This is official, I want to kms

Joke aside, I'm really really really sorry for the radio silence. What I could tell was that I hated my college studies and I regret entering Mechanical Engineering. Then there's the weekend burnout where I just felt like doing nothing. And fun fact, this entire chapter was made in three days.

Three days. And I did it in a month.

That's a promising thought about my writing capability and my willingness to do so

Edit: Fuck, I overslept.

Anyway, review time

ScorchedEarth03:

Thank you for being loyal. I mean it. Thank you, man. I can't say any other words without repeating the same line over and over again.

Imperial warlord:

Welcome, friend. Welcome to a story where the author would vow to post in a regular update only to be cockblocked by his brain and life. So, hang on

ZoyeZest:

While I appreciate the compliment, I have to be honest here, Chief. I have no money. Like seriously. Als,o my nation's exchange rate to the dollar was shit, so even a dollar is still too much for m.e

Now that the yapping session is done, you may proceed to the story

The Lada was surprisingly handled smoothly as it drove through the seemingly endless stretch of road. Occasional bumping aside, Arkhangelsk felt a deep respect for a fellow Soviet-made vehicle.

"Aged like fine wine, aren't we?" She murmured.

The Lada responded by emitting a rumble from its engine as it strained slightly, though it took the SUV with no problem whatsoever. She had to give it to them, those thugs know how to maintain a vehicle. That, or the Lada just refuses to die in the hands of such pathetic men. Arkhangelsk bet her crew on the latter option.

Speaking of them, her thoughts wandered to them. Most have served aboard her since the Russian Navy. Hell, one of them even the son of her old Soviet crew, boarding the same vessel as his father once. That thought easily made Arkhangelsk sigh, knowing the loss of each of them meant the loss of their dear ones.

"For each and for many," The Soviet murmured, reciting her motto.

"For each and many,"

"You know, I wonder if you could feel something in there…"

"Oh, we definitely are. We even have a corner for it,"

"… A corner? For letting out expressions I assume?"

"Correct. That unused closet in hallway 2? That's the place,"

"… That is simply amusing and weird at the same time,"

Arkhangelsk could hear the laughter of her crew inside her body. Well, she assumed it was and not the rumbling of her engines, because that usually meant a problem. Thankfully, she'd looted that dealer's house of any food, money, and valuable objects she could carry, which is why she hit the dashboard compartment, pulling from it a ration bar and biting the wrapping off before eating it at one go. Just as she was about to unwrap another one, a small convoy of police cruisers drove past the Lada she was in. No doubt they were heading for the dealer's house after she'd called them in prior to this long ride.

"That's awfully a lot of cars,"

"Maybe the police do care for once," The Kansen said gruffly.

After being in the Foundation for so long, Arkhangelsk almost forgot about the cesspool that is her homeland. If there's one thing never changed from the Soviet time it would be the corruption of the higher echelon, in almost various places within the motherland. She was somewhat grateful that she was bought before the Fall. Spares her the hassle that is the current Russian navy, unlike most of her sisters-in-arms.

"Break left, Arkhangelsk. We're here,"

True to Aleksey's word, the skyline of the Federation's second-most northern city was in sight. Just need to cross the river and she has arrived. With a leisurely turn of the wheel, she brought the Lada to peer off the highway and entered the intersection, climbed the steep junction, dropped into another drive across the bridge, and drove her way into the city's limit.

"Alright, Aleksey. We're here… What now?"

"All yours,"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm done. It's your time,"

It took Arkhangelsk a few seconds for the message to be deciphered, causing her to slam the brake pedal suddenly to bring the Lada to a complete halt, much to the chagrin of those behind her as they honked their horn.

"Are you seriously saying that?!" The Kansen hissed as she pressed the pedal slightly to bring the Lada to the side

"Of course, I am. This is your life now, not mine. And it would foolish to treat it like that,"

Arkhangelsk only sat in silence, letting the car's rumbling engine and the surrounding traffic fill in the noise. Instead, her posture was still. Hands on the wheel, feet off the pedals, and eyes blankly stare forward.

She wouldn't like to admit it but her Captain was right. This is her life now whether she likes it or not. A chance for her to do something, to do things she can't do in her previous form. She can lay low and try to be a human, try to live this life as normal as possible. Or she could use this chance to be something different. A hero, a villain, anything. There's no one to object to her other than her crew, though she doubts they could do much aside from verbal objection to certain things.

The choice is hers, and no other person has that privilege anymore. Not even her Captain.

"… I'm scared, Captain," The ship incarnates admitted.

