Incident Zero

By Maeghan Jo Kimball

Welcome to Ruinstaaten.

Where citizens are separated into two classes- Landed and Citizens. The Landed hold the power, the resources and run the government, while the Citizens struggle to survive on what’s left. The polar ice caps have melted and there isn’t enough land for everyone to live on. War has ravaged what resources are left and everyone is scrambling to find their purchase in a country obsessed with family connections and names, so much that it is tattooed on them for all the see, in the form of Marks.

Harriet Veratten, born a Citizen and raised in the state run Kinderhaus, chose the Military as her path to stability. Unlike others, she doesn’t bear the Marks of her mother or mother’s family. She bears the Mark of the Veratten, the Traitor. She’s always attempted to live her life by the rules and keep in line. She rarely makes a fuss as she’s passed over again for promotion all because of her Marks. The only person who doesn’t judge her for them is her husband, Simon Holder. For most people, she has a life that’s comfortable if not extravagant. She doesn’t have to worry about food or a roof over her head as she stationed on the Vergest, one of the floating city ships of Ruinstaaten and works in the Engineering Department. But it’s not enough.

As she and Simon start to look forward to creating a family of their own, Harry can’t help but wonder who her mother is. Then a chance encounter with someone who claims to know her mother causes Harry to snap, her world unravels as she discovers that nothing is what she thought it was .

Welcome to Ruinstaaten.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Aug 1, 2020
• ISBN: 9781716688102

Maeghan Jo Kimball

Entergetic and fun-loving writer and participant in life. Always liking for new experiences and new things to write about, Maeghan can be found at Music Festivals, conventions, or even just a walk in the woods. Always willing to discuss her writings, life, TV and movies, she loves company and craves stimulating conversations.

Book preview

Incident Zero

By Maeghan Jo Kimball

Flaming Accordions

2020

Copyright © 2020 by Maeghan Jo Kimball

Cover Photo Copyright 2020 Marcus Cherundolo

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.

First Printing: 2020

ISBN 978-1-71668-810-2

Flaming Accordions

Sterling, VA

www.flamingaccordions.com

Dedication

To all the people that helped me. Christina Freeman who helped me find Harry’s soul, to Wendy Chiles who kept me working when I was over it, to Aimee Child who fixed the words. Michelle Benczkowski for teaching me one foot in front of the other is how you get there. And lastly, Martin Peyruc for putting up with my nonsense.

Incident Zero

2510.03.15.1530: Incident Zero

Put the phaser down, Harry! It was the second time Simon issued the order. Desperation rang in his voice.

She didn’t move. It was a simple, direct order. She needed no thought to complete it, but Harriet Veratten could no longer follow orders. Something in her had broken; something had snapped. She looked up at the man in uniform, the same uniform that she was wearing, not sure what she wanted to see reflected at her in his visor. Whatever it was, she didn’t see it. He issued the order again. Put it down, Harry! Don’t make me shoot you!

She knew it was Simon, her husband, the second he rounded the corner. His left knee was worn, like all his pants because of the way he sat and bounced his leg when he was concentrating, rubbing it on the wall of his desk. Harry couldn’t think of a time when he didn’t have a worn spot on that knee, unless the pants were brand new. Simon Holder had been in her life since they were both five. They had been together in the Kinderhaus, school, and all through their training. in the 25 years they had known each other, there had never been a major disagreement on anything. Sure, they had their little squabbles and fights, but nothing big. They appeared to be content. The problem was that Harry wasn’t and Simon was. He didn’t care about their shitty assignments, and that Harry never got a promotion. He didn’t care as long as he was with her.

Harry couldn’t see Simon’s eyes because his visor was down, but he could look directly into her almond shaped, hazel eyes. Her helmet was on the floor, lying like a decapitated head, disregarded as trash. She wondered what his clear blue eyes would look like in this moment. What would his eyes reveal about his thoughts? Did he see what was happening to her? Did he understand that she was slowly dying here? Would he ever forgive her for this? I can’t, Simon. I can’t pretend anymore, she whispered. Can’t you see? I can’t go back.

Harry? Don’t do this. Don’t, Simon pleaded, his voice cracking with emotion. The phaser lowered, but he kept it pointed at her.

Harry shook her head, her chestnut curls moving as one in the ponytail. She didn’t have an answer for him. She had no more words. She lifted her phaser slowly. It was heavy, heavier than she had ever thought it could be. I have to, Simon. It’s the only way.

