After the youth drill one morning, Walter followed the robots Nyborg always sent to escort him. He expected to meet the familiar glare of the overhead lights, the two chairs in the center of the classroom for himself and Nyborg, the vague figures of the students.

However, the lights were dimmed, and the floor clear. Nyborg waited, with several troopers and robots at his side.

The unseen audience was clearly visible. About a dozen men and women in crisp and studious looking uniforms were seated in a forum along the walls.

What surprised Walter was the presence of three officers he'd never seen before. They stood next to Nyborg, dour in their long black overcoats and smartly-brimmed hats. All watched Walter as he entered with stern expressions, hands behind their backs in formal resting stance.

One of the troopers beside Nyborg stomped, saluted, and gave the usual announcement. "All at attention. Victory to the Kaezer!"

He was answered by a unanimous cry as everyone stood, saluted, and shouted the reply.

Walter yelled it too, his right arm extended as high and enthusiastic as he could make it appear.

Nyborg beckoned. "Come, Walter. We have important guests today, here to examine you."

He approached the assembled officers, and met them with another rigid salute, trying to keep his expression fierce and attentive.

"Greetings, Hir Marlow," said the most decorated officer of the trio. "I am Commander Udensnacht. This is Hir Ostenskof, and Hir Berghans. You may be at ease, young man. We have heard so many wonderful things about you."

Walter relaxed, but kept his head and shoulders high, as was proper. "I'm honored to be at your service, sirs."

"Very good." The commander turned to Nyborg. "This is the one you say has shown the most progress under your innovative system, Hir Nyborg?"

For a brief instant, Walter caught a flash of nervousness in Nyborg's stare, a small shift in the man's slim, condescending posture. He was obviously under the scrutiny of officers far superior to himself.

"Yes, Commander. Hir Marlow is my best student. He has improved much, since he was taken from the battlefield. Far beyond the expectations of my work."

So, he was now a student, and no longer a test subject? Nyborg seemed to have elevated Walter to a more dignified status at that moment. He was confused, but remained at indifferent attention.

Commander Udensnacht raised his dark brows. His eyes were a pallid blue, precise as the tip of an icicle. "We have heard much praise of you, and your groundbreaking achievements in taming the wildest of minds to more civilized estates, Hir Nyborg."

"Thank you, Commander."

"However, the council has sent me to personally observe, and determine the effectiveness of these so-called gentler practices of yours. If you have no objection, I would like to interrogate young Hir Marlow more intimately."

"Of course, sir," Nyborg said.

"Hir Marlow. We are to understand, that you were a soldier of the resistance, before you were brought into our care. Is this so?"

"Yes, sir." Walter's heart thumped with anxiety.

"And what was your rank and duty before you were rescued from that barbaric predicament?"

He paused, trying to be cautious, and yet not appear to be withholding. "I'm too young to have held any kind of rank. I took part in the riots. And I was an active combatant in the battle from which I was apprehended."

The commander resembled a beast about to strike its prey. "Ah. I see you are an honest youth, as you have been described. I have several questions. And I hope, you will help us to understand."

"Yes, sir."

"First. How have you found your treatment to be, while under the protection and guidance of the Kaezer?"

Watch your words, he reminded himself. "I've been treated fairly, and with more respect than I deserve, sir."

The commander's smile warmed slightly, and he paced. "This answer pleases me. I want to believe that we can rescue the youth of our enemies. Help them to see the errors of their ways, before they become too inflexible, and cannot be saved. Like so many of the adults we have taken in."

"I am grateful to the Kaezer, and to Hir Nyborg, for teaching me a more enlightened way of life," Walter said, keeping his voice as emotionless as he could.

The commander nodded. "Are you willing to show this gratitude, and prove to the Kaezer your unquestioned loyalty?"

He stomped and saluted. "Yes, sir."

"Good. And now, I would like to ask you about a few small details. Is it true that Blane and Stonecipher have permanently allied themselves with the resistance?"

His blood ran cold at the realization he was now being called to betray his comrades. But it would do no good to lie. They probably already knew, and were just testing to see if he'd tell the truth. "To the best of my knowledge, sir, they have."

"I see. And what is the goal of this new alliance? Do they seek war against us?"

"I'm not certain. sir. I was a largely uninformed participant. I only did as I was commanded."

And so the questioning went, for what must have been an hour. The commander wanted to know the names of his superiors, where they camped, the priority circuit of their riot targets, and what tactics they used.

Walter felt terrible to reveal such things. But if he was ever to get to a better position, and eventually get out of here, he had to play along.

Commander Udensnacht finally dismissed him, and he was free to return to his duties. Two hours of exercise with the other youth followed, then lunch, and another two hours of listening to the boring speeches of the Kaezer in the main hall. The remainder of his day was thankfully spent with Resnakov. It was the only time he didn't dread.

Resnakov could tell something was amiss, and pulled him aside after warm-ups. "You are distracted today, getting sloppy. I think maybe it is best we take a small rest before we start." He paused, leaning a little closer. "You are doing okay, Walter?"

Walter met Resnakov's lofty blue gaze, finding nothing unkind there, only friendly concern. "I'm fine," he said.

Resnakov sighed, and bent his head. "I do not believe you. But, this is how we do things with the Kaezer. Always ready to fight, never to feel. We all are like the robots, no? I see that Hir Nyborg has taught you this well."

