Gil squints his eyes, and sends waves of smiles.

What interesting doors! He says. I can only think of normal doors. He points to the sliding door at the entrance of the canteen.

Well, it's quieter, I suppose, Terrell says, with waves of gray.

Are there any more questions? Lykke says. No? Good. Than I have a question for you: will you help us? You have new abilities, new power. The power to help the helpless.

Will you help us sabotage the regime that thinks testing on humans is ethical?

Hurry up and say yes or no, Terrell says, leaning against the cafeteria bar. If we stay docked here much longer without picking up the goods, people will begin to get suspicious.

Don't push, Lykke hisses, whipping her head around. And they weren't supposed to know we were docked anywhere. You let that slip on purpose.

They have a right to know, Terrell shrugs. There is a grin buried beneath the gray. Oh, I bet there will be wonder and awe when they see.

"I suppose I can do my poor best to help," María says slowly, "although I can't say that I fully trust you yet." She shifts uncomfortably in her seat. "I mean no offense, but waking up in a cell doesn't exactly inspire trust in the ones that put you there, you understand. But what would you have us do? How can we do anything against them?"

"I do want to help the helpless." says Cecil, still concentrating on his bankvault door. "And I do want to stop the - experiments - being done on humanity. But I know next to nothing about your society; I need to learn more of what's going on in order to do so effectively. How is your society arranged?"

"A chance to take down the Researchers? Hell Yes. We'll show those yellow bastards the price of their experiments. We're going to give them a war."

Jason's eyes take on a wild light, and from behind the featureless gray wall of his mind, A wisp of the crystal ecstasy of Jason's Battle Rage escapes. While only a pale shadow of the Rage unleashed at the end of The Game, everyone in the room can feel it, and it's chilling burn is enough to send shivers up the spines of those caught unawares.

The feeling passes as Jason stuffs the Rage back behind the wall.

"But Cecil is right. We need to have more information if we are to fight effectively."

"Say," Richard finally speaks, "is there any coffee?"

Coffee?, Lykke says, a little confused. The image of roasted beans ground down with hot water poured over them and the bitter scent that accompanies the brown liquid means little to her. I'm sorry, you're the first humans I've met who weren't raised in the colony. I --

It's a drinkable stimulant, Sisu says calmly, a little amused. No, we do not have coffee. We do, however, have other nourishment.

Oh yes, of course! Gil says, shaking his head and scurrying behind the bar. There are clanks that come from the kitchen, and one distinct crash that makes all of the humans flinch. The patia, however, do not move until a wave of annoyance from Gil hits them. Terrell perks up and little pinpricks of irritation roll over the unit.

I suppose I'll help Gil, he says, heading to the kitchen. You three are better at this sort of thing, anyway.

Okay, then. Lykke waves Sisu and Veda to the table, and the three patia sit across from the humans. Lykke holds out her hand for Maria's Codex, and when it is offered to her, she takes it and speedily plays with it for a moment with her long fingers. She then lays it flat on the table.

There are three main segments of the population, Lykke says. You could call them Classes, though no one wants to admit that the Classes exist, and aren't as fluid as the ideal. You have the Researcher class.

She presses the screen, and iris-shaped Main station appears, followed by: pictures of labs; groups of silver patia in sleek outfits of black bottoms and multicolored tops of a similar look but better quality than what the denizens of the Brawler are wearing; a large, clean, white area filled with many, many shops; giant, clear doors with script around them; hallways with many, many doors; lecture halls.

Most Researchers live on Main Station. Main Station is where the University of Sciences is, and that university specializes in the hard stuff: Math, Biology, Chemistry, Physics, and so on. Some of the Researchers are the descendants of the first 300 scientists and engineers that settled the colony. Most, of course, are not. Most reach Researcher status by going through the University of Sciences and completing the highest degree there. What's a good translation that you use?...Doctorate? Yes, then. Doctorate.

