Part 3:
The MITUS-11 spacecraft, locked in orbit around Venus, did not deviate from its course.
Arc’x’vestula and I lingered in sleep.
Ongoing captives in a world of dreams.
The Radiatron had rushed to save us.
But became victim of the same hypnotic, somnambulistic effects which muddled our thoughts.
He spun and sagged in the artificial light of our ship.
Taking with him our last hope for victory.
Arc’x’vestula and I lingered in sleep.
Ongoing captives in a world of dreams.
The Radiatron had rushed to save us.
But became victim of the same hypnotic, somnambulistic effects which muddled our thoughts.
He spun and sagged in the artificial light of our ship.
Taking with him our last hope for victory.
The Radiatron’s dream:
There is no costume to wear.
No powers to wield.
Just a typical, business-as-usual afternoon for Dr. Roger Farrington.
He finishes his research and walks out of his office.
Removing his lab coat and smiling.
His car eases out of the lot as he begins the short drive home.
Fourteen stop lights – all red – dot the path to his house.
The commute concludes in a pleasant neighborhood.
Oak trees and a white picket fence adorn his front yard.
Dead porcupines litter the driveway.
Dr. Margo Kinkaide kisses him hello.
She tells him dinner is nearly ready.
The meatloaf congeals on his plate.
A scoop of plain potato sulks nearby.
Partially defrosted lima beans cluster in a chilly heap.
“Sorry about dinner,” Margo says. “I had a little trouble.”
There is no costume to wear.
No powers to wield.
Just a typical, business-as-usual afternoon for Dr. Roger Farrington.
He finishes his research and walks out of his office.
Removing his lab coat and smiling.
His car eases out of the lot as he begins the short drive home.
Fourteen stop lights – all red – dot the path to his house.
The commute concludes in a pleasant neighborhood.
Oak trees and a white picket fence adorn his front yard.
Dead porcupines litter the driveway.
Dr. Margo Kinkaide kisses him hello.
She tells him dinner is nearly ready.
The meatloaf congeals on his plate.
A scoop of plain potato sulks nearby.
Partially defrosted lima beans cluster in a chilly heap.
“Sorry about dinner,” Margo says. “I had a little trouble.”
Roger eats without complaint, thanking her warmly for the meal.
Ambling into the living room, he sees a cocker spaniel bounding down the stairs.
“Sadie!”
He hugs her with great affection and strokes her head.
“I’ve missed you, you silly dog.”
Sadie gets a rubber ball, depositing it at her master’s feet.
Roger lobs the ball across the floor, setting in motion a boisterous game of fetch.
Until an errant throw sends the ball behind a couch.
The dog hangs her head and slinks away.
“What is it, girl?”
Beyond the couch he finds a pile of vomit. Flies hover and buzz.
“Oh Sadie, did you eat too fast again? You never learn. It’s all right, I’ll take care of it.”
Roger walks to the kitchen sink and gets some paper towels.
As he turns on the faucet, the knob breaks in his hand, sending water shooting in the air.
Roger struggles to close the valve until finally ending the spray.
“What happened?” Margo asks. “Did it burst?”
“It might have been rusty, I don’t know.”
“Are you all right?”
“Maybe I’m rusty.” He looks at the water on the floor. “The kitchen is drenched.”
Margo kisses his cheek, adding, “You always wreck things.”
“Can you grab a mop?”
“Who do you think did the housework while you were lying around?”
“Lying around? I had a serious medical condition.”
“How convenient. And all of the cleaning left for me.”
“I hope you’re better at cleaning than you are at science. You couldn’t find a cure for me any sooner? Great job.”
“I wish I hadn’t found one at all. I wish you were still asleep!
Ambling into the living room, he sees a cocker spaniel bounding down the stairs.
“Sadie!”
He hugs her with great affection and strokes her head.
“I’ve missed you, you silly dog.”
Sadie gets a rubber ball, depositing it at her master’s feet.
Roger lobs the ball across the floor, setting in motion a boisterous game of fetch.
Until an errant throw sends the ball behind a couch.
The dog hangs her head and slinks away.
“What is it, girl?”
Beyond the couch he finds a pile of vomit. Flies hover and buzz.
