The stabilizers whined up into a pitch Rick could feel in his teeth. The clones were locked in, feeds linked, their quantum tags pulsing in perfect rhythm with the coordinates of the real Diane and Beth.
Rod's hands danced over the Omega+1's controls, the whole river bucking and twisting like a living ribbon trying to snap free. "Alright, Rick, we've got thirty seconds before the river realizes we're about to rip off its crown jewels—keep those clones steady."
Rick didn't look up from the machinery. "Yeah, no problem—just holding two human-shaped eggshells together while the cosmic blender's set to liquefy."
The river lashed, space bending in jagged ripples.
Rod leaned into the device's metaphysical interface, flooding the river's surface with false echoes—manufactured moments from erased timelines, fabricated crises, the implosion of civilizations that never existed. The current hesitated, flickering like a mind trying to process too many thoughts at once.
"Ten seconds!" Rick barked, reading the sync timer on his console.
The clones' vitals pulsed in sync with the rift, each resonance closing the gap to their real counterparts.
"Eight seconds!"
The river fought back, slamming against the Omega+1's barrier. Rod gritted his teeth, shoving more mental pressure into the distraction feed. "Come on… look at the pretty lights, not the bait."
"Six!" Rick's fingers blurred over the controls. "Kid, it's testing the swap already—"
"Five—" Rod pushed harder, every sense stretching thin, the rift's raw hostility pressing against his mind.
"Four—" The clones twitched in their cradles, eyelids fluttering as the final neural locks engaged.
"Three—" The river roared, not sound but a deep mental vibration, making their bones hum.
"Two—"
Rod and Rick locked eyes for a heartbeat.
"One—"
Rick hit the trigger.
Reality lurched—colors inside out, the floor folding toward itself—and then the clones vanished, their quantum echoes sliding neatly into the river's current.
In their place, the real Diane and Beth appeared in the cradles, alive, breathing, untouched by the moment they'd been stolen from.
The river shuddered once, hard enough to split a hairline crack across the garage floor—then went utterly still.
Rod leaned back in the Omega+1's seat, sweat on his brow. "And that, old man… is how you mug the timeline."
Rick grinned without looking up. "Not bad, kid. Not bad at all."
The Omega+1's hum died to a whisper.
The river's shimmer in the air thinned, curling away like smoke caught in reverse wind.
Rick took one step toward the cradles, stumbled, and landed squarely on his ass.
"Hhh—hah… yeah, I meant to do that. Testing gravity. Still works."
Rod didn't even hear him.
He was already across the room, tearing the stabilizer seals apart and pulling both Diane and Beth into his arms.
His knees hit the floor hard, but he didn't care.
His chest shuddered with each breath, the tears coming before he could even try to stop them.
Diane's arms came up slow, like she wasn't sure if they'd be allowed.
She smiled—soft, but with a weight behind her eyes. "Rod… you're taller."
He laughed wetly against her shoulder.
"Yeah, Mom. Lot of things happen when you… y'know… aren't around."
Her fingers threaded into his hair, and for a moment she just breathed him in.
But behind her calm, her gaze darted over Rick, over the machines, over the strange shimmer still fading in the corner.
Questions crowded her face—not about how she was here, but what exactly her boys had been through to make it happen.
She didn't voice them. Not yet.
Beth, meanwhile, blinked at the room like it was the world's worst birthday surprise.
"Uh… the hell? We were gonna get ice cream. You said vanilla swirl, Mom. I remember that."
Rod chuckled, tightening his arm around her.
"Yeah, little devil. You left me home alone, remember? Big mistake."
She froze. Then her eyes narrowed. She glanced up at Rick, then back to Rod, scanning his face like a tiny, suspicious detective.
"Okay… why's Dad look like a grandpa now? And who the fuck are you?!"
Rod blinked. "Wha—? Beth, it's me—"
"Only Dad, Mom, and that old meanie devil of mine can hug me!" she snapped.
And before anyone could react, she reached behind her back and produced a gun.
Not a toy, not a squirt gun—a chrome-plated, well-oiled little number like she'd been born with it tucked in her pocket.
