Author's note:

I've been a little late to update this latest chapter. A couple of things had exhausted me over the last week. I've also neglected this story to play Assassin's Creed: Odyssey, and I'll probably do it again.

Chapter 47: SOS

Intelligence. It is the seed of sapience. The ability of an entity to perceive the situation around it and make decisive action. The capacity to observe a problem and devise a solution to overcome it. The power to absorb and retain information, either gained through experience or taught from one entity to another, then harness that knowledge to achieve an objective. All civilisations relied on intelligence to some extent. Scientists specialised in this process of acquiring and applying knowledge to push the boundaries of what is known to be possible. Andross was simply better at it than most intelligent lifeforms he knew.

The growing mass of metal outside his laboratory served as an example of that. Wooden scaffolds surrounding it dwarfed the Cerinians labouring around the base. None of them understood what they were building. Yet through their help, Andross saw his test rocket take form before his eyes; the next steppingstone towards freedom from Cerinia's snare.

At present, only a few inner workings had been properly assembled. So much more effort laid ahead before they could attempt any trials. That followed months of progress. Andross fumed silently at the time lost due to the nuhmryg epidemic. Alas, he knew that in the grand scheme of things, they wouldn't have achieved much during that period. Two months was merely a bump compared to the mountain they were trying to climb.

Andross peered down at the valves and pipes half-assembled in front of him. It could still take years just to complete the beacon and test the odds of escaping the arethansphere in a mechanical ship. Then even longer to build the real thing. It might even take more years if the trials failed. The ever-looming problem of their construction rate tightened Andross's jaw. It would be so much quicker and easier with proper mining and manufacturing capabilities.

There wasn't enough time in his life for Andross to address those issues himself. It would require uplifting the Cerinians with technology that they wouldn't know how to use or develop without his ongoing guidance. No. He'd be 70 again before that happened. That wouldn't leave enough decades to build a viable rocket and enjoy his freedom before death finally caught up to Andross. According to McCloud, the Cornerian Army had already seized his cloning equipment. Probably destroyed it all if they haven't turned it for their own purposes. Not much chance of a third life as it currently stood. Especially without the years' worth of research needed to transfer his consciousness into a sustainable new body.

No. It would be better if they instead had help from outside Cerinia. Andross suddenly recalled the radio that Star Fox was supposed to send McCloud. Whatever happened with that? Andross had been so consumed with the epidemic that it slipped his mind. Months had passed since their last message. Surely that was more than enough time to drop a standard radio transmitter to the surface.

Dry grass crunched to alert Andross to Thene's approach. Touches of grime sullied her ice-blue face and hair. She offered him a canteen. "Here," she said simply.

"Thank you." Fresh, cool water from the river washed down Andross's throat, sating a thirst that escaped his notice until now. He screwed the bottle's lid back on and pondered a moment longer. "Thene?"

"Yes, darling?"

"By any chance, have any more care packages arrived over the last few months? I've been too distracted to keep track of such news."

Thene folded her arms. "If I knew, I would have told you already," she answered levelly. "Granted, I haven't paid close attention to that either." Andross grumbled, disappointed but not surprised.

"Should I arrange a search across the outskirts?" Thene then proposed.

Indignation shot through him like a heated point. "No." Andross shot to his feet. He abandoned his work for the storeroom. "I refuse to waste any more time waiting for others."

Into an empty bucket, Andross gathered wires, copper plates, and various other small components in furious fistfuls. "I should have just done this myself months ago," he growled as Thene tailed him.

Andross carried his load into the lab. The bucket clanged and clattered as he dropped it onto a worktable. "It should have been a simple task to entrust someone. But no! Nothing is ever simple on this planet. Or convenient."

"You're not planning to build a radio from scratch, are you?" Thene remarked mildly from the side. She watched Andross rummage through a crate of old scrap parts.

"Not from scratch." He found what he was searching for and hauled the radio from McCloud's Arwing onto the table. "If not for the epidemic, I probably would have fixed this damned thing a lot sooner."

