Dreaming of the Stars

by Cora Buhlert

  Mayhew ordered a soy schnitzel, served with fries and deep-frozen peas for himself and watched Mikhail gulp down a big glass of soda and scarf down two soy cheeseburgers, a big serving of fries and a bowl of croquettes with gravy.

  They didn’t talk much, largely because Mikhail was too busy eating, but then they never did during Mayhew’s occasional visits to Wamsler IV.

  Mikhail didn’t know much about the man who’d rescued him. He knew that Brian Mayhew was an important person in the Republican military, way too important to handle routine evacuation jobs these days, though he knew little about what it really was that Mayhew did.

  Mikhail knew that he’d been married once and had a daughter a few years older than Mikhail. And in fact, Mayhew still wore his wedding ring — a thin plain gold band on his left hand — even though his wife and daughter had died in an Imperial attack a little over five years ago.

  Maybe this was why Mikhail felt such a kinship to Brian Mayhew. They both knew what it meant to lose everybody you loved and still go on, go forward, serving and protecting others because someone had to.

  Mayhew had never remarried after he’d lost his wife and daughter. Mikhail approved. It was only sensible, after all. If you didn’t have people you loved, no one could take them away from you. If you didn’t love, you couldn’t get hurt.

  Like Mayhew, Mikhail had long since decided that he would never marry and that he wouldn’t have children. No one would ever bear his name as a patronymic.

  That last realisation sometimes gave Mikhail a little pang, where his heart should be. Because Mikhail liked children. At the camp, he often played with the younger ones, tried to comfort them, when they cried, or soothe them, when they couldn’t sleep. Because someone had to and the guards didn’t care.

  And the children at the camp loved him for it. He could see it in their eyes when they spotted him — “Misha, will you come play with us?”

  And just yesterday, a little girl named Mingyu, who was all of three years old, had spontaneously hugged him. And even though Mikhail didn’t like to be touched, he hadn’t minded. He’d even hugged her back and held her tight. And then he remembered that he’d never hold a child of his own like that. The realisation had driven tears to his eyes — and Mikhail never cried.

  But this was war and war required sacrifices. No one knew that better than Mikhail. Though Mayhew knew it as well, of course. After all, he still wore his wedding ring as a reminder of what he’d lost, just as Mikhail held on to his full name and his language and his memories. And like Mikhail, Mayhew had locked away his love for his family deep inside of him, where no one could touch it, and went on, doing his duty, fighting the Empire and protecting those who needed help. Cause someone had to.

  The injection moulded plastic chairs of the District Diner were hard on Mikhail’s bruised backside, so he shifted in his seat, trying to take as much pressure from the bruises as he could. And of course, Mayhew noticed.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, sir,” Mikhail replied hastily. To his dismay, he felt the telltale flush of blood to his cheeks. “I just hurt my back, that’s all.”

  “How did you hurt your back?”

  “Ex… exercising, sir.”

  In response, Mayhew reached out and caught Mikhail by the wrist. Mikhail flinched and tried to pull away — he didn’t like to be touched — but Mayhew wouldn’t let him. He held on to Mikhail’s wrist, gentle but firm, and pushed up the too short sleeve of his camp uniform, revealing a mess of bruises marking the boy’s pale skin.

  Mikhail heard a sharp intake of breath, saw a moment of shock flit across Mayhew’s features, which confused him, for Brian Mayhew was a soldier of the Republic and had certainly seen all sorts of horrible things during the war, up to and including a whole planet crumbling to dust. So Mikhail wouldn’t have thought that a few bruises — and not very bad bruises at that, Mikhail had had worse — had the potential to shock him. Yet they did.

  “Who did this?”

  Mikhail didn’t answer. He withdrew his arm and pulled down the sleeve again to cover up the bruises.

  “Mikhail, who did this?” Mayhew repeated, “Did the guards do that to you?”

  Mikhail squirmed in his seat. “I broke the rules and had to be punished.”

  “What did you do?” Mayhew demanded, “What can you possibly have done to deserve something like that?”

  “I… I…” Mikhail lowered his eyes. “Nothing really. Some of the younger kids at the camp were doing pull-ups on a shelf in the common room. It broke off and fell down. The guards were furious, so I said it was me who did it.”

  “You took somebody else’s punishment?”

  “They were just little kids, seven or eight years old. They couldn’t have handled the punishment. I can.”

  “Heavens, Mikhail, I…” Mayhew took a deep breath. “This has to stop. That camp should be a sanctuary for orphaned children, not a prison. I’ll lodge an official complaint and…”

  “No, sir, please don’t,” Mikhail exclaimed, suddenly fearful.

  Mayhew gave him a stunned look. “Why the hell not? Even if you had broken that shelf, you didn’t deserve to be beaten for it. What those guards did to you was wrong. You must know that it’s wrong.”

  “It is wrong,” Mikhail said. It felt strange to say it out loud, especially since this was something he rarely dared to admit even to himself. But Mayhew was right. What the guards were doing was wrong.

  “Then why don’t you want me to file a complaint?”

