Phule Me Twice by Robert Asprin & Peter J. Heck

“I can see you two are on the ball,” said Brandy, coming to a halt by the main comm desk. “Have you talked to the captain? How’s he taking the news?”

“wblftgrwmmmtfts,” whispered Mother, shrinking down behind her equipment as she was suddenly confronted with an actual person instead of a disembodied comm signal.

“Oh, damn, I forgot,” said Brandy. “Sorry, Mother, but this is priority one. Tusk, can you fill me in? What’s the story?”

“Is no story,” said the Volton. “Noise and more noise is all we receive. Some bad storm in desert, we think. Mother sends messages, but no way to tell if captain getting them.” As if to confirm his words, a rattle of static emerged from the speakers.

“Oh, great,” said Brandy. After a moment’s thought, she asked. “How about calling on the Zenobian military frequencies? They ought to be reliable, if anything on this planet is. Maybe you can get in touch with them and ask if they’ll relay a message.”

“Is good idea. Mother already trying it, too,” said Tusk-anini. “Having nothing for luck, is what happens.”

“Well, if that’s the deal, that’s the deal,” said Brandy. She stalked over to a nearby chair and took a seat. “I can probably hang out here until the major decides he wants me for something, which if I’m lucky won’t be until sometime tomorrow. Keep trying, OK, Mother? And let me know if you get even a momentary connection. The captain may not be able to do anything about this bird coming in over his head, but he at least deserves a chance to walk in with some advance notice.”