Rick, still on the floor, snorted. "Heh—yeah, kid gets it from her mother's side."
Rod gawked at the weapon. "Beth, put that—"
"Name. Now," she barked, the barrel settling right between his eyes.
Diane sighed, shaking her head. "Sweetheart, this is—"
"Nope! No spoilers, Mom!" Beth's tone was pure defiance.
"Stranger-danger protocols are clear: shoot first, ask later."
Rod put his hands up slowly, eyes flicking to Diane for backup.
She didn't move—just watched, clearly curious how her eldest was going to talk his way out of a muzzle flash.
"Okay, okay," Rod said, forcing a grin. "You want proof? Remember when you were five, and you tried to build a rocket out of soda bottles and duct tape?"
Beth squinted harder. "Lots of kids do that."
"Yeah? Did lots of kids also try to strap the neighbor's cat into the pilot seat?"
Her eyes flickered, suspicion loosening for a heartbeat. "...It was for science."
Rod smirked. "You called it Operation Kittynaut. Mom made me chase you around the yard for an hour to get that poor thing back."
Beth's grip on the gun faltered. "...Lucky guess."
Rod leaned in slightly.
"Or what about when Dad left you with me for two days and I taught you how to rewire the TV so you could watch Intergalactic Ninja Hamster Force at 3 a.m. without Mom knowing?"
Beth's mouth twitched—trying to hide a smile. "...That was awesome."
"Yeah. And then you tried to cook popcorn with a soldering iron and set the curtains on fire."
The gun finally dipped. "Okay… maybe you are my meanie devil."
Rod opened his arms again. "Always was, little devil."
Beth hesitated a second longer, then lunged forward and hugged him tight, gun and all. "Don't scare me like that again, weirdo."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
The moment was cut short by Diane's voice, sharp as a whipcrack. "Young lady!"
Beth froze mid-hug. "Uh… yes, Mom?"
Diane's eyes flicked to the pistol still clutched in her daughter's hand. "Where did you even get that?"
Beth looked at Rick. "...Garage?"
Rick threw his hands up from the floor. "Hey, she's my kid too. Of course, she always need a gun in the case she's in danger."
Diane finally pulled her gaze from Beth's hand cannon and let it settle on the two men who'd pulled her and her daughter out of the jaws of oblivion.
Her eyes softened, scanning them both with that quiet, measuring way only a mother and wife could.
"Rick…" she murmured. "You look…" Her voice trailed, landing on Rick first.
She reached out, fingertips brushing his cheek. "Baby, you look so old now."
Rick's mouth twitched into a half-smile. "Yeah, well, temporal physics ages you like milk in a sauna."
Beth leaned around Diane, her grin wicked. "Yes, Dad! You look soooo old, hahahaha!"
Rick shot her a mock glare.
"Wow, thanks, sweetheart. Love the support.
Maybe I'll just shave twenty years off and go back to my dashing rogue scientist phase, huh?
That what you want? Your dad as a hot twenty-something with better hair?"
Beth snorted. "Pfft. No. You'd just get in more trouble."
Rick's smirk faltered into something smaller, almost shy. "…But seriously… if you do want me to… y'know… dial it back, I could."
Rod, still holding Beth loosely, looked over. "What about me? You want me to roll back too?"
Diane and Beth locked eyes. The mischievous grin that bloomed between them could've powered a small city.
Beth turned back to Rod without missing a beat.
"Yes yes yes—change back, Rod! But not you, Dad. You can stay like that."
Rick barked a laugh. "Ha! Suck it, kid."
Rod groaned, tossing his head back. "Unbelievable. Rescue your lives, risk my soul, and I get roasted, I'm look dashing, no?."
Beth patted his cheek like she was comforting a toddler. "Don't be grumpy, Rod."
Diane's chuckle slid between them all, light but still holding that unspoken warmth.
"You're both still my boys… no matter how many years you stack or shave off."
- - - - - - - - - -
Rod was still sulking, muttering under his breath about ungrateful family members, when the floor under them gave a low, stomach-dropping rumble.
It was subtle at first—just a vibration through the soles of their feet—but then the walls gave a faint metallic groan, and somewhere deep in the infrastructure, something let out a sound like a turbine choking on a brick.
