“NO!” cried Emberly at the top of her lungs. “I won’t do it! You can’t make me!”

The Protector and George looked at her in exasperation. This was something they hadn’t counted on.

“Look,” said the Protector patiently, “it’s absolutely vital that we go through the transporter door tomorrow. By then it should hopefully be real enough to work. But if we don’t go through it then, we may be trapped here in our dreams forever!”

“I don’t care!” screamed Emberly. “If this is really a dream, I like it and I want it to last. I get to be with my people again! Nothing could be more important than that!”

“But we have to go!” cried George. “Don’t you see? If we don’t go tomorrow, we’ll lose our chance forever! We’ll be trapped here!”

“Go yourselves, then,” said Emberly bitterly, turning toward the door. “I’m going back out to my people.” She darted quickly out the door and down the ramp, nearly running into George’s father as she did so.

“What’s she in such a hurry about?” asked George’s father with a smile as he entered the ship. Without waiting for a response, he stretched his arms far above his head, and sighed happily. “Boy, what a day! Best I’ve had in a long time! Can’t wait for tomorrow.”

George and the Protector looked at each other meaningfully.

“Um, Dad,” said George slowly. “There’s something you should know …”

“What is it?” said his father cheerfully.

“It’s this planet,” said the Protector mercifully, seeing how hard it was for George to tell his father something that he may not want to hear. “We’ve come to realize that it’s dangerous, after all. Just like you said it was.”

George’s father looked at them sharply, concern spreading over his face. “What’s the danger? Did you find an alien creature that could hurt us?”

“No,” said the Protector slowly. “It’s something bigger than that, in a way. It’s the planet itself. From what we can tell, it seems to be turning dreams into reality—and is also turning our reality into dreams!”

George’s father looked at the Protector uncomprehendingly for a moment. Then, unexpectedly, he cocked back his head and laughed.

“Is that all?” he said off-handedly. “That’s nothing to worry about. In fact, I’d say it’s wonderful!”

“But it isn’t!” cried George. “We’re sleeping longer every day! We think we’ll probably wake up tomorrow morning—we hope, anyway—but the morning after that, who knows? We may never wake up again!”

George’s father looked at his son sharply. “Not wake up?” he repeated dumbly. “I don’t think you understand. I’ve slept here like I’ve never slept before. It’s been heavenly. What’s all this worrying about waking up?”

George looked at the Protector in frustration.

“I’m afraid we’ve got to go,” said the Protector. “Think of your wife and daughter. Think of George here, and his future. If we stay, we’ll be trapped here forever!”

“Go?” echoed his father with a knowing smile. “How can we go? The ship isn’t fixed, is it?”

“No,” said the Protector slowly. “But I dreamed a transporter last night—and it’s real! It’s sitting outside the ship right now. We should be able to use it to leave this world, and go straight back to earth!”

George’s father paced across the room slowly, rubbing his chin. He looked at George and the Protector, but said nothing. Finally, he sat heavily in a chair.

“Well?” said the Protector, coming closer to him. “What do you say?”

George’s father looked up at him. “No,” he said finally. “I think not.” George and the Protector looked at each other in shock.

“But, Dad!—“ George started to say.

His father held up his hand for silence. “Look, I know you and the Protector are worried. But I think you’ve got it all wrong. This planet hasn’t hurt us. It’s saved us! It saved us from the Grak, and now it’s saving us again by giving us the things we’re dreaming for!”

He looked at them patiently. They only stared back, not knowing what to say.

“All, right, let’s get down to brass tacks,” said his father. “What proof do you have that we’ll go to sleep and never wake up?”

“But we’re sleeping longer everyday!” cried George.

“So we sleep longer, so what?” exclaimed his father. “There’s no harm in that. No, I’d say we stay right here. The transporter’s probably too risky to use anyway. If it came from a dream, who knows if it will work? Maybe we’ll leave when a rescue ship comes, but no sooner.”

He suddenly got up and stretched his hands high toward the ceiling again. He yawned long and wide. “Boy, am I bushed. I think I’ll turn in. See you guys in the morning!” He sauntered down the hall to his sleeping quarters.

George looked at the Protector, not knowing what to say. The Protector had a faraway look in his eyes. “How very odd,” he said slowly. “That’s not like your father at all.”

“What are we going to do?” said George. “I don’t know why my Dad can’t seem to see the danger. He was the one who was the most worried before. Now he can’t seem to understand that we’ve got to get out of here tomorrow!”

“And we will,” said the Protector reassuringly, patting George on the arm. “We will.” He leaned closer, and whispered conspiratorially, “Don’t forget the teddy bear’s obedience spray!” He winked at George knowingly.

George returned the Protector’s gaze. And then a smile spread its way slowly across his face.

George was dreaming again. He was inside his house. His mother was playing the piano, while Janet was reading a book and scratching Door Jam under the chin. George was sitting there, telling them over and over that something was wrong, that they were not on earth, but were on some planet called L91. He didn’t know why he kept telling them that. They didn’t seem to pay any attention to him, and George wasn’t sure he believed it himself.

