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down again. Tropical thunderstorms were fierce on Omega, at least in this latitude. An afternoon downpour could drop eight centimeters of warm rain, blow down two or three trees, and make the lightning arrestors dance, then wash away and leave the prison nearly as hot as before. He hated this place.
    Juete drifted into the supply room and stood watching the cooler being unpacked. It was more for her than himself that he had ordered the machine; she could not spend much time outside, even slathered in sunblock and with dark contacts. The Exotics had been designed as inside toys and bred for life on a world where the sun only shone a short time each year. Omega was a textbook definition of hell for her. She did not sweat much, her glands were modified, and so she could keel over with heatstroke if not protected properly. The cooler would also be adapted to follow her.
    He gestured at it. "It's for you."
    She stared at the unit, not speaking, and once more Stark felt that stab of disappointment. If only she could see how much he cared for her! Well, she would someday. After all, he had the rest of her life.
    "This is the best prison food I have ever tasted," Maro said. "In fact, it might be some of the best food I've ever had anywhere."
    Across the table from him. Scanner smiled. "One of the joys of being on a backward world. We grow our own, so it's fresh, clean, and cheap. Those carrots are completely organic, and the fruit so abundant that most of it rots before we can get to it." '
    Maro took another bite of the thick, black bread and washed it down with cold water from the metal cup. "A meal like this would cost a week's pay in most ports."
    "I guess they figure it's better to keep us fat and happy than lean and hungry."
    Maro finished a mouthful of carrots before he spoke again. "So," he asked casually, "who has plans to escape in the works?"
    Scanner almost choked on his water. "Escape?" he finally managed. "Nobody.
    Didn't you get the warden's speech when you arrived? We are null for null here.
    Nobody has ever escaped from the Omega Cage."
    "There's always a first time," Maro replied.
    Scanner shook his head. "You are wasting your time, Dain. You saw what happened to the last six who tried it."
    "So you plan to stay here for the rest of your life?"
    "At least I'm alive."
    "So am I. And I plan to stay alive for a long time after I'm gone from here."
    Scanner shrugged. "You won't get much help. The only ones who try it are crazy—everybody knows that."
    " I don't know it."
    "Maybe we can convince you."
    Maro smiled. "Maybe. And maybe I can convince you ."
    In the yard, the lasts vestiges of the afternoon's rainstorm played over the thick grass and dirt, adding final drops to ankle-deep puddles. The thunder moved further away, becoming only a distant echo, and the lightning was now only a faint and occasional flash.
    Maro stood under the overhang of the tool shed next to Scanner; Raze leaned against the rough-cut wood, doing fingertip presses—using one finger on each hand in quick rotations. A man called Patch stood with his back to the dying rain. He had both eyes; he got his name from a squarish birthmark that covered half his face. Apparently plastic surgery hadn't advanced very far on his homeworld.
    "Suppose you did manage to get past the wall," Patch said. "Then what? There are only two spaceports on this world. The closest is a thousand klicks away—the other one is twice that far.''
    "That's not so far—" Maro began.
    "No, not on Earth or Shin or Koji, maybe. But there's nothing on this world that likes humans, except maybe to eat them. If it walks, slithers, crawls or flies, if it carries poison or has teeth, it probably lives on this stinking planet."
    "So it won't be easy," Maro said. "I never said it would."
    Sandoz laughed. "Once I went up against three of the Confed's crack combat troopers. These three were all in the same squad, trained to kill at the drop of a slipper, and circulating bacteria-aug for