After Andross pried open the plastic case, Thene eyed the burned insides dubiously. "Do you have all the materials you'll need?"

"I believe so. It won't be anything high-end, but I should be able to get this thing to send and receive signals at least."

"I trust that you know what you're doing." Thene turned her back for the door. "I'll keep watch over the construction in the meantime."

"Thank you," Andross replied. His focus already honed onto the task immediately in front of him. Any concern he had over the rocket was eased with his right-hand taking charge of the matter. Thene would keep the workers on schedule and in line with his designs for the next few hours.

He found something soothing about tearing out the damaged wiring and soldering fresh strands together. It didn't require too much thought, yet it kept Andross's mind engaged. This had always been the way ever since he built his first robot at 10 years of age. It was a therapeutic distraction that he indulged in all throughout his life, even during his war campaign. If a challenge proved itself too arduous or complex, Andross fell back to simple projects like this to cool down before returning to the original problem. He supposed that tinkering was the one thing that consistently brought him true joy. Even after losing everything at more than one point, he could still build gadgets with the right tools and materials.

As he worked, Andross began to wonder. This radio could trigger events that would enable him to leave Cerinia. However, if it did, one question remained. What would he do then? What would be his next move? Out of everyone who might hear his distress call, Star Fox were the most likely to receive it. Engaging with them would certainly result in a military fleet waiting to arrest him as soon as he left the planet's orbit. If they succeeded, would he be exiled again? Or would Corneria instead decide to execute him on their lands?

Andross measured his odds of escaping their clutches altogether. The odds would be slim, but with forward planning and Thene's help, they could be more than zero. Where would they go next though? Eulethra was the closest planet with spacefaring technology. Unfortunately, its people were not his allies. Venom would be safer to take shelter, but the planet was too far to reach without a wormhole or adequate supplies. So many factors. So little information to work with. Andross pondered over and over. Alas, this was one of those rare problems that he could not see the answer to. His only choice was to play by ear for now.

He pushed the last thread of wiring into the case and sealed it again. Andross looked up. His shoulders and back both ached with stiffness. The sky outside was dark. The sun was setting. Had it not been early afternoon just a few minutes ago?

"Done already?"

Thene's voice drew Andross to the small corner that served as their kitchen. She tended to a pot on top of the stove. Something hearty bubbled away inside. The smell stirred Andross's ravenous appetite.

"Yes," he answered. "The radio itself, at least. I'll need to install an antenna and power source before we can use it."

"All of that can wait until morning," Thene mothered. A proud smile danced on her lips.

Andross stretched his legs and wandered to the window. He peered out towards the construction site. "How much progress did they make?"

She understood his meaning perfectly. "Not as much as we would like, but these workers aren't experts in this field. We can't really hold them to your standards."

Andross huffed. "Which is why I'll be glad when we don't have to rely on them for much longer."

He then wandered over to the kitchen. Standing close behind Thene, Andross inspected the meal from over her shoulder. Mervet meat with bright vegetables. He looped his arms around Thene's waist. She scratched his cheek as he rested his chin upon her. "Feeling accomplished today?"

"Hm…" A small win, but an important one, Andross thought.

"I can shift my plans if you would like my help tomorrow."

"That…" He wanted to call it 'unnecessary.' However, something compelled Andross to end his sentence differently. "…would be appreciated." He kissed behind Thene's jawbone. "Thank you." Her cheeks swelled with her smile.

His concerns from earlier melted away. Andross felt more at ease. With Thene by his side, no obstacle was too great to overcome. Her unconditional love and support were worth more to him than an empire of soldiers. Backed with her skills and ruthless intelligence, she was the perfect partner. Andross firmly believed that if the universe stood against them, they would watch it crumble at their feet.

It took three days to set up a simple radio tower outside the laboratory, and as many hours to reconfigure the electrical system to power it. They made no headway with the rocket at all, but Andross ignored that fact. If this worked, their progress would accelerate more than enough to cover the delay. Frankly, this felt like a better use of their time and energy.

