to crack, even if I stepped down as gentle as I could. Steel groaned beneath my skin as my muscles coiled.

My clothes had been replaced, shirt and shorts instead now a near knee-length dress, one ripped straight out of the '20s. There was a tightness around my neck, a white handkerchief that brought out the blue of my new sleeveless dress nicely.

Then there was my rigging. The first part that stuck where the gloves on my hands, on which sat two large batteries, my twin emplacements for my four twelve-inch guns. Meanwhile, the rest of my armament hung off my sides. A variable cavalcade of my remaining arsenal of eight-inch, seven-inch, three-inch, and my smaller one and three-pounder guns.

I was the USS-Kansas. BB-21. The fourth ship of the Connecticut line. Among the last of the US's pre-dreadnought era vessels. A ship that had been scraped for parts, made obsolete in only a handful of years after her construction.

But obsolete didn't mean useless. Sure, I was old, outdated by the end of the first World War, and hopelessly outclassed by the battleships that sailed in the second.

But I was still a battleship. A shipgirl.

And from the sound of it, I was the only one here. I couldn't be for sure, my radio was far too primitive to pick up or receive messages of note.

I looked up at the broken half the plane behind me. My brother stared back at me, with a look of shock written all over his face. I could pick up the voices of my parents, slowly shoving their way through the throngs of people.

They were completely defenseless. The Abyssal's would kill them in a heartbeat, for fun, taking some type of sick twisted pleasure out of it. My fists clenched with the force to grind steel into dust. Like hell they would. I wasn't going to let them. I wouldn't let the Abyssal's hurt my family. Not now, not ever.

"Keep an eye on them, alright! I'll be back soon!" I shouted up at my brother as he shook his head in a daze.

I'm pretty sure he shouted back at me as I thundered across the tarmac, heading towards the sound of battle.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

I had no idea what proper military protocol was. Was there even protocol for a human becoming a shipgirl? Being a shipgirl?

Even my footfalls were drowned out by the thunder of artillery, numerous pieces firing rounds at the Abyssal attackers. It wasn't doing much, and several were already reduced to wrecks of steel from counterfire.

"Sir?" I approached the individual that appeared to be in charge. I didn't have much to go off. He was busy shouting into a radio, barking out orders. If he was in charge of the defense, then he should be the person I report too, right? I didn't think this one through. My feet shifted, grinding into the tarmac.

"And Richardson, I told you to get the civilians into the bunker!" he shouted, starting to turn his head around. "We still have one right." His pause would have been humorous if we were outside of our present situation.

"I see," there was a frown on his face as he stared at me. "Normally, I would ask you if you were a fresh awakening, but that seems rather obvious."

I nodded my head, doing my best to keep my bristling turrets pointed away from anyone.

"Then I am going to ask for your name, age, ship designation, and, identification number if you remember it."

"My human name is Kathrine, and I'm seventeen sir. My crew tells me I'm the USS Kansas, BB-21."

His face went from a frown to one made of pale stone in a second. He looked back from the radio to me, as if to confirm I was seventeen. Yes, I know I'm short! Doesn't make me young!

"Forth in the Connecticut line, correct?" I nodded again, as the man let out a string of curses, before turning around to face me.

"Before you offer what I know you're about to, no," his finger pointed towards me. "Not only are you underage, but you also have no training for this type of situation. Reinforcements are ten minutes out."

My jaw tightened for a moment. I wanted to fight, yes. But he wasn't wrong. Sure, I killed a destroyer, but that was mostly luck. It was on dry land, standing still, a target too close to miss. Plus, there was one simple fact.

I scowled at the planes that filled the air. There was no way my four one pounders could handle this. Maybe was getting ahead of myself. But still.

I didn't want to be helpless. I didn't want to leave it entirely to everyone else.

"Sir, you must be joking," I paused, looking back towards the radio. "Sir, she just awakened. Isn't even of age. She's seventeen, sir. You can only enlist with parental consent at that age. Sir, if they're anywhere, they'd be in the shelter by now."