Arkhangelsk then pressed her head against the wheel, feeling particularly pathetic after saying that. How can she, "Big Sister Arkhangelsk", the ship that defies her fate over and over, the ship that cares naught the opponent she had faced, the ship that always prevails, be belittled by losing direction? A warship with a decade's worth of fight crumbled at the thought of being alone?

Worthless

Coward

Impostor

"It's only natural for you to be scared, Arkhangelsk."

"What is not was to dwell on it,"

Those words brought a little sense of comfort to her, pushing her head up from the wheel. Still, her negative thoughts were more powerful. Yes, she could push through her fear of taking her own fate. But she was new to all of this, to being a human. Suddenly, the entire journey crashed back into her mind. Her first step, her first break-in, her first fight, her first kill. All within a day. They amplified inside her skull, hammering the irony of her first step as a human in the face of her warship past.

"I don't know, Kapitan… I just… I never ask to be like this. I never ask this life,"

"… You know. I never wanted to be a sailor in the first place,"

"W-What?" Arkhangelsk stammered.

"Da. When I was little, little Aleksey wanted to be a Singer,"

"Really, Captain? A Singer?"

"Believe it or not, it was true. I have some trophies from my middle school days"

That made Arkhangelsk to stifle a laugh. How could she only know this today? However, that begs another question about her Captain life.

"So, what happened?"

"Well… My family needs money, and fast. Father was discharged due to a serious accident. Mother was too old for work. So, that left me and my brother. There was no way I would let a twelve years old boy work, therefore I joined the navy"

"Easy money, I assume?"

She could feel Aleksey laughed at her tease, in turn making her chuckle as well.

"You're correct on that. But after the first few trips with the Varyag in the Pacific, I felt the Navy had grown on me. As I've said, I never wanted to be a sailor. But here I am, posthumously serving a humanoid ship"

Arkhangelsk smiled softly at the end of his explanation. In the end, his Captain never got what he wished for, instead he found something more. A family, her and her crew. A group of men and women whose bond is as strong as her hull. Whose camaraderie becomes the second source of power for her reputation. Now they were still here, never leaving her even as she literally changed into a human. A human capable of making her own decision without their input.

"… I need a place to stay," Arkhangelsk muttered to herself. Finally having her fear and doubt pressed down into her boiler as fuel to get her mind straight. "Then get some R&R before doing reconnaissance of my surroundings and plan my next move accordingly,"

The lack of affirmation, or any other sound, from her Captain, made her uneasy. She managed to push through it after a deep breath, then twisted her body slightly to grab the duffel on the rear passenger seat before killing the engine and exiting the vehicle.

"You purposely left the keys?"

"It had served its purpose. And it wasn't mine, increasing the trace possibility"

Aleksey grew silent, drawing a sigh from the humanoid ship as she continued to walk and weaved through the crowds. It feels weird for her to be in this point of view. Walking around other humans in their footsteps, hearing their chatter all at once, feeling the air hitting her body. They were all new sensations for her. But Arkhangelsk was determined.

"I suggest we look for a change first,"

"Why?"

"Have you looked around?"

Arkhangelsk follows Aleksey's direction, noticing the discreet glances others give to her. Then she looked down, now noticed the state of her clothing. The dried uniform looked as if she hadn't changed for days, her hair and skin were dirty, not to mention the bandaged left calf and the dried blood staining it slightly.

"I suppose you're right." She caved in, now turning her focus to a nearby fashion store.

Fortunately, the one she visited doesn't give her appearance a reason to kick her out. Merely some wary and suspicious glances until one storekeeper decided to approach her and ask what she needed. Arkhangelsk's answer of needing new clothing made her follow the employee into the women's section to browse her choices. Unfortunately, her utilitarian style, which she never thought she would have but should see it coming, doesn't quite match the displayed pieces. So after speaking of her preference to the employee, she was led to the men's section.

The work section, to be exact

And short, she managed to pick what she wanted, get the fit, change in the dressing room, and pay the expense with cash from the looted dealer alongside other articles of clothing.

"Never knew you would prefer a suit,"

"And I never knew I would like one,"

A two-piece black suit with a matching tie and shoes was what she wore as she exited the store. Her uniform was stored safely inside the duffel alongside the newly bought pieces.

"I'd say you're quite "dashing" if I were to say myself"

"Shut up, Kapitan,"

"Not when some passerby were checking you out,"

Arkhangelsk only sighed softly to herself as she continued her journey in search of a place to stay. While her face and hair were still somewhat dirty, her suit managed to onset the appeal meter for others who may see her. Not that the warship-incarnate would care for obvious reasons, but for now, she likes to get on board with her feelings. After walking for a few dozen meters or so, Arkhangelsk paused her steps in front of a seemingly cozy-looking hotel. But again, Arkhangelsk could care less about personal taste as she entered the building, talked to the receptionist, booked her room, and traveled there.

