Chapter Text
The North Atlantic
Cold, that was the first thing she felt: unyielding, bone-numbing cold. It was the same cold she had felt that night, the night when it all had ended. Now, as her senses slowly returned to her, she felt that cold again. Throughout that night, it had been there. From the last time she had seen the sun, to when the dark mass loomed ahead of her, to the moment the screaming started, and finally to when everything went dark, that cold was there. Now, that was back again. Just darkness and cold. Her right side no longer hurt, but she wasn’t sure if that was because she was just numb or if it had been repaired. It was a comfort, however fleeting. She was, at the very least, whole again. But then a new feeling took over. A beat, strange and new, pulsed through her body. It was slow at first, and yet rhythmic. But then it began to get stronger. In no time at all, that rhythmic beat kept going. This was different from the one she felt before. That beat was fun and thumping, increasing in speed as she did and going silent when she stopped. Even when she was at rest, tied up, or in her fittings, she was quiet. And yet, despite her being seemingly at rest, the bumping continued. Despite the cold, she tried to focus on this new feeling. It started from within the upper left side of her before traveling to every appendage she had.
Wait, she had appendages?
How? Why?! What?!
It was hard to tell in the cold, but she had them! Focusing on these new feelings, she was shocked to discover what they were. She had arms and legs. Amazingly, she found that she had a whole body as well! Was this possible? But before she could continue on that revelation, however, the harsh cold put pain to that thought. A shiver took over as the rest of her senses returned. Her ears, if that’s what they were called, heard the faintest sounds of rippling. She became aware that she was floating in water. That seemed to make sense. She had been sailing on the ocean before. She strained to listen through these new senses, but all she could hear was silence aside from a dull ringing that the pulse was causing. But when she focused, it was then that she realized that she was floating in an ocean of silence. The last thing she could clearly remember was the screams and cries of the passengers.
The Passengers! What had happened to the Passengers?! Did the rescue ship arrive in time? It must’ve been, the boat fit says it was four hours away. Did it get everyone? Were there survivors at least? There were still people inside when the lights went out. Did they all make it out in time?
She wasn’t sure, but as she continued to come around, the deafening sounds of silence did not mix well with the cold. All she could do now was hope and try to figure out the strange thing that had happened to her. Resolving if she had ears and appendages now, she was bound to have looking glasses, or eyes for that matter. Her eyes opened slowly on a star-filled sky. Her eyes weren’t accustomed to working yet, and while she appeared to have something on her bridge in front of her eyes, everything was fuzzy and distorted. Lifting her bridge, she found herself floating on a wooden frame. A door, probably from the smoking room. She wasn’t sure how it had gotten out, but she was glad it was there. Lying her head back on the soaked wood, she looked towards the sky. The stars looked different from what they did that night. There was even a moon, a crescent moon, but a moon nonetheless.
Why wasn’t that damn thing out that night?!
Her eyes felt heavy, and she wanted to close them. But she couldn't, and she knew that. Groaning, she had to put the mystery of how she was like this to the side. Survival was paramount. She rolled over and tried to pick herself up. But the door shifted as she lifted, forcing her to lie back down. It was then she noticed that she was wearing clothing. In the darkness, she couldn’t tell what they were or what they looked like. All she knew was she was wearing them, and they were soaking wet. They clung to her hull like ice up at the polar cap, or so it was said. They felt heavy with all the water, but getting rid of them would be a death sentence. At the very least, they were some form of protection. A protection that wouldn’t last for long without help. Lifting her bridge, she looked around again. Where was the rescue ship? Were there any vessels? Where was her crew? Where were the passengers?
Suddenly, a light flashed over her. It was so fast and so bright that it hurt her eyes. Blinking away water that appeared in her eyes, she tried to look for the source. But the world around her was still fuzzy. So finding the source was nearly impossible. When the light came again, it stopped on her. She saw the light to be painful again and closed her eyes. Thankfully, through her caps, the light softened. She wanted to cry out, but she didn't have the steam to do it. She became worried that the light would move on. However, it didn't. This time it came with a shout.
