Walter and Nathaniel left the room together, hurrying past the troopers and robots in the corridors. No one gave them a second glance.

The paneled lights flickered, and the walls shook, as an explosion rocked the foundations of the building. They ran down three flights of stairs to the sub-level, and the gymnasium. He hoped with all of his might that Resnakov would be here.

Fortunately, he found the big Pruessian conversing with another man beside the ring. Both were huddled together, ignoring the call of the sirens, the Kaezer's demands for all troops to come to battle.

Resnakov greeted Walter with one brawny arm around the shoulders. "You come at just the right time. Are you ready for our greatest triumph?"

"I'm ready," Walter said. "This is my brother, Nathaniel. He's here to help, too.

"Pleased to meet you..." Nathaniel seemed intimidated at first.

Resnakov saw Mr. Vincent, and broke into raucous laughter. "Is this what your brother brings to the fight? A cat. I have seen much today, now this."

"Give me a weapon," Nathaniel said, smiling. "And I can fight. The cat's just along for the ride."

"I do have one for you," Resnakov said. "And you, Walter. Hir Gruendmann here, and myself, we have a secret work going all this time. These are special gloves he has made for us."

Hir Gruendmann, a scholarly man with small, round glasses perched at the end of his nose, handed Walter a pair of odd-looking gloves. They were thinner and more flexible than boxing gloves, made of several layers of durable leather. Over this, an ornate arrangement of brass and copper-edged circuitry, gears, small hoses, and fixtures were wired to reinforced brass knuckles.

Resnakov helped him strap them on, and adjusted the fittings. His fingertips were left exposed, and he noticed a small row of control pads across the bottom of the palm. When he flexed his fist, he gasped. A sturdy, layered brass frame extended around his hand with a mechanical hum, forming an impenetrable shield around it. It retracted when he relaxed his grip.

Walter studied the gloves, mystified. "What do they do?"

"I do not have time to show you, now. We must hurry to join the others." Resnakov handed his own standard-issue pistol to Nathaniel. "I am sorry, I only have this gun. The Kaezer is not so generous with his weapons. But you may have mine."

Nathaniel reached for the gun, his eyes narrow.

Walter could see his friend's natural fear for any who served the Kaezer. It was instilled by two generations of warfare, and it would be difficult to heal the effects, if this War ever did come to an end.

The four of them went back upstairs, to the main floor.

Resnakov led them outside, where they met a crowd of troopers, robots, shouting, and chaos. They pushed their way through the milling rows of men and machines in the way.

He could only guess where they were going, but he trusted Resnakov.

Blane and Stonecipher's space fighters streaked overhead at that moment, and it was the brightest, most joyous gleam of sunlight on chrome ever seen.

Nathaniel's eyes and grin widened. "It's the resistance! They've come for us."

Resnakov and his companion, Hir Gruendmann, yelled to their countrymen as they passed. "Seigh til Pruessia!"

The troopers all stopped. Some looked confused, some afraid. But most cheered, and joined them as they made their way toward a tall watchtower in the center of the camp-one of the main robotic communication terminals.

The crowd grew larger, and more unruly. Troopers yelled, knocked over transports that got in their way, raiding supply bunkers for more weaponry and ammunition.

As they passed through one of the sprawling detention areas, the wardens either gave up and joined the crowd, or were quickly subdued and restrained. Cries of relief and confusion resounded, as bonds were smashed off, and electronic barriers deactivated.

These were Walter's own people. The other forlorn, brainwashed kids, as well as the dejected and maltreated forced laborers, which most of the adults had been debased to. All were free, now.

Some of them recognized what was happening, and joined the revolt. Some ran to escape, as soon as they saw they were no longer slaves. Others, so long incarcerated, seemed bewildered, and watched with wide, fearful eyes, or fell to their knees and wept in open disbelief.

Mother and Father might be among these prisoners, though Nyborg had said they were taken away. He watched all faces desperately for any sign of his lost family.

They arrived at the communications tower, and the tumultuous spill of indignant humanity overwhelmed the few troopers on guard.

Resnakov turned to Hir Gruendmann, and gestured toward the top, speaking in Pruessian.

Walter understood enough to grasp what the plan involved.

"In this tower. Confuse the robots. Bring some with you."

Hir Gruendmann gathered several nearby troopers to accompany him. They drew their guns, and hurried up the stairs winding about the exterior of the tower.

Resnakov took a moment to address the gathered crowd of his compatriots. "It is time. We fight, for our home. For all people of Earth. Swing the Kaezer!"

Walter wasn't sure what they meant by swinging the Kaezer, but the implication was enough. This was a revolution, and it wasn't just for those here in the ration camp. All who suffered under the yoke of injustice were a part of this struggle. He cheered along with the others.

