The Lost Colony

“Hyper warp core drive initial stabilizing for light speed lightweight subspace travel, in 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . . 0,” the ship’s autopilot system announced through the intercoms as its hyperwarplightspeedjumpspace system fired up.

“HOLD ONTO YUR BUTTS!” Isaiah shouted as the transport vessel zipped into hyperspace.

Fwooooooooooosh. The vessel roared, engines switching from cruising speed to hyperwarplightspeed. This tremendous acceleration hit them like a blow to the gut, shoving them deep into their seats, as they watched the stars of the Extent stream by.

As the effects of the G forces wore off, the trio relaxed and began to converse. “Wow, that was a dang blasted crazy adventure… how’d we even get out o’there alive,” Isaiah said.

“No thanks to you,” Jebediah snorted, “Almost got us killed more times than a skimpie misses his shot, and that’s saying a lot.”

“Oh, can it ya gunker,” Isaiah taunted in the familiar skimpie vocabulary.

“DON’T YOU MOCK ME LITTLE BOI!”

“Hey, hey, hey, just calm down now, we got out o’there alive, and that’s all there is to it. If you wanna strategize bout what we’re gonna do next, that’s fine, but don’t go yelling bout stuff that’s already happened,” Samuel placated them in his oh so calming tone.

“Fine… we’ll stop,” Jebediah and Isaiah muttered under their mottled beards, which had grown out from time on the run.

As Jebediah fingered his beard, contemplating about life, the universe, and everything under a cyborg’s buns, he noticed they were beginning to depart from hyperwarplightspeedspace. “All-righty bois, we’ll be arriving at J-52 in a jiffy,” he commented; they began their descent from the confusing conceptual creation called hyperwarplightspeedspace.

“Wait… whaddya mean by J-52…?” Isaiah stammered.

“Oh no… don’t tell me ya bungled it…” sighed Samuel.

“Well, urmmm, I kinda-maybe-sorta put in K-92…” Isaiah whispered nervously. The ship fell out of hyperwarplightspeed and glided into view of the dreaded planet. It was a black, barren, scorched chunk of rock, with no visible signs of life.

“K-92! Out of all the places! You’ve gone and done it now, you’ll pay for this mistake ya little prick,” Jebediah threatened. He climbed out of his seat and menacingly approached Isaiah.

“Woah, woah, woah. Jebediah calm down, think logically. If you fight here, we won’t get to J-52 at all,” Samuel soothed, “Anyways, we’ll surely have enough fuel to get there.”

Right after Samuel finished his sentence, the control panels in the cockpit beeped and warning sirens screamed. “Warning low fuel… initiating emergency landing procedure…” the transport vessel’s intercoms announced, and beaming red warning lights flashed.

“OH, COME ON, YA HAD TA JINX IT, DIDN’T YA,” Jebediah raged.

Wroooomp, wroooomp, wroooomp, “Colony detected… beginning atmospheric descent,” the intercoms chimed.

The transport vessel soared from the darkness of space to the abysmal blackness of K-92, shot through its atmosphere, and landed upon a high-topped ridge. “Landing completed,” the intercoms announced.

“Blast it,” Jebediah cursed. The door of the transport vessel slid open; the ship’s ramp slid down. “We’ll have to go to the old settlement here to get more oil.”

“Hey, come on now, what could possibly be so bad about K-92? Sounds like a cool name, plus black is my favorite color,” Isaiah tried to cheer Jebediah up with his pathetic placations, waltzing down the ramp of the transport vessel.

“You really don’t know what happened here, on this confounded planet, do’ya,” sighed Jebediah.

“Noppers, not an inkling,” Isaiah piped, seemingly satisfied with his unintelligence.

“Pathetic, you take no heed to history,” Jebediah sighed disgustedly as he followed Isaiah down the transport vessel’s ramp. “Well, best get going, we need to get more oil for the ship.”

As Samuel followed them down the ramp, he noticed a dark puddle nearby. “Yo, if I’m not mistaken there’s oil on the ground over there. Why don’t we just grab some o’ that and be on our way?” Samuel asked.

“Nah, we can’t use that oil, it’s crude, ya dingdong. We gotta find the old settlement, then refine the oil ourselves. The settlement was established here for that very reason, gathering oil and refining it,” Jebediah answered.

The trio found themselves overlooking a begotten valley, about two miles wide. They were standing atop a semi-sloping cliff with a trail leading down into the valley. In the shadows of the opposite side of the boulder-ridden valley, they could make out what appeared to be the colonial settlement.

“I guess it will take a while to get there, could you historyize us on K-92 on the way?” Isaiah requested.

“You think it will take a while. Hah, I know it will take a while,” Samuel sneered.

“Well then, if ya say so. Buckle up kiddos, it’s time for a history lesson. T’was about, errr, 10 years back I reckon, about the time when the first murmurs of revolution were floatin’ about, that was before we made the cyborgs though. At this time the ol’ conglomerate o’mine had been sending out miners and settlers to claim and colonize new planets. They would fly out to planets abundant with natural resources such as oils and the like and set up small colonies. One of these was K-92.”

