Release date: August 28, 2016
Subgenre: Space opera
About Dreaming of the Stars:
Even in a galaxy torn apart by war, the young still have dreams.
On Rajipuri, a poor planet in the Empire of Worlds, Anjali Patel and
her two younger sisters look up at the stars and dream of escaping the
limitations of a traditional and rigidly stratified society.
At the same time, in a camp for war orphans in the Republic of
United Planets, Mikhail Grikov also looks up at the stars and dreams of
escaping a life of pain and abuse.
One day in the far future, they will meet and change the galaxy. But for now, they're merely dreaming of the stars…
This is a prequel novelette of 8500 words or approx. 29 print pages
to the "In Love and War" series, but may be read as a standalone.
Excerpt:
II. Mikhail
Half a galaxy away, on the far edge of the Republic of United
Planets, one of the two great polities that had divided the galaxy
amongst themselves, lay Wamsler IV. It was a cold and miserable rock
with a breathable atmosphere, but hardly any vegetation. Just rocks and
mud and more mud.
Wamsler IV had been a mining colony once, but the demands of the war
effort had long stripped the world of any useful resources. So the
Scientific Council in its infinite wisdom had decided to put the used-up
colony to another use, namely to house the masses of refugees displace
by its ongoing seventy-seven year war with the Empire of Worlds.
Juvenile Camp 12M8 was a facility for war orphans, though you
wouldn’t know it by the looks of it. Instead, the place looked more like
a prison than an orphanage. Rows of drab pre-fab barracks sat on the
muddy ground, surrounded by an electrified perimeter fence tall enough
to keep even the most nimble of youths inside. The single gate was
manned by uniformed guards twenty-four seven.
Loitering near that gate, though not near enough to attract any undue
attention from the guards, was Mikhail Alexeievich Grikov, one of the
more than two thousand children and adolescents housed at Juvenile Camp
12M8.
Mikhail was a lanky boy with pale skin, dark hair cropped brutally
short and brilliant blue eyes. The drab blue uniform worn by all inmates
of Camp 12M8 hung loosely from his skinny frame, too big and too small
at the same time, for a recent growth spurt had left the sleeves and
legs too short.
Though the uniform at least hid the bruises that covered his body.
Discipline was swift and harsh for troublemakers at Juvenile Camp 12M8.
And Mikhail was considered a habitual troublemaker.
One of the gate guards was looking his way, so Mikhail quickly ducked
back into the shadows between the barracks, lest he catch another
beating for whatever stupid rule he was breaking this time. He leant
against the wall of the barrack and tried to ignore his growling
stomach. The daily calorie allowance of one thousand eight hundred
calories was never enough for his growing body, leaving him perpetually
hungry.
Mikhail was fifteen years old. He’d been at Camp 12M8 for seven years now.
He’d been born on Jagellowsk, a world of extensive woodlands and
yellow wheat fields, once called the breadbasket of the Republic.
Mikhail had spent his first eight years on Jagellowsk, growing up on a
farm among those wheat fields with his parents, grandparents, an older
sister called Katya and a dog called Laika. They were all gone now,
blown up along with his homeworld by an Imperial superweapon. Mikhail
was the only one left.
In seven years on Wamsler IV, Mikhail had learned to lock away his
memories of his family and his homeworld in his heart, so no one could
take them from him, just like they’d taken everything else. His clothes,
his hair, shorn brutally short so it was easier to manage, his
language, for the camp guards punished the kids for not speaking
Standard, even among themselves, even his name, for the official camp
records only listed him as Mikhail Grikov, aged fifteen, omitting the
patronymic, since the database had no field for it.
Mikhail did not care. In his heart, he was Mikhail Alexeievich Grikov
of Jagellowsk, son of Alexei and Irina, brother of Katya, and would
always be.
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About Cora Buhlert:
Cora Buhlert was
born and bred in North Germany, where she still lives today – after time
spent in London, Singapore, Rotterdam and Mississippi. Cora holds an MA
degree in English from the University of Bremen and is currently
working towards her PhD. Cora has been writing since she was a teenager,
and has published stories, articles and poetry in various international
magazines. When she is not writing, she works as a translator and
teacher.
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