".... ADS-B set to transmit... Do you read me on your scope?" Mac was breathing heavily now. Everything hurt, again. TALONs were never built to be used without a High G rated Exo-suit. The human body was not designed to be subjected to the long periods of High G during the extended acceleration and deceleration burns necessary in an escort fighter class of deep space warship such as Concord. Concord had switched to its EGC (Emergency G Compensation) when his regular suit did not connect to the seat on startup, but it was not a fun ride. Mac could feel a Migraine coming on. likely caused by micro inefficiencies in the backup system’s regulation of his blood flow. The system allowed him to survive, even fight.. There were consequences, however, and even short-term operations under backups alone could cause the User to Stroke out.

"... Hanger3, the one you left from, we have much to discuss after our delivery."- Mac had only caught part of the transmission, but enough.

"Wilco, returning to Hanger3" he eased over in a rolling split S to port as his main drives purred to life once more, slowing his velocity to match that of the traveler's.

*Velocity Match* came Jarvis in his ear, causing Mac to flick Concord ‘round and shut down her final drives. Activating Concords maneuvering jets alone, Mac gingerly eased Concord back and down towards the open hanger door he assumed was number 3. Ghosting into the bay, Mac decided to orient Nose outboard and settled her within inches of the hanger deck.

He made the call- "ESS-Concord, hanger3, ready Gravity". He felt Concord Thump down as the Hanger's Plates reactivated, then the tell-tale return of sounds from outside Concord as the Doors Closed and Pressure returned.

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Chief Siccuro watched the strange craft now known as Concord stalked into the hanger, her massive rear facing engines still glowing with residual heat. This Mackenzie called saying he was ready for the bay to be secured, and the Craft Thumped down from its place right above the deck. The Hanger pressurized and the Ships Living area cracked open with a faint hiss.

Mackenzie Immerged, covered in... water? The being he had watched defy gravity itself slowly crawling down the ladder that had extended itself from the side of the ship. Landing unceremoniously on the deck, The drenched being flopped to his back, waving Siccuro over. Mackenzie was clearly in distress, his chest heaving violently for air.

"Are.. Are you Injured?" Siccuro questioned, trying, and failing to sound calm.

"Not sure.... had to use... Emergency Systems... I think I need Doc.."- Panted Mackenzie between heaves of desperate lung-full’s of air.

"Icario, Siccuro. I need you and a team down to hangar 3 again. the Being Mackenzie appears to be in distress, possibly injured"- releasing the lapel mic, Siccuro looked up at the ship, it was untouched!! It had Presumably just killed two capital ships and 5 Fighters, but it didn't have a scratch on it... It just, sat there, ticking, and creaking as the heat bled from it into the Recycled air.

He looked down at Mackenzie and his eyes widened. The Being was now sitting up cross legged and wiping flowing red from his nose. “Shit" he heard Mackenzie Curse. "I guess I over did it a little."

Doc Icario decided to make his appearance just then, "Get him on the Lift!" he barked, then turned his tone softer, "Alright Mackenzie, let’s get you patched up". the Being looked up and smirked "Its Mac, to my friends, Doc". With that he laid back on the lift and was hauled away.

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Sometime later, Mac Woke up in a familiar position. However, this time he was not restrained. Doc Icario was by the far wall working at his desk, Lyrian was on a waiting couch curled up into a ball just staring, not at him, he suspected, not at anything.

"Ah, you're awake. So, what may I ask gave you the great idea to subject yourself to that level of Torture?!?"- Icario, raised his voice. Lyrian flinched but otherwise didn’t move. Doc was none too pleased.

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"what's the Damage, Doc", groaned Mac. Rising to a Sitting position slowly.

"You almost Killed yourself, again. What in all the gods of the Void gave you the idea to subject yourself to such forces?"- huffed Icario.

"Those 'forces’ are pretty normal, if I had my suit anyway. I didn't think I had a choice" Mac shrugged, stretching out the familiar pops and twinges that came with High G combat.

Doc just looked at him, arms crossed finger tapping his left arm.. "I think I need a base line. Mac, How Much Gravity does your world produce?"

Mac shrugged, "I donno, we always based it off of Earth’s Gravity, just called it 1G... maybe this will help. can you show me what a standard unit of length is for you? not the name, but show me".

Doc nodded and walked over to a cabinet and pulled out a Ruler looking piece of material roughly a Meter Long "This" He stated, "Is one Galactic Standard Unit"

Mac took a moment to look at it. "hmm, ok. That looks to be about a meter... how do you measure your sleep cycles. one complete Day"...