They looked down in unison at the terrified woman at Harry’s feet. It felt like days, not the half-hour or so since she had ruined everything. Only thirty minutes since she had refused to tell her. If this she would have told her, the whole mess could have been avoided. Harry wouldn’t have had to tie her up and try to drag her to the secret room to make her talk. Didn’t she understand? Harry had to know. It didn’t matter if she was the President of Ruinenstaaten. All that mattered was that she wouldn’t tell Harry what Harry needed to know.

Maureen O’Dare, half sat/knelt at Harry’s feet, gagged with a dirty piece of cloth, her hands bound with cord. Her suit was ripped and dirty. She had lost one shoe somewhere along the way. Her manicured nails were mangled and chipped. Her hair tangled and dirty. This was nothing like the woman that stood on TV and told them what to do and what to think. She spewed hate at Harry with every bat of her eyes.

It’s not worth it, Simon told Harry, pleading. We can get through this. We can…

Harry raised the phaser a little higher, tears streaking down her russet colored cheeks covered with black freckles. You’re not listening. We can’t. I can’t.

Simon pulled his helmet off, but kept the phaser pointed at her. Harry, you’re the one who always says that we can do anything together. We can do anything together!

You’re not listening! she screamed. You’re not listening to me, Simon!

I am listening, Harry. I’m always listening! he yelled back. I hear everything you say! And this is not the solution! You’re letting them win! You’re proving them right! God damn it! Put the phaser down!

All three heads swiveled at the sound of boots running toward them. The woman on the floor started to scream for help. They’ve already won. Harry raised the phaser again, her voice the sound of a broken woman. It’s the only way.

Simon raised his phaser. Harry. Don’t make me do this, he begged, but they were running out of time.

The shot rang around the corridor, echoing until it was nothing more than the ambient noise of the ship. Harry fell to the grated floor with a wordless thump. Her phaser fell from her grasp and clattered across the floor. Simon let his phaser fall to the grates as the security forces came around the corner and took in the scene before them. They stopped looking between Harry, Simon, and the woman who was tied up and dead on the floor.

Commander Nash, we found them. His voice rang hollow around the steel hallway, not wanting to say the next words. Shots fired. I repeat, shots fired, the newcomer said into his radio. The President is down. I repeat, the President is down."

2510.03.01: Fourteen Days Before

Harry flipped through the images on the screen, too fast to study them. It didn’t matter. She had memorized them all. She looked over at the mirror that was on the other side of her quarters from the terminal, trying to figure out what everyone else saw when they looked at her. She was average for a citizen. Her skin was a russet color with black freckles. Her hair was chestnut, several shades darker than her skin with tight curls she usually wore up in a ponytail. She was wearing her uniform; black pants and a sleeveless black undershirt. The green jacket that marked her as a member of the engineering team was on the bed. When she put it on, it would leave her left shoulder and upper arm bare, revealing her Marks. That’s what they saw when they looked at her. Not her uniform, or skin color, or hair. They saw her Marks.

Everyone had Marks. The first one is made moments after birth on the upper part of the left arm, directly under the shoulder. The first part denotes class; Landed, Government, Military, or Citizen, then the mother’s information so there is no question who the mother is. The second Mark is made when the father claims the child as his. Every major moment is recorded on the genetically resequenced skin. A permanent history of who a person was.

Harry reached up to her shoulder where the Mark identifying her mother should have been. Instead she bore a different Mark. She had a solid band of green at the top of her arm that signified she was born on land as a citizen of Ruinenstaaten. Next was the block that should have held her mother’s family crest and name, but hers was an odd shape that denoted she had no family name. Most family Marks were shield shaped or round, squares or triangles, but they were normal shapes with a couple other symbols in them that gave them their meaning. Her Mark was a Triskaidecagon, thirteen sides, with a bleeding snake that had been stabbed with a knife. Growing up, no one told her what the Mark meant, but she understood the implications at a very early age. Harry always laughed it off, claiming she was a true orphan. She had no parents, no genetic identity. Everyone else knew who and what they were going to be. Harry was just Harry, sweet little Harriet Nobody. Adoption days would come and Harry would line up with the other kids. She would make it past the first walk through and be invited to meet the couple looking for a child. She would charm them with a joke and her knowledge. Then they would ask, Can we see her Family Marks? Then she would be politely dismissed.

