Chapter Seven: They Speak Alliance Common

September 13, 1990 (Earth Reckoning)

Outside of Argo City, Argonia

"Bill, are you there?" A staticy voice from the communicator buried under a pile of Grey's normal gear failed to stir him from his sleep. "Bill, this is Star Fox. Come in." Grey would likely have slept on had it not been for Katt nearly tripping over him in her excited rush to pick up the communicator.

"Wha…what the?" He asked groggily.

"A transmission. It's McCloud," was Katt's excited reply. Immediately Bill pounced upon the stack of equipment and feverishly dug for the communicator.

"Star Fox, this is Bill Grey. And man, am I glad to hear your voice," he half-shouted when he finally found it.

"We can catch up later, Bill," Fox said jovially.

Bill grinned. "Isn't that usually my line?"

Fox couldn't help but laugh. "Yeah, I guess so. Anyway, we're in orbit and tracking your coordinates now, but where's your ship?"

An uncomfortable silence followed. "On its way back to Corneria with a dead crew on board, and…" Grey decided not to mention the possible connections between Andross and the only living being on board the Havoc's Cry. "Well, just get down here. We've got fifteen survivors in need of evac. Home in on my comm signal if you need to. We can't be more than, say, twenty kilometers from the former capitol."

"…Okay. When we get down there you've gotta tell me what happened here."

"Then you'd best pack a lunch. See you when you land."

As the static from the communicator faded to silence, Mica approached. "Was that our rescuer-to-be?"

Grey nodded. "They'll be down here as soon as they home in on our location."

Mica sighed, relieved. "Never thought I'd be glad to see a ship coming to take me from Argonia. Then again, I guess this won't be my first time running from home, will it?"

"Kid, let me give you some free advice," Grey said as he began to sort through his equipment, preparing to leave as soon as possible. "Quit thinking like that."

It was simple advice, but Mica found it impossible. "Everything about this is just wrong, Colonel. Look at us." She waved her hand sideways at the group of Argonian children huddled around Hirocon's feet, still wearing the same clothes as the day they first left Earth, listening to the same half-encouraging talk they'd heard since their reinstated exile three days before. "We lost Argonia, got it back, and now we're running again. I can only hope Mike is able to help when we reach Earth."

"Earth?" Grey asked, clamping the communicator onto his wrist. "Oh, Qay-Dan." Mica simply nodded. "Well, about that, Kid. I'm not so sure Fox will be keen on the idea of going there."

Mica looked at him sharply. "Why not?"

It was Katt who answered. "Well, they probably have orders just to bring the Cry survivors back to Lylat, nothing else, and McCloud's not one to usually go far outside the mandate of a contract. I mean, we can talk him into taking you eight with us, but going halfway across the galaxy? That's another story, hon."

Mica answered coolly. "Even where one of Andross's mentors is concerned?"

Grey nearly broke the last clasp of his communicator. "What?"

"I've been peeking at your surface thoughts, Colonel, and I know you've noticed a lot more connections between Zoda and Andross than your admitting. And you too, Major. The times of their exile are close together, the manners in which they struck back are almost identical," she stepped close to Grey and continued in a voice barely above a whisper. "And then there's the form they took."

From the irritated look on Katt's face, it seemed as though she was about to comment on the invasion of her privacy, but Grey spoke first.

"Look, Kid," Grey staggered back away from Mica, and then remembered the niceties of dealing with Royalty. "I mean, Your Highness, it wouldn't be good to go spreading that kind of talk. I mean, it's nothing but circumstantial evidence."

It sounded to Mica as though Grey was trying to convince himself rather than her, so she calmly replied, "Oh really?"

Grey's mouth opened several times as though he were about to speak but thought better of it. Finally, he fastened the last clasp of his communicator and looked toward the sky. "They'll be here soon. You'd better go tell your friends to get ready to leave, 'cause Fox won't want to hang around planetside for too long." Without waiting for a response from Mica, he and Katt both turned and walked to where the other Cornerians were gathered, a short distance away from the Argonians, to spread the news of Star Fox's imminent arrival.

C-Island, South Seas

"Gentlemen," the pilot of the small helicopter called to his two passengers. "We're approaching our landing site. Brace yourselves though, the landing can be a little bumpy." He smiled, apparently finding his statement funny. Mike, seatbelted tightly into one of the chairs at the back of the cockpit, did not share the pilot's amusement.

"The whole ride's been bumpy," Mike remarked.

"Are you kidding?" The pilot asked. "This's been a smooth one."