Rod froze mid-complaint. "…That's not good."
Rick cocked a brow. "Define 'not good.'"
Another shudder rolled through the room, this time rattling the shelves.
A few stray tools clinked to the floor. Somewhere outside, an alarm began to pulse in deep, resonant tones.
Rod's face went pale. "F—" He cut himself off, then blurted, "—F-fuck, my life's work is all here!"
A sharp pinch caught him right in the side.
"Language, young mister!" Diane snapped, her glare sharp enough to pierce hull plating.
Rod winced and twisted away from her hand. "Ow—Mom! Not the time—!"
Beth leaned against the wall like she was watching a sitcom. "Yeah, Rod, watch your mouth. Mom's here now."
Rick, hands shoved in his lab coat pockets, nodded toward the ceiling where faint flickers of light danced.
"Alright, I'm guessing from the color of those feedback arcs that your… what's it called… star-energy farm thingy is about to turn into a stellar-grade piñata?"
Rod groaned. "The star-energy farm system. The thing that powers everything on this planet—including the machines keeping it from dropping into the black hole over in Sector 5.
And yes, it's going haywire."
Beth perked up. "You live next to a black hole? That's awesome."
Rick rolled his eyes. "Yeah, great vacation spot. Get your tan and spaghettification in one trip."
The floor rumbled again, a little harder this time—enough to make Diane brace herself on the nearest console.
Rick tilted his head toward Rod with that sly, lopsided smirk.
"Sooo… if I'm following correctly, this planet-breaking disaster is your engineering, right?
Which would make it… y'know… your fault?"
Rod pointed at him immediately.
"No, no, no—don't even start, old man. You think this happens under normal operation?
This is obviously because of your little soul-level fireworks earlier.
My systems are calibrated for sane energy output, not whatever eldritch crap you were pumping through the grid."
Rick spread his hands, mock-innocent.
"Oh, sorry for being too good at the job. Guess I'll just dial it back and let your precious star farm keep running on hamster wheels and wishful thinking."
Rod scowled. "You—" He stopped, stabbed a finger at Rick's chest. "No. This is literally on you. My star-energy farm has run for two hundred years without a hiccup."
Beth tilted her head. "Two hundred years?"
Rod didn't look at her. "Maintenance cycles, long-term reserves—don't worry about it."
Rick snorted. "Yeah, until I step on the dance floor and suddenly the power grid's crying uncle. Pretty telling if you ask me."
Diane arched a brow. "Do either of you plan on fixing this, or are you going to stand here measuring egos until the whole planet implodes?"
Rod threw his hands up. "I am fixing it—once I get Grandpa Chaos here to stop puffing his chest out like a science peacock."
Rick jabbed a thumb at Rod. "Yeah? And I'll start fixing it as soon as Mister 'I-Have-a-Black-Hole-Neighbor' admits he maybe—maybe—built something with a teensy design flaw."
Rod barked a humorless laugh. "Design flaw? The only flaw here is letting you touch my equipment in the first place."
Beth grinned. "Wow… you guys sound like an old married couple."
Both men turned to her at the same time. "Shut up, Beth."
Beth crossed her arms, smirking as the two men went back to bickering over star-core calibration tolerances and "acceptable" levels of catastrophic failure.
Then, with exaggerated offense, she stomped over to Diane and tugged at her sleeve.
"Mom," she said loudly, "Rick and Rod are bullying me."
Diane blinked, halfway between concern and confusion. "What… how?"
Beth jabbed a finger toward them.
"They told me to shut up! That's like… double the disrespect."
Rod looked up from the console, incredulous.
"Oh, for—Beth, we're literally trying to save my planet from exploding, can you—"
"See?!" Beth cut in, pointing again. "That tone! That exact tone is bullying!"
Rick didn't even glance away from the holographic readout.
"Beth, if we were actually bullying you, you'd be crying, running to your room, and writing passive-aggressive song lyrics about us on your space-phone."
Beth gasped. "Wow. So now you're insulting my creative process?"
Rod groaned. "She's weaponizing you against me, Mom—do something!"