Suddenly his father walked into the room.

“Oh, hello, dear,” said his mother to him, off-handedly.

“Do you know, I’ve had the most wonderful time of my life today,” his father said with a broad smile. “I’ve been adding on a room to the tree house I built as a boy!” He looked at them with little-boy eagerness and excitement.

“That’s nice, dear,” said George’s mother calmly.

“Why don’t you put George in it, and lock the door forever?” asked Janet hopefully.

Everyone laughed—everyone except George. He jumped up and began screaming at them—screaming something about dreams turning into reality, and reality into dreams. None of what he was screaming made any sense, but he couldn’t seem to stop screaming. And they all just looked at him calmly, unperturbed, patient, as if he were a mere child throwing a tantrum.

“George,” said a sudden voice. He felt himself shaking uncontrollably. “George,” the voice came again.

His eyes slowly opened and he found himself looking up into the face of the Protector. There was worry written all over the Protector's face.

George tried weakly to sit up. He felt so tired!

“Do you know what time it is?” said the Protector reprovingly. “Almost three in the afternoon! Three o’clock!”

“Three?” said George dumbly. His mind felt so sluggish. It was hard to think clearly. If only he could lie down again and rest …

The Protector pulled at his arm vigorously. “George!” he cried. “We’ve got to go through the transporter door. And we’ve got to go now! Come on!”

George staggered to his feet. He slapped himself, trying to clear the fog from his mind. He couldn’t seem to think clearly, or to focus his eyes. But dimly, through the fog in his brain, he realized that the sleepiness of the dream world they were on was overtaking him! They had to escape fast!

“Come on!” cried the Protector, dragging George down the hall and outside. Once there, George saw the piles of Praetorians, still sleeping even though it was mid-day. Emberly was on top of one pile. She was awake, but her eyes were drooping.

“Come on, Emberly!” cried the Protector. “Time to go through the transporter!”

“No,” she cried feebly. “You go ahead. I’m staying here.”

The Protector didn’t hesitate. Pulling a can of the obedience spray from his pocket, he gave her full dose in the face.

“Follow me!” he said in a commanding voice. Emberly climbed down the pile of sleeping Praetorians and followed.

“What about my dad?” asked George groggily.

“He’s already outside the ship,” said the Protector. “I saw him a minute ago. We’ve got to stop him before he goes off in the woods somewhere.”

They found George’s father at the edge of the clearing, on the verge of going off in the direction of his boyhood tree house. The Protector didn’t say a word—he just sprayed the obedience spray in his face.

“Come with us,” he commanded.

George’s father didn’t move. Was the spray working?

The Protector sprayed him again. “Come with us!” he shouted. Slowly, George’s father followed. But just as they arrived at the transporter door, he stopped.

“No,” he said in a groggy voice. “Can’t go. Won’t go. That would be the end of life. Have to stay here. Wonderful discovery, life. Never knew it was so wonderful.”

George stared at him with wide eyes. What was he babbling about? Had he lost his mind?

“We must go now!” cried the Protector urgently, punching the coordinates on the little black control box of the transporter. Even as he did so, he swayed on his feet, nearly falling from his own weariness. “I’ve set it to take us back into my house in the Volkswagen on earth,” said the Protector in a thick voice. “Emberly, you go through first.”

Without any hesitation, she walked boldly through the door and disappeared.

“What if it doesn’t work?” said George in sudden horror. “What if we’re walking to our deaths?”

“Would you rather stay here?” asked the Protector pointedly. Then, in a more reassuring tone, he said, “I’m almost positive it’s working. It appeared here because of my dream—and now, it’s a reality. I’m sure it will work—I promise!”

“Not going,” murmured George’s father behind them.

The Protector turned on him. “I can’t figure why the spray isn’t working on you!” Then he shouted at George’s father, “You go next!”

George’s father balked. He didn’t move.

A sudden recollection seized George. “What about the Uth stones?” he cried wildly. “We can’t leave them here!” He turned to run back to the ship.

“I’ve got them here,” said the Protector, pulling the little box from his pocket. As he opened it, the stones sparkled brightly in the sunlight.

George suddenly felt very foolish. The stones! Why hadn’t he thought to try to use them to find an escape from L91? For some unknown reason, he had completely put them out of mind every since they had arrived on this planet.

George’s father also stared at the stones, transfixed. His babbling had stopped.

The Protector faced him again. “Go through the transporter—now!” he commanded.

And slowly, his eyes never leaving the stones, George’s father stepped forward, through the transporter door. And then he was gone.

“Now it’s our turn,” cried the Protector. Even as he spoke, George felt his eyes drooping, as if he couldn’t force them to stay open anymore. “Come on!” cried the Protector urgently. He grabbed George by the hand and pulled him forward.

George stumbled and fell. He was falling … falling … And somehow, he knew that if he wasn’t through the transporter door by the time he hit the ground, his eyes would never open again!