How can she be The Star Child?
Anitra’s an ordinary girl from a run-down pit village in Northern England, isn’t she?
In an instant, Anitra’s cosy little world is turned upside down and to fulfil her destiny she must travel to Mars – and stay alive long enough to petition the Goubernator for human rights.
There’s more than just her life at stake. Will Anitra allow others to help her, when she’s not very good at doing what she’s told?
Anitra crept out of her seat and steadied herself in the unfamiliar gravity, adjusted to be equal to that on the Moon. Then she began to hop towards the glow of the bar, as if she was in a baby-bouncer.
She saw the silhouette of a single person sitting hunched on a bar stool. It gave her a warm feeling to see someone else there. The warmth evaporated when she saw it was Commissioner Nilsson.
She was about to turn and hop quietly back to her seat when she recalled something she’d read about tigers. You needn’t make a point of avoiding them when they are not on the prowl. The tiger you can see isn’t that dangerous. It’s the tiger you can’t see that you need to fear. But if you get close enough to a resting tiger, you may learn something to your advantage. Like judging for yourself the sharpness of the teeth that could tear your throat out. And seeing for yourself the length of the claws that could open you up from chin to crotch.
Just don’t tread on its tail.
To the right of Nilsson there were three vacant stools, like spindly red mushrooms. Anitra thought of climbing onto the one furthest away, to leave a cordon-sanitaire between them. But she didn’t want to seem rude, even to an enemy.
On first acquaintance she had taken Nilsson for someone compassionate. Why she’d changed her mind was not because of anything the Commissioner had done. It was what Uncle Peter had said about her. But now, she reminded herself, she was old enough to make her own enemies.
Softly, as if the Selenean were asleep, she slid onto the stool beside her. Nilsson didn’t look round, but carried on staring at the blossoming bubbles in her tonic water. A steward appeared from behind the bulkhead and silently got Anitra a glass of orange juice. Diffidently she sipped it, aware of her neighbour’s proximity like an iceberg radiating chill.
Written by Clark Nida
(This novel is the sequel to The Titan Kiss.)
In Press (April 2026). Watch this page for further details.
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Whitby Writers Group 