"There she is!" shouted the voice.
She could only respond with a feeble wave of her... arm? Yes, it was her arm. Suddenly, she heard the sounds of ours splashing in the water. A rowboat was approaching, a lifeboat probably. Was it one of hers? Was it from the rescue ship? She couldn’t tell; she could barely see it. What she could see was the outline of a rowboat with men about. One of them was shining the light on her, the man in front. He then drew her gaze, quietly reaching out towards her. She tried to reach out to him, but her eyes had become too heavy, and she began to run out of whatever steam she had left. Darkness began to engulf her again. Much like the time before, on that night, she tried to fight it as best she could. It was all she had left, but something took hold of her thoughts. A crushing feeling of dread and sorrow. She was going to lose again, like she did that night. It was supposed to be a time for her to shine. Instead, she had let everyone down. Now she was going to let this man down, her rescuers down. Then she felt something grab her appendage. It was warm! It was a hand, his hand, her rescuer’s hand! The warmth filled her body and dashed away that thought. She was saved!
Another hand grabbed her outstretched arm, the same feeling as the first. Those hands pulled her off her door.
"Come on, men, give me a hand! Pull her in!" the voice said as she felt her hull lift. More hands began to take hold of her hull as she was lifted into the rowboat. Then she was laid down upon a bench and wrapped up in something very warm. As her eyes began to close again, she felt the warmth take over her, along with a feeling of safety. The last thing she heard was a contented message transmitted from her rescuer, "Contact the Keldysh , tell them 'Honor and Glory' has been recovered.'"
The soft, rhythmic, and steady sound of beeping drew her out of this next spell of sleepiness. Slowly, she opened her eyes. Everything was blurry, and nothing made sense. She could tell that she was now in a white room, lying on a very soft mattress, wrapped in a warm blanket. Was this a sickbay? If so, was it this mysterious Keldysh that rescued her? Did it also pick up the rest of her passengers? That also made her ask the question: where was the first rescue ship, and what was her name? She knew her wireless crew had spoken of it, but much like the rest of that night, she couldn’t remember many of the details. Things in her log were fuzzy and hard to make out. Then again, her whole frame felt numb, so a fuzzy logbook made sense. Even turning her bridge was arduous. She could even feel her hull heave full and empty as air left her…mouth? Yes, that’s what they called their bridge speakers. She was breathing! How? Suddenly, the sounds of footsteps drew her focus. The figure of a nurse with short red hair appeared over her from her starboard.
"Ah, good, you’re finally up,” she said sweetly.
She blinked up at the nurse, who seemed to smile back at her.
"Take it slow, ma'am, you've had a very rough reconstruction." The nurse said.
She didn't know what the nurse was talking about, but a sudden and soft groan escaped her. She squinted her eyes as a soft ache took her.
"What is it, my dear?" the nurse asked.
She wasn't sure how to respond; she had never used her wireless herself before.
The nurse seemed to understand, “Don’t force it, my dear, let the words flow naturally. They’ll come, don't you worry.”
She nodded and tried to follow the advice. It was difficult at first, almost scary, even. But then words began to form in her mind, and the understanding, if not fully, was starting.
“The Passengers…?" She said softly. Her voice was very weak, yet it was feminine and almost musical in its tones. But it carried a thick Irish Accent that would've made the folks back in Belfast Proud. Rallying the steam within her, she found the words again, "Wha' happened ta da…Passengers?"
The nurse paused, as if choosing her words. A look of sadness appeared in the nurse's eyes as she looked down at her. But she put on a brave face and smiled at her, “The Admiral will be along shortly to explain everything, my dear. Just rest.”
As if on cue, the sound of a door opening drew the nurse’s attention. The nurse looked off to her port side as the sounds of heavy footfalls approached. In no time at all, a male figure in what she assumed were officers’ colors was standing next to the nurse. Much like the nurse, she couldn’t tell his features, but from what she could gather, he looked young. A bit too young for an Admiral, but that was a conversation to be had elsewhere. When he looked down at her, his expression was far more controlled.