She ran her hand over it as she watched herself in the mirror. She liked that the mirror was across the room, making the Mark unreadable. While at the academy while studying for a project, she discovered a list Marks. It was the first time she had seen her Mark listed. She knew what it meant: Traitor to the State. Her mother had been a traitor and that in turn made her one. It made a sick kind of sense now. Why would anyone want to adopt her? Why would anyone promote someone with such an obvious taint? Without even knowing who her mother was, she had shaped Harry’s life. Harry longed to go back to the days when the worst thing that happened to her was another couple walking out of the door and leaving her in the Kinderhaus. At least then, she could pretend that tomorrow would be a better day or the next set of parents would want her. She dropped her hand when she heard Simon at the door, putting in his code, and reached over to shut down the file she had been viewing.

If anything in her life worked out the way she had dreamed as a little girl, it was Simon. He had always been there for her, being the only family she had ever known. He stepped into the room, dropping his helmet and phaser belt in the bucket by the door. His straight black hair flopped across his forehead and he brushed it back absently with his hand. Harriet watched him, thinking about him telling her the other morning that he needed to get a haircut before it got too long. He pulled off his black uniform jacket and threw it on the bed, before walking over and kissing her. Hey Babe. Heard you left shift early. You feeling okay?

Harry forced a smile as he wrapped his arms around her. Yeah. I’m fine. It was nothing.

You sure? He smiled again, keeping his arms around her. Doc did say that the first signs could be fatigue.

She shook her head, wishing she could have given him that good news. It had been two years since they had received their child license and had her fertility restored. Just like all female citizens at the onset of puberty, she had been implanted with an IUD. The doctor had informed her it would take a while, but she couldn’t help but worry that there was something wrong with her. It’s not. I’m sorry. I know…

Harry. He lifted her chin so she had to look up into his blue eyes that were striking on their own, but when he fixed his gaze on someone, they took on a whole new dimension of blue that glowed like running lights on deck at night. To others, they came off as icy, but Harry always saw warmth in them. It’s okay. Maybe next time. Or we go pick one from the same Kinderhaus we were raised in.

I was just really hoping this time. She let out a breath, wishing that was what was bothering her. She just couldn’t stop thinking about that entry she had found that had finally put a definition to her Mark. Did she have the right to bring a child into the world that would carry the same taint as her? Or could she give them a chance, a real chance to be something more?

Ah, it’ll happen when it’s supposed to. He let go of her, stepping back the few feet to the bed, and back planted on it. The extra space would be nice, but I like it fine here as long as you share it with me.

Harry looked around their quarters. It was typical for a childless couple. Most of the room was occupied with the bed, a dresser, and mirror on one side and the closet on the other side. A small work station that Harry was sitting at took up the fourth wall. The room was tiny, but it was theirs. In here it didn’t matter what the Mark on her shoulder meant. Simon never cared about it. He had only ever seen Harry as Harry. How upset was the Watch Commander? she asked as she sat down on the bed next to her husband. Do you think he’ll put it in the log?

Simon rolled his eyes and turned over on his side. Nah. He was too worried about the water riots. The Rebels took out another tanker, just like ours. He’s worried that they’ll send us into the riot zone.

You think that’s likely? Harry laid down and snuggled into Simon’s body, relaxing.

I don’t know. I don’t think Nash knows. Simon pulled her tight against him. No one knows. These Rebels are just mucking up everything. More rationing for the citizens because of the loss. Do they really think that one protest or barricade will make a difference? They’re just making a mess of things for everyone.

Harry shrugged and Simon closed his eyes as they lay there, each of them lost in their own thoughts, but connected.

What time is your next shift? Simon asked after they had laid in silence for several minutes. I want to make sure that I set the alarm.

0700, Harry spoke softly, It’s already set.

***

Harry silenced the alarm before it went off. She hadn’t slept more than a few minutes, but Simon had fallen into a deep slumber. She laid awake for most of the night. When it was time to get up, she slid out of bed promptly so as not to disturb him. She grabbed her uniform jacket, boots, and belt and was out the door before her place in bed had grown cold. She slipped her boots on, still leaning on the door. She had a few minutes until she was to report to her station and while she knew that she should go grab a bite to eat in the galley, she wanted to see the Commander before her shift began. She needed to hear him say  why she hadn’t gotten the promotion. His quarters weren’t far and she was standing outside his door within minutes. She stood back, taking deep breathes to steady herself before knocking.