Diane pressed her fingers to her temple, exhaling through her nose like she'd been preparing for this since the day Beth learned to talk.
"Beth, sweetie, maybe give them a few minutes to save the planet before we have a family drama, okay?"
Beth huffed, but her eyes sparkled with mischief. "Fine. But if we all die, I'm haunting them first."
Rick finally looked up, grinning. "Oh, I'd love to see you try. Bet I could haunt you harder."
Rod threw up his hands. "Stop flirting with the apocalypse and fix the damn farm!"
Rod bolted to the main control dais, fingers flying over the holographic keys, pulling up subsystem readouts faster than the data could even render.
Rick was right behind him, crouching to yank open a floor panel and start rerouting cabling with the enthusiasm of a raccoon in a dumpster.
"Alright, I'm gonna bypass the farm's primary loop and—"
"No, you're not!" Rod snapped, without looking up.
"If you cut the loop, you'll cascade the feedback straight into the reserve cores and boom—no more planet."
Rick waved him off.
"Relax, I'm isolating the feedback nodes so the cascade will discharge into the stabilization array."
"That array is tied directly into the shield grid!" Rod shot back. "You'll fry the planetary defenses!"
"Oh no," Rick deadpanned, "then what will we do if someone tries to politely invade while we're imploding from the inside?"
Rod gritted his teeth and pulled up a 3D schematic.
"I'll reroute the stellar intake manually. You stabilize the farm's cooling coils."
"Cool. I'll do that," Rick said—then immediately started dismantling the intake relay.
Rod spun around. "What the hell are you—"
"Trust me!" Rick grinned, shoving a glowing coil into his pocket. "I'm optimizing!"
"You're sabotaging!" Rod lunged for him, but the deck pitched under their feet as another wave of energy surged through the station.
Somewhere behind them, Beth shouted, "Are you two seriously breaking more stuff?!"
"Not helping, Beth!" they barked in perfect sync, hands busy ripping into two entirely different systems.
Diane just stood with her arms crossed, watching the chaos like it was an old rerun.
"It's like watching two dogs fight over the same stick while the house is on fire."
"Exactly!" Rick shouted from under the console.
Rod shot her a look. "Not helping either, Mom!"
Rod yanked a star-core regulator free at the same exact moment Rick slammed a bypass clamp into the intake conduit.
For half a second, everything went still—no rumble, no alarms, just silence.
Then the entire planet seemed to inhale.
A deafening crack ripped through the air, followed by a deep, resonant WHOOOMPH that rattled every bolt in the structure.
The holographic readouts exploded in a flood of red alerts, and the floor pitched like they'd been kicked by a cosmic mule.
Rick popped up from the panel, eyes wide. "…Okay. That one's on me."
Rod stared at the glowing regulator in his hand. "Oh, now you admit it?"
Beth clung to a support beam as the room bucked again.
"Uh, guys? Is it normal for the sky to… swirl like that?"
Diane looked out the viewport, her jaw tightening.
The massive energy collector array in orbit was spinning far too fast, each rotation throwing sparks of solar plasma into the void like flares from an angry star.
"It's overloading."
Rick scanned the nearest readout and whistled.
"Huh. That's not just overload, that's catastrophic harmonic resonance—your star farm's about to turn into a free-range supernova."
Rod shoved the regulator into Rick's hands.
"Fine. No more ego, no more snark. You take the intake, I'll re-sync the resonance dampers.
We do this together or we're all cosmic toast."
Rick nodded, already moving to the primary array controls.
"Alright, kid, on my mark—"
"Don't tell me order like I'm some kid—"
"Three!"
Rod cursed under his breath but sprinted to the damper controls.
Beth cupped her hands around her mouth. "Don't screw it up!"
Diane sighed. "Beth, sweetheart, maybe step back from the giant exploding power plant."
- - - - - - - - - -
Do you get any of that?
Yo, right at this moment I'm thinking of Rod's next adventure.
I will surely include other TV shows too but I think I'll focus on Rod's character, what he had done to his physique etc. more after this.
Leave some comments and put a review if you like the story :3
That's all guys, peace!