“This blasted planet was found when an oil rigger o’ours was flying back home. This was before the discovery of hyperwarplightspeed so journeys back then took quite a bit longer. The ship’s scanning system detected vast reservoirs of oil beneath the cracked surface of a nearby planet, located in sector K and the 92nd planet in that sector that met the requirements to sustain life, so the ship marked it down as K-92.”

“About a year or so later the conglomerate faced significantly low amounts of oil, because small bands of revolutionists, more like terrorists, had been hijacking and causing insurrections and mutinies on our ships – squashed ‘em next year, but’s beside the point. The raids combined with the depleting supply of our main fuel income from P-33, caused the conglomerate to consider founding a new oil colony. A meeting of the high executives was held, and the decision was finalized, there would be a new oil colony. The database which all ships’ logs were transferred onto was consulted and it brought up K-92 as the most suitable choice for our oily needs.”

“A colonizing ship was made ready, and an initial group of 29 colonists was sent out to start up a colony. The reports they sent back, with the oil they drilled, told us that the colony was going well, until one day the transport vessels stopped coming. After weeks of debate, a team was sent out to figure out what exactly happened on K-92. But alas, no report came. A third and final team, composed of ex-military personnel, was sent there, but to no avail. Since technology had improved the team was able to send one last final garbled message. We tried everything we could do to figure out what that message said, but we failed time after time. The only thing our encryptors could figure, was it was some sort of warning. No word has been heard from K-92 since,” Jebediah finalized, his story met with stunned silence.

“Well, uhhhh… sounds like I picked a lovely vacation spot for us, didn’t I,” Isaiah chuckled through his beard.

“Indeed you did…” Samuel murmured.

Following the closure of Jebediah’s recounts, the trio made their way down into the valley and began trekking towards the colony. The black gravel path was treacherous, littered with potholes and boulders, very indicative of abandonment.

As they crept closer to the shadowed wall of the valley, the sun sank past the cliffs of the valley, bathing them in pitch-black darkness. “Well boys, guess we best tuck in for the night,” Jebediah sighed, plopping down on a boulder, “Set up camp.”

The setting of the camp commenced; Jebediah pulled out a retractable-condensed-tent; Samuel cleared an area of the path of rocks; Isaiah pulled out his flint and steel. “Good thing I always carry a flintie around with me, else we’d freeze our buns off,” Isaiah shivered as a northern gust gushed past them.

“Ha, whatcha gonna light on fire in this barren wasteland, some rocks? Come on Isaiah. Use your brain for once. Oh sorry, forgot you don’t have one!” Samuel jeered.

“No Samuel, this time you’re wrong,” Isaiah refuted as he sauntered over to a murky puddle. With one strike of his flintie, it set ablaze.

“Nice thinking brother, should scare off anything that may be lurking in these shifting shadows,” Jebediah complimented.

They finished setting up their impromptu camp and settled down to get some rest before sunrise. Little did they know… they were not alone.

Scrfffft.

“Hey, guys… did’ja hear that?” Isaiah whispered into the quiet darkness.

“Pipe down you wacko, unlike you some people have trouble falling asleep… ughhh,” Jebediah groaned. He shifted his sore back away from a rock Samuel had missed; scoliosis did not come in handy here.

Schlickt.

“Did’ja hear that?” Isaiah repeated, thinking he heard another sound.

“Seriously Isaiah, shudd’up already, I mean it this time!” Jebediah raised his voice in frustration.

Cachunk.

“Guys… sorry, but did you hear that?” Isaiah whimpered, fearing the strange noises and the oncoming wrath of his brother.

“The only thing you’re hearing, is me, telling you, YOU’RE CRAZY!” Samuel yelled, fed up with these constant annoyances.

“Locked . . . and loaded. Shoot . . . kill . . . destroy!” a voice screamed from outside the tent. Brrrrr… brrrrrrrrum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum. Laser bursts blasted through the side of the tent, utterly annihilating everything in their path.

“GET’DOWN IT’SA CYBORG!” Isaiah yelled, blasts zipping past their heads.

“Low ammo . . . commencing reloading,” the cyborg’s voice sounded; the blasts abruptly halted.

“Now’s our chance to get outta here while he’s reloading!” Isaiah yelled as he grabbed his LB2K and sprinted from the tent.

After a brief scuffle, Jebediah, Samuel, and the strange cyborg followed him in close pursuit. “Reload accomplished . . . time . . . to . . . die!” the cyborg screamed; it tossed away the old magazine, shoved in a new one. Brrrrr… brrrrrrrrum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum.

Alerted by the cyborg’s self-commentary, the three managed to dive behind a boulder right as the cyborg resumed firing. “Blast it!” Isaiah cursed, “That cyborg’s gotta freaking LB2K, how’d he get his shiny fingers on one o’them beauties! Only two thousand were produced!”

“Shut up about your stupid LB2K garbage, we need to get out o’here!” Samuel raged.

“Fine then, if you’re so smart, where shall we traipse off to now!”

“We go there,” Jebediah calmly stated, raising his shaking fingers to point towards the black shadow of the colonial settlement, “Can’t be any worse than the mess we’re in now, anyways that was our initial destination.”

The three anti-revolutionists fled from the cyborg. Fleeing from the frying pan, whilst tumbling deeper and deeper into the fire that is the abysmal planet, K-92.