The door opened and out walked one of the ship’s whores. Everyone knew that the Commander rotated through the girls and never slept alone if he could help it. The girl was one that Harry didn’t know and she slithered past without uttering a word in greeting. A few minutes later, the door opened again and Commander Nash walked out. He acknowledged her as soon as he had finished locking his door. Ms. Veratten. What are you doing here?

I wanted to talk to you about the promotion. The one Grey got. Sir, I… she said trying to hide her nervousness.

Veratten, I thought we talked about this. He sighed, tugging on his uniform jacket that was just a hair too small. Nash had grown fat and lazy in this command. His brown hair was too long to pass for a crew cut and his olive skin was patchy and red from the dry filtered air inside the ship. His diet, mostly black-market goods, and his avoidance of exercise contributed to his slovenly appearance. It was as easy a command as they came. A tanker traveling the same route, delivering the same thing with the best of the worst soldiers assigned to it. His men were the slow-witted brutes who weren’t violent enough to be on the front lines in a real fight. The biggest challenge Nash faced with this crew was keeping them occupied on the long hauls. You just weren’t right for the position. That’s all.

And the one before that? The one that Candy got? She stepped up to him as he started to walk down the hall.

Veratten, I don’t have the time or patience for this right now, he huffed.

Is it because I married Holder? Or something else? She matched his pace as they walked.

You not getting the job had nothing to do with Holder. Nash took the stairs they had come to, two at a time, leaving her a few paces behind when he hit the landing for the bridge, but he was panting hard.

What else do I have to do? I’ve done everything you and Central Command have asked of me and more. Is it because I never…? Harry let the sentence die as she ran the last few steps to catch up to Nash, not winded as he had been. I’ve heard rumors.

Veratten, Nash sighed, turning around still panting. His hand fell on her shoulder and trailed down, stopping above the Mark. You need to stop. There is only so much that can be done with someone with your… unique situation. You should work on coaching Holder and turning him into a leader.

Are you saying… She took a breath. I should stop trying? She felt her heart racing in her chest and she fought the urge to start panting. She swallowed the saliva that was building in her mouth as she worked on her response. Are you saying that I will never get promoted?

Nash’s arm dropped to his side. I’m saying that you need to look at the reality of the situation, Veratten. I’m saying that you need to understand your place and it’s not in command.

Thank you, sir. She hoped that her voice didn’t tremble as much as she felt it had, but as she turned, she knew that she lost the fight. She had shown her weakness. This was a game she was never going to win and that was the closest thing she was going to get to an answer. There was no clearer way he could have said it; it was her Marks.

She didn’t cry as she walked to her duty station; the same duty station she worked for the last ten years. She was assigned there directly after she and Simon graduated from the Academy. It was always the same terminals and the same rusted grates that she travelled while everyone she knew got promoted to better assignments. Everyone except her and Simon.

Simon was no great mind and was happy with the lot he had been dealt. He was happy here, looking at the same gritty screens and stomping the same halls. He would be happy no matter what happened. Harry was miserable and sinking deeper. There was nothing for her to try for. She had been stuck in the same place for ten years and she was going to be there for another ten.

Harry checked in with the shift commander and set herself for her shift, wondering if she could take the next ten years and the ten after that before cracking.

***

Simon was already awake when Harriet turned off her alarm and shuffled out of bed, trying not to disturb him. He had been watching her as she slept, trying to decide what he was going to do for her. There had to be something he could do. Something that would cheer her up. Every time he looked at her, he wondered why she chose him when he wasn’t anywhere near good enough for her. He was the screw up. He was always slowing her down. She almost missed her graduation ceremony, she was top of the class, because she insisted on staying with him as he finished his final requirements. He was last in the class and always had been.

As soon as the door shut behind her, Simon counted out twenty breathes to see if she was going to come back. Sometimes she did, but today she went on to work He stood up and stretched before turning on the monitor, choosing the news feed out of the three feeds they received via government broadcasts. He listened to the headlines, wishing there was some good news for a change. Nothing had changed overnight. The protests were still going on in the Capital. The same protests that never seemed to end. The protesters may have changed and their chants may have changed, but they were a fixture in the Capital.

