In the escape of JOSH-A, the remaining Overflags flew south towards the Medeas that had evacuated the fortress. Now in Japanese hands, the squad moved as fast as they could, straining themselves at attention. Most of the pilots were still getting used to the higher Gs the Overflag had, while Michael's chest hurt even more as he didn't push the experimental unit to it's limits. Sighting the group of transports in the distance, the squad leader of the Overflags hailed them. "Medea transports, this is the remnant fighter wing of Task Force Eagle. We are requesting for permission to land along with refuel and repairs."

Waiting for what seemed like forever, a female voice rang out on the communications channel, "Captain, is Private Michael Haley still among your numbers?"

"Yes ma'am, his unit is functional, but he isn't as responsive since the battle, why?"

"We'll take you aboard, though we'll need an escort until we reach the United States. Have the private land first, he'll need medical attention. His flag is outfitted...differently," the female voice continued, as one Medea opened up it's doors to allow the Overflag to dock. As Michael flew in to dock, a medic team arrived with a stretcher. Why the hell would they bring that out, I'm fine now.

Powering down the unit, Michael climbed out of the unit to see the woman from before when he awoke that morning. "You? Well, it's good to see you're alive, but I don't need any-" Michael starts, before he starts coughing up blood. The medics moved immediately to his side and helped him to the stretcher as he passed out. Waking up hours later, Michael groaned as he sat up. "You know, a normal human being would have died from all the Gs you dealt with in that cockpit."

Looking over, Michael's eyes focused on the blonde haired woman sitting nearby the bed he was resting in. "Looks like you finally got your rest. But you should be careful, it's unknown how much your heart can actually handle. Also, I received a communication from High Command in regards to your performance. Effective immediately, you're no longer a private, and receive the rank of Corporal. I'd say congratulations, but we have more important things to worry about," the civilian contractor stated, as Michael fully sat up and felt his chest, the pain from before subsiding.

"Thank you, and thank you for the jury rigging to the Eagle's Flags. I don't know where they're gonna go from here, but I'm glad that the data might help out in this war. Hopefully the final flaws in the units will be ironed out," Michael says, thinking briefly back to the Overflags they self-detonated. Shaking his head, Michael quickly stood up and started heading to the door.

"I'm heading out, I'm gonna help provide escort. The rest of the Overflags need to refuel and rearm. My fighter can provide them cover until they're prepped," Michael continues, as the contractor stood up.

"You're nuts...just don't push it too hard. We'll need the data in the future...Corporal."

"Of course," Michael says, as he heads to the hangar and boarded his Flag. Another flag sat in the hangar as it received it's own repairs, while the doors to the Medea opened up. Rolling out, the Overflag activated its engines and turned it around to cover the rear of the Evacuation Fleet. He still had a job to do.