“Why do we care?” Moshi asked, his eyes still closed.

“Nothing even close to interesting,” Raina said. “Especially no plutonium scares today.”

Callum gave her an irritated glance. He knew she’d find out eventually. But she needed to be smarter about it, particularly inside their own office. Does Security bug us?

Dokal walked in and took a disapproving look around the human wreckage. “Jesus Christ, guys. You’re supposed to be professionals. Couldn’t you even wait till the weekend?”

“We’ll probably have saved the world twice more by then,” Moshi said.

“Not in this state you won’t. Are you actually active-ready?”

“Alternatively,” Raina said, “well done for yesterday, everyone; Connexion is delighted, so I come bringing news of your enormous thank-you bonus.”

“There are two other crews on shift,” Callum said. “If we get called after them, we’ll be ready.”

Dokal gathered herself up for a rebuke, then relented. “Actually, Corporate’s appreciation will manifest in your next salary payment.”

There was some feeble cheering from around the office. Only Henry looked genuinely grateful. But then he’d recently been telling Callum horrific stories of how much new baby gear cost.

“Cal, a word.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He followed her out of the office.

Dokal gave him a closer inspection. “Damn. The state of you.”

“Hey, it’s a mild hangover, okay? I’m entitled.”

“Yes, but you’re not as young as you were.”

“Bloody hell, don’t you start.”

“At least your hair is normal today.” She gave his clothes a final inspection and sighed in disappointment. “Come on, someone wants to meet you.”

“Who?” Callum asked.

“You’ll see. But let me tell you, your upcoming bonus is going to reflect the company’s sincere appreciation for how you handled yesterday. There were some very senior people watching the feeds from the M and C.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

“Would it have helped improve your operation?”

“No,” he admitted.

Four portal doors in Connexion’s internal hub network, and Cal found himself stepping out into a huge construction site. He knew it was London’s Greenwich Peninsula before Apollo threw the Hubnav data onto his screen glasses. The old arena dome had been demolished two years ago, to colossal news stream coverage. Now he was standing about ten meters below ground level, in a circular pit with metal restraining walls and a floor of frosty mud. Big construction vehicles rumbled around him, some of them manually operated, the drivers sitting in high cabs, using small joysticks to control their machinery. In the cold morning light, it was a slice of a post-apocalypse world ruled by steampunk dinosaurs.

“He’s over here,” Dokal said, and set off across the mud.

Callum followed, realizing that this was probably the first time he’d seen her out of heels. She led him over to a group of suits who looked even more out of place in the pit than he did. Then he caught sight of who was standing in the center of them.

“You might have warned me,” he grumbled.