13751: Despite the admirals impressive ability to handle you lot, there are plenty of ways to give them heart attacks. Landing on the roof of their office and then nonchantly leaning over the window is one such way.
"First the Abyssals, now this! As if I didn't have enough to do." Admiral Hartmann thought to himself as he shuffled paperwork. Dealing with the water demons produced enough of the stuff as it was. And that was before Russia decided to be a bully. Although not directly involved, the international situation demanded Hartmann's attention.
"I should haul all the Russian generals in front of Tirpitz, see how long they last." He muttered. Despite her reputation as an ice queen, the big battleship could be a vicious critter when one made it past her near endless patience.
A thump on the roof distracted him which was not entirely unwelcome. He could use a distraction. But what was unnerving was he had no idea what caused the noise. Years working with shipgirls, and somehow still maintaining his sanity, had made him aware of the all important rule. Be aware of everything. And anything you're not aware of, run away from. This fell somewhere in the middle category. Although Hartmann was tempted to run when a face suddenly appeared upside down in his window. A hand gestured towards the locks and Hartmann opened it allowing the obviously kanmusu to pull herself inside.
"Spasibo." She managed once her feet hit the floor.
Hartmann knew enough about languages to recognize Russian when he heard it. "Who are you?" He growled, settling on English as the one language they were both likely to know.
"Relax comrade Admiral. I am not hear to fight." The girl smoothed down the sides of her skirt. She had black Russian winter boots, a pair of long stockings, a blue right one and a yellow left one. Her skirt was mostly gray and her heavy jacket, lined with numerous pockets, matched the color of her socks. She wore no cap which was interesting although her blonde hair was pulled back in a bun. She had the classic Russian blue pair of eyes.
"You speak Russian well for a Ukrainian." Hartmann said, relaxing.
"It is the country from which I was born. Although it was not referred to as such then." She replied.
"You are Soviet then." Oh Gangut would love this.
"Da. Ex-Soviet. My old body became property of Ukraine when the regime fell. I have sense served them well." She explained.
"I see. You are a new summons."
"What an interesting observation comrade Admiral. No one summoned me, although there were many who weeped when my old body was destroyed at Hostomel." She said.
Admiral Hartmann blanched. "You-You're…" He stammered, the long hidden airplane geek in him all but squealing with joy.
"Aye comrade Admiral. The sole Antonov 225 at your service." She bowed. "You may call me Mriya."
Much squealing, laughing, leaping and admiral level fanoggoling ensued.
Later in the mess hall…
A visiting Gangut stepped into the buffet line trying hard to ignore the icy glare directed at her back. The kanmusu for the most part weren't blaming her for the war but there were a few human personal who saw no difference between the Russian warship and the current conflict. Most kanmusu however was not all of them apparently.
Try as she might Gangut could not spot the perpetrator behind the glare which fed into her suspicion that it was a kanmusu. No human could evade her radar for long.
As she set her tray down on the table, it happened. Gangut was grabbed from behind in a very strong grip that try as she might, she couldn't get out of. Her mind flashed through the possibilities. A battleship perhaps. They had the horsepower. But the body pressing up against her back did not have the leanness of a battleship. It was rough and hard, like a Russians might feel.
Gangut twisted her head around to look at her captor. Mriya's eyes were colder than ice. "Let's get one thing straight comrade Gangut." The planegirl hissed. "I don't like you. In fact I'd love nothing more than to bury you under this base's runway for what your countrymen are doing to mine. But comrade Admiral won't permit it. So I will tolerate you for his sake. But that tolerance is thin. So if I were you, I'd control my communist urges. Are we clear, Gangut?"
"P-perfectly, Mriya." Gangut managed.
Instantly the big plane's demeanor changed. The darkness around her face lifted and she grinned, suddenly chipper. "I'm glad we had this talk." She said and dropped Gangut before walking away.
When Gangut turned back to her table she noticed two things. One, the food portions on her tray had doubled. And two, a bottle of vodka and an ice cold shot glass was left next to it. Sighing, the former Soviet sat down in her chair and screwed off the cap of the bottle. Pouring herself a glass she knocked it back in one gulp.