Researchers are also the leaders of our society. The Research Board governs everything; they are the elders of the top Research families, originating from the original 300. There are now 560 sitting members of the Research Board, and one First Researcher elected to the position by the Board Members. The First Researcher is pretty much a life position, though other Firsts have retired in the past.

Of course, families of Researchers push their children into the sciences, as to go into anything less -- the University of Arts and Philosophy (where education, literature, fine art, and soft sciences like anthropology, sociology and psychology are taught) or the Practical Sciences (The same campus as the University of Sciences. Think of it as lesser forms of the sciences -- the bachelor degree, I think? -- along with husbandry, agriculture and environmental science) is quite shameful. Sometimes people will cross over due to a passion for the subject, but it is an embarrassment to Researcher families if they do so, and it is unlikely that they will find a Researcher mate. A person from a Researcher family that does the unthinkable -- cannot complete the full Doctorate -- is often shuffled away somewhere so as to not bring shame on the family.

People from Researcher families are pretty stuck up, for the most part, Veda says, looking pointedly at Lykke. Especially if they were born into it. Newbie Researchers are considered lesser, by bornies. There isn't as much crossover from the Anthros and the Labor as the more high-minded Researchers would like to pretend there is, mostly due to discrimination. Anthros and Labor that pass the entry exam into UOS have to work that much harder, because the Professors lean on them more, expecting them to fail.

Researchers also tend to not change the tint of their skin, says Sisu, examining his orangey-brown hand. Though all patiae can do it by will. his skin ripples, and his color grows a much more fluorescent orange before settling back to orangey-brown. They consider it gauche.

A ripple of light pink tinged with yellow comes from Lykke.

Yes, well, she says, stifling the pink embarrassment as much as possible. When one is used to it...and anyway, we aren't ALL like that.

No, you are not, Sisu says, pulling the pallet towards him. Or you would not be here.

He flicks the screen a bit, then pulls up an image of Station Two, with it's small, central ball surrounded by tentacles. What follows: a large, domed space is shown that appears to be a park, more giant glass doors, theatres, lecture halls, groups of patia wearing clothes of all textures and colors.

The second Class is the Anthropologists, Sisu's mild voice washes over them all. Though, of course not all of the Anthropologists are actual anthropologists. The University of Arts and Philosophy is here. Higher-classed Anthros are part of the soft-sciences, particularly anthropology. Lower-classed Anthros are part of the Arts -- literature, theatre, painting, and so on. The 'entertainment' arts, if you will. All have Doctorates in their field. The first anthropologists came about when humans were discovered over 500 earth years ago. Some were Researchers who were interested in human society rather than just their physiology or their use in medicine. Others came from Axel. The discovery of humans created the first big rush to the colony, and over the course of a century the population exploded. As did the interests of the people. One reason the Researchers are so reserved is because many of the original Researchers felt that this differentiation of societal wants and desires beyond the hard sciences and general labor 'sullied', if you will, the mission.

Anthros aren't quite as determined to push their way into the upper eshelons of society as newbie Researchers or Laborers. But they can be equally snobby to Laborers or Researchers who want to attend the UOA&P -- again, because there's some sense that if you are born into another Class, then you cannot possibly perform at the level of bornie Anthros. Still, an Anthro child who does not show skill in the Arts isn't just shuffled away, and there is plenty of intermarriage between Laborer and Anthro. They're also fairly spread out across the colony; you can find many on Main Station, and throughout the fleet. Some of them are educators for primary school (most secondary school educators come from UOS). Some are soft-science researchers studying our own kind, or the humans. Some are artists "experiencing life," as they say, or entertaining Researchers or Laborers.

Experiencing life, Veda crosses her arms. More like, annoying the piss out of people trying to get things done.

Sisu pushes the pallet to Veda with an inward smile.

Go on, then, my blueaswater friend.

Veda taps the screen, and ship after ship after ship after ship appears, all of varying shapes and sizes. Then, flashes of fields under domes, machinery, plants, and multi-colored patiae in serviceable clothes of the kind the Brawler denizens were wearing.

