Brothers in Arms
The next morning, Kirov wandered through the city. The cruiser was given a linen shirt and trousers to blend in with the citizens better. Despite this, he generated considerable fuss among the populace of the city. Particularly the younger high school and college aged ones. None of them went up to him, however. He continued walking through the city. Until he reached a building with a sign saying Уссурийская библиотека. Ussuriysk Library.
Smiling slightly, Kirov walks towards the door. Surprise briefly crossed his face when the two glass doors slid open before him. Kirov smirked before walking in. Library is quite large, with rows of shelves, multiple computers and tables. The cruiser walked past the people, who paid him scant attention. Passing them, he arrives at the section where books about technology are stored. Searching through the shelves, he frowned when there was a lack of books about Soviet-era weapons. He wanted to know who he could potentially be fighting alongside. Resigning to picking up a book titled "Modern Fighting Ships", Kirov walks to a table and sits down.
Reading through the pages, he is impressed. He knows about advanced technology like guided missiles and nuclear propulsion existed during his time. Kirov did survive until 1974, after all. But the modern technology…is on a whole new level. Lasers, railguns, stealth and increased computerization. Even rudimentary A.I.s are under development. It was like stepping into a new world. Sixty years is a huge difference.
As Kirov stood up to return the book, he noticed something. Next to him is a pile of books on physics and mathematics, an open notebook and a laptop. But the thing that really caught his attention was the notebook. Because the page is open to a drawing of himself.
He picks up the notebook to take a closer look. The pencil sketch is a little rough and Kirov doesn't know how to critique art, but he can definitely see that it is a good drawing.
"Um, excuse me," a female voice said.
Turning to face the speaker, Kirov sees a young woman in her early twenties with shoulder length brown hair and eyes dressed in mid cut jeans and loose shirt. She also has a pair of glasses.
"Oh sorry," Kirov said, "I just saw this drawing of me and…"
Recognition flashed across both their faces.
"You're Kirov," the girl said, "here? So far away from the sea?"
"Zria Sotnikov," Kirov said, "we met on Shikotan Island, yes?"
"Yeah," Zria said, pushing her glasses up, "you saved my life."
She noticed the book in Kirov's other hand, "What is that you are reading?"
Kirov showed her the book, "Modern Fighting Ships. I wanted to know about those I passed the duty of defending the Motherland to. And I must say I am impressed. I thought radar and missiles were really fancy, but…this? It just blows my mind."
Zria chuckled, "Yeah, it's amazing isn't it?"
Kirov looks down at the other books, "Mathematics and science. What are you hoping to be?"
Zria looks at him, "To join the defense force. The Russian Navy, to be precise."
The cruiser frowned, "A woman? In the Navy?"
"What?" Zria growled and crossed her arms, "Women have fought in wars before. You know the fighter ace the Nazi's called the White Rose of Stalingrad? She is a woman."
"Fair enough," Kirov nodded, "the technology should bridge the gap in whatever difference in capabilities of men and women."
Zria growled internally. While it was understandable that Kirov held some sexist views, being from the old days and all, it didn't make it any less offensive. Besides, weren't the Soviets the first people to make significant attempts to expand social, economic and political opportunities for women? Then and again, Kirov isn't human. He is a ship who just happened to look like one, so some degree of ignorance regarding non-military matters is understandable.
"Why join the Navy?" asked Kirov.
"Because I want to destroy Abyssals," Zria said, "after they killed my father. And I want to fight them in their own territory."
"For vengeance," Kirov smirked, "I like that."
"And I need your assistance," Zria said, "you who are born with the power to fight Abyssals."
"You want to command me like Yoshimura does to his shipgirls," Kirov said, "and Sima to Yat Sen? You are ambitious, but do you have what it takes?"
"My grades speak for me," Zria smirked, "and when I ace my entrance exams to the Naval Academy and pass with flying colours, you will know I have what it takes."
She takes off her glasses, wipes them and puts them back on. Kirov smiled. This girl definitely has the confidence to be a commander. Whether she had the skills is another question. Just because she knows every textbook inside out doesn't necessarily mean she will make a good commander. After all, textbooks are easy to read. One also needs to be flexible and unpredictable. That is what made that Chinese Pilot Officer Xiangdong Sima effective. If he chose to be a commander rather than an engineer, then he would be one commander Kirov would hate to oppose.
