Seeing as Garren’s home was no larger than the scout vessel it was made from, there were not many places to sleep. Vlex would spend the night with Garren while the other two make the Hark as comfortable as they could try.

As the drunken haze wore down, Garren and Vlex talked even later into the night like father and son, reminiscing on stories from Vlex’s childhood and the hijinks they would get up to in this small town- back when it was even smaller than it is now. Eventually, though, a moment of comfortable silence is broken by a sound from the rusty bucket that was Garren’s Amateur Mwah Radio. It buzzes and chirps like a forest in a tin can.

Garren immediately slides his desk chair over to the radio’s station to investigate.

VLEX: “What is it?”

GARREN: “Signal...something erratic.”

Garren fiddles with knobs, sliders, wheels, buttons, levers, switches, and any other conceivable mechanical object that could make a satisfying click upon being used. He plays the AMR like a finely practiced instrument. As the static and chirping clears, a voice begins to peek through.

???: “I-...W-...E-”

GARREN: “Dammit, almost…”

Vlex leans over his father’s shoulder in anticipation. He scans every knob, slider, wheel...you get the idea. Vlex knows the thing just as well as Garren, and points to a previously unfiddled bobble.

VLEX: “That.”

Garren looks to Vlex for a moment with uncertainty before yanking the bobble, extending the plunger, before releasing it with a KER-PLUNK. At once, the signal cleared.

VLEX: “See,”

The befuddled and perhaps slightly embarrassed Garren waves his hand to silence Vlex.

GARREN: “Bah.”

The two listen closely to the signal. A deep voice, masculine in tone rings through it like it’s mumbling through a rainstorm. It repeats cyclically over and over again. Their prying ears eventually are able to decipher every word, and the nature of the signal becomes clear instantly.

???: “I DO NOT KNOW WHERE I AM. HELP ME.”

A distress signal.