Okay, the Laborers aren't really considered Low class, she said. We are pretty much the backbone of society, after all. And we do a hell of a lot more than the Anthros. Not to mention, there's more of us than ANYone. It's not like we live in poor conditions, or anything like that. We caught a glance at the differences between the human classes, and fwhew! What a difference!

Sure, we don't have as much free time, and we don't have quite as fancy digs as the other classes, at least out in the Fleet. But the Laborers that live on Main Station and Station Two live in similar conditions to the other classes, even if they aren't invited to the same parties or aren't friends with Researchers, ever.

Basically, we're the producers. Food, metals, water, goods, you name it we make it and there's probably a ship for it. The more educated members are the Engineers -- tech, computer, mechanical, etc. Oh, most pilots are Laborers, too. And most merchants. And the emergency services that aren't medical staff. Basically, if you're not in a lab or on a stage reciting poetry, you're a Laborer.

Officially there are 56 ships in the Fleet, but that's where people LIVE, not the actual amount of ships and smaller vessels flying between the various Fleet ships and the Stations. And because folks mock up vessels all the time, who knows what their number really is? Unregistered vessels are technically illegal, but so long as you're out of site of the police vessels, people look the other way.

Or at least, they DID until the Outlier movement started. It's a lot harder to doc an unregistered away from it's home ship than it used to be.

Oh, we should let you know that abilities aren't determined by Class, Lykke said, glancing up quickly from the pallet. Abilities are random. The only abilities that are for sure within every Unit Are Physical and Mental Protectors.

Oh, Units! Veda slaps her sizable forehead. Patia Units are groupings of people, no smaller than 5, no larger than 20. They are sort of like family, though not necessarily biologically related. See, Physical and Mental Protectors tend to drift away from their biological families and childhood Units if there's already another with those abilities in the Unit. And people drift away from Units once there are more than 20 people in it, usually bringing along their mates and minor children. These people and the drifting Mental and Physical Protectors all manage to find each other, create a new Unit and live and work around each other. There is ALWAYS an MP and a PP in EVERY Unit. The Researchers, being who they are, tend to force Units together so that there's little mingling with the other Classes. Bleg.

Those are the main patia Classes, Lykke says. Now let's talk about the humans.

There's an uncomfortable silence between the three patiae.

Humans, Lykke continues, with a mental sensation much like clearing her throat, Are the bottom of the barrel, socially.

The first humans who were brought to RARMAS 319 were used only as test subjects. They were thought of as non sentient beings, locked up in labs, experimented on. The same was done to many Earth animals, actually. The first Researchers did not touch ground on Earth, merely scooped up "samples" for study.

Some pointed to human architecture observed from orbit that the humans were different. But after observing termites, ants, burrowing mammals and so on, it was concluded that the structures were simply constructed living spaces, no more.

It wasn't until in-depth study began that the Researchers realized their mistake. Imagine, walking around human cities and seeing that they are more than just mere piles of dirt and sand. And when we discovered that you had language! That you use your mouths for SPEECH, that you have the written word, well -- supposedly it changed everything. There were still experiments, but much more humane. Humans who were brought here were treated as novelties and cultures were observed. And when the Researchers finally found a wavelength where we could connect with the human mind, we could finally here you.

But it was found to be easier simply to -- tweak -- the humans we brought to the colony. Speaking on a human wavelength is really quite hard.

This history is interesting, Sisu intoned. But what of humans to --

Yes, yes, humans today, Lykke snapped. Most humans are viewed as sort of, pets. They become part of a Unit, and do small, helpful tasks. Watching the children. Cleaning the shop. Clearing the workspace. In turn, they are fed and dressed in ridiculous fashions. Patiae with humans on the stations are considered quite lavish.

In the Fleet, they're tasked with more menial labor, Veda says darkly. They go into machines that no one wants to go in to, clean the gunk, hand-pick stuff.

The Codex's estimation on how many humans are actually on the colony is probably false, as well, Sisu says. What with how many are out in the fleet doing hard labor.