"The rescue ship arrived. Your passengers are being taken care of." He said, "But first, I need to ask you a few questions. Is that okay?”
She couldn’t guess his accent, but it wasn’t English or Irish. At least the nurse had a firm Welsh accent behind her. This Admiral sounded American, but from where she couldn’t correctly guess. Still, she nodded softly.
"Where are you from?” He asked.
"Belfast..." she said weakly.
"And what is your port of registry?" He asked again.
"Liverpool..." she responded.
The man seemed to nod, "In the shipyard. In Belfast, what was the number they gave you?”
Her Logbook was still unclear, but it was slowly recovering enough that she could easily remember it.
"401," she responded.
She then heard a sharp sigh leave the man’s lips. Off behind the Young Admiral, she listened to the nurse whisper, “So it is her…”
The man turned to acknowledge the nurse before he asked the last question wordlessly, "And, can you tell me your name and code letters, please?"
"Titanic," she answered, "HVMP."
The man went silent and drew himself away. Something was discussed between him and the nurse in low whispers that she couldn’t hear. She turned her bridge to try and look at them, but the blurriness of the world made everything impossible. Finally, the Admiral looked back at her with a much different expression, one that she couldn’t make out. But she guessed that it was a look of…concern. That did not sit well with her, and she resumed her look towards the white ceiling. When the nurse returned, she was holding something.
"These were found with you, my dear; it'll help to clear up your vision." The nurse said, putting the object on Titanic’s face.
Titanic couldn't understand what it was and almost tried to resist. But the nurse was fast, and when she put it on. The whole world came into focus. She was indeed in a sickbay. One that looked radically different from the ones she had aboard her. The machines seemed very different, as if something out of a H.G. Wells novel. However, the nurse was dressed in a medical outfit that appeared to be from the sickbay Titanic once had. She was plump, but well-looking, and her red hair complemented a pale complexion.
“Are they much better, my dear?” she asked Titanic.
Titanic nodded, “Wha’...wha’s happening ta me?”
The nurse smiled, “It’s a long story, my dear, and not one for me to tell at this time. When you’re feeling stronger, we’ll get you out of bed.”
“NO!” Titanic snapped, suddenly overcome with a sensation of fear and confusion, “Please, doc, wha’s happening ta me? Why am I like this now!?”
The nurse didn’t seem fazed, as if she had heard all this before, “Easy, my dear, you’ve been through a lot. Telling you all of it now will be too much…”
Titanic responded, “Please, wha’s goin’ on?”
The nurse sighed deeply, but steeled herself, “I’m sorry, Titanic, but I am not allowed to reveal that at this time. Now, doctor’s orders, rest! When you’re stronger, we’ll get you out of bed.”
Titanic swallowed hard, an action that she didn’t willingly do, mainly because she didn’t know that she could do that. But she knew inside that she wasn’t going to get anywhere. So Titanic nodded and leaned back in bed.
The Nurse seemed to understand, “I know you’re very concerned, but please, you have to trust us. We won’t lead you astray.”
Titanic looked at her, “Then…can I at least get a mirror? I wanna…see what I look like now…”
The nurse smiled, “Of course.” She then walked away with a smile. She wasn’t gone long, as she returned with a small square mirror. The nurse kept it in her hands as she walked over to Titanic’s bed, “Now I must warn you, you’re still recovering from your reconstruction, so this may come as a shock.”
Titanic felt the feeling of fear again, but she needed to see. Nothing made sense anymore; at the very least, she’d get some understanding of what she was in the mirror. But what if the sight of her new livery would be too much? However, Titanic didn’t back down.
“I’ll be careful,” She said, trying to mimic the nurse’s smile.
