Free The Children of the Sky by Vernor Vinge

Cliffside, and persuaded them that she had an ideal completion for them.
    It was that sort of effort, both by her and the decent broodkenners, that made the escape attempts very half-hearted.
    Tonight sounded very different.
    The wick lamp mounted over the gate showed dozens of fragments milling around just inside the entrance. More were coming by the second, pushing and shoving against the fence.
    As she came into view (or hearing, which perhaps was more important for Tines) there were the usual calls of “Hei, Johanna!” “Hei, Johanna!” Those shouts were drowned out by angry gobbling, by howling and yapping that almost sounded like the baying of dogs.
    The more articulate actually made sense. The occasional Samnorsk matched what Interpack she could understand: “Let us out. We want to be free!”
    Now she saw what might be the explanation for all the incautious wanderlust: the Tropicals that had sneaked
inside
the fence. She could spot only a couple, but they were in the loudest clusters. Apparently, their attitude had tipped the overall consensus.
    She’d never seen so many fragments simultaneously eager to break out. Besides banging the fence, some were digging at the foundations of the barrier. Right at the entrance, a knot of singletons had piled up, trying to reach over the top. If they had been a coordinated pack, wearing jackets with paw straps, they could have boosted some of themselves out. As it was, the pyramid would reach about two meters fifty and then fall back on itself.
    “Hei, Johanna! Help us.” The voice came from those piling against the entrance.
    “Cheepers!” said Johanna. She recognized the white splash of fur on the back of its head. This was the most fluent of the Samnorsk speakers; sometimes he actually made sense. The poor guy would have been a big plus to almost any pack, but he was from one of Steel’s recycled monster packs. He had memories that eventually repelled whomever he was intimate with. Cheepers himself was gentle and friendly, and as smart as a singleton can be, which made his situation that much sadder to Jo. She went to one knee so she could look at the singleton eye to eye, through the tiny gaps in the fence. “What’s up, Cheepers?”
    “Get us out, get us out!”
    Johanna rocked back. How could she explain? Nuance was rarely a singleton’s strong point. “I—” she started to make some excuse and then thought,
Well, why not?
Slowly, she stood up. Yes, she really could have revenge. And it would end the crowding, and it would give Cheepers and his friends what they wanted.
    She looked at the gate. It was barred on the outside, but with a simple timber and clasp. It was almost two meters off the ground. An escaped singleton couldn’t reach the bar. She was vaguely aware of the three Tropicals on her side of the fence, watching her. No doubt they were too scatterbrained to figure out the mechanism, but any coherent pack on this side of the fence could have opened the gate easily, just by climbing up on itself. Johanna could open it most easily of all.
    Jo stepped forward, already gloating about imagined consequences. She reached for the gate bar, then hesitated. Consequences, consequences. There was a reason these poor creatures had been brought here. Where else could they go? In the towns of the Domain, a very few might find new minds, but the rest would be cuffed about, some killed, some enslaved. There was a reason for having the Fragmentarium. She herself had fought to make Woodcarver’s wartime field hospital into this institution. Releasing the patients would be vengeance mainly on these patients themselves. She glanced to her left, at Cheepers bouncing up and down, urging her on. If they hadn’t been all whipped up tonight, these frags would mostly shrink from escape.
    Johanna stepped back from the gate. No, there were some things too loony even for her, even in a rage.
But I could have, and the look on Harmony would have been—
    Something came