And what with how many are STILL in LABS being TESTED ON, Lykke says, her voice trembling. Labs that are unseen and unknown about by any but the highest Researchers! And almost ALL humans are Controlled, in all locations where they can be found. If a human is born on this station, it is almost immediately put under Control.

Basically, the human situation is awful, Veda says, rolls of slippery green-grey disgust coming from her. There are those sympathetic to humans, but the Humanity Society's lobby is quite small. Only 1500 registered members. Most are completely apathetic. It makes me sick.

Nourishment! says Gil cheerfully, carrying three plates of vittles from the kitchen. Terrell follows him with two more plates, and forks. The patiae set the plates in front of the humans.

On the plate: something shockingly pink and mashed that smells almost, but not quite like potatoes, blue stalks of an unknown vegetable, and a large cube of white flesh. A bowl of yellow liquid is also on the plate.

Behind her mental portcullis, María has been thinking about how to communicate with the other humans without being overheard by the Patiae, and without the Patiae knowing that she's hiding anything. Anything I think in front of the "door" can be overheard, but if I think behind the door, the other humans won't hear it, either. I need a door that blocks the Patiae, but which lets humans through. She ponders this for a bit. The door is just a mental image of a physical barrier to facilitate the required mental state, she reasons. But does it have to be a physical barrier? There are other ways to hide things.

As a child, she was always fascinated with codes, cyphers, all manner of secret communication. She remembers reading about steganography, where a message is embedded in something innocuous, such that other parties are not only unable to read it, but are unaware that a message even exists. Could I make something like that work with telepathy? Even if it is possible, would I be able to pull it off against the more experienced Patiae, but still make clear to the recipients that a secret message is there?

Human culture is the key to steganotelepathy, she decides. I should send an image that humans would immediately associate with a secret, but would have no such connotation to the Patiae. Behind her portcullis, she envisions herself sitting at a kitchen table, squeezing a lemon over a cup, then taking a toothpick and dipping it in the juice. I need to send a relatively innocent message, she thinks, so that if it's discovered, they won't think we're trying to hide something important. She begins to write:


She then places the paper off to one side on the table, with the lemon and toothpick next to it. She mentally conjures a deerstalker hat and magnifying glass to suggest that there's a secret to find, and a clothes iron to hint at the existence of invisible ink. She doubts that the Patiae would understand the significance of these items together. She then envisions herself holding a bowl of chicken noodle soup to her nose with her eyes closed and a broad smile of contentedness on her lips, inhaling the steam rising from the liquid. She places her mother before the stove, wearing an apron and busily stirring some kind of gravy, and her dog scampering below the table. This would hopefully make the Patiae think that this was a childhood memory that surfaced as a result of the yellow fluid in the bowl before her.

The image complete, she pushes it outside the portcullis, then picks up the bowl, smells the contents, then takes a small sip.

All of the patiae begin to express confusion, befuddlement, and in the end, amusement.

OOoooOOooh, you're trying to send a secret message to the other humans! Gil says finally, stating the obvious. Ripples of laughter. I mean, I have no idea what you were trying to say, but you were practically BLASTING the idea of 'secret.'

What the heck kind of message was it? Veda says, scratching her head. Human writing, some guy in weird clothes, a metal thing --

The writing is in "English," Sisu says sheepishly.

Yeah? Gil says. I didn't get to human languages yet! What does it --

She's questioning the edibility of the food, Sisu says abruptly.

Oh. Gil wilts a little.

Ah. Sending private messages. Well. Lykke is short, and the cool edge of hurt is hinted in her words. If you want to know, private mental messages can only be sent if you probe some one's mind. You CAN do it, of course, but it feels like a violation for both parties. Usually -- the embarrassed pink. Usually it's reserved for mates.

And Mental Protectors. Mental Protectors can talk privately with anyone without it feeling uncouth. Perhaps because they have to be able to probe someone to check if they're Controlled or hallucinating or so on. If it felt like a violation every time, well...ahem.