"She's BB-21. Yes, that Kansas. Sir, she's a natural-born more than twenty years out of date and untrained to boot," I watched as the man's knuckles turned white. "I understand sir." Ultimately, the man's shoulders slumped in defeat.

"I don't agree with this, I doubt a lot of others will too," he sighed, shaking his head. "However, my orders stand." I could have sworn he wanted to say something following that but held his tongue.

"All I'm ordering you to do is stay close to shore. Do not chase, do not pursue. If you take critical damage, or just can't balance right now, just use your guns from here. Am I understood?"

"Yes sir!" my salute was likely terrible if the look he gave me was anything to go by.

"If you can, try to keep radio contact as well," he ordered, before turning his head.

"My crew has been sending out signals since I awoke, sir. They should be in morse, sir," My words left a pause in the air.

"Damnit! I told you that's where the morse code was coming from Jones!"

An explosion drew my eye, as another wave of bombers passed overhead. They were targeting the base! I scowled, faulting over the small barricade and into the surf. Screw them! I'll take them all on!

I zeroed in on the closest vessel I could spot, another small destroyer, screening for a larger Abyssal. A light, no, that was a heavy cruiser of some sort. This I could handle. If I could draw away the destroyer, all the better.

"Fire!" explosions bloomed out of my rigging, shells rocketing forth as my body lurched to the side, nearly losing my already tedious footing. A few seconds later, water erupted around the Abyssal like fountains. Yes! Another direct hit! So far, two for two! I got this in the bag!

As the water settled, I realized something.

I had miscalculated. Big time.

I hadn't sunk the destroyer. I'd hit it, the creature now had a fire on its snout, one that I was certain wasn't present before. But it was very much unsunk. And very much angry.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Good news, it wasn't acting as a screen nor was it shooting at the soldiers.

Bad news, I was the new target. And I wasted all my shots.

Reload. Reload, and fire at will. Any time would be nice!

It's gun cracked its retort, it's single five-inch gun racking me with fire. Sure, each shell couldn't get through my armor, but each shot felt like a bee sting. Three shots slammed into my arm as I covered my face, one leaving a burning sensation. My smaller guns returned fire, the thud of my three-inch and three-pounders firing music to my ears.

But the damn thing just kept coming! Sure, the smaller three-pounders wouldn't do much, but my three-inch batteries should be doing something! What were the Abyssal's feeding these demented things! It's like a torpedo!

Wait! That's it! Prep port side torpedo tube for launch and

I screamed in pain, something much larger than the destroyer's shots puncturing into my shoulder. Ow! Fucker! Oh, just you wait, little miss heavy cruiser. Once I'm done with your dog, you're next!

Launch it! Launch it now!

Instead of being shot visibly over the side, as most destroyers did, I had my torpedo tubes underwater. Stationary, yes, making them nearly impossible to aim. But it wasn't as easily telegraphed, and for a destroyer trying to rush me, that made all the difference. If it focused on me and didn't notice.

Retorts continued to issue from my guns, trying to keep it focusing on me. Still, it rushed through the water, barreling towards me. Its body began to turn, shifting through the waves.

Where was that torpedo! Had it hit maxim range or something? Go dead in the water? I knew what it was aiming to do. Destroyer? This close to battleship? I knew that it was going to launching torpedoes!

I began to pull myself into a turn, attempting to throw off its aim.

Then the water erupted, a massive geyser shot forth by an explosion, nearly drowning out the destroyers screams of pain. Okay, please let that be enough to kill the little bastard.

By the time the water settled, my wish had come true, with the darkened mass of steel slipping beneath the waves. Good, now I just need to deal with the heavy cruiser, and that was right over.

I wince as the heavy cruiser lands another salvo, two shells slamming into my left leg and another right underneath my ribs. Damnit, I lost track of it while dealing with the destroyer!

My twelve-inch guns groaned as I rotated, correcting for their new target, supported by my eight-inch guns. Each of the smaller guns might as well be useless, but I brought my three inches to bare as well.

