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pregnancy and the hormonal changes occurring within them. Mia was like this; she had been pregnant seventeen times. The last time this happened, she had been taking the illegal blocking agents, to mask her pregnancy and protect her from the renewal paradigm. But the pills hadn’t worked. She had woken one morning, feeling more than usually exhausted, thinking that she’d wet the bed. She had, only it was blood—white and oily with large fleck of red through it.
    Mia became bedridden, falling into a depression. After a fortnight of barely any communication, as Shane was getting up one morning she murmured, “I’ve made a decision. I’m going in on the first.” That was three weeks away.
    “You don’t want to do this, Mia. It will pass. There’s so much we haven’t done. We have another life in front of us! They say we’re close to leaving. We could see the universe together...” Shane pleaded, but Mia had heard it all before.
    “How can you be so gullible? We’re never getting off this planet. I’m sick of living in this petri dish.”
     

Chapter 11
    The Black Market
     
    IT TOOK SHANE two weeks to find the Sub worker who had sold Mia the two-month supply of hormone-blocking agent. Workers were only allowed to work in Napea for several days at a time; it could be weeks or months before the same person came in again. It was an involved process, but finally Shane was able to get the man alone. He had come in through the Crafers Gate to work in the Americana precinct. Just as the workers were packing up for the day, Shane quickly and quietly maneuvered the suspect into the alcove of a building, his bolt gun a silent third party.
    “I want back every single traded item, you scumbag.” Shane stood close, barely whispering.
    “Really?” replied the worker, forcing a nonchalant smile. “It’s against the law to request or obtain anything from a Sub worker.” Shane’s attitude radar was finely tuned. Turning his weapon sideways, he pushed forward, forcing it upwards under the man’s chin.
    “Guess what? I am the law, dickhead! I can have you killed like that!” Shane clicked his fingers.
    The man knew that it was true. There was even an ETP game, “Death to Subs,” that Napeans did for fun. The Sub had a rethink: “I can get you the real thing.”
    “What?”
    “I can get you a child.”
    “From where?”
    “They’re born sometimes... parent can’t look after it… unwanted... single—life’s not easy down there. You gotta pay, though. Bolt pistols.”
    “You’re a funny little man! I’m not paying you anything. Like I said, all I have to do is give the word, and you and your little job up here are over!”
    “All right. One bolt gun—but I’m not bringin’ in a child.”
    Shane allowed a long pause. Gee, I’m good at this! he thought. Then he said, “I can let you have a phaser rifle if you bring it to me.”
    “How am I gonna get it in here, though?” said the man desperately.
    “Not my problem.” Shane stepped back and allowed him some air. “Do it, and you get paid. Don’t do it and see what happens. Know where I work?”
    The Sub was a grey-white color, and just rubbed his forehead. Shane showed his little badge.
    “Oh, great! You work for them... brilliant… arse’oles…” The final word, he said under his breath. Shane ignored it and said, “If you’d like to get to know me and my colleagues a little better... otherwise, I shall see you here in forty-eight hours...”
    “Forty-eight hours are you...?”
    “I know your name, Mark. Mark Luhrman. Don’t let me down.” This was the final straw. As Shane released his hold, Mark ran. He had about ten minutes to make it to the city sponsored, out-road, which lead down to the underground city of Belair. If he got locked in the city he could expect a night in a cell with no food or drink. If he got out but didn’t make it to the tunnel, he’d be frozen stiff as night fell, brutal and hard straight from the cold depths