I'd like to thank my reviewers for, well, their reviews.
It's sweet of you to take the time to review my story.
And many thanks if you're reading this, reviewer or not!

So, Chapter Two is here. Enjoy!


Requ-

Granted. Transmit.

It is 0900. The girl will be staying with the Witwickys, according to recorded phone conversation.

I think it is time we had a meeting. With Simmons involved anything may happen.

Sector 7 was terminated.

Simmons is still an unstable element. I shall contact an ally, see what he knows. Shall we meet late tonight?

If the others can make it, yes.

They will make it.


Chapter Two

Mr. Canbury was about sixty years old, with silver grey hair. He was wearing his normal clothing, an old suit, minus the tie. He had been a lawyer once, and age had not taken the intelligent glint from his eyes.

"Good morning, Ron, Judy, Sam," he said. "Sorry about this, but I didn't know anyone else who would be willing to take Katrina in, even for just a couple months. It's very kind of you."

"No problem at all," said Mrs. Witwicky, smiling. "It's a pleasure to have her staying here, of course. Come in, Katrina." She eyed the small duffel the girl carried. "Is this all you have?"

The girl nodded and stepped in, looking around. She was the same height as Mrs. Witwicky - not very tall - with a ramrod straight back. Her face was white, so pale the veins showed through as a dusky blue, and her eyes were a strange dark purple. She wore long pants and a light, zippered jacket, despite the fact that it was 72 degrees Fahrenheit outside.

"You're so pale!" exclaimed Mrs. Witwicky.

"She's not sick," Mr. Canbury interrupted. "If you were about to ask that. Katrina hasn't been in the sun for a long time, because her skin burns very easily."

"Oh." Sam's mother was taken aback, but she recovered herself quickly. "Would you like to see your room, Katrina? It's not very inviting, I haven't made the bed yet, or changed the curtains, but you can put your clothes away at least. Have you eaten?"

Katrina nodded again, and looked at the floor, her left hand's knuckles white as she clenched the duffel's strap. "I would like to rest, please," she murmured. "The flight was eight hours long and I didn't get any sleep."

"You flew here?" asked Sam, curious. "How? From where?"

"Government base," mumbled the girl, not looking toward Sam. She fidgeted with the strap. "Private jet."

"I think I'll leave you to get acquainted," said Mr. Canbury. "If you need anything, Katrina, I'm right across the street."

"Yes, sir."

"Take this." He handed her a small leather wallet, then nodded to Mr. Witwicky. "Thank you again, Ron, Judy, for taking her in."

"Sam, why don't you show Katrina to her room?" asked Mrs. Witwicky.

"Yes, Mom." Sam beckoned Katrina over to the stairs, and led the way to the guest room. "It's in here."

He pushed open the door, and almost ran into Mikaela.

"Wha... How..."

"I flew," replied Mikaela with a laugh. "Hi," she said to Katrina. "Are you Mr. Canbury's cousin?"

"Yes. I'm Katrina." The girl edged backwards a bit. "Why are you wearing a helmet?"

Mikaela removed her helmet. "I rode my motorcycle over."

"How'd you get in here?" Sam went over to the window and looked down. There was no way to climb the wall. "Did you fly?"

The teen shook her head. "You should lock your back door, you know. A perfect entrance for robbers."

"Dad always locks it at night."

"That's good." Mikaela turned her attention to Katrina. "Welcome to town, Katrina. How long are you staying here?"

"I don't know. I'm staying with the Witwickys for a few months, until Mr. Canbury finds a foster home willing to take me in. I could be here only a few weeks, or forever, if the family lives in this town." Katrina kept her eyes on the floor and walked over to the bed, set her duffel on mattress and sat down beside it, her ankles crossed, hands folded together, back straight. The girl's gaze stayed trained on the carpet. "If you would excuse me, I would like to rest now," she said.

"Um, sure," said Sam. "The sheets are in the closet with the blue door, and the blankets, too. Though it's too hot for blankets..."

Mikaela grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the room. "Bye, Katrina! See you later. Get some rest, okay?"

The girl nodded, and continued to stare at the floor.

Mikaela closed the door and muttered. "She's strange."

"No stranger than the cars, right?" Sam grinned. "Want to go for a spin?"

"Sure. Bike or car?"

"You choose. I'll ask Mom." Sam hurried down the stairs, pausing just outside the living room door. His parents were still talking to Mr. Canbury and hadn't noticed him coming downstairs.

"That's terrible! The poor girl, no wonder she's so pale!" Mrs. Witwicky had both hands over her mouth. "Do you really think the Government would do such a thing? Experimenting with a child, so young?"

Sam froze, and decided to eavesdrop for a bit before announcing his presence. He gestured frantically to Mikaela, signaling for silence. She nodded in reply.

"I have proof enough in Katrina. The poor child was completely in shock when she arrived, and she told me everything. They swore her to secrecy, though, so you must say nothing, to anyone, understand?" Mr. Canbury shook his head. "I hope that a bit of time with a normal family will help. She's a bit traumatized right now." Scowling, he struck his leg with a fist. "If I weren't retired I'd sue those scoundrels, and be my own lawyer, too! I tell you, if this ever made the news, I doubt the Government would exist for much longer, at least in its present state."

Mrs. Witwicky shook her head sorrowfully. "Oh, the poor, poor dear! Imagine being an experiment, treated just like an animal. Her own parents, too?"

"They were the head scientists working on the project," replied Mr. Canbury. "It's hard to believe any sane people would do that to their own child..."

***

Sighing, Katrina moved the duffel off the mattress. She looked around the room, then nudged the duffel with her foot. Unpacking felt like too much effort, but her mind was too busy to allow her to sleep.

The plane ride had been a long one, but that wasn't the only reason she'd said she was tired. Katrina was tired of questions, and she didn't want to be interrogated by Mikaela and Sam while the adults were talking.

"I might as well make the bed," she said aloud, and forced herself to stand again.

The sheets were easy to find, and there were some white curtains on the shelf above. It wasn't long before the room looked a little more lived in. The curtains fluttered in a slight breeze coming through the open window, and the bed was made perfectly - top sheet pulled drum tight, all the wrinkles smoothed away, and a blanket resting on the end, folded neatly.

She heard the front door open and close, and hurried to the window. Mr. Canbury was leaving, and she watched as he crossed the street and entered his own house. The only family she had now. He seemed okay, though he was very fond of lectures on the law, and he had been angry when she had told him about what her parents had done.

Wincing at the memories, she rubbed her hands up and down her arms. Better not to think about that. She was in a new place, she could start over. No one would ever know the entire story. Not even Mr. Canbury did, even if he thought so.

I told him all he needed to know. He hates injustice, and he will do his best to find a good home for me, she promised herself. He doesn't need to know about Project AllPower. Or my role in it.

Katrina crossed the floor and sat on the bed, resting her arms on her legs. No one should know.

The door was nudged open and a small black nose pushed its way into to the room, followed by a light brown muzzle and a tiny body.

Not a dog! Katrina pulled her legs onto the bed, scooting away from the edge.

The dog began to bark at her.