The nurse nodded and presented the mirror to Titanic. A soft gasp left Titanic’s mouth as she matched her gaze. The first thing she noticed, and probably the most shocking, was that a young woman, no more than twenty years in appearance, looked back at her. She now had a soft face with a pointed chin, small ears, a soft nose, and a feminine brow. Her hair was long, resting down past her shoulders, with a color of golden blonde. Her white superstructure was now replaced with a pale body similar to the women of Belfast and Ireland. Equally so were her new rosy cheeks with freckles that ran from one cheek to another across her nose. Even through the bed, Titanic could see that she had a very adult chest, with two bumps that rested comfortably yet heavily on her chest. Probably the remnants of her forward two smokestacks. But what surprisingly gave Titanic a sense that the woman looking back was her was the eyes. Her starboard eye was bright green while her port eye was bright red, the same as the running safety lights she once carried. However, they rested behind a pair of circular glasses, the object that the nurse had put on her face earlier. Titanic’s lips were also soft-looking, very small and yet seemed to be creased with a frown. Opening her mouth, she found a full row of pearly white teeth and a pink tongue.
Titanic took a deep sigh as she raised a hand to her face, touching her new hull. It was soft and warm, much like human skin. Her fingers were long, though without the nails properly worn by women. The palms were smooth to the touch. Her arms had little hair on them, but they were a brighter shade of blonde than her hair, so much so that she could hardly see them. Titanic then forced herself to sit up, and part of the blanket fell away. She was in a white dressing gown tied in the back, but she could see her new, feminine body features well. Titanic did indeed have now two very plump developments on her hull, she assumed they were called breasts, as well as a curvy frame that rounded off well at her stern. Probably the traces of her four smokestacks now, though she couldn’t assume anything. She also had very long legs that went all the way up. All over her body was the same pale skin that was on her face, though only her shoulders had the same freckles.
“All done, my dear?” the nurse asked, snapping Titanic out of her inspection.
Titanic fell back into bed as she began to breathe heavily. She was indeed human, a human woman, but a human nonetheless. Her mind raced as she tried to figure out what had happened. The last thing she remembered before that night was that she was an ocean liner, the finest and largest ever built by man! Now she was a man! Er…woman. She was human!
What happened to me! Why am I like this!? What’s going on! Is this a dream? Can ocean liners dream? Is this what happens to us after death!?
The nurse’s hand on her shoulder brought her back to reality, “Easy.” Her voice was soothing and surprisingly helpful, “Easy, just relax. All will be explained soon.”
“I’m a girl?” Titanic said, her breathing normalizing.
“Yes, you are now,” the Nurse told her.
“Why… are ya allowed to say tha’ at least?” she asked, her eyes welling up with water.
The Nurse sighed, finally relenting, “We’re not sure. I can’t give you the full details yet, my dear, but you’re not the first to go through this, and I doubt you’ll be the last. For now, our focus is on getting you out of bed and back under your own power. You’ll be of no use if you stay here wallowing in your shock.”
That made Titanic relent as she looked back at the mirror, now placed on her lap. She picked it up, as well as she could with unused hands, and stared at the reflection.
That’s me? That’s what I look like now? Wha…wha’ would Oly think? What would Mr. Ismay? What would the press? But what about me? I didn’t want to look like this, did I? I mean. I ain’t bad looking, I’ll tell ya wha’… This is who I am now…
Quietly, she looked away from the mirror and back at the nurse. The nurse was right. Titanic was an ocean liner; she was built for a reason, and now she was brought back for a reason. Why she was like this now was going to have to wait until she was stronger. But Titanic wasn’t going to let this sudden and dramatic change go unanswered. She needed to know what happened to her. And she needed to know what became of her passengers. All that was going to be answered, but first things came first. She had a new body, now she was going to have to learn how to use it.
“Okay,” she told the nurse, “Let’s say I relax now, wha’ comes next?”
“Well, once you’re ready, and that moment is not now, so do not think of rushing this, we’ll get you on your feet and learning to walk. After that, we’ll put you up on deck for some fresh air, and you’ll get your answers.” The nurse explained, “Hopefully by then we’ll have arrived at our base in New York.”
That caught Titanic’s attention: “New York?”
