‘Oh Jeeeez! It’s freezing!’

Liam squatted down beside her. ‘Great.’

Maddy shuddered then looked up at Sal, seated at the computer station. ‘What’s the departure count?’

‘Just over a minute.’

‘So,’ said Liam, slowly easing himself into the water, gasping as he did so. ‘You’re sure about this?’

‘Uh-huh.’ No, she wasn’t. Not sure about anything. The old man, Foster, had left her in charge. Left her running this team and this field office even though they’d barely survived their first brush with time contamination. All she had for help now was computer-Bob and a data folder on his hard drive entitled ‘Things You’ll Probably Want to Ask’.

‘How do we grow new support units?’ was the name of one of the first files she’d found in the folder when she’d delved into it a few weeks ago. First order of business had been getting the grow-tubes up and running and getting one of those clones on the go. When she’d double-clicked on it, what she’d got was an image of Foster’s face looking out of the monitor as he’d addressed the web cam. He looked ten, perhaps twenty years younger than he had the morning he’d told her she was ready, wished her luck and walked out of Starbucks leaving her to run things.

The Foster onscreen looked no more than fifty. ‘ So,’ he began, adjusting the flex so that the mic was in front of his mouth. ‘ You’ve opened this file. Which means you’ve been careless and your support unit has been destroyed and now you need to grow a new one.’ Foster had proceeded with detailed instructions on maintenance and feeding, and how the growth tubes work. But finally, towards the end of the log entry, was the bit they’d been after.

‘ Right… so the clones are grown from a store of engineered human foetuses. I’ll presume you’ve used up the last of the refrigerated ones kept in your field office and now you need more.’

Not exactly used up; those of them mid-growth had all died in the tubes, poisoned by their own waste fluids because the electric-powered pumps hadn’t been functioning. The bodies — pale, lifeless, hairless, jelly-like forms that ranged from something that could’ve sat in the palm of her hand to the body of a boy of eight or nine — had been taken care of. Taken out, weighted down and dumped in the river. Not an experience she ever wanted to repeat.