At long last, they had the equipment that they needed to communicate with the outside solar system. Now all Andross required was a voice to call with.

"So… This is it?" McCloud breathed. His eyes stared widely at the little box brought back to life from his fallen starship.

"One functional radio," Andross nodded. "With just enough range to connect with Star Fox's satellite."

Nervously, McCloud ran his claws through his scruffy, white crown. He turned to his mate, Krystal. Andross didn't invite her but opted not to complain. He wasn't going to turn his nose up at a willing volunteer. She took McCloud's hand into her own. Reassurance emitted from her gaze to him. Andross noticed bandages wrapped around both the vixen's upper arms. He suspected a relation with McCloud's occasional scratching at his thighs, though he chose not to raise any mention of it.

McCloud's sour expression softened. "Have you contacted anyone from outside yet?" he asked Andross.

"No."

"Why not?!"

"The Lylat System is waiting for its lost hero to call home," Andross replied simply. "I believe that your friends will respond better to hearing your voice than they will mine."

McCloud conceded with a nod. "So, I just pick up and see who answers?"

If only it were that straightforward. "It will likely take time before anyone notices us calling." Andross glanced towards Thene at his right side. "We will need to monitor the radio waves until we get a response. You just need to be the first person they hear when they're ready to listen."

His expression losing its focus, McCloud turned away from the table. His fingers rubbed over his eyes and muzzle as he paced. Silence hung over the room for half a minute. "Fox?" Krystal worried.

"It's been so long…" McCloud murmured. "I'm not sure I'd even know what to say to my friends when I hear their voices…"

Krystal approached to hold his arm gently. "It will be okay. They'll be thrilled to hear from you no matter what you say."

Andross saw it in the man's eyes. He could sympathise. If it were his family waiting on the other end, would he know what to say either? The prospect terrified him under the best circumstances. The worst case was not worth considering. However, this step had to be taken if they wanted their freedom.

"Prolonging it won't help anything," Andross told McCloud. "This is one of those times when waiting will only make things harder than they need to be."

McCloud did not respond at first. After some time to think though, he expelled a weary breath and stood tall. "You're right. Everyone back home tried so hard to put that satellite up into the air. I shouldn't keep them waiting any longer." He offered a smile to Krystal, which she returned.

A bit melodramatic for his taste, though Andross took whatever resolution he could get. "Since I haven't created a means to send a signal automatically, we will need someone to call out continuously until we get an answer. Preferably, someone who can speak a Lylatian language."

"Krystal knows a bit of Papetoonish," McCloud pointed.

"And Thene is fluent in Cornerian," Andross nodded. "Between the four of us, that means we can have someone stationed around the clock."

Krystal, however, gave a reluctant shrug. "I'm not all that confident in my skills, to be honest. I can greet someone and introduce myself at least. But anything more than that will be difficult for me to understand."

Frankly, that was more than what Andross expected from her. "All you'll need to do is keep the person responding on the line until McCloud can take over."

She nodded, believing that she could do that much. McCloud touched her shoulder. "So, how is this going to work? Do Krystal and I take it home for the day and give it back to you in the evenings?"

"That would be a ridiculous waste of time for all of us," Andross grumbled. "No. For this to work, we will all need to man the radio here in shifts."

McCloud blanched. Distaste billowed through his pelt. "You mean that we have to spend the night here with you?" Andross fought down the repulsion that rose from McCloud's phrasing. The man made it sound like he invited them to a slumber party.

"Believe me, we're not keen on entertaining you either," Thene grouched with her arms crossed. Krystal glowered in her direction.

"As soon as we establish contact, we will work out a schedule to communicate with. We can all tolerate this arrangement for a short while until then," Andross said before dispute could escalate.

Three frowns softened to a satisfactory degree. McCloud scratched between his ears and breathed a heavy sigh. "Fine. Do you have spare beds at least?"