The process of getting out of bed was a slow one indeed. Mostly because Titanic was impatient to arrive at her destination finally. But the nurse was adamant, and so Titanic did not get on her feet until two hours after she awoke. The next most challenging part was learning to use her legs. Standing up wasn’t difficult, but finding her balance was. It took two nurse aids to get her upright, and then she had to use two parallel poles to get her balancing properly. Then came walking. Her legs were weak, her hands were feeble, and so were her arms. Everything she did had to go slowly. Every step she took was wobbly. Every motion was complex. She was going to have to learn everything. Thankfully, she was a fast learner. Every motion from the mundane to the necessary was taught to her by the nursing staff. And within four to six hours of hard work, she was walking. She still needed a cane to keep her balance, but it was enough for the nurses to allow her to roam the ship.
The Keldysh was not an ocean liner. It was a ship of science. As such, deck space was nothing like she once had, and finding a spot to look out onto the ocean was difficult. It took the poor ocean liner turned human several trips around the deck to find a quiet place. Most of it was her practicing walking, most of it was her trying to come to terms with everything, and most of it was her trying to figure out what was going on. None of her passengers or crew were aboard, and everyone seemed to look at her with awe. Thankfully, the nurses had seen fit to give her a robe that covered her modesty far better than the dressing gown, so Titanic didn’t need to have the emotions that came with indecent exposure. But their looks were still distressing. Once, she coveted those types of awe. Now, she was trying to avoid them. Maybe she’d covet them again, but right now she didn’t know what she was.
Finding that quiet spot, which was located near the bow, Titanic rested her cane next to her before looking out at the northern horizon. The shoreline was off in the distance, and the glittering lights of houses could be seen. Titanic surmised that she had spent the entire day, and probably more, below deck, as it was once again nighttime, though not as late as when she woke up. She no longer had her map or navigation room, but it wasn’t hard to guess that what she was seeing was the southern coast of Long Island. She had finally arrived in New York and would soon covet the long-awaited attention of New York and America. But what of her passengers traveling with her?
The sound of footfalls to her starboard, as if everything about her had to deal with her starboard side, drew her attention. It was the Admiral from earlier. He had kept his distance from her as she was learning to walk and move, only popping in when she wasn’t paying attention to check on progress. But now he had felt comfortable enough, or thought that she was comfortable enough, to introduce himself to her properly. He was indeed young, but American. He was tall, though still shorter than she was now, but with a stocky build. His face was fair and his eyes calm, with a beautiful shade of bluish green. His hair was full but wavy, as if he had to brush it often to prevent curls, and he had a slight smile on his face that gave Titanic a sense of peace.
“You’re finally out and about?” he asked, his accent now more pronounced. He was a New Yorker; there was no denying that. Probably one from Long Island itself if she had to guess.
“Aye,” she answered kindly, “Not fully up, but Aye’m out.”
“That’s good to see, how are you feeling?” he asked, stopping to stand close by.
“Confused,” she answered honestly, “But I’m okay. The nurses have done a great job.”
The Admiral nodded, “Well, that’s good to hear at least. We were concerned when we picked you up that you wouldn’t be fully rebuilt after…” His voice trailed off.
She raised an eyebrow at him, “After wha’? What’s happening to me?”
“Allow me to…” The Admiral said, straightening up.
But Titanic interrupted him, “No, please, no more with passing me by! Aye want to know what’s going on! Please, what the hell am Aye?! The last thing Aye remember…!”
The Admiral silently looked at her, as if he was bracing himself for what he was about to do. Then, with a sharp look, he silenced the ship, turned human and sighed.
“April 14th, 1912, 11:45 pm, the RMS Titanic struck an iceberg. Two hours and forty-six minutes after the collision, she sank.” He told her. As he spoke, the memory began to flash in Titanic’s logbook. The screams began to be heard again, along with a deep guttural groaning in the pit of her stomach. She went cold again and braced herself on the railing as she met his gaze. He wasn’t lying. “That was the last thing you remember before you came back to life. And that was over one hundred and ten years ago.”
“A hundred and ten…” she said softly, “What…?”