"Well it wasn't nearly this rough the last time I flew out here."

Dr. J answered for the pilot. "That was in the summer. The winds are a little more turbulent in this region in the fall."

"Makes it more fun," the pilot explained.

"Well thrill, joy, rapture, bliss!" Mike said acidly. "I feel better already." The pilot laughed, and turned his attention back to piloting the craft. Nothing else was said, save for a few muttered 'Oh Shit's' from Mike after the more turbulent gusts, until the helicopter came to a rough landing on the heli-pad at the eastern tip of C-Island's southernmost arm.

"Well," the pilot said unnecessarily, "we're here. You two can go ahead and debark."

Mike, needing no further encouragement, hastily unbuckled his seatbelt, grabbed his two heavy suitcases, slung his gym-bag over his shoulder, and made his way out the side door of the helicopter. Dr. J followed, both of them keeping their heads low until they were well out from under the propeller's whirling blades. Once they were a safe distance away Dr. J turned and gave a thumbs-up to the pilot, who waved back once before lifting off the ground and departing again for Honolulu. As Mike surveyed the island where his adventure originally began, only now did he realize the magnitude of his decision to come here.

"There's not going to be any going back, is there?" He asked Dr. J as the two picked up their bags and began the half-hour hike to Coralcola village. A few villagers had seen the helicopter's approach and were already on their way to meet them, having received word through Baboo, Dr. J's assistant, that the two were returning. "I mean, even when all this blows over, I'm not going to be able to go back to school like nothing ever happened after just dropping out like this, am I?"

"I don't know, Mike," Dr. J said heavily. "I really don't know."

Mike went on. "And I still don't know how I'm going to get to Argonia, or really why I'm even going. I mean, I'm starting to believe all of Merlin's talk, but I still don't know what's going on about Zoda, or Argonia, or anything else for that matter."

"Why don't you try talking to Mica?" Dr. J suggested.

Mike frowned. "That's another thing I'm worried about. I haven't heard from her since Saturday when she told me Zoda might still be alive. I tried to reach her, but…" he let the sentence die in mid air.

Dr. J immediately spoke up. "She may just be occupied, Mike. After all, she and the others were on their way back to a decimated world to try and rebuild. That can't be easy. In the meantime, we're here. You could always try and enjoy yourself. Think of it as an extension of your vacation."

Mike wrinkled his nose. "How can you even think about vacation with everything that's happening?"

This time Dr. J was not as quick to answer. "To tell the truth, Mike, something tells me relaxation time is going to be a rare and precious thing in the near future." The implications were obvious, but Mike did not respond. "But if you don't like the idea of relaxing on the beach and enjoying the attention of your 'new friend,' Miss Coralcola '90," he went on, prompting a sigh and an 'oh please' from Mike, "you could always lend me a hand at the lab."

"The lab? What're you working on now, Unc?"

"Well, since I'm not cut out for this hero business -it seems Dennis inherited my share of that and passed it on double to you- I've decided to help out the only way I know how: by digging up answers."

"And what's left to answer?"

Dr. J slowed his pace slightly. "Mike, do you remember last Monday when I asked if you knew how the Argonians spoke English?"

Mike nodded.

"Well, I asked Merlin that, and his answer was interesting."

"Interesting? Like, how?"

"He said, 'a better question would be 'how do the English speak Argonian?' I didn't ask anything after that, but the more I think about it, the more I realize there's more to the runes on the walls in that ruined temple than I realized: a lot more."

Mike contemplated that for a moment. "How do the English speak Argonian," he repeated wistfully. "But can't experts 'n' stuff trace English back to its roots?"

Dr. J. nodded. "They can indeed, most notably," he paused for effect, "Latin."

Mike looked questioningly at his uncle. "So, uh, what's the big deal about Latin?"

"Latin, if you'll recall, was the language mixed with Argonian in the cipher."

"Dude," Mike said slowly. "This is weird."

"Tell me about it, Mike. Tell me about it."

Outside Argo City, Argonia

It's easy to see where the name 'Star Fox' came from, Mica thought as she and the other Argonian children watched Hirocon, Katt, and Colonel Grey speak to the Cornerian mercenaries who, in contrast to the resplendent uniforms of the Cornerian soldiers, wore simple-looking clothes with identical gray flight jackets. Their leader's name is Fox, and he's a fox. Looks a lot like the Terran animal of the same name. For that matter, as she surveyed the all the Cornerians present, it occurred to her that they all resembled the Terran species to bear the same name as their subspecies, except that the Cornerian subspecies were what Terrans would call 'Humanoid.' Not one to believe in coincidence, Mica made a mental note to look into the reasons for the similarities at some later date. For now, though, there were more pressing concerns.