The space fighters passed overhead again, after another devastating blow to the barbed wire perimeter of the camp, and the crowd shouted their excitement.

The troopers overturned several barrels of crude oil, scattered it across the Kaezer's nearby administrative buildings, and set them ablaze. A group of men climbed a ways up the tower, and hoisted a tattered flag. Red, blue, and white, the traditional banner of their nation, the fist symbol representing Pruessia's obsession with boxing flexed its pride in the center. They waved it over the patriotic crowd, and all sang what must be the anthems of the original homeland, before the ascent of the Kaezer.

Then came the thud of heavy metal feet, the hum of many mechanical bodies in synchronized movement. A battalion of the Kaezer's robots surrounded the terminal. Drifters, walkers, drivers, and the distant shriek of burrowers reminded Walter that the enemy hadn't surrendered yet.

Resnakov poked Walter, and gave a mischievous smile. "This is our turn, now. Remember, with robots, always wait and evade, until the moment between. These gloves will shield and amplify our strikes." He clenched a fist, and the sturdy brass exoskeleton formed around it, as Walter's had done. He pointed to one of the control pads on the palm. "This switch is the fast one. The middle, direct and solid. This big one is slow, but it is destruction. Shall we show them?"

A throng of angry troopers clashed with the robots head on. The machines were strong, armored, and had high-powered weapons. But this crowd was overly familiar with robots, and knew their weaknesses. It wasn't difficult to dodge between attacks when one knew the timing, the tell-tale signs and sounds of reloading and deployment.

The first line of drivers fired their tasers. Some people were incapacitated, but a multitude remained to overwhelm the unprepared robots.

Resnakov was at the forefront. He pummeled a driver before him with three rapid strikes. Crunching metal groaned as his enhanced fists dented the metallic hull. There was a rushing sound, as the gloves charged. The robot's head crumpled beneath the merciless blow.

Resnakov looked at his hands, amazed, and his laughter boomed alongside the echo of mortars and bombs. "Come, Walter, what do you wait for?"

Nathaniel stayed close to Walter's side, helping to cover his back.

It didn't take long to figure out the controls, and unleash the power in the gloves. He still had the deactivation rod, but he didn't need it now.

Brass, copper, and steel were no match for the swift and devastating force he now possessed. He reveled in the unbelievable strength as he struck entire gashes into solid metal bodies, tore welded fixtures away, and left robots discarded in heaps of scrap at his feet.

A large walker approached. He and Nathaniel dodged its fire, seeking cover behind a nearby building. And then, Walter charged. A flurry of small, quick blows dented its leg, bowing it in. A stronger one gouged a long, sharp furrow.

The robot wobbled, trying to aim.

He moved around it, staying out of range, and activated the large, boosted strike. The gloves hummed and vibrated, charging.

Ready.

He shouted, swung, and demolished the smooth, round brass joints of the walker's legs with a single blow. The robot warbled to the ground.

Nathaniel disconnected its main power line, then fired a shot into a nearby driver's optical pane.

Walter glanced over, and saw that Nathaniel still had Mr. Vincent tucked away in his shirt. It made him smile, and he thrashed another robotic shell with exuberance.

A swarm of drifters hassled one of the largest walkers. Perplexed as to why they were attacking their own kind, he left the fray for a closer look.

There stood a familiar figure, roughly dressed in a patched overcoat. Graying hair tucked beneath a battered hat with long, grubby feathers thrust into the brim, the man waved his arms as if he were a conductor, and a small throng of robots whizzed past him to attack.

Nathaniel's voice was jubilant. "Villamont, over here!"

They ran to join their comrade.

"I can't believe it," Villamont said. "We thought we'd lost you boys."

The three of them embraced.

More friendly faces ran toward them, through the burning pile of rubble that had once been the Kaezer's defenses.

Liscomb nearly crushed them with a hug. "We looked for you," he said, choking a sob. "We found your sister. Gave her a soldier's burial. We thought you were dead, too. This is a good day."

A loud, buzzing static noise came from the transmitter at the top of the communication terminal. All of the Kaezer's robots within the vicinity stopped attacking, and emitted harmless, confused snaps and beeps.

Hir Gruendmann and his team had successfully disabled the terminal. More than half of the robotic fleets now sputtered, wandering in aimless circles. No longer receiving the great leader's commands, they were rendered as friendly as a pack of toys.

A roaring cheer swelled from both the troopers and the resistance. Victory was theirs.

The evening brought festivity and retribution.

Walter saw a familiar rotorcraft take off from the air strip at the far eastern side of the camp. "I'd recognize that vessel anywhere," he said to Resnakov.