"No," Thene answered stiffly. "You can both lie on top of a tarp if you'd like. Otherwise, you can supply your own bedding."

It was at this moment that Andross realised how unpleasant the next few days of his homelife were going to become. Very little good could come about from their two pairs sharing the same space with the disdain that they both held for each other. He could practically see the kindling ready to ignite at the slightest provocation. If the gods of this world truly did exist, Andross hoped they would bring someone to hear their call as soon as possible. His laboratory might else become the second burial site of his sanity.

Sharp drums pattered through the speakers. A guitar strummed under the 2/4 rhythm. Slippy could already feel his cold blood burn. His foot tapped faintly in time with the beat. Trumpets then blared with passion. A whistle rose and fell in the music's background. Slippy glanced briefly to his neighbour on the floor. He caught Amanda smiling right back at him. She looked bright and ready to go. Around Slippy, the samba music flared at the exact moment that his heart fluttered inside his ribcage. A huge grin spread unabashed across his face.

He and Amanda moved in sync. They stepped and bounced like the floor was on fire and the flames were lovely. Hips popped from side to side in time with their arms. No thought was required. The song in Slippy's soul called the shots. His shoes might as well be starships for how fast and high they made him fly.

Slippy had loved dancing ever since he learned to walk. It was one of those few things with which he didn't have to worry about being the tallest person, or the strongest, or the smartest. Dancing invigorated him in a special way purely because it was fun. Anyone could do it. As long as someone could move to a rhythm, they could dance. Even if Slippy ever lost the use of his legs, he knew he'd build an exoskeleton or something so that he could dance better than before. That was how passionate he was.

As he moved, Slippy stole looks at Amanda. She invited him to the samba classes that she took every week after telling her about his hobby. Slippy hadn't tried the style they taught here before, and he was glad that he took up Amanda's offer. It was fast; it was wild; and Slippy felt like he could stand up on a parade float for all to watch. And the best part: dancing with Amanda became a fantastic way for them to spend time with each other whenever he was on Corneria.

Despite how much he wanted it to go on forever, the song eventually ended. Slippy's chest heaved. Sweat ran down his face to the collar of his buttoned shirt. Elation doped up his brain better than a brand-new gadget or a script of code that ran perfectly the first time. The rest of the class gasped for breath around him.

"Alright, everyone! That's it for today," the instructor called, a sleek lynx who looked as though they could prance on the wind. "You all did great tonight. Keep practicing in your free time, and I'll see you next Thursday."

The class of 16 from mixed species dispersed to collect their belongings from the shelves. Slippy gulped down a greedy share of water from a bottle, having worked up quite a thirst. He wiped his mouth dry as he turned to Amanda. She slipped her coat over her shoulders and beamed at him with the brightness of a hundred suns.

By golly, she was an angel. Her crystal-blue eyes shimmered like a high-resolution LCD screen, and the big, yellow bow that she wore gave her the wings of a butterfly. Her clear, pink skin was more vivid than neon. Biologically speaking, that probably meant Amanda could secrete a toxin that could paralyse someone on contact. Slippy never asked yet, but it would be so cool if that was true. His species was more predisposed to hiding in heavy foliage and avoiding a predator's notice. That was way more boring than what hers could probably do.

"Ready to go?" he asked cheerfully.

Amanda took his hand. "Let's."

A mighty blush burned Slippy's cheeks as they walked out of the studio. Light washed over the crowd that bustled through the street even at this late hour. The Quasar was Lylat's most vast pedestrian mall, having its own postcode and subway system. If not for Amanda's guidance, Slippy felt he might have gotten lost the first time he visited this area. Nowadays, Slippy could let his thoughts fill with gelato as they made their way to Amanda's favourite shop, like they did after every class.

They passed buskers, open bars, noisy arcades, and calming night cafes. A music store stood underneath a club with a line formed down the entire stairway. Lights and colours fought to capture a curious eye, though Slippy easily ignored all of that. His attention belonged solely to Amanda next to him. Nothing else could hope to compare.

