At the new desk, placed on the opposite side of the room to where the old one had been, Nicholas Grant sat in a large leather chair.

‘Oliver,’ he said, in a voice that could perhaps have been called friendly, ‘take a seat.’

Another leather chair had been placed on the other side of the desk. Grant stretched out a welcoming hand. Roth knew right away that this wasn’t about his failure to contain the rebels that morning.

‘Do you actually need me here?’ asked Pearce.

‘Yes,’ said Grant. ‘This is a formal ceremony that should be witnessed by the most valuable people in the Citadel. Unless you don’t consider yourself that valuable?’

Pearce said nothing. Roth sat down in the chair, and browsed the paper placed on the desk for him to read. It was a contract of some sort, as far as he understood.

‘Formal ceremony?’ he asked. ‘You should have let me get changed.’

‘I thought you’d feel more comfortable in your current outfit.’

He’s not wrong, thought Roth.

‘So what’s this about?’ he asked.

‘You’re getting promoted,’ answered Grant with an enthusiastic grin. ‘You’re one signature away from becoming my Head of Military Division.’

Oliver Roth had a lifelong habit of not letting his emotions show on his face, but it was difficult when surprises were landed on him. His eyebrows rose to the top of his head, his mouth opened, and his eyes stared into Grant’s like a man who had won the lottery and been caught in a car’s headlights at the same time. His thoughts about the three escaping rebels left his mind altogether.

‘I’m Iain’s replacement,’ he gasped.

‘The youngest field marshal in history.’

‘Why me?’

‘There aren’t many other candidates, in all fairness,’ Grant replied as he leaned back in his leather chair. ‘I have a few other ex-military personnel on my payroll, but none of them have modern, post-Takeover experience like you. Keith Tylor would have been perfect back in the day, before he came down with that bad case of multiple stab wounds. So that leaves either you or some colonel downstairs, and you’re the one I believe in most. Besides, I’m sure Iain would have wanted it.’

You’d be surprised what Iain Marshall would have wanted.

‘Do I still get to serve in the field?’ Roth asked.

‘Yes, you’ll still get to run through the corridors killing rebels. Except now you’ll do it with real authority. And this office will be yours once it’s finished. It may be a couple more weeks, but I’m sure you understand.’

Roth flipped through the contract, pretending to understand all the legal words.

‘Wait,’ he asked, ‘so how come we still haven’t rebuilt the clone factory two months on, but this office can be completely fixed in a matter of weeks?’

Pearce guffawed from the entrance.