Another bloom of gunfire crashed into me, leaving more cuts and impacts along my body. Yeah, yeah, you little shit, flaunt your faster reload. I have something you don't. Large guns.

Once in position, I returned fire, smaller shells bouncing off its armor, but my larger guns were much more effective. My eight-inch shells match it's own, and combined with my main batteries, this was a war of attrition. One I could win.

Then the bombs started dropping. One splashed into the water harmlessly. The second didn't.

I screamed. Pain flared across my shoulder on impact, shrapnel flying in all directions. Fragments cut into my face, leaving gashes the bleed freely down my cheek. What weapons I had free turned towards the sky, letting loose a barrage of bullets.

Move! MOVE! I began to correct my course, swerving around in a mad panic. More shells splashed down around me, thrown off by my erratic movement, delightfully reminding me once again to the cruiser's existence. It had strayed closer, with my main guns prepped and ready. A terrible mistake.

It bellowed as my shells tore into its armor, with its crashing into mine. One more salvo should be enough, but by that point, I'd at least take another volley. Then there was the matter of those freaking bombers! There were just so many of.

I raised my hand just in the nick of time, intercepting a bomb that would have connected with my head dead-on.

I don't even know if I screamed. One second, my hand was there. The next, the bomb punched through the top of one of my main guns and into the ammo belt.

Then I couldn't feel my hand anymore. Not even pain. Just nothing. Something warm splattered across my face, splashing into my eyes.

I tried rubbing the amalgamation of blood and oil from my sockets attempting to clear my vision. Another salvo of shots were fired, but I couldn't tell from where. An explosion rang off from my right, as the Abyssal cruiser let out a deathly scream.

Wait? Could it be? Reinforcements?

Had it been ten minutes, truly? I needed to find them! Sweet, sweet air cover!

Another bomb. I'd been fumbling around blind, I couldn't have seen it. This one slammed into my ankle, at just the right angle.

I couldn't keep my balance, my foot now just a bloody stump of a limb. With time, I did scream, my propeller giving out, as pain lanced through my body. My momentum carried me forward, tumbling into the water's surface. I threw my arms outward, trying to catch myself, only to crash into the water face first.

Agony arced it's way through my hand as salt splashed into the wound. Everything ached, everything hurt. But I couldn't stay still. I was enough of a sitting duck as is. My right arm strained, pushing up the weight of my frame with ease. But I still couldn't move, water failing to provide any purchase. I couldn't even crawl.

How pitiful was that? I couldn't even manage to drag myself away from a fight. I was so dead. An immobile battleship, surrounded by enemy planes without support? I was going the die out here. There was an all too familiar scream in the air, the sound of a plane pulling into a dive.

Mom. Dad. Joseph. I'm sorry.

There was a click, the detachment of a bomb. I closed my eyes, waiting for the pain to come. There was an explosion.

The pain didn't come.

Wiping enough blood from my face to regain at least some vision, I looked up at my savior. She was tall, so much taller than I was. Her rigging bloomed with armaments far larger than my own, but that wasn't the surprise. Strapped in her hands were two massive shields, one being used to cover us both from incoming fire. Her other hand reached down as if to offer me a hand up.

"You are the Kansas, I presume," her voice was sweet, sounding like an older sister. I accepted it, being torn onto my feet by the larger and younger ship.

"Denver, Phoenix, I have her. We need to withdraw back to base immediately. She's hurt. Badly," her voice turned stern, ordering both smaller vessels. I think they were cruisers? Cruisers were named after cities, right?

I might be feeling a bit loopy. No, I was a bit loopy. Pain? Blood loss? Who could tell? I sure couldn't.

A few more booms sounded off in the distance.

"Ma'am, shouldn't we support Washington and her group?" the redhead shouted, seeming ready to turn towards the fighting.

"Negative. The carrier is too close to escape at this point. Kansas on the other hand needs to get to the repair baths."

Good. That sounded nice. I was just going to take a nap.