Maria sips the liquid. It tastes not quite, but almost completely, not at all like tea.

Cecil, also, is pondering the problem of communication without their hosts overhearing As an accomplished secret agent, he quickly notices something important; the Patiae don't react to the sound of crashing from the kitchen, but only to the annoyance of the cook. Not to mention which, Gil just claimed not to understand English.

Very careful to keep the words behind his bankvault door, Cecil says aloud "I don't think our hosts have ears. I think that the Patiae, in general, can only hear what we say out loud by listening to the words form in our heads."

He digs heartily into his pink not-quite-potatoes and his blue vegetables. The meat he leaves, uncertain of where it came from, and the yellow liquid he tastes hesitantly; yellow unknown liquid is not a pleasant combination.

Human history has a certain amount of experience with the idea of one group of sentients treating another badly. he thinks, to the Patiae and the other humans together. Slavery - Hitler - French aristocracy. Every single time, it ended badly for the oppressors. With time, they begin to slip, to underestimate the oppressed... the end, when it comes can be sudden, tends to be violent. American civil war - French Revolution. Hitler's regime was ended by external action; it didn't have a chance to collapse on its own. With the Control, your society can hold the status quo longer than human ones... but I fear an explosion in your future. Cecil attaches a memory of the sliver of Jason's rage that had slipped out earlier; and the memory, back on Earth, of Jason using that same berserker rage to temporarily break free of Control.

You say that your 'Researcher' class doesn't study the soft sciences; sociology, history, the sciences that might warn them of this possibility. It sounds like they, as a whole, wouldn't listen to any Anthro who tries to warn them of this, either. From what I've seen, and from what I know of humans... the explosion will come. I don't think it will be soon, it may still be centuries; and I don't think that humanity will win. I think that, when that happens, unless we're very lucky we'll be eradicated. And that's just another reason to end this status quo, as soon as possible.

He looks up, straight at Lykke. I would like to ask - what would you like to replace the status quo with?

The patiae do not react when Cecil opens his mouth and speaks aloud, his thoughts hidden to all. Only Veda notices his mouth move. She glances at the other patiae, and gives Cecil a wink, careful to hide her own thoughts from view.

Lykke ponders Cecil's question.

There's nothing I want to REPLACE, she says finally. Only something I wish to REMOVE. NO humans should be on the colony. Earth should be left alone. We are plenty self-sustaining without pestering the other sentient people in this system. Every one of you should go to Earth, where you belong. And when the time comes, when your kind has the power to travel beyond your own planet, THEN we meet, as equals.

But that's so simplistic! Terrell says, shaking his head. You can't just throw a bunch of people who were born and raised on the colony back to a place they don't even know! Not to mention, they're not HUMAN really, anymore!

Well, maybe give them equal status, then! Lykke says. We know the Researchers are capable of giving humans patiae abilities, so why not give them to everyone on the colony?

That's one solution, Sisu says mildly. One that I think most patiae will despise. Another is to bring every human up to speed. Give all of the humans on Earth AND on the colony our abilities. They won't be ignored, then.

But then! Gil stops. He continues reluctantly. But then, won't we have millions of angry humans to deal with? They won't be happy to learn what we did to their people.

Stop! No more! Lykke waves her hands. The end result is still debatable. Right now, our goal is to stop the human experimentation. Once that goal is reached, we fight to end the Control of the humans on the colony. And for the humans on Earth to be left alone.

The not-quite-potatoes taste not-quite-potatoy. Sort of like yams and turnips and potatoes. The blue veggies are quite like asparagus, without the strong iodine flavor.

And every patiae seems to be politely looking away from the humans as they eat. Too politely, really.

Meanwhile, Tom digs into his meal. He's not sure what it will taste like, but if it's food and it's on a plate in front of him, then by God he'll try to eat it. He is also very carefully not thinking of anything, keeping his mind relatively blank as he listens to the conversation around him.