"Ah" Doc had taken a moment to figure out the translation given "one Cycle is our equivalent to your day, may i see your time piece?" Mac extended his arm, and Doc took a scanner from his desk and recorded the time piece for a moment, "and one complete revolution of the smaller piece is a whole day?" he asked,

"No, two. This is an older piece my uncle gave me for finishing flight school. the small 'hand' must make it to the 12 on top twice, each number is one of our 'hours' and 24 of our hours is one revolution of our planet around its axis, give or take." mac explained.

"Ah, one moment then" Doc Icario walked back to his desk and started typing into his computer.

"Ah, here we go. ok so our cycles make up roughly 26 of your Hours, broken up into 10 segments we call 'hours' (Mac guessed the translator was helping there), that we can break up into further 1000 'seconds' if you would like." Icario's read back from his computer.

Mac rubbed the back of his head, "Oh boy…" he pulled out his phone that he had left in his pocket before he stuffed his clothes into the his "Cockpit Bag" they had grabbed for him when he first arrived. Luckily, they hadn't figured out how to get into the Hab section of Concord yet. "Let me give this a shot" he asked waving one finger pointed up and started mumbling "So... one hour of theirs is...... 9360 seconds give or take... hmm", he straightened up, "I'm no Mathematician, but If I got this right, every one of your 'seconds' would have my world accelerate an object in a vacuum 92ish of those” He pointed to the measuring stick.

Icario was stunned, stumbling back to his chair to put that into his console.. "Mac, your world has over twice the Gravity our world does.. and we are on the upper end of the "Eden" classifications... by the Void… Mac... How many of your 'g's' did you put upon your body during the battle…" He just sat there in shock.. ‘How could a being like this survive, make it to space...’

Mac Shrugged, "The last in cockpit number I remember reading was… 7.2 I think. I wasn't really looking. the Inertial Dampers keep the forces on my body down. The Last burn back to the Traveler topped out at um... allot… on my acceleration profile. Our upper limits for craft/suit/pilot are classified I'm afraid, I am unable to share other than… I suspect that I was fairly close to Stroking out if I had had to do that a couple more times."

Icario just stared at Mac from his seat.. "Mac, There is no record of any being close to you in Galactic Unity governmental census…” Icario slowly shook his head in bewilderment, “we can figure the rest out later, the captain wanted to see you as soon as you were up, and please... Don't push that hard again until we can replace your suit.. you were closer to that 'stroke' of yours than you know."

Mac stood up from off the table "I guess that explains the Headache, Got any pain meds?"

Icario shook his head, "you are on what I felt safe giving you. The damage to your body is repaired, but the inflammation will remain as your body dot's its 'i's, so to speak. I recommend you stay on light duty rest until the offload is at least complete." he continued as they walked to the door.

A gentle sob, almost more imagined than heard escaped the young Delmar female curled up on the chair. Mac stopped and gazed down at Lyrian. She had her knees pulled to chest, and didn’t acknowledge him, staring into nothing. Icario put a hand on Mac’s shoulder, "She lost an uncle today in one of the flak guns, we are a proud Freighter Tribe, but a poor one, we were hoping to upgrade to automation sometime soon, just, not soon enough. she watched it happen from the Con, saw the panel indication... right before you made it back."

a stone sank into the Mac's gut... Everything clicked...He turned toward the mourning Lyrian.

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"Lyrian", a deeper voice than any Delmar could muster rumbled as an undertone to the translation that also spoke her name. Lyrian slowly lifted her head, hastily wiping her eyes clear. Mackenzie walked over in front of her, crouching down to one knee, "I’m sorry. I didn’t know your uncle, but he must have been brave to man the guns", she nodded her head, still unable to speak her grief.

"Is he the first one you've lost?" She nodded again, tears breaking free once more. Mac’s voice softened, "I lost my uncle in front of my eyes as well. He was aboard a warship I was escorting to a battle that almost ended my species." her eyes snapped up to his. His gemstone blue’s bored into hers. She searched them for the ice-cold hatred she had shrunk away from on the bridge. She found none; only a gentle kind of sorrow, hooded in memory. "It should not be easy to lose those we love. The loss is proof that we loved them all the more. Know that I am truly sorry I did not get back in time to save him." with that he reached out with that warm vice of a hand, and gave her shoulder a small squeeze.. then he was gone.

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"Thank you, She and my brother were close.", Icario whispered to Mac as the door closed to the His office. "She is but 20 'years', she has not known war or suffering. Today she saw the end of her family flash before her eyes before you launched. We would not have survived that attack without you. she knows this..."

"For what its worth, I meant every word. Those that attack the innocent... deserve no quarter"-the Ice was back in Mac's voice at that last part- "but I’m not drunk enough to tell that story,

Doc. not yet anyway" Doc looked over to see a smile that bared all of mac's teeth.

The two walked in silence to the captains office. 'no guards this time, that's a plus' mused Mac as they reached the door… just to have Cheif Siccuro open it, eyes boring into him. Mac could only chuckle and walk in.