"Hir Nyborg," Resnakov said. "Always the treacherous one. He will surely make his escape. I would love to find him someday, and show him what my fist can do to his face."

They watched the rotorcraft flee, and Walter felt a heavy weight lift from his mind as it disappeared over the distant trees.

He'd survived. It was over, and he was free.

Nathaniel was reunited with his father. Watching them weep onto each other's shoulders left an empty yearning in Walter's heart. Wherever his own parents were, he swore he'd find them.

The troopers celebrated in grand, traditional style. Walter and the others soon witnessed what it meant to 'swing the leader'.

Commander Udensnacht was brought forth by a mocking horde. Shoved to his knees, and bound in the same cold, steel restraints he'd so long kept on others, his face was bruised and humiliated.

The Pruessians raised their flag onto a tall pole, cheering as it flapped and unfurled proudly in the wind. Then, they decorated it further.

They tied a firm rope around one of Udensnacht's polished ankles, and hoisted the proud, cruel man off the ground. He dangled upside down in shame for a good while, pelted with boots, rotten bits of food, and other questionable, insulting objects. Every now and then, they swung the rope. Sometimes the commander hit the pole, leaving more bruises. But it was all in fun, supposedly. When he got too red in the face, they let him down, and threw more gibes and slaps at him. Then they raised him back up, to swing some more.

Resnakov explained that his country had a long history of revolution, and that swinging the leader was a cherished custom.

The troopers laughed, firing their guns in the air, and sang songs of triumph. Some of them raided Udensnacht's private quarters, and found his private supply of Pruessian vodka. Spirits and jubilation now flowed freely, at the commander's expense.

Every propaganda screen in the camp showed a live broadcast. The world watched as the revolution raged in Pruessia itself. The masses swung their great Kaezer, disgraced atop a flagpole in the main square of Moskloberg, their capital city.

Blane and Stonecipher's forces joined the celebration with synchronized formations overhead. The sleek space fighters shifted and dove around each other with loops and dizzying feats, thrilling the victorious crowds.

The world began again that day. A bold new society was born from the ashes of a war that had consumed nearly fifty years of human history.

Stonecipher's purification technology saved millions of lives. She founded a charity, which cleansed the world's water supply regularly. It was still in limited amounts, as the process was long and complicated. And thus, water still had to be rationed among the population. They developed a currency chip system, which worked to organize the distribution. It wasn't perfect, but it was efficient.

Everyone welcomed the new Administration, which replaced the Kaezer as the leader of all the worlds. Richard Blane was elected the first Executive Officer, and he immediately set innovative new reforms into action.

Walter gladly accepted the opportunity that Blane presented to all young people. His entire generation needed guidance into this unfamiliar new world of peace.

Some chose to go to work in the booming new industries. Others, like Walter, opted to attend university. He enrolled in one of the new schools, and undertook a major in business.

Nathaniel accepted a job which required him to move to Luna, the burgeoning colony on the moon. Unable to take Mr. Vincent with him, he gave the cat to Walter.

Walter and Mr. Vincent were inseparable from that day forth. He kept in touch with Nathaniel, Resnakov, Liscomb, and the other friends dear to him, but a gaping emptiness remained in his life.

His family.

Along with the countless others orphaned by the Kaezer, Walter searched diligently through rosters of ration camp prisoners for his parents.

When the Administration introduced the immense off-world communications and entertainment system called the Net, the quest became easier.

He nearly wept when he found their names. Jules and Anna Marlow.

To his sorrow, he found that only Mother survived. Father had been killed during an attempted uprising against the Kaezer.

But he now had a contact for Mother.

Wristcoms and holographic technology were fairly new to those on Earth, though they'd long been in use on the colonies.

It was a welcome sight when Mother's face appeared above his wrist, after so many years. They laughed, cried, reminisced, and arranged to meet as soon as they could.

She now lived by herself in a pleasant little house, at the end of a shaded lane, just outside one of the growing new cities.

Catching the first train available, Walter arrived on a clear spring morning, wearing an elegant bowler hat, suit, and tie, as was the current style for young men. He brought her a bouquet of sweet flowers.

They hugged, and stared into each others eyes for what seemed like hours.

"You've cut your hair," he said.

She sniffled through her tears, and smiled. "Hairstyles and hemlines are getting shorter," she said. "We don't have to hide anymore. It's an exciting time for all of us."

So much was lost. Father and Jocelyn were gone forever, but he and Mother were together again. He finally understood peace.