Humans are hardly a single, unified people. broadcasts Cecil. If Patiae abilities are given to all humans, then you'll find both enemies and allies on Earth. So would the Researchers, if they cared to look.

As long as the Researchers hold onto power, they will do what they want. Simply remove all humans from the station, and within a generation, or two at most, the experiments will start again. I would therefore like to propose the idea of a representative council, containing Researchers, Anthros and Labour, in proportion to the populations thereof; this makes it harder for any one group to force their will on any other, and at the same time makes it harder for any one group to hide their activities from any other. I'm not sure how applicable what I know of human history is to your people, though.

Personally, I'd rather like the idea of humans having a representation on the Council as well; proportional to their population on the station. However, I gather that that alone would cause most Pataie to reject the proposal. He pushes his plate aside.

Now; you say that there are humans in labs, being experimented on. continues Cecil. Hidden labs. It sounds like they're hidden from the other Patiae, more than from humans. What would the likely result be if those labs were to become public knowledge, as opposed to mere rumour? And are Patiae able to tell whether a given memory, transmitted from another, is true or false, in a way that cannot be subverted?

Jason digs into the food without hesitation. It's probably better then then army food, and it can't be worse then the slop he was feed at that Chinese reeducation camp.

I hate to disappoint, but the cat's already out of the bag. Humanity already knows what the researchers have done. Our governments know at least, and you can bet that they're going to do everything they can to stop it. I wouldn't be surprised if the arms race between America and the Soviets was nothing but a front for preparations to wage a war against the Patiae. America in particular has an ardent belief in the concept of "live free or die." That's something that can either be used to your advantage, or it can come back to bite you in the ass. Humans are born to war, born to kill. The earliest known human remains found were murdered by another human. And now we know that we're not alone in the universe, that there is at least one other sentient species out there, and you pose a threat. Leave us be, and when we eventually gain the same technology as you, we will remember the threat you posed, and in all likelihood there will be war, and I'm not sure that either of our species would survive that kind of conflict. From my point of view, your best option is to make contact with the governments of humanity, explain what it is you're trying to do, and ask for help. You don't have to give us the same mental abilities as you yourself possess, but start sharing science, technology and culture. Start doing what you came here to do, help us lift ourselves up out of the darkness and the gravity well of our planet. Be our friends, and we'll be yours.

Your plans seem sound, both of you, Terrell says wryly. If only the Researchers gave a whit what humans like.

Evidence of experiments, Lykke murmurs. Perhaps --

There is a buzzing sensation in everyone's mind. The patiae immediately hide their thoughts, and the humans feel Gil stretch his Protection over everyone in the room. Lykke glances around, her skin rippling until she's jet black with orange stripes running down the back of her head. She then directs her attention to a monitor embedded in the wall opposite the entrance. A maroon patiae appears on the screen, pricking with irritation.

What's taking you so long? he says grumpily. You lot aren't the only ones that need to dock up and collect goods today!

Calm down! Lykke snaps. We're feeding or humans!

She points to her group.

Oh god, don't show me that! the maroon patiae says, waves of disgust rolling from him. Just hurry up, damn it!

The screen goes blank. Relief rolls in from the patiae.

Sink or swim, all, Terrell says briskly. We're registered to have human laborers on this ship, and we've gotta pick up our cargo and move. Now.

And do a little reconnaissance, Veda says with bubbles of grinniness. Humans go where others won't right? And this place is uber suspicious.

That is our assignment from the head, Lykke says. So, are you in?

María colors at the spectacular failure of her attempt. "Please forgive me, I didn't wish to offend you. It's just, it's sensible to be concerned about the effect that foreign food might have on one. It's a concern even within the confines of our own planet. But I felt that if I voiced the concern out loud that I might cause offense." She meekly consumes the food without further attempts at subterfuge (noting, however, the success Cecil has at private communication), and makes a point of eating every last scrap. At Lykke's query, she responds readily. "I'll do my best to help. Tell me what you want me to do."