  “Because it wouldn’t change anything. They’d maybe fire some of the guards, but their superiors and the governor would still be there. And then things would only get worse…”

  “…and they’d take it out on you,” Mayhew supplied, “But I can’t possibly leave you here, beaten and half-starved, for another three years. The next time, you might suffer permanent damage.”

  At this moment, a plan, really more of a dream, half-formed during the many nights Mikhail lay awake in his bunk, unable to sleep, lest he dream again of his homeworld and how it had been destroyed, fought its way to the top of his mind and the tip of his tongue.

  “I wouldn’t have to stay there for three more years,” he blurted out, “I could get out next year, when I turn sixteen. If I enlist.”

  Mayhew blinked. “You want to join the military?”

  Mikhail nodded eagerly. “Yes, sir. I want to do my duty, fight for the Republic.”

  Mayhew suppressed a sigh. “This isn’t a game, Mikhail. We’re at war.”

  “I know, sir.”

  “But you don’t know what war means. You’ll have to follow orders you disagree with, do things you can’t square with your conscience. You’ll see comrades suffer and die. You might get hurt yourself, even killed. I understand that you want to escape from that place, but this is not the way.”

  “You joined the military, sir,” Mikhail pointed out.

  “Yes, but I was an adult, not a desperate fifteen-year-old. I knew exactly what I was doing.”

  “I know what I’m doing, too,” Mikhail insisted, “I know what war can do to people, what it can cost you. I know it as well as you, sir…”

  “I sincerely doubt that.”

  “I lost my family, my language, my homeworld, even my name to the war. But I got out and I think there’s a reason for that. I think I still have a duty, a duty to protect others and make sure that what happened to Jagellowsk never happens again.”

  Mayhew had gone quiet and his face had taken on an expression Mikhail could not read.

  “Or is that not a good reason, sir?” he asked hesitantly.

  In response, Mayhew clapped him on the shoulder, causing Mikhail to flinch. “I think that’s an excellent reason. The Republican Forces should count themselves lucky to have a recruit like you. But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re still too young.”

  “I can enlist at sixteen,” Mikhail insisted, “I looked it up.”

  “With the
permission of a parent or guardian,” Mayhew said, “You have nothing of that sort.”

  “I know. But an official request by a serving officer of the Republican Forces could override the need for parental permission. I looked it up.”

  Mayhew’s eyes narrowed. “You’re asking me to sign the papers that will allow you to enlist at sixteen?”

  Mikhail flashed him a hopeful smile. “Yes, sir.”

  When Mayhew didn’t answer, but only regarded him with an unreadable expression, Mikhail added, “You will do it, won’t you, sir? Please.”

  Mayhew took a deep breath. “All right, I will sign the papers…”

  “Thank you, sir!”

  “…if, come next year, you still want to join the military.”

  Mayhew regarded Mikhail with an expression that was a little bit like the look on his father’s face, when Mikhail had caught his first fish in the river that had run behind their farm back on a world that was now gone.

  “Off the record, I think you’ll make an excellent soldier and fine officer. You’re exactly the sort of man the Republican Forces need, a man who’s brave, compassionate and who knows the costs of war…”

  “Th… thank you, sir.”

  “…so if this is really what you want…”

  “It is, sir. Very much.”

  “All right, then I’ll pick you up next year,” Mayhew said, “But in the meantime, I think you could still use some dessert. After all, you’ll need to grow big and strong, if you want to become a soldier. And I think I saw a very tasty sounding ice cream sundae on the menu. So what do you say?”

  A broad grin lit up Mikhail’s face. “Yes, sir.”

  Later that evening, Mayhew dumped a thoroughly satiated Mikhail off at Juvenile Camp 12M8 again.

  The gate guard, a particularly unpleasant man named Novotny, had glared at Mikhail for returning a few minutes late and perhaps even for daring to leave the camp at all, and Mikhail had already mentally prepared himself for another beating.

  But thankfully, Brian Mayhew outglared Novotny with the full force of his authority as an officer of the Republican army.

  “Don’t you have something else to do, Warden Novotny?”

  Novotny knew when he was outglared, so he quickly vanished into his guardhouse and busied himself with something.

  Once Novotny was gone, Mayhew regarded Mikhail with a strange look in his eyes. He cleared his throat.

  “So, Mikhail, I’ll see you next year, provided you still want to do what we discussed today.”

  Mikhail had absolutely no intention of changing his mind, so he nodded emphatically. “I will be counting the days, sir. And sir…”

  Mayhew shot him a mildly irritated look. “For goodness sake, call me Brian. I’m not your commanding officer and you make me feel as if I’m back at HQ, dealing with a particularly raw recruit.”

  “Yes, sir… I mean Brian. And s… Brian, thank you. For everything.”

  “It’s the least I could do… after failing your people and your world.” Mayhew held out his hand. “Good bye, Mikhail. Try not to get into too much trouble.”

  Hesitantly, Mikhail took his hand. For though he didn’t like being touched, there were exceptions and Mayhew was one of them.

  “Will do, sir.” Noticing Mayhew’s raised eyebrow, he added. “Brian. Good bye and stay safe out there…”

  Because Mikhail couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to him, not when Mayhew was his only way out of Camp 12M8.