The Admiral nodded, but his point was proven when a very loud craft roared overhead. Titanic jumped and looked up to see a huge, very loud plane with no propellers roaring by. It was moving too fast for her to see its markings, but she could see that it was enormous, with four engines mounted beneath its wings, and made of steel no less! She had never even seen a plane before! And what she heard of them, they were made of canvas and string with engines that barely got them off the ground. Now this one was massive, and had two decks, as it flew in towards Long Island.
“Ah yes, the A380, the Queen of Skies,” The Admiral explained, moving next to her, “Our modern version of travel. Good to see that it made it here in one piece, considering.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Titanic responded, recovering slightly, “That was a plane!? A steel plane?! A Modern plane?!”
“Well, that one’s probably ten to fifteen years old by this point, but yeah.” He chuckled, “A lot’s happened since you slipped beneath the waves.”
“Ya sound so cavalier when you say that!” Titanic shouted at him, “Aye sank!? I’m not supposed to sink! I’m…Aye was…”
“You were made of Iron, ma’am,” The Admiral explained, “I assure you you could, and you did. And I’m sorry to say that of your two thousand and two hundred souls aboard, not all survived.”
Titanic went pale as she heard that, and with a wobbly voice, she asked the question that deep down, she didn’t want the answer to. “How…how many people?” she asked weakly.
The Admiral looked at her with a sympathetic and mournful expression, as if he was trying his hardest not to answer that question. But she had asked him of it, and he knew he could no longer deny her the truth. “Before I answer that,” he finally said after a long silence, “I do want to tell you that…for as doomed as that night was, you did your best. What happened wasn’t your fault. It was the hubris of your builders to think that they…”
“How…many…” Titanic reiterated, thankful for his words but desperate to hear the number.
The Admiral sighed and looked out at the shoreline, “Seven hundred and six.”
Titanic gasped and nearly collapsed. The weight of that revelation shook her to her very core. Seven hundred and six survivors. That meant fourteen hundred and ninety-six people did not make it. Nearly fifteen hundred people went into the sea the night she failed. Even with the Admiral’s kind words, she couldn’t escape that fact. She was designed to be her lifeboat; some called her unsinkable. She was designed to have enough lifeboats to ferry passengers to a nearby rescue ship in an orderly manner. Her wireless was installed to call for immediate assistance should any crisis arise. And yet, she had failed in every category. She was slashed in her starboard bow, and she failed. And nearly fifteen hundred people paid the price. Titanic turned and looked out at Long Island again, trying to comprehend all of it.
“Why…why then…am aye alive?” Titanic asked.
The Admiral straightened up and looked at her, “That’s…a long story. One I’ll tell, but I have first to explain what you’ve missed.”
Titanic looked at him, angry that he was dodging her question again, but at least understanding that everything he was about to tell her would lead to where she wanted to go.
The Admiral looked at her warmly but grimly, “The world mourned for your loss, I guess I’ll start with that. But six years after you sank, it was plunged into a global war between the Empires that consumed all. Nearly forty million souls perished in that conflict over four years, only ending when an armistice was called after America entered. Olympic served in that war, as a transport ship, earning her a fearsome reputation and a strong one.”
That made Titanic smile, at least she knew her twin had lived on, “But what about the third they were building? Gigantic aye think they were gonna call her?”
“She got renamed to Britannic after you sank,” The Admiral answered, “And was turned into a hospital ship for the war. Unfortunately, she didn’t survive, having been mined by the Germans. Olympic survived until the 1930s, when it was retired and scrapped. The world didn’t know too much peace after the First World War, though, for ten years after it ended, the globe fell into a depression that left billions homeless and penniless. Then, out of the darkest days of the Great Depression, a madman took control of Germany and led the world into a Second World War. That ended about six years later, and I won’t tell you the cost for it is too great to imagine.
“We thought we’d be at peace finally, but America and Russia soon put the world on edge by building weapons so powerful they could annihilate everything twenty times over. For nearly forty years, they dared each other to fire first, before Russia blinked and collapsed under its hubris. And just when we thought we’d finally know true peace, a new evil came from our oceans. We don’t know what they are exactly, but they call themselves Sirens. These monsters threaten to destroy all human life as we know it. However, and this is where you come into the picture, humanity’s salvation came with them.” The Admiral explained. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a blue glowing cube, “This is what we call a Mental Cube. What it is exactly we still don’t know. But it can be used to create shipgirls, or what you’ve become. Essentially anthropomorphic recreations of warships that fought in the great battles of our history, ones who can fight the sirens on their level.”