Never in his life did Slippy imagine that he'd meet a gal like her. In addition to both being pilots with military experience, he discovered that he shared many other things in common with Amanda. They both loved dancing; spent most of their school days reading in the library; and agreed that raspberry was the best ice cream flavour of all time. When Amanda revealed that she also enjoyed several of his favourite anime, Slippy tried to brainstorm every means he could to determine whether he was trapped in a simulation or not. No girl alive could be as perfect as her and still agree to go out with him.

When they talked, Amanda's voice sang. When she smiled, Slippy melted into his shoes. Every bat of her eyes diffused the gravity around them. Butterflies made their home inside Slippy's tummy whenever they were together. They tickled his ribcage and made him fuzzy all over. Slippy couldn't remember anyone else having the same effect over him as Amanda did.

"It's been nice having you on-world for so long, Slippy," she said. "It seemed like every other week you've been away on a new contract."

Slippy nodded. "Yeah. Luckily, we've been getting a lot of jobs around Corneria lately, so I've been able to make it home for tea most days. I think I'm getting used to it."

Amanda chuckled. "It's part of the reason why I enjoy working for the army. No matter what the mission is, I'm never too far away from home."

Her good mood was infectious. "Nothing beats sleeping in a proper bedroom with the window open," Slippy considered. "You can't get that from ship quarters."

"At least the Great Fox's beds are more comfortable than the bunks we use."

"True! I gotta thank Fox's dad for throwing some luxury into her design." Unfortunately, mentioning Fox brought sorrow to Slippy's forefront. He couldn't keep it from surfacing.

"Is something wrong?" Amanda noticed.

Slippy sighed. "Sorry… I just… got myself thinking about Fox again. I'm worried about him." Amanda pulled him under a tender arm. He sank into the hug and smiled a little. She was too good for him.

They arrived at the gelato shop to find no line waiting. Slippy quickly ordered the one thing that would help soothe his woes: a double scoop of raspberry, just as rosy as Amanda. She sampled her mango cup as they walked to a nearby bench. They sat practically at the hip, watching foot traffic pass them by.

"Are you okay, Slippy?" Amanda asked out of the blue.

Slippy jumped a little. "Sure! Of course, I am. Why?"

Her caring gaze lingered on him. "You seem sad still. Is it about Fox?"

Tried as much as he wanted to, frozen treats didn't do their trick. Slippy folded. "Yeah… It's just been a while since we dropped another radio to him. We still haven't heard from Fox."

He picked at his gelato with the little, wooden spoon. "Fox is the most reliable guy ever. He doesn't miss things like that. Especially when he knows it's coming." Slippy swallowed his feelings. "It's starting to make me think that I've done something wrong. Maybe I didn't connect the satellite receiver properly and I just don't know it."

"But you've already gone back to Balven once to check, haven't you?" Amanda reminded him.

Slippy nodded. "I might have still missed something though. A silent glitch or something. Maybe the radio signals aren't converting into the glass noodle properly because of Purgatory's dust." He closed into himself. "I stay awake some nights trying to think of what might be going on."

Amanda's arm looped around his shoulders again. "It could just be that Fox hasn't been able to call yet. Maybe he's dealing with something that's keeping him busy."

That was possible. However, Slippy didn't want to consider the ramifications of that. If something was able to distract Fox from calling home for the first time in three years, it was probably serious. "Maybe," he finally said without conviction.

Amanda pressed her lips against his cheek. "It'll be okay. Just give it more time."

More time… That's what Slippy tried to tell himself. That was the answer he had to accept somehow. "Did I ever tell you that Fox was the only reason I enrolled at the Academy?"

Surprise lit up inside Amanda's eyes. "I don't think so."

"I could have easily taken up an internship as an engineer somewhere. My dad has plenty of connections at Space Dynamics. But instead, I followed Fox to help him live his dream. He's been my best friend since we were kids. He bailed me out of more jams than I care to remember. I wanted to pay Fox back in full by helping him fight Venom."