  “…I’ll be waiting for you.”

  Mayhew clasped Mikhail’s hand and for an instant it seemed as if he was going to pull Mikhail into a hug. But in the end he didn’t, which was a good thing, because Mikhail didn’t like to be touched and he certainly didn’t like hugs.

  It was only as he watched Mayhew’s sleek groundcar driving away that Mikhail realised that he wouldn’t have minded that hug after all.

  Later that evening, Mikhail leant against the side of a barrack, his belly full for the first time in months, so full in fact, that Mikhail had given his nightly ration of protein sludge to another hungry boy, though he’d pocketed the nutri-bar, because you never knew when you might need it.

  He became aware of a presence next to him, of a small hand tugging on the too short sleeve of his uniform. He looked down and spotted Mingyu, the little girl who’d taken a shine to him.

  “Misha…” she asked, “…what are you doing?”

  “Watching the stars,” he said, quite unaware that at the very same moment, on the other side of the galaxy, a girl only a little younger than himself was doing the same.

  “But what are you doing out here?” he asked Mingyu, because it was way past bedtime for the younger kids and the guards would be furious, if they caught her. And Mingyu was way too young for a beating. “You should be in bed.”

  “I can’t sleep.” Mingyu yawned. She slipped her hand through Mikhail’s. He let her. “I’m hungry.”

  “Here…” Mikhail reached into the pocket of his uniform and withdrew the bar he’d saved. “…I’ve got an extra nutri-bar.” He handed the bland and tasteless slab to the little girl.

  Mingyu regarded the bar with delight and eagerly tore open the wrapping. “For me? Really? And you don’t need it?”

  Mikhail shook his head. “I had a burger today. And fries and croquettes and an ice cream sundae for dessert.”

  Mingyu’s eyes went wide. “Really? So much?”

  Mikhail nodded.

  “What’s it taste like?” Mingyu wanted to know, “The ice cream, I mean. Was it really as good as everybody says?”

  Mikhail nodded eagerly. “It was better than good. It was sweet and cold and creamy and it melts in your mouth and it’s really the best thing ever…”

  A light streaked across the night sky above Wamsler IV, heralding the departure of a spaceship. Mikhail pointed at the streak. “Look.”

  In response, Mingyu looked up, her mouth wide open. “Wow! What is it?”

  “A spaceship, headed for the stars.”

  Maybe Mayhew was aboard that ship, he thought, headed back to war to defend the Republic against its enemies.

  “Cool,” Mingyu exclaimed.

  “Next year, I’ll be on one of those ships, getting away from here.” He squeezed Mingyu’s hand. “Just one more year.”

  The Beginning…

  The In Love and War series continues in…

  Graveyard Shift

  While docked at the civilian space station Unity for repairs, the Republic of United Planets battlecruiser Great Endeavour undertakes a trial flight with an inexperienced bridge crew. Disaster strikes and the Great Endeavour crashes into Unity’s shopping concourse, killing more than three hundred people.

  A tragic accident, but in times of war, the public is not willing to accept tragic accidents. And so the Republic’s government sends its best troubleshooter, Colonel Brian Mayhew of the Republican Special Commando Forces to initiate a cover-up.

  Out now from Pegasus Pulp

  Courting Trouble

  Once, Anjali Patel and Mikhail Grikov were soldiers on opposing sides of an intergalactic war. They met, fell in love and decided to go on the run together.

  Now Anjali and Mikhail are trying to eke out a living on the independent worlds of the galactic rim, while attempting to stay under the radar of those pursuing them.

  But when Anjali and Mikhail stumble upon a protection racket during a routine shopping trip, they have to make a decision: Lay low to avoid attracting attention or stay true to their personal ethics and intervene?

  Out now from Pegasus Pulp

  Bullet Holes

  Once, Anjali Patel and Mikhail Grikov were soldiers on opposing sides of an intergalactic war. They met, fell in love and decided to go on the run together.

  Now Anjali and Mikhail are trying to eke out a living on the independent worlds of the galactic rim, while attempting to stay under the radar of those pursuing them.

  When a seemingly routine cour
ier job turns out to be a trap, Anjali is hit by a so-called smart bullet, a Republican weapon that slowly and inevitably kills its victims. Mikhail is given a choice by his former commander Brian Mayhew: Surrender or watch the woman he loves die in excruciating pain.

  Out now from Pegasus Pulp

  Dead World

  Once, Anjali Patel and Mikhail Grikov were soldiers on opposing sides of an intergalactic war. They met, fell in love and decided to go on the run together.

  Now Anjali and Mikhail are trying to eke out a living on the independent worlds of the galactic rim, while attempting to stay under the radar of those pursuing them.

  When they are hired to retrieve a weapons prototype from an abandoned planet, it seems like a routine job. But it quickly turns out that the planet is not as empty as they had thought. And soon, Anjali and Mikhail find themselves caught in a deadly chase across a radioactive wasteland.

  Out now from Pegasus Pulp

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  About the Author

  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. Visit her on the web at www.corabuhlert.com or follow her on Twitter under @CoraBuhlert.

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