“But…why me?” Titanic asked, “I’m an ocean liner, I never fought anything.”
“You didn’t,” The Admiral agreed, “But your sisters have. This relates to what we don’t know about these cubes. They recreate not only the ships that fought, but their entire class. Although when that happens, they don’t always appear in the shipyards. Some, like yourself, are reconstructed at the very sight in which they sank.”
Something in the Admiral’s words caught her attention, “Wait, ya said the entire class, ya mean that Oly’s a…shipgirl too?”
The Admiral nodded, “Yes, and she’s a part of my squadron.”
“Your squadron?” Titanic asked, “Aren’t ye a little young to be an Admiral?”
He chuckled, “Normally, you’d be correct, but I got my rank out of necessity. I was originally a Captain commanding a squadron of Battleships before a battle knocked me out of commission; now I command the transport fleets. My name’s Michael, by the way, it is an honor to meet you.”
Titanic smiled and bowed, “Likewise.” Her bridge was still spinning from all of the revelations and the realization of what she was, “But that doesn’t answer why ye are so young?”
“That’s a longer story that I don’t think your head’s ready for just yet.” Michael explained, “And still we’re due into New York harbor in about thirty minutes, and someone’s got to be properly dressed before she steps ashore.” Then he pointed towards something, “And there is your destination.”
Titanic looked over her shoulder at what he was referring to, and her breath was taken away. There, glowing amongst the blackened sky, like a beacon of hope for all to see, was the torch of the Statue of Liberty. Proudly, she stood as the Keldysh passed her, as if she were telling all the world the very poem etched at her temple. Then Titanic’s gaze was drawn to the city itself, one hundred and ten years had drastically changed the city from what she saw in pictures. The skyscrapers were taller than ever, many of them made of reflective glass! Loud noises of people talking, walking, cars honking, and trains moving began to echo from the city. Titanic’s eyes filled with wonder as she looked upon the city of Manhattan. The Revelations were still echoing in her mind, but seeing that city made her mind go at ease. She had finally made it.
“Now, let’s get you into your uniform,” Michael said warmly, “It’s time we disembarked.”
Titanic looked over at him, “Ya mean…?”
He nodded.
Pretty soon, Titanic was dressed in the outfit that had been rebuilt with her. It looked very much like the uniform her crew had worn: a dark blue jacket with ten silver buttons in two rows. Her sleeve cuffs were adorned with the four stripes normal to that of a Captain, though Titanic hoped Captain Smith wouldn’t mind. She had a white undershirt underneath, accented with a black tie one of the nurses had to help her tie up. She wore a white dress that fell to her ankles, ruby red shoes, and ice white stockings. On her hands were a pair of white gloves accented with golden trim. And most comforting of all, on her collar was the red flag and white star of the company that made her. The Admiral had also gifted her a silver pocket watch that she kept in her left jacket pocket, a kind gift, but one that was going to pale in comparison to the upcoming gift. For she was finally going to arrive in the place she had intended. The Keldysh was pulling into Pier 54, the very pier she was scheduled for.
After putting on her uniform and walking around in it to make sure it was comfortable, Titanic headed over to the demarcation zone. She still needed her cane to walk, but her balance was getting better. Pretty soon, the time would come when she wouldn’t need it. Keeping her hair down and long, Titanic looked at herself in the mirror one last time before turning to the door. Being a shipgirl would be a new experience, but one she’d enjoy. So she stepped onto the gangway after it was secured. Admiral Michael was there waiting for her at the bottom.
“Welcome to New York, Titanic,” he said, offering her his hand.
With a smile and a warmth she had not felt since she started from Southampton, Titanic gently took his hand and set foot on American Soil. Finally, she had arrived.