As he listened to the reports of Blau Two through Blau One-Eight, he felt the tension slowly easing from his body. While Delta Flight was out on patrol, they encountered Sheolite fighters and the whole squadron scrambled to rush to their aid. Twelve Vipers and four Cobras versus eighteen Hornets. Miraculously, the 421 managed to take down the Sheolite fighters with only minor damage to their own.

While Matt was relieved to hear all his pilots were alive and relatively unharmed, he could not rest easy yet. Upon doing a wider radar sweep, he saw an extra contact around Charlie Flight.

Without the engine signature, the enemy identification would have gone off. That explained the reading at least, but what was Matt supposed to do? He had never heard of a Sheolite ship being left whole after an engagement. Should he call SAR or should he order Charlie Flight to finish it off? He did not want to put his men or anyone else at risk, but he was not prepared to commit a violation of the laws of war either.

For better or for worse, he was not the one to make that call.

Sokol Three. That was the Operations Group CO, Colonel Duvalier. He had taken over the mission, so now there was nothing to do but follow orders.

It was out of his hands now. He did not know what the best course of action was and he only hoped his superiors did.

Commodore Frazier glared at his Chief Intelligence Officer.

Sharif simply held up his DataPad for the Commodore to see.

Without answering his question, Sharif replied, "Marshal Van Daan's signature is here as well, sir."

The communications officer complied and after a couple minutes they were connected with ONI.

A few more minutes passed until the Director of Naval Intelligence himself appeared onscreen. To say the least, he didn't look happy.

Admiral Denain gave him a powerful scowl. He clearly wasn't used to being challenged and he had no patience for it.

The Commodore said nothing.

Admiral Denain continued, "That is the first intact Sheolite craft to fall into our hands ever since the war began and there's a live Sheolite inside who could provide us with invaluable intelligence. Any further obstruction on your part, Commodore, and I'll see you brought up on an Article 32."

The Admiral was bringing out the big guns, threatening a court-martial, but Commodore Frazier had no intention of backing down now. The lives of the men and women on board counted for more than his career. Besides, being a Hero of the Union, he had a little more job security than the average sailor.

However, before the standoff could escalate any further, Admiral Mfume stepped in.

Despite Admiral Mfume coming to his aid, Admiral Denain didn't appear all that happy for his intervention.

Admiral Mfume held up a hand to stop him before he could start. "That's enough, Commodore." He nodded to the screen. "Admiral."

With that, Admiral Denain cut the feed, but that was hardly the end of it for Commodore Frazier.

Reluctantly, the Commodore went to the position of attention and said, "Aye-aye, sir."

The Pelican carrying the Viper touched down and the hangar was repressurized. Teams were on hand to attach repulsors to the Viper for easy towing, but the first priority was securing the pilot. A squad of MAs and a couple Corpsmen were standing by while the crew of the Pelican went to work cutting into the Viper's hull.

The Viper did not have anything as convenient as a canopy to remove. In fact, just looking at it, you would be hard-pressed to tell how the pilot got in there in the first place.

The crew was under strict orders to keep the Viper as intact as possible, but being unable to figure out how the cockpit worked, cutting was the only solution. It was fortunate that everyone present were wearing suits because unidentified fumes rose up from the cutters as they opened up the hull. As they were prying off the first layer, one hapless crewman made the mistake of touching the edge with his hands and was immediately thrown into a panic as it started to eat through his gloves. If it was not clear how delicate and treacherous this operation was, that mishap made it clear.

They brought in more tools to minimize any direct contact between the crew and the Viper. Another layer had to be cut away before they could get to the cockpit. Inside was a vaguely human shape wrapped in a twitching, pulsating, fleshy sleeve. As they peeled away the thick membrane, the figure convulsed violently, letting out a muffled, gagging scream. What they found underneath was a human, wide-eyed and frantic.

The pilot continued choke and gag as the crew pulled out the long tubes from his throat and nostrils. He immediately started coughing up the same orangish liquid that dripped from the tubes, screaming amidst the few desperate gasps of air he could manage.

The crew struggled to hold him down as he thrashed about, all the while continuing to peel off the membrane. After one last, great strain against the crewmen, all the resistance was drained out of him. The pilot lay there breathing shallowly for a few moments. His head lolled side to side lazily for a while until it just stopped. The dazed expression left his face, replaced with collected menace as he glared at the crewmen holding him down. His breathing slowed, became more controlled.

Still glaring at the crewmen, he remained perfectly still, save for his arms, which he wrenched out of the crewmen's grip. An MA standing on the nose of the Viper behind the crewmen raised his pistol and pointed it at the pilot, the laser sight placing a red dot square on his forehead. Slowly, deliberately, the pilot folded his forearms back to hold up his hands in surrender, but his eyes told another story. The way he glared at his captors, it was as if he could kill them all. It was frightening to wonder what exactly was keeping him from doing so.

The Chief, who was at least twenty years Commodore Frazier's senior, replied, "Hell, sir, you probably were too young to remember it, but Rupert Victor Murdoch was the Outer Rim Ripper. They convicted him on 43 counts, but it could've been more. They sent him to the Icebox. They didn't find his body when the Shellies hit DeBoni back in '96. I guess we know now where he's been all these years."

It all clicked. Even being a native Earther, the Commodore had heard about the Outer Rim Ripper. He was one of the most prolific lone serial killers in Union history and there was a rather high-profile movie made about him back when the Commodore was in high school.

Now that he realized who the prisoner was, his thoughts quickly turned to the Sheolite attack on Pluto back in '96, three years before the initial declaration of war. Statistics from the many Sheolite attacks over the years flooded into his brain, especially the numbers of people who went unaccounted for after the attacks. There were millions of confirmed deaths, but many millions more that were officially listed as missing.

And that was when it hit him.

The Commodore could feel his guts sink.

Doing little to hide her condescension, Dr. Kim replied, "This seems to be your day for history lessons, Commodore. Hermann Voss was a cybernetician who worked back during the Blackout. Once the Union was formed, his research was declared illegal, so he went underground, continuing his experiments in Laos until the Feds caught him in Double-Aught Six. I don't specialize in cybernetics, but I saw his work when I was in med school. Gruesome stuff. The press called him the 'Cyber-Mengele'. Trust me, it fits."

It was a terrifying thought, even if it applied only to a fraction of the missing Union citizens. How could they have been fighting so long and still know so little about the enemy? Worse yet, what if they did know? SupCom, the higher ups. What if they already knew? If so, how long had they known? Why were they suppressing the truth?

Before Commodore Frazier could entertain any more uncomfortable questions, the Chief asked him, "Are we going to be interrogating the prisoner, sir?"

Commodore Frazier was immediately reminded of Intel's claim on the prisoner and the entire situation.

It left him with a bad taste in his mouth, but even as flag officer, he had people over him who called the shots. Regardless of the intelligence that could be gained, he wished this Rupert Victor Murdoch had been dusted with the rest of his comrades. He only hoped Intel's plan would not invite disaster for the Tico and her crew.