Walter stared at the floor, uncertain how to respond to the unsettling truth of Resnakov's statements.

The big man surprised him by placing a hand on his shoulder, the first time any of the Kaezer's men had shown a display of camaraderie. "You are a good person, I can tell this. You remind me of my younger brother, Hendrik, back home in Pruessia. I miss him very much. Also my wife, and my two little daughters. For five years now, I have fought for our great Kaezer in this foreign land. I try to be strong, to teach all. But, I see so much sadness. Every day, all around me." His voice lowered, so that no one else would hear. "I am tired. I want to go home. And I want to see this War end. I think, what I see in you, is that you feel this same way. It is true?"

"It's true," Walter said quietly, tried to quell his emotions. But they broke free of the self-made prison in his heart. "I'd do anything to see this War end. I don't know what peace is like. I've never known a day that our people haven't been killing each other. In the name of politics, or religion, or simply for greed. It just goes on and on. I'm only seventeen years old, and I feel like I've seen a lifetime's worth of hardship. I'm tired, too. And just like you, I miss my family. My friend, Nathaniel. My sister, most of all. And I'll never see her again."

To his chagrin, tears welled.

Resnakov became solemn. "There are many of us here, who feel this way," he whispered. "I cannot tell you more now. But we watch, and wait for the right time. Things are changing quickly outside these walls. And you can help. Would you like to be a part of this?"

Walter was stunned, but also felt a surge of excitement, unlike any he'd felt in months. "Yes," he said. "I'll help you."

Resnakov laughed. "We have much to train for, then," he said. "Shall we return to the ring?"

They sparred for a few hours, and Walter felt new strength, a sense that things were starting to go his way for once.

Later, he retired to his room, pondering. He sat down on his bunk, stretched and sighed. The afternoon's training with Resnakov had done wonders to ease his mind. His muscles held the satisfying burn of a good workout.

The Kaezer was obviously nervous about the alliance between Blane and Stonecipher and the resistance. The commander's prying questions to him earlier were evident of that. Maybe things were turning around in the War. He hoped it was true.

He'd embellished some of the facts about the resistance, so as not to give a perfect disclosure on his comrades. As there was no documented organization in the way Liscomb conducted the riot team, Commander Udensnacht had no way to prove that Walter had stretched the truth to protect them.

And then there was Resnakov's revelation, this secret rebellion he hinted at. Apparently the troopers weren't all as loyal to their leaders as Walter asssumed. Resnakov was as disgruntled and homesick as he was.

Not all of these Pruessians were monsters. They were, ultimately, just human beings. All of his hatred, how he'd focused it toward them as a single, faceless group, was erroneous. Hostility and revulsion toward the Kaezer, as a vague collective, were only weighing him down with unnecessary negativity.

Whether it would be with Reznakov, or otherwise, his chance to act drew near. He felt it, more strongly than ever, and he reminded himself to stay focused.

He yawned, and bent to untie his boots. A silver-frosted paw darted from under the bunk, and seized one end of a lace.

He cried out with a start, which caused the cat to retreat. But he knew it was there. He looked under the bunk, and met those glowing eyes.

The cat stared, crouching against the wall, but it didn't move when he reached toward it.

"Hello, there," Walter said. "I won't hurt you."

As he spoke, the cat seemed to relax. It cautiously took a step toward him. The soft nose touched his fingers, and the wary animal spent several minutes smelling him.

"That's it. We can be friends. You don't have to hide." He moved his hand slightly, which usually would have caused the cat to flee. But it stayed this time. Soon, he was scratching its cheek and ear, while it rubbed contentedly against him.

The cat jumped onto the bunk, circled, and bumped him affectionately with its head. It's purr was like a small motor. Walter couldn't help smiling. Before long, he lay on his side, with the cat nestled against him.

"You're well-fed for a stray," he said. "Those must be some gourmet rats. The measly tidbits I've given wouldn't fatten you so."

He looked at the tag on the cat's collar. It bore a genetic type ID number, as well as a name, in bold letters.

"Mr. Vincent. That's a distinguished name. And you're an engineered cat?"

Such an animal must be someone's spoiled pet.

And then he noticed something else on the collar, wired to the same ring as the ID tag. He examined it in the light, and nearly shouted in surprise.

It was a shiny, silver pendant, with the initials 'J. M.' etched in swirling letters upon it. He recognized it, and held it in trembling fingers.

"Jocelyn...it can't be. How did this get onto you?"

It was the locket Jocelyn had always worn as a girl, and then later given to Nathaniel. He opened it, and there was no doubt. His mother and father, in miniature, smiled at him from inside.

Tears came without warning, as he pried the locket off, and clutched it to his chest. He felt like a child, weeping over things lost. But he couldn't help himself.

It must have been Nathaniel who'd attached the pendant to Mr. Vincent's collar, which meant the cat had passage between rooms.

An idea struck him.

He had a copy of the Kaezer's long, incomprehensible book, "Min Siegh", stashed under his bunk. Tearing off a small edge of the title page, he wrote a message. He asked if Nathaniel was there, and assured his friend that he was nearby. Then he folded the note into a small, neat roll, and twisted it securely into the clamp of Mr. Vincent's collar.

"Take it to him," he told the cat. "If you can."

He fell asleep with the locket in his hand, and an empty wish in his heart.