From where Mica and the other children stood, their elongated ears enabled them to hear the snippets of the conversation taking place. They couldn't hear everything, but Mica felt she knew two things. One, she knew the names of the members of the Star Fox Team, and two, Hirocon and Colonel Grey, having already recounted the story of Zoda's attack and return, were trying to persuade the leader, Fox McCloud, that going to Earth was necessary. As far as Mica could tell, Fox had not yet said whether he agreed or not, but rather continued to listen to Hirocon's explanation of the need for the trip.

"What're they saying, Princess?" Saera asked eagerly, bouncing up and down in place as her curiosity overcame her.

Mica strained her ears to hear. "Well, Father and Colonel Grey are advocating the trip, but one of the team, the dark blue fox (I think I heard them call her 'Krystal') keeps saying that star is evil. She's saying…" she strained her ears more before shaking her head in defeat. "I can't tell."

"She's saying her people had legends of that star," Rauren calmly finished. "She says they believed that the gods once fought a war against beings from that star."

Mica wrinkled her brow. "Had? Believed?"

Rauren nodded. "She keeps using past tense when she talks about her people. Not sure why."

Naberra nodded her head in the direction of the conversation. "So what's beak-guy saying?" She asked, referring to a blue-feathered, bird-like Cornerian standing immediately behind Fox, leaning up against the back the landing shuttle that brought the team to the ground. It seemed that he, for the first time since their landing, had decided to enter the conversation.

Mica turned her attention back to the conversation in time to hear Katt say sarcastically, "in your dreams, Falco."

"Hey, look," Fox said, stepping between the two. "We don't have time for this." The rest of Fox's words were lost amid a moment of back-and-forth banter between Katt and the one called 'Falco.'

As the debate went on, Mica noticed two members of the Star Fox Team that had yet to enter the discussion. They were a wide-eyed toad, and a hare who, judging by his face, was decades older than any of the others there. The two of them, she saw after another moment of observation, were holding their own conversation. Despite Mica's effort, she was not able to tell anything about the topic, though, because the two whispered. Before Mica could make any judgements, however, she noticed the entire entourage, save for Katt and Grey who approached their Cornerian comrades, coming toward the children. At the front of the group was Fox McCloud, the head of their team of rescuers.

"You're Highness," spoke the brown-haired Cornerian fox with wild, rustic features. "I understand the trip to Qay-dan was your idea originally."

Mica nodded. "It was, sir."

"Just 'Fox,' if you don't mind," Fox corrected her with a grin. "We're not soldiers, and we're not nobles."

"Well we are," Impek said gruffly, earning a sharp blow to his ribs from Naberra's elbow.

Mica, ignoring the comment and unwilling to lose the momentum she hoped her father had been able to build, went on. "Fox then. And yes, it was my idea, and I stand by it."

Falco made an unusual squawking sound that Mica appraised as a derisive snort before Fox continued. "Your dad said you would. Tell me, Miss, do you have any idea how often Lylatians have been out that far?"

"I wasn't aware Lylatians had ever been out that far," Mica answered calmly.

"That's right. We haven't. Even in our fastest ship," he smirked as he pointed toward the sky, "and trust me, Command didn't exactly give us one of the fastest. But even for our fastest ship that would be a good week-long trip. In this garbage scow Pepper stuck us with, it'd be closer to two weeks."

Two weeks. The words fell upon Mica's ears like a death knell. "But that would give Zoda enough time to…"

As Mica choked on the sound of her voice, Hirocon finished for her. "To return and wipe out anything he and the Aparoids missed."

"So if we're going to make this trip," Fox said warningly, I've got to know 'A,' it's worth it, and 'B,' there's no alternative."

In the silence that followed, Mica realized the Star Fox Team's eyes, as well as the eyes of the other six children, were all focussed directly on her. Father's right there, and it's still got to be me who makes a decision that could alter the fate of Argonia. She thought of Zoda, returning to an undefended Argonia to finish a job he left incomplete two decades before. She thought of the war-ravaged Lylat System, largely unaware of the tyrant in their midst. And mostly, she thought of Mike, "Commander McCloud-"

"Fox," Fox corrected again.

"Fox," Mica recovered. "Believe me when I tell you that there is no one else who has a chance against Zoda. And trust me," she took on the tone of a young woman speaking more to herself than anyone else. "Going to Earth is very, very worth it."