He was born in the Capital. He barely remembered his family, but they were there in the shadow of his mind. His mother weeping as they left him at the Kinderhaus when they couldn’t afford to feed him anymore. They had only enough for one child. He didn’t know why they decided to keep the baby over him, but they had. Simon thought it was all a great adventure until the doors opened at the Kinderhaus and strange hands dragged him inside. That was the last time he saw of his mother, father, and brother. He could track them down, if he wanted. All he needed was in his Marks. His mother’s family name and his Father’s, all there for the world to see. He had a place in this world, while Harry’s Marks revealed that she didn’t. No matter how many times he told her it didn’t matter, she would just lay her hands on his shoulder, over his Marks, and ask him how he would feel if his Marks revealed nothing of who he was. He always told her that they didn’t reveal anything about who he was. He wasn’t defined by his Marks, but deep down he knew he was. She was right and he knew it, yet he wanted to make everything all right in the world for her.

The news feed continued to talk about the tanker that was destroyed last night by the blockade. It was the third tanker in six months that the Rebels had blown up. It would take at least two years, if not more, to scavenge enough metal to replace those ships. Ore was scant and getting more so. There wasn’t enough land left to mine for it and the oceans were deep and dangerous. Not to mention the oil that was spilled and wasted. Maybe the Rebels would care when there wasn’t enough fuel to heat their homes and run the farms so that they could eat.

Simon didn’t understand why the Rebels were doing what they were doing. To him, it made no sense. Blowing up ships and disrupting supplies to those who needed them. If they wanted to help make things better for the Citizens and the poor, there were much better ways in Simon’s opinion. They could help clean up the bad neighborhoods and fix up housing. They could educate people and give them more options for finding jobs and work. In truth, he felt very little about the Rebels. He had a job. He and Harry had everything they needed. Sure, they wanted more, but they could live without it.

Then the news feed flashed an urgent warning. Simon turned to face the monitor, giving it his undivided attention rather than the hole in his sock that he had been worrying. The news anchor word the typical government uniform and was uptight as she read off the prompter. Madam President has decreed that she, personally, will check every one of the fuel tankers for evidence of the charges that the Rebels have brought against them. Madam President has gone on record for the 15th time this month proclaiming that none of the tankers are an environmental danger and are not trafficking people between the remaining nations. An independent investigation has been backed by the government and promises to probe the matter separate from the President’s inquiry. The news anchor looked up at the camera and smiled her bright smile. In other news, new ration protocols have been implemented in the outer cities to combat the shortages. The riots were handled with a minimum of casualties among the citizens. About a hundred were injured or killed when they refused to move out of the way of an official delivery truck bound for the inner city. The President and the government would like to reiterate that they have been given no choice but to impose these ration reductions by the Rebels and their attacks of Ruinenstaaten's tankers and outposts. In turn, the Rebels have vowed to double their efforts to expose the corruption and abuse by the government, even if that means taking more lives.

Simon turned the feed off. There wasn’t anything new. He had several hours until his next shift, and didn’t have much he could do in their quarters, so he grabbed their laundry and headed out the door. He couldn’t leave the ship, but there were plenty of places he could go and try to do something special for Harry, to cheer her up a bit.

It was early and most of the ship was still asleep. Only those who had the early or overnight shifts were moving around the tanker. She was an old ship, slowly rusting into oblivion. There were signs of that love everywhere in the patches and fixes that the crew made to keep their ship up and running. She wasn’t the prettiest one in the fleet, but she was reliable and still floating. Simon dropped the laundry off and made his way to Rust City, the citizen market, just as it was starting to set up for the day.

Like most of the tankers, this ship, The Vergest, was broken into three sections; the Navy and/or Government Zone, the Citizen Zone, and the Hydro Farms. Simon and Harry lived in the government-controlled part of the tanker. They were members of the Navy of Ruinenstaaten, and, as such, were granted official quarters and could eat in the galley. Their food, clothing and lodging were all part of their salary, as well as a good stock of credits they could use to purchase goods, either at the citizen market or at the company store.