“Oh Sadie, did you eat too fast again? You never learn. It’s all right, I’ll take care of it.”
Roger walks to the kitchen sink and gets some paper towels.
As he turns on the faucet, the knob breaks in his hand, sending water shooting in the air.
Roger struggles to close the valve until finally ending the spray.
“What happened?” Margo asks. “Did it burst?”
“It might have been rusty, I don’t know.”
“Are you all right?”
“Maybe I’m rusty.” He looks at the water on the floor. “The kitchen is drenched.”
Margo kisses his cheek, adding, “You always wreck things.”
“Can you grab a mop?”
“Who do you think did the housework while you were lying around?”
“Lying around? I had a serious medical condition.”
“How convenient. And all of the cleaning left for me.”
“I hope you’re better at cleaning than you are at science. You couldn’t find a cure for me any sooner? Great job.”
“I wish I hadn’t found one at all. I wish you were still asleep!
And with that – the scene skipped in place.
All frozen in a jittery loop.
The Radiatron’s body convulsed, shaking in spasm.
His eyes danced and flung open.
After one year, four months and nine days in a tube … he had no need for dreams.
His mind had no call for the respite of slumber.
After one year, four months and nine days, Roger Farrington wanted to taste life!
The rapid exit from the dream state freed us as well.
Our mental link ended.
Arc’x’vestula and I struggled to groggy consciousness.
The Radiatron stormed the alien vessel.
Energy blasts from his hands bathed the ship in a crackling, glowing light.
The aliens fired lasers in return, but he easily rebuffed the attack.
Next torpedoes targeted our ship; he obliterated the attacks with a round of pulsating strikes.
They began powering up for interstellar speeds, probably in hopes of escape.
The Radiatron soared in a sweeping arc until landing on their hull.
Pounding at the bulkhead, silver sparks flying, he burst through the engines as if mere tin.
We received a message of surrender moments later.
The Radiatron flew back to us and entered via the manual hatch.
He went straight to the communications array.
As the signals synced up, we saw the face of Dr. Kinkaide.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“I love you, Margo. I love you so much. And yes, it’s all over.”
“I knew it! I knew you’d find a way. You’ll always be my hero. I love you.”
We secured the alien ship in a tractor beam and started the voyage toward Earth.
And as we traveled home, I let myself indulge in one more dream.
That the Radiatron would not be doomed to years in a frozen box.
Set apart from the woman he loved.
From a world that needed him.
Roger Farrington had more than earned the hopes of a healthy, blissful future.
Their love deserved to fly free through open skies.
All frozen in a jittery loop.
The Radiatron’s body convulsed, shaking in spasm.
His eyes danced and flung open.
After one year, four months and nine days in a tube … he had no need for dreams.
His mind had no call for the respite of slumber.
After one year, four months and nine days, Roger Farrington wanted to taste life!
The rapid exit from the dream state freed us as well.
Our mental link ended.
Arc’x’vestula and I struggled to groggy consciousness.
The Radiatron stormed the alien vessel.
Energy blasts from his hands bathed the ship in a crackling, glowing light.
The aliens fired lasers in return, but he easily rebuffed the attack.
Next torpedoes targeted our ship; he obliterated the attacks with a round of pulsating strikes.
They began powering up for interstellar speeds, probably in hopes of escape.
The Radiatron soared in a sweeping arc until landing on their hull.
Pounding at the bulkhead, silver sparks flying, he burst through the engines as if mere tin.
We received a message of surrender moments later.
The Radiatron flew back to us and entered via the manual hatch.
He went straight to the communications array.
As the signals synced up, we saw the face of Dr. Kinkaide.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“I love you, Margo. I love you so much. And yes, it’s all over.”
“I knew it! I knew you’d find a way. You’ll always be my hero. I love you.”
We secured the alien ship in a tractor beam and started the voyage toward Earth.
And as we traveled home, I let myself indulge in one more dream.
That the Radiatron would not be doomed to years in a frozen box.
Set apart from the woman he loved.
From a world that needed him.
Roger Farrington had more than earned the hopes of a healthy, blissful future.
Their love deserved to fly free through open skies.