~AFTERWORD~

"Children of the War" is a prelude and introduction to my upcoming decopunk novel, "Ruby Descent". Walter Marlow returns, fifteen years after the War has ended. He now works as the concierge and director of operations aboard the Ruby lift, a space elevator that transports guests and cargo between Earth and the Royal Crown Orbital Plaza and Resort, the only five star luxury hotel in space.

Walter also makes an appearance in the final chapters of "Perfect World Somewhere", which is the tale of his brash and beautiful crew member aboard the Ruby lift, Lily Fairpoole.

"Ruby Descent" is due in 2016. Here's the first scene from the novel.

~~*~~

Walter knew it was going to be a rough shift when the contact light on his wristcom blinked red.

Lily only called if there was a real problem.

He sighed, and answered. "Marlow. What's the news, Lily?"

Her face appeared on hologram, an inch above his sleeve, and she didn't look happy.

"I'm not sure. Something just flooded the mainframe. It's completely taken over. I can't do a thing."

He sighed. "How long until you can get us back online?"

"I don't know, sir. This is...wait."

The floor shook for a few seconds, and the entire lift came to a standstill.

"What's happening?" he asked.

Lily's expression grew stern. She stared at something off-screen. "It's some kind of security hold. I can't decipher the language yet, but I can work on it, if you want."

"Please do. We can't be late."

He was thankful Lily had joined his crew, here on the Ruby lift. She was one of the few people he could rely on to do their job right.

The light on his wrist flashed silver, the ringtone a pleasant yet insistent chime, and his anxiety went up just a little more.

"It's Mr. Cunningham. I've got to go. Keep me updated on the situation."

He answered Mr. Cunningham, doing his best to stand up straight.

"Walter Marlow. How may I assist you, sir?"

"We have an unusual situation upon us," Mr. Cunningham said, his posture as stiff as his waistcoat. "The Administration has shut down all lifts and transports for the next thirty minutes. Don't be alarmed, everything will be restored on time, and I've made the media aware. The party will just continue for a little longer here at the Plaza. No need to worry yourself."

He did worry. The Administration? Just what were they so concerned about? This situation kept getting stranger, and more inconvenient.

He nodded as professionally as he could to his employer.

"Of course, sir. Everything will proceed as normal here on the Ruby."

Mr. Cunninghan's eyes creased as he smiled. "I know I can leave it up to you, Mr. Marlow. You've never let me down. Report to me, the moment you arrive. My office."

"Yes, sir."

The hologram went dead. Walter sank into his chair, and laid his arms across the desk. He had to remind himself that it was just another descent. Everything would be fine.

It already wasn't.

If something was bothering the Administration enough to freeze all the lifts, something illicit was going on. The law never got involved with any trifling event. This meant trouble.

He heard a purr, both feline and mechanical. Mr. Vincent, his beloved cat, jumped onto the desk, though not as gracefully as he used to when he was young. He was Walter's best friend.

The advanced robotic exoskeleton the cat wore was a testament to that friendship. It had cost almost all of his savings to have implanted, but it was worth it. He wanted to keep Mr. Vincent alive as long as possible

The cat head-butted him, demanding attention. His pet was an attraction and novelty, to the guests and crew alike.

He felt a little better after he talked things out with Mr. Vincent.

Afterward, he called Lily back. "Marlow here. I have more information from the boss."

"Let me guess. The Administration's involved, right? This is definitely official code."

He was impressed with her accuracy. She truly was brilliant, as he'd come to find the longer she'd been working under him.

"It is the Admin. I don't know the details. But Mr. Cunningham says everything will be restored within thirty minutes."

Lily scratched her head. Even on the hologram, he could see her unease. "I don't like this. You know how glitchy all of the robots get after a system reset. And with these guests we have coming aboard, we have to be at our very best. I hear we're going to host none other than Castor and Ethlyne Blane on this descent."

"What? Where have you heard this?"

"Pay more attention to the Net, Mr. Marlow," Lily said, with a teasing smile. "It's the hottest topic on all of the social and news hubs."

Ethlyne Blane was only the most famous actress in cinema. Her husband, Castor, was just as important, the director of all Martian enterprise for Everblue.

"I don't have time to bother with such things as the Net when I'm working," he said, trying to sound like the detached supervisor. "And neither should you."

"Of course, sir." She smiled. "But you know I always get my work done, no matter what."

Lily had a dangerous way of upsetting his professional aspect.

"Just see that you keep it up. Continue to update me as to the status of the system."

"Absolutely." He dark eyes lowered shyly. "By the way, you're going to come watch my show later, aren't you? You promised that you would."

The truth, that he'd forgotten, hit him with the sudden numb of guilt.

"Yes, I'll come, but I can't stay long."

"Fair enough," she said.

"And, I'm sorry, but I have to go now. Over and out."