Fox sighed, apparently deciding that he would follow Mica's advice. "Alright," he said skeptically. "Alright. We'll drop the Havoc's Cry survivors off on Corneria, then we'll go. But while we're on the way, you eight who've been there need to start thinking of a way around a few problems. Like for one thing, who's going to interpret their language for us?"

"Oh, that won't be a problem, Commander… Fox," Hirocon noted. "You see, that's one of the funny things about that world. They speak Alliance Common there."

In one movement, five Cornerian heads turned toward Hirocon and five Cornerian jaws went slack. "What?!" Five Cornerians asked in unison. One of them, Krystal, went on to ask, "how can a system so far out speak the tongue of the Alliance?"

"It's not so unbelievable," Rute offered his opinion, "when you consider how the language came to be Alliance common in the first place. When Argonian explorers first arrived in the Lylat system, they discovered-"

"Yeah, kid," Falco sighed. "We know. All the planets there spoke the same language as Argonia. 'The Great Anomaly,' historians call it."

"But this is such a distant world," Krystal insisted, turning toward Fox. "Fox, I don't like this. I don't like it at all. Both your world and mine have ancient stories about the evil of that star, and now we find that they speak the tongue of our forebears? It's an ill omen, Fox. An ill omen."

Considering Krystal's worry, Fox turned skeptically back to Mica, who looked back at him with resolve. "Peppy," Fox said over his shoulder, "whatta you think?"

"I think if I'm gonna be the one who makes the big decisions around here, then you can stay on the ship doing tech support and I'll be the one flying the Arwing Mk 2," said the old hare in an ornery tone.

Fox took the time to shoot an annoyed look at the hare named Peppy before turning back to face Mica.

"Fox," Mica assured him, "we've been there. The world isn't evil. The people there were actually very kind, and Mike Jones, a man from that world, is our only hope." If Hirocon took note of the reference to Mike as a man rather than a boy, he made no mention of it.

Fox shook his head and laughed darkly. "I must be out of my mind," he muttered. "Alright, princess. We'll go to Qay-dan, or should I say 'Earth?'"

Dr. Andross Oikinny's Lab; Papetoon

"Lord Andross," a Cornerian reptile spoke into the dark lab, illuminated only by dim blue lights, "I have two pieces of news: one good, and one better."

"Tell me the first," Andross said, already fairly certain of the reptile's report.

"The Argonian Priest has arrived, safe, and undetected by Cornerian Command," the lizard rasped.

"Good," Andross commented, not looking away from a set of glass tubes in which floated a formless mass of indistinct flesh, suspended in a bubbling liquid. "Send him here. And the second piece of news?"

The lizard grinned. "We were also able to secure the ship that bore him here."

At that, Andross paused in his work for a moment. "The dreadnought?"

"Yes, my lord. It is mostly undamaged, and will make a fine flagship for you."

Andross laughed, a low, rumbling laugh that reverberated throughout the vast lab. "Outstanding."

The lizard opened his mouth to speak, but was silenced as a shadow darkened the door. He turned and, recognizing the guest, started to greet him. The greeting never escaped his mouth, however, as he found himself torn apart atom by atom in a single burst of focussed psionic force.

Andross turned from his work and looked at the ashen dust on the ground, the only remnant of the guard. "Was that really necessary, Zoda?"

"He tried to take credit for securing the ship I worked so hard to obtain," Zoda replied nonchalantly.

"Yes, but bungling as he was, a live soldier makes a better guard than a powdery stain on the floor," Andross countered, and there was silence.

"Well, it's good to see you too, old friend," Zoda finally said mockingly.

Andross 'tut-tutted' softly. "Oh, come now, Zoda. Are you going to go into a huff over a few forgotten pleasantries? I would have expected a priest to be a bit more forgiving."

Zoda harrumphed loudly. "If the small-talk is out of the way-"

"Yes, yes," The Cornerian-born ape scientist waved a hand, "it is, and welcome to Papetoon. I must confess myself surprised to see you in Lylat though. I thought you would be building temples to your ancestor upon the ruins of Argonia's cities by now."

That earned another harrumph from Zoda. "Dragmire will have no need for temples when he is revived. But what about you? Shouldn't you be master of Lylat by now?"

Andross snorted. "It would seem neither of us has enjoyed quite the results we expected when we parted company those twenty years ago."

"So it would," Zoda agreed. "What went wrong for you?"

Andross ground his teeth together. "Did I ever tell you of 'Star Fox?'"

