against the cold. “What if the schedule’s wrong? We’re going to be teleporting into empty space.”
“It won’t be empty.”
“But what if it is?”
“Then you’ll start falling, and you’ll teleport yourself to safety.”
Nero’s eyes narrowed. “Wait, what? No one’s coming with me?”
“It’s too risky.”
“You just said it was safe.”
“It is safe. But it’s too risky for all of us to go at once. You go, confirm it’s there, then come back for us.”
“Sounds pretty easy to me,” Razzia said, nodding with confidence.
“OK,” said Nero, “so what if it is there, but I ’port right into the middle of a group of Cleavers?”
“Then extricate yourself from the situation,” Smoke said, like he was talking to a four-year-old.
Nero shook his head. “Everyone here seems to have this idea that I’m just a mode of transport. Listen to me: I’m not a car, OK? I’m not a car or a train or a plane. I’m a person. Teleporting somewhere blind is a sure way to get myself killed.”
“Trust in the plan,” said Lethe.
“If I get caught or get killed, there is no plan,” Nero countered. “I want someone to come with me.”
Razzia stuck her hand in the air. “I’ll go with him!”
“Not her,” Nero said immediately.
Razzia frowned. “Why not me? What’s wrong with me?”
Nero looked around for help. With none forthcoming, he swallowed thickly. “Uh … you’re just … You’re not very stealthy.”
“Bull dust! I take off these heels and I barely make a sound when I walk. My feet are tiny. Look at them. It’s amazing I don’t fall over more often.”
“Well, it’s not really the stealth that’s the problem,” Nero said. “You just, in certain circumstances, you tend to go a little … crazy.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What?”
“At times.”
“Crazy?”
“A little.”
“I go crazy?”
“No,” Nero said. “No, you don’t. At all.”
She snarled. “Then you’ll let me go with you?”
Nero paled. “Of course.”
“Yay!” Razzia said, happy again.
Lethe held up a hand. “Nero may have a point, Razzia. This infiltration requires a certain deft touch that you may be lacking.”
Razzia bit her lower lip while she pondered. “Well,” she said, “I suppose I do go a little crazy sometimes.”
“I’ll take Memphis,” said Nero, but Memphis shook his head.
“Hell, no, I ain’t going.”
Nero looked dismayed. “Why not?”
“You might get it wrong, man,” Memphis said, running a comb through his hair. “Or you might teleport us into a group of Cleavers. I’ll stay here until I know the coast is clear, thank you very much.”
Cadaverous sighed. “I’ll go with him.”
Nero scowled. “I don’t want him to come.”
“You’ve already turned down one and been rejected by another,” Cadaverous said. “It’s me or it’s no one. I’m sick of listening to you complain about not being appreciated for who you are or what you contribute to the team. That’s all I’ve heard from you for the last few weeks. If you’re too scared to go alone, then I shall hold your hand. Is that acceptable to you, Mr Nero?”
“I don’t like the way you’re talking to me.”
“I somehow fail to care.”
“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” Lethe said, holding up his hands, “there’s no need for hostility. Cadaverous has made a kind-hearted offer. Nero, will you accept?”
“Sure,” Nero said grudgingly.
“Beautiful,” Lethe said. “Razzia: what is the time?”
Razzia nodded. “Time is a social construct designed to derive order from chaos.”
“Well put, Razzia. And do you have the time?”
“Oh,” she said. “No, I don’t wear a watch. I don’t believe in them. Time’s never done me any favours, and that’s fair dinkum.”
“I see. Smoke?”
“It’s twelve oh four,” Smoke said. “Twenty seconds to go.”
Lethe rolled his shoulders. “Nero, Cadaverous, prepare yourselves. The rest of us will stand ready.”
Cadaverous took hold of Nero’s wrist.
“We don’t need to be touching,” Nero complained.
Cadaverous gave him a smile. “I’m just making sure you don’t forget about me in all the excitement.”
Nero took a moment to roll his eyes before looking straight ahead, at the patch of thin air he was aiming to arrive at. As the seconds ticked away, Cadaverous used his tongue to pick a piece of meat from between his teeth. He spat it out.
“Go,” said Smoke.
Suddenly they were 1,100 metres off the coast and falling towards the churning, freezing sea. Cadaverous’s body released a bolt of adrenaline. Nero tried to snatch back his arm. He was about to panic, about to teleport away. Cadaverous tightened his grip.
And then his feet vanished.
The rest of him followed, almost too quick to register – his knees, thighs, hips, chest – and then they had dropped through the cloaking shield and Coldheart Prison burst into existence beneath them, a floating island of rock on which sat the walls, the fences, the watchtowers and the prison buildings themselves.
They teleported lower and flipped, so that their momentum took them upwards and then cancelled out. When they stopped rising, Nero teleported them once more, straight down to solid ground. They landed gently and crouched, waiting for the alerts to be called. When they heard no shouts, heard no alarms, they dared to raise their heads.
They were on the very
