“United Space-Service ship USS-4271 calling … Mayday … Mayday … This is Space-Patrol astronaut John Plantain … we are in low orbit around IO, we have meteorite damage, Auto-Nav’s not working and we have less than forty minutes before our low orbit causes Auto-Ignite to fire

I hope you don’t mind me calling you that, but it’s how we referred to you all these years. We assumed you were dead; lost in the war with so many others. Your letter was full of news, and we hunger for more. Especially about your “whole new family”

“Is it working?  This is Lieutenant Cypher of the Echo-114 squadron.  If you’re hearing this transmission, it means we’re lost.  I’m the only one left.  More specifically, I don’t know where all the others have gone. 

One evening in late October, I thrashed my old rusty scythe at my overgrown lawn, whilst practising the odd golf swing. That’s when the flying saucer arrived. It hovered, casting shadows. Startled, I struck my foot, saved only by the scythes bluntness.