Captain Blicero's plotline operates on fairy-tale logic: it appears in concentrated bursts of extraordinary force, separated by long silences, each appearance stripping away another layer of the Hansel-and-Gretel story that structures the erotic command hierarchy at the rocket battery. By the end, the fairy tale is revealed as a sacrificial script, and the rocket is its altar.
The line begins in a single devastating episode, 1.14, at the V-2 battery in occupied Holland. Blicero, Katje, and Gottfried are introduced fully formed: the sadomasochistic triangle, the fairy-tale role-play, and the 00000 rocket as terminal destination are all present from the first moment. Nothing in this plotline develops; everything is revealed. The Oven-game is not simply imposed on its participants; the novel presents it as a consensual shelter, a shared retreat into a story all three know, against the unbearable contingency of the War outside. This makes the fairy tale more terrible, not less: the shelter is the mechanism of sacrifice.
Behind the fairy tale, two deeper registers operate. The first is Rilke's Tenth Elegy, Blicero's private scripture: the newly-dead youth climbing alone into the mountains of primal Pain, with wildly alien constellations overhead. Blicero has been climbing this mountain for twenty years, since long before the War, and the 00000 firing is the summit. The second is colonial repetition: in Südwest Africa, Blicero took a Herero boy as lover and named him Enzian, after Rilke's mountainside gentian of Nordic colours. Gottfried is the colour-negative of Enzian, yellow and blue where the African was dark, and the fairy-tale triad at the battery replays the colonial encounter in European dress. The plotline's sacrificial logic thus extends backward through the entire history of German conquest.
Through Part 2, the line persists through Katje's presence at the Casino, where her double life, Blicero's former captive, now Pointsman's operative, keeps the command hierarchy alive at a distance. She is the bridge between worlds: rocket battery and intelligence bureau, occupied Holland and the Riviera.
Part 3 submerges the line for long stretches before surfacing aboard the Anubis in 3.17, where Blicero's story tightens alongside the film-body sequence. The fairy tale narrows toward its conclusion.
Part 4 is the sacrifice. In 4.05, the 175-Stadt, a community of homosexual camp survivors, has built a phantom SS hierarchy with Blicero at its apex, and Thanatz, rescued from the sea, reaches the Schwarzkommando to disclose the full story of the 00000 firing: Gottfried sealed inside the Imipolex shroud in the nose cone and launched. This is the fairy-tale consummation that every earlier appearance has been rehearsing. In 4.12, the rocket descends on the Orpheus Theatre and the novel holds it frozen above the audience, parabola arrested in the instant before impact.
The plotline's arc is not a story but a revelation: Blicero's command was always terminal, and each recurrence strips away one more layer of the fairy-tale apparatus to expose the sacrificial mechanism underneath. It is also the one plotline in the novel that contains no songs, no comedy, no Preterite counter-voice. The sacrificial register admits no carnivalesque resistance. The only song that touches its orbit is Thanatz's own in 4.05, the loser's lament, and it belongs to the witness, not to the priest.
A screaming comes across the sky. Before we meet Slothrop, before Pointsman’s experiments or Blicero’s cruelty, the novel opens with a rocket’s descent over wartime London, Pirate Prentice dreaming of mass evacuation, and a banana breakfast on a Blitz-era rooftop. No single character governs this episode; instead it lays down the conditions, dread, physics, absurdist survival, that every subsequent scene will inhabit.