"James McCloud's team?" Zoda asked. "Your turncoat pilot Pigma Dengar told me the tale, but I thought McCloud died in Dengar's betrayal. At least that's what Dengar led me to believe."

"James McCloud is twenty-nine years dead," Andross affirmed. "It's his son who's been a consistent thorn in my side. What about you, though? Argonia couldn't have put up much resistance. Besides, you have that artifact Vulcan retrieved from Solar's core."

Zoda nodded, felxing the fingers on his right hand as he was reminded of the Triforce mark there. "The Triforce of courage did indeed prove useful in subduing the planet, especially after the Regent was kind enough to hand over one of its mates to me. And rest assured, Argonia is a wasteland now. The difficulty came when the Regent learned of my intentions and hid the Sages' descendants on a planet half a galaxy away: a planet that held a few… surprises for the acolytes I sent there."

"And these 'acolytes' were foiled by a few refugees from peace-loving Argonia," Andross mocked.

"Actually, they were beaten by someone who could present a potential problem in the future, and who will be one of Lord Dragmire's first victims once he is revived."

"Lord Dragmire," Andross muttered. "Well, speaking of pigs, Pigma Dengar is now dead."

"Oh? How?"

"After the Aparoids infected him, he was killed by McCloud's son," Andross answered, returning his focus to the fleshy mass in the fluid-filled tube in front of him. "The same Aparoid colony that killed my nephew," he growled.

Zoda slowly approached him, arms crossed. "I take it, then, from your interest in this experiment" he said, nodding at the mass in the tube, "that this is what remains of your nephew and you're in the process of regenerating him."

Andross stood up and spun around, pointing an angry finger in Zoda's face. "Do you honestly believe I would do that to the memory of my own nephew? To regrow him in a test tube like some kind of fungus?!"

Zoda took a step backward and held up his hands apologetically. "I meant no offense by it, Andross," he said quietly, but not fearfully.

The gesture seemed to placate Andross, and after a few more moments of glaring at Zoda, the scientist took his seat again. "But you're partly correct. This scrap of muscle is all that remains of one victim of the Aparoid invasion, and if I'm correct it will be enough to read his DNA pattern and regenerate his body. That makes your timing fortunate, priest, because you can help with a mind to go with it."

Zoda nodded. "Indeed. And just who is this victim, to warrant so much effort to bring them back from the dead?"

Andross waited a minute before answering. "Dengar."

The red coals that were Zoda's eyes widened with realization. "Is it indeed? My, my."

Andross grunted. "Yes, you always did seem fond of the traitor."

Zoda shrugged. "The nature of his subspecies seemed to predispose him toward greatness. I'd think you would have had a certain esteem for him too, after he handed McCloud to you on a plate."

Andross turned to face Zoda, a snide reply forming behind his lips, only to find Zoda suddenly staring away as if looking into the far reaches of space at a sudden interruption. "Priest," the barest twinge of concern robbed Andross's voice of a mote of its usual authority. "Are you well?"

"Yes, I'm fine," Zoda replied distantly. "But why in Dragmire's name would Jones be back on that…" He trailed off and shook his head as if to rid himself of a haze of confusion. "Never mind, never mind."

Andross needed no encouragement to dismiss Zoda's problem. "Speaking of McCloud, the younger at least," he picked up an earlier tack in the conversation as though the diversion had not occurred, "my Cornerian operatives tell me he's been deployed on a deep-space assignment."

Zoda could not imagine why that fact would be of importance, but in the interest of tact he feigned curiosity. "Oh? Where?"

Andross drew his reply out meaningfully. "Argonia."

Zoda's interest was no longer false as he considered the implications of that statement. "Why would Corneria send another unit there when their last came back quarantined, and with a dead crew?"

Andross answered, "according to my spies, the team was sent in response to a distress signal from Colonel Billiard Grey. Does that name have any meaning to you?"

"Should it?"

"It would seem so, since you returned to Lylat aboard his ship."

"Impossible," Zoda spat. "Every Cornerian on that ship died. I saw to that!"

"Yes," Andross answered smoothly. "But what about every Cornerian on the ground?"

Zoda stood in stunned silence for a split second before shrieking a curse Andross couldn't have repeated if he tried. Of course, Zoda rebuked himself. Blood of the Ancestor, how could I have been so foolish. The ship was landed, and close to the city. Of course they would have had a team on the ground re-establishing ties. "If that's the case, than the stranded Cornerians, as well as the survivors of Argonia, will soon have access to a ship. I would guess that their destination is Corneria. If the Argonians and Cornerian Command start comparing notes," he looked at Andross with severity in his eyes, "they may turn up some things we would prefer to keep hidden."