A dry chuckle shook in Slippy's chest. "I ended up owing him more favours though. It felt like I went back to square one after crashing my Arwing on Titania once. Fox had to use the Landmaster to rescue me." He sighed the deepest he had that night. "I'd do it all over again if Fox asked me to. But anyone else? I wouldn't have fought in the war if they paid me."

Slippy braved a look at Amanda's expression. Her lips hung apart as she looked down on him. Slippy squirmed. "Sorry. That must sound pretty cowardly."

"No! No." Amanda shook her head. "Slippy, it's okay. I don't like violence any better than you do. That's why I chose to be a medic instead of flying on the frontlines." She took his hand into hers. "It's just that hearing you talk about Fox makes me realise how important he is to you. You must miss him terribly."

Tears threatened to break loose. Slippy held them back. He'd already reached his quota for acting sensitive today. "Yeah… A lot…"

Gentle fingers stroked across his scalp. Slippy closed his eyes. He took slow, even breaths. The air was nice here. Fresh from the small gardens dotting the sidewalk. Clean thanks to the absence of vehicle exhaust in the area. Sweet because of Amanda. It quelled the sadness so that it didn't hurt so much. Even Slippy's phone vibrating in his pocket felt soothing.

His phone…?

Slippy broke away from Amanda to pull it out. He expected a call incoming at first. However, the screen instead displayed a notice from an app he made himself. The one designed to tell him when the P-POS picked up a signal from Purgatory! Slippy's eyes snapped wide open at the cartoonish Fox face dancing in front of him.

"It's Fox…! It's Fox! The satellite, I mean!" he cried. "Someone's calling it!"

Amanda's alarm matched his. "Can you answer it?"

"Not from here." Slippy leaped to his feet. He switched his attention to his gelato melting in its cup. Without thinking, he shovelled the lot into his mouth and swallowed. Agony struck his skull from instant brain freeze. Slippy bared it. "I've got to go!"

Before he scarpered more than three steps, Slippy stopped himself. He turned back to Amanda and no longer knew what he should do. The need to investigate the P-POS call clashed with his need to be a good boyfriend. They tore Slippy apart at the arms, leaving him rooted and staring hopelessly at the girl of his dreams.

After a moment, Amanda smiled. "It's okay. Go." She stood up and kissed him between the eyes. "You're a good friend, Slippy."

Slippy hugged her with all his strength. "Thanks, Mandy. It means a lot." Once he let go, Slippy ran towards where the nearest transport station would be. He stopped at the corner, waving back to Amanda. "I'll call you after I know what's up! Promise!"

She waved back warmly. "Good luck, sweetie!"

He hated himself for leaving Amanda like this, but Slippy steeled his resolve as he raced down the street. His froggy legs carried him faster than his stout stature suggested to most people, hopping him up and down stairs five steps at a time. Other pedestrians stopped and stared as he tore past. Slippy threw out apologies without slowing. Only two things centred in his mind: the hope that Fox was finally calling him; and the question of how he was going to make this up to Amanda later.

She really was too good for him.

Krystal's back and shoulders cramped as she shifted atop of her chair. She wasn't used to sitting still for hours on end like this. Her joints stiffened from lack of movement. She tried, at least, to be as quiet as possible, mindful of Fox and the others sleeping nearby. That left Krystal alone with the little radio machine in the dead of night, since she drew the short straw for what Fox called 'the graveyard shift.'

She listened keenly for any changes in the soft, crackling noise coming from the radio's speaker. How the device worked exactly, she didn't fully understand. Andross's explanation didn't make a whole lot of sense to her. However, Krystal knew that it was the closest thing that his and Fox's people had to mimicking telepathy. All that she had to do was trust that when she flicked the little switch and made the green light shine, a microphone would broadcast her voice to the satellite peeking through Arethan's cloak high above. That would send the signal to Fox's friends, who would be able to hear Krystal as though she were speaking to them face-to-face.