"Very well," Kirov nodded, "you have impressed me. But do you think you can convince by comrades?"
"And who would they be?" asked Zria, crossing her arms.
"I…" Kirov said, "I am not sure. That is kinda why I am here. I want to know about Soviet ships of the Pacific. I served in the Baltic Sea and played only a small part in the war."
Zria smiled, "Then let's find out."
She sits down at her seat and opens a new page. Kirov sits down next to her, curious about what she is doing. Zria navigates to a search engine before asking, "Alright, which ships do you know?"
"There are five more ships of the Kirov class," Kirov said, "though I only consider Voroshilov to be truly of my class because later pairs added improvements."
"Whatever," Zria said as she searched Kirov-class, "ah, here we are."
The top option is "Kirov-class Cruiser", followed by "Kirov-class Battlecruiser" and many others below.
"I assume you are this one," Zria moved her mouse towards the top option, "you are a cruiser."
"Wait," Kirov said quickly as he moved his hand, "I wa-"
His hand covered Zria's for a second before they both pulled back.
"Sorry," Kirov said, "-"
"Ah, no," Zria said, "it's okay."
"Hey, if you couple are going to talk, take it outside," a librarian said, "we have people studying in here."
"Sorry," Zria said, "I'll be off now."
Zria puts her notebook and pencil in her bag but held onto her laptop, "Come on, let's go outside."
Kirov complied as he followed the young woman. Stepping out, the duo walk to a bench. After sitting down, Zria opens the laptop, "So, what did you want to see?"
"That," Kirov pointed at the second option, "Kirov-class battlecruiser."
After clicking the site, Zria read out loud.
The Kirov-class battlecruiser is a class of nuclear-powered warship of the Russian Navy, the largest and heaviest surface combatant warships (i.e. not an aircraft carrier or amphibious assault ship) in operation in the world. Smaller only than aircraft carriers and of similar size to dreadnought battleships of the 1910s and 1920s. The official designation of the ship-type is "heavy nuclear-powered guided missile cruiser", while the West called them battlecruisers due to their size and appearance.
Scrolling down, Kirov noticed that battlecruiser Kirov was laid down on 27 March 1974, less than a month after he was sold for scrap.
"How does it feel to meet a more modern ship carrying your name?" asked Zria.
"I feel pride," Kirov smiled, "although the ship is not named after me, the fact that we share names means that I won't be forgotten."
Zria tilted her head and looked into his eyes. Then she broke eye contact and smiled as she worked her fingers over her laptop. A few seconds later, she looked back up and showed Kirov her laptop. Leaning in, Kirov gasped. Because there are several photos of two triple 180mm turrets in front of a building. Another photo showed a memorial plaque.
"Do you know why the people were so excited to have you back?" asked Zria softly, "Because there are many who remember you."
Kirov continued looking at the screen. Even though he played a very small part of the war and isn't big and flashy like the Western battleships, there are people who remember him to this day, almost a century after he was laid down and sixty years after he was scrapped. The government has changed, but the people have not. This is the nation and the people he fought for once.
And this shall be the nation and the people he will fight for until he sinks or the enemy is gone. He and his brothers in arms will do what is necessary to protect Russia.
"I wonder what your brothers would look like," Zria said, snapping Kirov out of his thoughts, "one of them is Voroshilov, right? He could look like you or look nothing like you. Yamato and Musashi look nothing like each other."
"Hmm," Kirov rubbed his chin, "what would he look like?"
Zria worked her laptop again to search for fan art about Russian ships.
"By god," Zria said, "you already have fans."
The webpage showed lots of fan art, made by people who speculated what other ships might look like. Some of them depicted the ships as stunningly beautiful women, while others as hot guys. The male depictions had millions of views, shares and had comments in at least ten different languages, mostly of girls declaring their love in barely understandable drawls and huge stacks of emoticons.
"Kirov," said a voice to them.
Turning to face the speaker, the duo see a Navy officer and several escorting soldiers. They stood in front of a wheeled armored vehicle.
"It is time," the officer said, "come, this way."
"I have to go," Kirov said, "I am to oversee the fairies build the components of my base."
Kirov turns and walks to the officer, "Farewell, Zria."
"This isn't farewell," the woman said, "because you can bet your ass that you will see me again. And you will salute me as your commander."
"I will be looking forward to that," Kirov said as he continued walking, "Miss Sotnikov."