"Agreed," was Andross's response. "What will we do about it?"

Zoda took a few slow, ponderous steps toward the table. "It would seem we need to go to Argonia and put a stop to McCloud's little rescue."

"And how are we going to get there? What was left of my armada was crushed in the invasion, and you seem to have neglected to bring a ship of your own."

"Yes. But what I did bring," Zoda spoke slowly, conspiratorially, "was a Cornerian Dreadnought, one of the most potent warships in the history of the Alliance. So tell me, Doctor. Do we have a plan?"

A razor-toothed grin split Andross's Simian face. "We do indeed, Drekmyr. We do indeed."

September 14, 1990

Dr. Jones Island Lab; C-Island, South Seas

The first rays of morning sunlight shining through the enormous glass-domed roof of Dr. J's lab awoke Mike earlier than he would have liked. "Damn the time change," he muttered, yawning and remembering for the first time since his arrival on the island to set his watch from Pacific time to… "What time zone is this anyway?"

"Let's just say local time is 6:13 A.M, but who's keeping track?" Dr. J said from across the vast expanse that was the living room. Mike looked at Dr. J in surprise for a moment, then grinned, remembering his uncle's tendency for starting his day with the sun. At the moment, Dr. J was in the process of shoveling some kind of cereal into his mouth from a bowl that had once been half the shell of a coconut. He stared down at his research notes, which, Mike noted, sat on the tabletop in the place where the morning paper would have been if it had been Dennis at the table instead. "Any more dreams?"

Mike shook his head. "No time I guess. I only slept for, like, four hours or so. Any progress with the language thing?"

Dr. J crunched particularly noisily on a spoonful of cereal and shook his head. "Jack scratch, as I think your generation would say," he said once he swallowed the mouthful.

"I think you mean 'jack squat,' but I get the idea," Mike responded as he unzipped his sleeping bag, stood up and stretched again.

Dr. J. rolled his eyes dismissively. "Slang comes and goes. I can't keep up with it. The shaman came by and asked about you, by the way."

The change of subject was so abrupt Mike spent a moment nodding absent-mindedly before he picked up on it. "She knew I was here?" Doctor J. said nothing in response, opting instead to look over the top of his bifocals at Mike. The message, no matter how silent, was clear, and that message was 'duh.' "But how?"

"Perhaps she divined it through the stars," Dr. J said, dropping his voice and allowing a mystical tone to seep into it. "Or perhaps she found out the same way everyone else on the island did: Baboo."

"Oh. Duh, Mike," Mike said.

"Yes, it was a bit of a silly question," Dr. J agreed. "In any case, she wanted to know… well, basically the same thing I'd like to ask."

"Which is?"

"Which is what's next for the hero of Argonia?"

Mike groaned. "A cold shower," he said grumpily. "And then breakfast. After that, your guess is as good as mine."

"I'm serious, Mike."

"I know that, Uncle Steve. It's just that… well, to be honest I haven't got a plan. I really don't even have a place to start. All I know is that if I'm going to Argonia like Merlin said, it just feels like this is where I should be until then. I mean, this is where it all started, right?"

Dr. J nodded.

"And this is where the Argonians left from, right?"

Dr. J nodded again. "As a matter of fact, this is all of Earth they saw."

"Right," Mike carried on. "So if they come back or something, this is probably where they're going to come, right?"

Dr. J. looked skeptical. "You really believe they're coming back to Earth?"

Mike shuffled his weight from one foot to the other uneasily. "I really don't know, Unc. But I hope she does."

Dr. J stared back at Mike, his face unreadable. Finally he said, "go ahead downstairs and get your shower, Mike." As Dr. J looked back down at his research notes Mike nodded and started for the hallway that led to the first floor. "Oh, by the way," Dr. J said off-handedly just as Mike's hand touched the door.

"Hmm?" Mike stopped and looked over his shoulder.

"Something to think about while you're in the shower."

"What's that?"

"Think carefully about why you really came back here, Mike."

Mike wrinkled his nose in confusion. "Whatta you mean by that?"

Dr. J looked back up from his research notes and leaned across the dining table, speaking slowly and carefully. "When I asked about the Argonians, I said 'they.' When you answered, you said 'she.'" The doctor raised his eyebrows to emphasize the point before turning back to his research notes, this time actually returning his full attention to them. It was almost a full minute before he heard the sound of the door opening and closing as Mike left.