Every ship had a civilian population on board, as there wasn’t enough land mass for everyone. Some were passengers moving from one ship to the next, on personal or official business. Every ship had at least half of a deck devoted to these temporary quarters. Those who lived here permanently made up the Citizen Zone, which took up about a third of the ship. A citizen had very few choices when it came to where they lived. Most stayed where they were born unless they were lucky enough to learn a trade or join the Academy. The Landed, those whose families actually owned pieces of land, lived in the protected inner cities instead of the concrete buildings that comprised the outer cities. Some churches and communes had scraped up enough money to buy a ship and live near the shores, but they were few and usually just as squalid as the outer cities on land. The government ships offered space and conditions of life that were much better than many options the citizens had. The citizens still had to go through a lottery to get on a ship and many families never left once established.

The civilians were assigned to the worst decks aboard the government ships and the Vergest was no exception. Steam geysers from the pipes that no one could fix completely dotted the corridors and everything was covered in a layer of rust and slime. Here and newer patches of metal were bolted to older pieces to hold together the walls surrounding the large open area the officials called the Citizen Zone. Everyone else called it Rust City. Children ran about and the few farmers who managed to grow food in their makeshift hydroponic farms put out their measly harvests for sale. As part of the Navy, Simon had access to the real hydroponically grown food on the ship, but he rarely paid the credits to eat it. Instead, he ate the processed protein shaped into various forms that the galley served. He still liked to come and look at the harvest when he visited Rust City. It reminded him of home and land.

Simon hadn’t been on land in almost five years. He and Harry accepted this assignment directly after graduation and had been stationed on the Vergest for ten years. They took two weeks paid time off for a late honeymoon when the ship was in dry dock, five years ago. They had used their savings to stay at a resort on the highest point of Ruinenstaaten. Harry thought the whole thing was wasteful, but enjoyed the sun on her face and her feet in the dirt. Simon wanted to bring that feeling back to her and that meant some wheeling and dealing in Rust City.

Simon wasn’t the only Navy man walking around Rust City. He nodded at the couple of people he knew. It wasn’t unusual to see Navy Uniforms wandering among the civilians of Rust City. In fact, there was a robust market of goods and since a third of the ship lived in the confines of Civilian Zone, that was where most of the off-duty entertainment took place. Navy personnel had access to the official Club, gym, and theater, but that was all government controlled. While the government provided the space for Rust City, there was only so much they could do to control the place and its civilian population.

Rust City was set up as a grid with clearly marked walkways. Store fronts pushed up against walls and ran along second and third floor balconies. The middle was mostly open market place with tents and booths constructed to suit the merchandise or services. Simon walked into his favorite barter shop, Pyrate’s Wake, owned by his friend Jake Fisher.

The structure was little more than a tent constructed in the middle of the market square. Stairs in the center of the shop led down into what was Jake’s quarters and store rooms. Jake was one of the more profitable merchants and smugglers of Rust City. He moved to the ship about the same time as Simon and Harry, about ten years ago, they had become friends, occasionally sharing dinners with Jake and his wife, Claire. Claire was a Weltlaute, born outside of cities, ships, and governments. They existed outside the legitimate countries and held no allegiances. She gained citizenship through her marriage to Jake. Claire’s Marks were the start of her family legacy and because of that, she was one of Harry’s only friends. Harry never felt the need to hide her Marks  Claire with them.

Si, my man, Jake called to him from the depths of the tent. Figured they have all you guys on lock down.

Probably happen later. First shift should be getting on now. You know how these things are. Simon walked up to Jake and shook the hand he offered.

How’s Harry? Jake asked, finding a table that had enough of a ledge to lean on once the merchandise was pushed back. Jake had lived in one Citizen Zone or another on the tankers his whole life. He had the darker skin that was common of tanker children, while those born on land tended toward lighter skin tones, like Simon. His dark hair was twisted into dreadlocks that hung down to his shoulders. He wore a sleeveless tunic and loose pants with slip on shoes that were more practical that fashionable. Only whores and officer’s spouses cared for fashion on tankers.

She’s…you know, Harry. Simon kicked at the deck in his uniform boots.

So same old? Jake chuckled.

Yeah. Simon looked up from the floor as if seeing the shop for the first time. I think I might push adopting again. I know her reasons for wanting a biological, but maybe it’s not meant to be. At least with adoption, we could have two. He didn’t want to think about the unfair rules of the government when it came to children. Harry and he could have one child if they conceived naturally. If they conceived a second child they would have to pay a fine. It was the government’s way of keeping the population under control. They could leave the Navy, but then they would lose all their benefits and would have no way to support a child. Jake and Claire, as citizens, could have two children before they would be fined. Adopting children from the