The room was worth its one-night price. A king-size bed on the corner with a window beside it that offers a city view, clean-cut walls, a wall-mounted TV across the bed, a pair of chairs and a coffee table, and its own adjacent bathroom. With a relieved breath, Arkhangelsk placed her duffel on the bed, took off the suit, and immediately stepped into the bathroom.

Despite being a literal ship, albeit humanoid now, the feeling of running water dripping from the shower and into her body feels magnificent. The way it cleaned her off and sprayed her skin with a blend of warm water and soap brought the experience into a refreshing moment. But Arkhangelsk is a woman of purpose so the bath was done to only meet the hygiene level, no matter how good it was. As she dried herself with a towel, she couldn't help but check her body in the mirror. The first thing noticeable was the amount of fading scars and cuts on her body, with a few on her midsection beginning to heal.

"That's where the killing blow was…" She thought.

She sighed as she stepped out of the small room, feeling the air conditioner cool air against her now-dried skin as she opened the duffel and began rummaging its contents for something akin to sleepwear.

"… Arkhangelsk,"

"Hmm?"

"Remember Kursk?"

Those two words were enough to make her pause. Of course, she knew Kursk. Another tragic story brought by the incompetence of her motherland. But her relationship with that doomed Submarine runs deeper. She was made in the early nineties, contrary to what official sources may say, in the city that bears Arkhangelsk's namesake.

One of the few submarines built solely for Division P, the USSR's branch of anomalous matters, and used almost extensively in the Mediterranean. On rare occasions, she would work with Kursk in her Soviet days, either under the Navy or directly under Division P command. During those times, both she and Kursk have made a somewhat sisterly bond, even after her transfer to the Foundation and the dissolution of the Union. So after the incident, it was natural for Arkhangelsk to be devastated, more so for Pyotr Velikiy since she was the one overseeing the entire exercise and incident, unable to do something to save her.

Arkhangelsk was close too at the time, docking on a Foundation-owned facility in Norway. Being the Foundation ship she was, she and her crew could "hear" Kursk asking where is she. Asking the position of her "sister", and asking her "sister" for help. But alas, Arkhangelsk was under a different command. A command that wouldn't reveal its existence one way or another. So to minimize her "sadness", Aleksey cut the channel. Something that Arkhangelsk regrets until now.

"… Why?" Arkhangelsk asked, a hint of tear at the edge of her eyes

"There's a memorial here dedicated to her. If you want-"

"Where?"

What next is a blur of motion as Arkhangelsk put her suit back on, exited the hotel, and hailed a nearby taxi towards the memorial. Though mid-way she ordered the taxi to drop her off for a minute at a flower shop before continuing the journey. In the end, she had arrived at the place. A church closed for the night, but it wasn't her focus. Instead, it was the metal structure that was located nearby. The sail of the ill-fated submarine.

Slowly Arkhangelsk walked closer, then with trembling hand touched the cold steel of Kursk's remains. Tears escaped her eyes as she leaned her head and pressed it against the Sail.

"I'm sorry…" She softly said

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. I'm sorry I was ignoring you. I'm sorry…"

Traitor

Arkhangelsk chuckled darkly, agreeing with the thought inside her head.

"Yes, I'm indeed a traitor… To you, to Velikiy, to the other from the Division."

"No, you aren't Arkhangelsk."

"Of course I do," She said resolutely, tears trailing down her cheeks.

"I left them all for a new life. Trading my service to my homeland for an organization that cares naught for its employees,"

"Arkhangelsk, listen to me. You're speaking nonsense."

"What happened to Kursk wasn't your fault. Not even Velikiy or those who were present. They could save Kursk, but they choose not to. They rather save their face than ask for help. They rather sacrifice those crews to their deaths than unveil their inability."

"This wasn't yours, but theirs. Got it?"

Arkhangelsk was about to retort in her wallowing descent to self-blame before a voice pushed that thought away. Something smooth, motherly even. It brought her into a calming state. Her mind rewinds the days of her launch, of her first crew, of her first meeting with her sisters.

Alive

Well

Survive

"Kirov…" She thought

"… Place the flower, Arkhangelsk,"

The soviet ship sighed, then backed from the Sail before kneeling and placing the flower she had bought prior. A simple bouquet of white lilies draped in leaves. It was a small gesture, but it came from the deepest of Arkhangelsk boilers. Once placed, Arkhangelsk stands in a ready position followed by giving one last salute to Kursk.

"May you and your crew sail the endless sea, сестра."