George and the Protector darted into the trees, heedless of the branches that slapped mercilessly across their faces.  That scream must have come from Emberly!  What was she facing on the other side of these trees?  What had she been dreaming about lately?

As George came crashing into the clearing, he once more was brought up short by the bizarre impossibility of what he was seeing.

The clearing was filled with what looked like little furballs.  Hundreds of them.  Maybe thousands!  They were of all different sizes and colors, and as they moved and rolled and danced about, they created a soft humming sound that almost sounded like harmony.  Emberly was standing in the middle of them, looking around at them with wide, unbelieving eyes.

“Incredible!” cried the Protector, coming up next to George, out of breath.  “Absolutely impossible!”

“Quick, we’ve got to do something, before they hurt Emberly!” said George, fumbling around in his pocket for the echo gun.  He swiftly pulled it out and pointed it at the countless furballs.

“George, wait!” cried the Protector, knocking the echo gun from his hands.  “Those furballs aren’t dangerous!  On the contrary, they’re friends.  They’re Emberly’s people.  It’s her race, from the planet where she came from!”

George looked at the Protector with unbelieving eyes.  “Her race?” he echoed.  “This is what the people on her world looked like?”

“Yes,” replied the Protector simply.  “And what she would look like too, if she weren’t presently transformed into a flibbet.  Don’t you remember from when you first came to my home?  She looked just like that!”

George’s father suddenly came up behind them.  He seemed to have an uncanny ability to move through the trees silently, while George and the Protector crashed about like hippos.

“What are they?” he said in wonder.

“Praetorians,” said the Protector simply.  “Emberly’s race.” He paused, then added slowly, “a race that no longer exists, since it was completely destroyed by the Grak.”

“Then this is once again impossible!” said George’s father.  “This planet must have incredible power, if it can create a race that has been exterminated!”        

“True,” said the Protector, stroking his chin. 

Emberly had started dancing and running about in sheer ecstasy.  She was chattering away in a tongue George didn’t recognize.  Several of the furballs answered her in the same confusing dialect.  When she saw George and the others staring at her, she ran over excitedly.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” she called.  “It’s my people!  They’ve come for me!”

“Is that what they told you?” asked the Protector curiously. 

“No,” said Emberly, “but that must be true.  Why else would they be here?”

“Have they asked you why you are here?” asked the Protector.

“No,” replied Emberly.  Then, being too excited to stand still, she danced away with several of the furballs.

“Fascinating,” said the Protector slowly.

“What is?” asked George’s father.

“The reaction of Emberly’s people.  She thinks they’ve come to rescue her, but none of them have even asked what she’s doing here.  And back at the pool where I was swimming, not one of the people there thought it was odd that I don’t look like them.  I’m still transformed into a human, you know.”

“That’s right!” said George, looking at the swarthy figure of the Protector. 

“These dreams may seem real,” said the Protector slowly, “but there seem to be some limitations as well.”  He turned suddenly on George.  “What about your dream people, George?  How did they react to you?”

“Well, they weren’t exactly normal earthlings,” he replied slowly.  “In fact, they’re people that can’t exist.  They’re the china people from the book ‘The Wizard of Oz!’  It’s impossible that they can even be alive!”

“Just like Emberly’s race,” said the Protector slowly, a touch of sadness in his voice.  “It would seem that this planet will give us our dream, and in the process create what appear to be real, living, breathing people that we dream about.  But they’re not real, no matter how real they may seem to us.”

They watched Emberly dancing among the furballs for a moment.  Suddenly, George felt a profound sense of sadness.  She looked so happy, and was so absolutely convinced that these furballs were actually her people.  What would she think when she found out the truth?

“We won’t tell her,” said the Protector suddenly, as if he had read George’s thoughts.  “Not just yet, anyway.  Let her enjoy her people for a time.  She’s been through so much.  Let her just enjoy …” His voice trailed off. 

A cloud suddenly came across the sun, casting a shadow across the clearing.  George’s father stirred, and started off toward the ship.  “Dreams or no dreams, we’re still stranded on this planet,” he said.  “And we still need to get off!”

“Very true,” replied the Protector, starting off after him.  “And that means I need to get back to engine number 2.”

George stayed where he was.  The dance of the Praetorians continued without letup, with Emberly swirling merrily in the midst of them.  If only dreams really could come true.  For Emberly’s sake, George wished with all his heart that it were so.

The day passed swiftly.  The Praetorians danced merrily around the teddy bear ship until dusk, then piled themselves up into little pyramids as night fell.  “That’s the way they would sleep on Emberly’s planet,” explained the Protector.  “They were very sunlight oriented creatures, and would only be active while the sun was shining.  They’ll sit in that pyramid pile without moving all night.”

“What about Emberly?” asked George in concern, as he watched her trying to worm her way into the middle of one of the piles of furballs.

“We’d only just upset her if we pulled her away from them,” replied the Protector with a sigh.  “I’m sure she’ll be all right.  It’s quite warm outside at night, even if it is dark.  And surrounded by her people, she will feel no fear.”

George didn’t reply.  He merely watched as she continued worming her way into the pile, until only her narrow little flibbet nose was showing.  It pointed like a flagpole out of the furry pile of Praetorians.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

A little later, when George was in the kitchen preparing some roots for dinner, the Protector came in and approached him conspiratorially. 

