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Wherein Callie discovers they're not quite in Kansas anymore



When Callie awoke she had no idea what time it was. She could tell it was either dawn or dusk, judging by the color of the light streaming through the window from the other side of the room. Nor did she recognize her surroundings. She was in a bed, but it wasn't her's.

What little light there was hurt her eyes, and when she tried to sit up her body felt like it had been used as a punching bag. Had she fallen while rock climbing? But this wasn't a hospital, as far as she could tell. The room she was in felt more like it belonged in a home. It smelt more like citrus and flowers than it did industrial cleaner.

In the distance she heard voices.

"...We can't just let them go," one of them, a female. Nope. Definitely not Croatia, Callie determined, that was Italian for sure. "The world is too dangerous a place."

"I agree. But we can't let them stay here, you know the rules as well as I do. But..." The man's voice trailed off.

Callie strained to hear what they were saying, but her head was too cloudy, too muddled to follow along. She groaned and closed her eyes; she was tired. The conversation continued, and the melodic rising and falling of voices lulled her back to sleep.

"Then we're agreed. We take them in. We assimilate them. Include them in our community. Marry them."
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