"Maryne," Maltak called as she passed by his cave that evening, "Come in here, I need to talk to you."

She entered cautiously and sat where he pointed. He sat diagonal from her; next to would have diminished the importance of the conversation, but head on would have been accusatory.

"I just have a question," he said, "You're not a very good pilot, are you?"

She bristled, "What the heck?!"

"You like engineering more, right?"

She hesitated, then nodded, "My whole family are pilots. Tinkering was never a second option; how did you find out?"

"All your friends are specifically not pilots," he said, "And I watched you help put the radar system together. Wasn't very hard."

"This isn't all you wanted, is it?" She sat back.

"Naw," Maltak laughed, "Tell me about Iverson."

She stiffened and looked like she was about to bolt. He waited and smiled at her before realizing she couldn't see it through the mask. Maryne sighed.

"He's not a bad guy, if that's what you think," she snapped, "A lot of cadets hate his guts but he's only tough because he's-"

"I'm not blaming Iverson," He said holding his hands up. "How long have you been communicating with him?"

"Before you got here," she said. "He's not mean; the other pilots are just stupid."

"Maryne," Maltak said, choosing to ignore the last statement. "I need you to take me to Iversons home."

"No," she said point blank.

"Fine, I'll go alone, I just thought having you there might make it easier to help him."

"He's in danger?"

"Kinda," he said, "as dangerous as being a traitor's fall guy can be."

()

"This is it," Maryne said standing in front of a house Maltak would never have pegged as belonging to Iverson. There was a garden, a garden GNOME, and even a white picket fence!

"I need a camera," he said almost in tears from trying to keep the laughter back.

"You're not seriously going to wear the mask."

"This mask is now my face; it doesn't make sense to ask someone to take off their face. Stop asking me to."

He pulled his hood further down his face as she rung the doorbell. When Iverson answered the door with his usual scowl, jeens, and a plain T, Maltak chose to focus on the constellation patterned slippers on his old instructors feet.

"Maryne, what are you doing here?" Iverson opened the door wider to let them in. "I thought you said you couldn't make it over this summer."

"Uncle Iverson, this is Maltak," Maryne said, "The one I told you about."

They shook hands, another surprise, and Iverson lead them to his living room. He turned the tv off, which had been showing the news still covering the break out of Sam Holt.

"Have a seat and tell me what an oh, so important rebel wants with me," He sat in his lazy boy and laced his fingers.

"While I search your house, Maryne will fill you in," Maltak said.

"You will not search my house," Iverson interjected. He was awfully calm and it was making Maltak very uncomfortable.

"Uncle Iverson, you kind of want him to," Maryne said, "I screwed up when I came to you last time to tell you what was going on. You might go to jail."

"Already on house arrest," he said lifting his foot to show an ankle monitor.

"But of course you are," Maltak sighed, "and by this time next month you will be in Gitmo."

"Why are you under house arrest?!"

"I know!" Maltak said raising his hand in the air. Iverson almost growled at him, but then turned to his niece.

"They think I had something to do with Holts break out."

"That's stupid," Maryne replied immediately. "First they blame you for what happened at the Garrison, and now this?"

"They got some intel on us, and this is the only total outside source that I didn't know about. Let me check the house for bugs and other things."

"No," Iverson said firmly, "Don't know why, but I don't like you."

I know why.

"But Uncle Iverson-"

"Hey Maryne, why don't you check the house then, and I will fill him in," Maltak suggested.

"Yeah," she grinned at her uncle, "You can tell me not to and I won't listen."

"You are my sisters daughter," Iverson sighed as she got up and ran out of the room.

Maltak sat on the couch and picked up one of the magazines on the table. Iverson watched him closely.

"Why are you really here?" Iverson asked. "Who are you?"

"I'm the guy on the other side of the board," Maltak said, still flipping through the magazine, "I just thought I'd meet my opponent who has done so well to be invisible their whole life."

"That's-"

"I'm not finished. I like to talk, so you'll just have to listen till I'm done. You train pilots, but you never wanted to be a pilot; much like your niece, you favor the more technical jobs. But because of issues, family and otherwise, you lead a bitter life doing what everyone else wanted you to. You take it out on the kids in your classes pretending its tough love and not sour grapes. Then comes the Kerberos mission. As you were preparing for it you caught a signal, from space. You talked back and forth with the source of this signal for some time. You came to learn that they were conquerors and they wanted to expand this way. Your intentions may have been to save the whole by sacrificing the few, but it was still a low blow to the Holts and their pilot that you sold them out like that."

Iverson looked like he was sucking on a lemon. So Maltak continued.

"but that only bought you a little over a year; curse that Shiro for coming back, you'd have to send him right back out and hope for the best. But four kids interrupted and all five disappeared into thin air. You communicated off and on with the aliens doing your best to keep them away. And recently they asked for more people. But not just any people. They wanted specific people; the families of the kids that had disappeared! Now wouldn't that have raised a ton of suspicion. Whatever could you do? How about knock off a few here and there in staged accidents and only send them one family at a time? Why not? Why not start with the one you didn't like the most? It was also the largest family so if you could pull this one off without anyone searching for you, then the others would be very easy."

"No one did till you came along," Iverson said quietly. "the Galra have left this place alone because of me."

"There is truth in that statement," Maltak said, nodding. "But there's another truth you are not seeing."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," the boy reached inside his hoodie and pulled out a gun he'd borrowed from Iversons closet the night before.

Lowering his voice, Maltak said, "You didn't see that kid you hated coming back to put a bullet in your head."