Siege of Praetar (Tales of a Dying Star Book 1) by David Kristoph Page A

pulled a needle and thread from her pants and began the repair. Her hand still trembled; it took several attempts just to make the first stitch. The second stitch took just as long. Panic made her chest ache, and it seemed like an eternity before the hole was closed. She pulled at the dirty cloth gently to test it. It wasn’t pretty, but she thought it would hold the weight.
    The shirt went back over her head slowly. To her relief the credits stayed in place. How much time had passed? She couldn’t leave the credits on the floor, so she bent to pick them up. It would only take a moment and then she would be away.
    The foreman walked by the window then, alone. He glanced at the tinted glass with surprise, then alarm. Mira had just enough time to grab the last few credits from the floor and jump against the wall before he burst inside.
    His face was blank, and he stood in the doorway for a long moment. His eyes never left Mira’s as he walked around his desk and sat. She stared back, resisting the urge to glance in the direction of the drawer.
    “I understand your reluctance to be seen in my office,” Jin said, his voice cold and formal, “but you will never touch my desk again. Even to darken the window.”
    Mira’s hand trembled at her side. She held it with the other hand and stammered an apology, keeping very still to keep the credits in her hidden pocket from clinking together. I was supposed to be gone by now . What was she supposed to do?
    “Well?” said the foreman, now impatient. “Why did you need to see me?”
    “I…” Mira’s mind raced for an excuse. “I wanted to thank you. For the extra credits you gave me. My daughter is doing much better.”
    “Good, I had wondered. Does she eat enough? I need to keep a balanced payroll, but I may have something extra…” he reached for the drawer.
    “No!” she blurted, raising a hand toward him. The credits on her back shifted. “She’s fine now, better than fine. You’ve already done enough, more than I deserve.”
    He removed his hand from the drawer. Mira barely stifled a sigh. Jin tilted his head and said, “What’s her name? Your daughter?”
    Why was he asking her daughter’s name? Was something wrong? He didn’t look like he suspected anything, but Melisao were hard to gauge.
    His stare was piercing, so she looked down--and spotted three more credits, on the ground at the edge of his desk. She must have missed them. Her eyes shot back up, but Jin’s gaze was unmoved. Had he seen the discs when he entered? Was he delaying her so peacekeepers could arrive? She didn’t know if he could alert them without her knowing.
    “Ami. My other girl is Kaela.” Sweat trickled down her back, pooling at the spot where the pocket rested against her skin. The longer she stood there the more her nerve withered. Was he testing her? If she admitted to her crime he might be lenient. Maybe that was what was happening: the foreman was giving her a chance to confess. She felt like a fool, standing there with a pile of stolen credits on her back. Why did she ever think she could get away with it?
    He nodded. “I know how it feels to work a difficult job, to provide for the ones you love.” He looked like he wanted to tell her more, but instead he only said, “Angela looks impatient at your station. You may go, if that is all.”
    She took one cautious step toward the door; the credits on her back made no noise. No peacekeepers jumped out to arrest her. She shuffled out of the office, past the disapproving stare of the secretary, toward her freedom.

 
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter 8
     

     
    Mira jingled like a broken machine as she ran down the street. She’d stepped on a sharp piece of debris in her carelessness, and left a trail of red smears behind her. Buildings framed either side of the street and faces watched down from doorways and broken windows. They didn’t know if she was in need or in trouble, so they remained in their places, unwilling to risk