“I’m worried about your father,” he said abruptly. 

“Why?” asked George.

“He doesn’t seem to be acting normally, don’t you think?” said the Protector.  “He hasn’t dreamed like we have, he doesn’t eat hardly anything—nothing in fact, as far as any of us have been able to see.  He doesn’t let anyone touch him, and he occasionally makes remarks about how being with the Grak isn’t really all that bad.”

“He’s been through a lot,” said George defensively.  “We can’t really understand what he’s experienced.”  George shuddered.  “I can’t imagine living as a captive of the Grak for a year.  Who knows what that would do to a person’s mind?”

“You’re right, of course,” said the Protector hastily.  “It’s just that … well, how do you think your mother is going to react to him, when you get back?”

“What do you mean?” said George, a bit testily.

“I mean, isn’t she going to want to feed him, and fatten him up.  Isn’t she going to want to give him a hug and a kiss, welcoming him home?  What’s she going to think when he doesn’t let her touch him, and doesn’t eat?”

“She’ll understand,” said George quickly.  “Anybody would.  It’s just part of what he’s been through.  It’ll just be good to have him around again, even if he isn’t quite healed yet.”

The Protector looked deeply into George’s eyes.  “I see,” he said after a moment.  Then, spearing one of the steaming roots with a fork, he stuffed it into his mouth.  “Just thought I’d ask,” he said casually.  Then he strolled out of the room.

George sat at the fluffy table, staring at the steaming roots on the plate in front of him.  He knew.  He understood what the Protector was trying to say, about his father not being normal.  And he knew also, how impossible it was for him to face the answers.  After all, it was his father they were talking about. 

So his father had some problems, so what?  Of course, the Protector saw it differently, not being as close to the situation as George was.  It was to be expected that the Protector would be less willing to overlook some of these little oddities in his father’s behavior.

But George could.  It was just enough to have his father back again, even if he wasn’t quite his normal old self.  That would come in time.  All that was needed was a little time.

George picked up a fork, speared a root, and chewed thoughtfully, while staring unseeing at the fluffy walls around him.

The sun was shining through the trees onto George’s house as he came up the walk from the street.  His mother was standing on the porch, watering the Petunias in the flower boxes. 

“Mom!” called George excitedly.

She looked up, and smiled.  George raced up the steps and stopped.  She looked at him expectantly.  But 12-year-old boys don’t do hugs.  They just … well … sort of, stand there.

“Dad’s back!” cried George.  “He’s come back!”

“Really?” said his mother in gentle excitement.  Her eyes shone, but she didn’t move.  “Where is he?”  She looked all around, up and down the street.

“I don’t really know,” said George in confusion.  How had he gotten here?  Where was his father?  Where was the Protector?

“Hi, squirt!”  Janet had suddenly come banging through the front door from inside, out onto the porch.  “Who’s day have you been ruining so far?”

Same old Janet.  “Nobody’s,” he said simply.  “Guess What!  Dad’s back!”

“Really?” said Janet, looking around.  “That’s nice, but I don’t see him.”

“Well, why don’t you come in and have a cup of cold juice while we wait for him,” said George’s mother calmly.  “I’m sure he’ll be along any minute.”

George looked at his mother and Janet curiously.  They were there, and yet they weren’t.  Something wasn’t quite right.

“But, he’s back!” cried George again, as if this simple statement was such a profound truth that it needed to be stated again.  “Aren’t you excited?  Don’t you want to go find him?”

“Of course we’re excited,” said his mother in a pleasant tone.  “But there’s no need to go looking for him.  He’ll be along.  Now come inside, please.”  She went through the door and into the house.  Janet gave him a nasty look, then went in as well.

What was wrong?  This wasn’t making any sense.  George rubbed his head in confusion.  Why weren’t they excited?  Where was his father?  And what was that buzzing he kept hearing in his ears?

“Come on in, George,” his mother’s voice called to him from inside the house. 

“Go ahead and stay out,” came Janet’s voice.  “Then I can keep all the stuff I took from your room while you were gone.”

George shook his head, still confused.  Then what Janet had said suddenly clicked in his mind.  They knew he had been gone a long time!  Why weren’t they excited to see him?  Why wasn't his mother both crying and scolding him at the same time?  He suddenly yelled, “Hey, I’m back!  Aren’t you happy to see me?”

“Or course we are,” replied his mother’s voice calmly.  “Now come along inside, and we’ll talk about it later.”

George gripped the doorknob, and pulled on the door.  It seemed to swing very slowly, as if it were in slow motion.  He took a step inside—

       —and then he woke up.  It was dark and still, except for a low buzzing from the refrigerator in the kitchen in the next room.  Sweat covered George’ face.

He sat bolt upright in bed.  He had been dreaming!  His mother, Janet, the house—it was all a dream!  No wonder they weren’t acting right!  He sighed in relief.

He was about to lay down again, when another thought seized his mind.

His dream.  It hadn’t been about the china people in the Wizard of Oz like the past nights.  It had been about his home and his mother.  And on this planet that meant—

Sweat broke out on George’s face again.  This was L91, which seemed to be a planet of dreams which would came true.  Whatever you dreamed would happen.  They had learned that just yesterday.

And that meant that today, George was going to go home, and see his mother!