Don’t say that like you’re proud, Roth thought. If it weren’t for Ewan West stealing our plans from that officers’ sector, Nick wouldn’t have made you speed up the research. McCormick and his special needs kids have had three weeks to plan their next move.

Special needs kids. It may have been true, but Roth used the phrase to insult his enemies rather than underestimate them. Thanks to their efforts in April, New London’s glorious clone factory had become a burned-out ash pit which hadn’t grown a soldier in three weeks. Those ‘special needs kids’ were the reason why the ageing clone population was in steep decline, only propped up by imported soldiers from other Citadels.

The phone rang at the side of the desk, and Marshall picked up the handset. Without seeking permission, Roth pushed the speakerphone button to allow himself and Pearce into the discussion too.

‘Experiment Chamber,’ Marshall said.

‘Iain,’ came a lively voice through the speakerphone.

It was the voice of Nicholas Grant.

‘Morning, sir.’

‘Looks to me like you’re ready. Commence the experiment, gentlemen.’

‘You’re not coming down?’

‘Floor F’s too low for me. The view on my screen is perfect.’

Roth leaned over the desk.

‘Hey Nick,’ he said, ‘I bet you wish Shannon were here for this!’

‘My daughter made her decisions,’ Grant answered. ‘Now she can live with them.’

Roth looked to his left. Pearce’s face wore an entertained grin, and one corner of his lips perked at Grant’s last sentence. Roth could not interpret what that particular grin meant, and Pearce did not elaborate.

Roth had not spoken to Shannon much during their time together in the Citadel. As far as he remembered, the girl had spent most of her days locked away in some far corner of Floor A like a fairy-tale princess. Whether this was through her own choice or through her father’s overprotection, Roth had never known; he just knew that Shannon Grant had been a private neurotic failure of a person, and she was probably still her private neurotic failing self in Spitfire’s Rise too.

‘Now, if you please,’ Grant finished. Roth brought his attention back to the Experiment Chamber and the clone who stood inside, and he remembered how excited he was to witness the proceedings about to take place.

Pearce nodded and pushed a button. The CCTV cameras around them began to record.

‘Eight minutes past seven,’ announced Pearce, ‘May sixteenth, Year One. Final phase of practical experimentation underway. Atmospheric Metallurgic Excitation, research trial twenty-six. Commencing.’

Marshall retrieved the radio from his belt, and spoke to the clone behind the glass.

‘Soldier,’ he began, ‘move to the other end of the room. At jogging speed, passing between the pillars.’