Defection (MentalModel!Brothers and OC)

Epilogue

Jonathan Crawford stared out towards the horizon while he sat on a near-empty field, the sun slowly dipping lower in the sky as its light caught on the reflective surface of the ocean many miles away. Some trees dotted the field, barely offering shade from their small size. Many of the trees had memorial placards affixed in front of their trunks, including the one Jon was currently leaning against.

The sunlight glinted off a small tablet in his hand, drawing his focus back to it. The military officer softened his gaze before tapping his finger against the tablet's screen.

<<So...this is weird, but it needs to be done.>> Her right hand lifted up and tucked some hair behind her ear, looking back at the camera with a smile, <<I've made some choices that probably weren't the best, but I don't really regret any of them. Daddy, I know that you've done everything possible in your power to raise me and Jon right, and we've been absolute brats about it. Mom, you've always been in my corner, even when it pitted us against the world. Jon...I know that you stole my manga collection, asshole.

<<You're seeing this recording instead of me because I'm more than likely dead...wow, way to rip that bandaid off -- but it's the truth. My final order was for my ships to deliver this message to you all should I not be able to make it beyond a skirmish, and I can only hope that one of them did. We've been anchored near Kanglinnguit for about two weeks now, and found some allies that were willing to help us despite my fleet being made entirely out of Fog ships. I wish you could see this place...>>

The view switched from Ashley's face to a breathtaking view of arctic ice melding perfectly with a small mountain range, a small town nestled just against the mountain face as some warships settled into the ice that seemed to be forming.

<<We're not able to stay here very long, since winter's coming and we won't have access to an icebreaker for another few weeks or so. Currently, my plan was to head north around Canada to charge into the Bering Strait to see about finding more allies since our supplies are so low...but with the amount of food Kara has on board, I probably won't make it for more than three weeks on my own if I do skeleton rations. The Fog doesn't need sustenance or anything, so they'll be fine...

<<I'm scared that I won't see you guys again...but I'm more fearful that I'll live the rest of my life doing nothing for others. I have six warships that are just as threatening as the ones humanity is fighting against, so why not use them?>>

The view turned back to Ashley, one of her hands fervently brushing away the tears on her cheeks.

<<Next call that comes in for help, I'm going right to them. If I can make a difference by helping out...maybe my past cowardice can be forgiven? I don't know, I'm rambling...>>

She leaned forward a little, the view shifting with her change of position.

<<I'm probably being labeled a traitor to America as I speak. I mean, I was exiled by the Navy Board and never allowed to dock in friendly waters again. The Fleet of Fog knows that I'm out here with six warships, and there's another fleet going around pronouncing false unity between Fog and humans masking the bloodbath that they leave in their wake to those that don't agree. I'll probably run into them again, and we've already declared open season on the other since our last meeting.>>

Ashley let out a heavy sigh.

<<Daddy, please retire before anything else happens. I know Mom and Jon will back me up when I say that I don't want to see you adrift again. Mom...take care of the boys for me. We both know the trouble they can get up to.>>

The view shifted once more to peer out the large bay window, looking down at the deck of a battleship with two submarines' comm towers, the bow of a heavy cruiser, the aft section of another battleship, and the entirety of a destroyer in view.

<<Jon...Colonel Jonathan Stanley Crawford, please do not fire at these warships if they are no longer under my command. They have served me well while I was admiral, and they are dear to me despite being made of metal and foreign technology. Unless they fire first, then shoot back...obviously...but don't fire the opening volley.>>

Her right hand appeared from the right side of the screen, her index finger pointing to each ship in turn, <<This is Jyushi, the Max Schultz-class destroyer. My two submarines, Ichi and Choro, and the heavy cruiser, Todo. And that's Oso and Aku, two different Mental Models despite being one shipbody.>>

The view switched back to Ashley's face, <<I'm currently on my second battleship, Kara. They're all pretty tolerable towards me, each of them having quirks and personalities like humans. Ichi kinda hates me, but it's to be expected...and he's probably the one that's going to be why I don't come back. Don't hate him for it; we settled on an agreement while he was in my fleet.>>

Something grabbed her attention beyond the screen, her figure leaning back into her seat as she released another sigh.

<<Looks like we're fully resupplied here, so I'll probably get an update from Kara soon about where to go next. I wanted to get this done while I was alone...and not distracted. I love you all.>>

Jon turned off the tablet's screen, the video recording ending with Ashley waving farewell. His green eyes looked back towards the distant ocean, a long stretch of plains separating his location from its shores, before he glanced back at the tree he leaned against..

Their father was no longer around to hear Ashley's message, passing peacefully after the five-year anniversary of the ADF's retreat and given a military sendoff and burial.

Their mother lost her hearing during that attack, slowly learning sign language to try and communicate more efficiently. She always smiled as she watched the video, the captions translating the unheard message.

Jon lay the tablet down on the placard, standing up while taking off his officer's hat to snap a salute to the ocean. An interruption of the reflective water's surface caught his eye, drawing a knowing smirk as he watched the outline of a German heavy cruiser drift into view, holding the salute until the warship had passed from view.

The same Fog ship had been patrolling Chesapeake Bay's entrance ever since a man dressed in black sweatpants and dull purple shirt had hand-delivered Ashley's digital message, the pink warship steadfastly standing on guard for the last five years despite the damage it had received over the years of protecting the river's mouth.