So far, no one answered their calls. It had been a week since Andross repaired the radio. Yet nothing suggested that his efforts would bear fruit. It was enough time to make Krystal wonder. Whenever the worries plagued her, she turned her head towards Fox on reflex. He slept on their bedroll on the opposite side of the laboratory from Andross and Thene.

Frankly, it had been a challenging week. Conflicting personalities and personal qualms prevented either side from feeling comfortable around the other. Krystal and Fox mostly kept to themselves in their downtime. They even ate separately to their hosts. It ground against Krystal's sense of etiquette, yet the alternative was to abide Andross and Thene at the same table. That simply would not do. Fox still had his issues with the doctor. They barely exchanged more than two sentences at any given time. Meanwhile, Krystal had her own reasons to give Thene a wide berth; namely the blatant disrespect that the vixen often showed both Fox and her mother. Krystal held her silence for the sake of the task at hand. They could not afford to miss anything from the radio.

She shook her head. A sigh dispelled her thoughts, wiping the canvas clean. These irregular days and nights made it difficult to get enough sleep. Krystal's mind wandered more often than she liked. It was unbecoming for a lythan of her rank. What would her apprentices think if they caught her dozing off? It already looked poor that Krystal hadn't been to the shrine most days. When she did, it was only for half the time that she normally worked.

Once again, Krystal forced her thoughts back into the present task. She focused on the radio. She leaned in towards the microphone. Softly, she spoke in Papetoonish. "Hello. My name is Krystal. Can anyone here me?"

It seemed silly to talk to an inanimate box and expect it to talk back. Childish, in fact. Yet Krystal repeated the words that Fox taught her every few minutes. If nothing else, this was a great opportunity for Krystal to practice her Papetoonish. Growing better at the language made Fox happy, and every bit she learned allowed her to understand his mind a little more comprehensively. Now she could sometimes hear a piece of his thoughts without emotional or imaginative cues, nor did he need to consciously think of Cerinian words for her sake. That was Krystal's true goal in the end: to always understand her life mate entirely.

Still, for the time being, there were moments when Krystal couldn't make heads or tails of Fox's mind. Some thoughts were as garbled as his words from the day they first met. Frustrating as it sometimes was, Krystal couldn't deny the mysterious appeal of Fox's mother tongue. She could feel that similar tingle in her ears right now.

Krystal's eyes snapped wide open. That sound in her ears wasn't her imagination. It was a man's voice. Tinny and crackly. It came from the radio's speaker. Krystal leaned closer to it. She listened carefully to what it had to say.

"Pur re Liger Lombardi no Star Fox. Jag moumouma hisso mre?"

Tried as she might, Krystal couldn't understand what she was hearing. The dialect sounded vastly different to Fox's. Maybe it was a separate language entirely?

"Je rekej. Pur re Liger Lombardi no Star Fox. Jag moumouma hisso mre?"

Lombardi… Star Fox… Krystal did recognise those words. They were tied to Fox's friends from home! Joy and excitement rushed through Krystal in a geyser. She checked that the microphone was on. A great grin spread across her muzzle as she answered.

"Hello! My name is Krystal. Can you hear me?"

"Slippy, groon yat taiyas sagh!" the man called. "Ros. Jag ma rekej yat?"

Worriedly, Krystal shook her head. "I'm sorry. I don't understand you."

She heard more senseless chatter along with new voices. They seemed to converse more to each other than to her. Krystal bit her lip as she prepared to run and wake Fox.

"This is Vixy Reinard of Star Fox," a woman's voice suddenly said. "Can you understand me?"

Krystal's heart stopped. That name… "Vixy…? Does that mean you're Fox's mother?"

The shock in the woman's reply was palpable. "You know Fox…?! Who am I speaking with?"

Krystal's tail wagged wildly behind her. She could scarcely believe it. "Hello. My name is Krystal," she beamed. "I'm Fox's mate."