Where the shoots are we?!

So golly-GOSH! Where the heck are we? How’d I get here? Where am I?

Hello! My name is Sir Major Franklin Bombus, and I’ve been adventuring on… still, and still, I, a humble explorer of the vast labyrinths of Vega, have found myself stuck, even to this day, within the heinous Land of Dreams! Critters not as garish as I thought slumped upon my campsite. I dazzled them away with nothing more than a single match and the coarsely shaven rugged chin that set upon your champions face that day. Sir Major Franklin Bombus’s! However, the ordeal had burned down my entire camp, of which had obtained a great many priceless works of art from cultures we can’t even begin to THINK had ever existed! But upon my hopeful journey to find a way out of this untravelled terrain, and return the finds to the Exploratory for research of my next publication: The Bombus Adventures, by me Sir Major Franklin Bombus!

Though. My dear reader, things have gotten too close for comfort of late, mind you. Since splitting off from the rest of the party ever since the Overloadification… seems like Vega’s maintenance bots started going on overdrive — have you seen one? They always rattle things up, quite a bit. But out here, in the Land of Dreams, the Overloadification caused what must of been some kind of reset — of particular systems… interesting. I know, it is usually against the Explorers Code to travel without company, but I felt an overwhelming passion to grab what equipment I could find and roam on into the deep unknown. I remember my fellows bore warning of such an occurrence, I should have listened. But I drove onwards until their calling for my safety grew fader and darker and I trenching deeper into the jungle’s floor. Upon I wrote my last article; I had gone mad.

This dense Land of Dreams may now become the final resting place of Sir Major Franklin Bombus. He may meet his end upon this uncharted land. Needless, I must explain myself, to my adoring fans, a crude tale from my insights as a expeditious explorer. After all, the adventure never stops. This is my story:

Some many years ago I delved into the Marfleet metropolis of a community inhabited by rich beings filling the air with wonderfully preserved deliberations of themselves. Upon many-a front door, me and my fellow explorer, Steve —

Steve is an expert Amazonian guide and marine biologist and one of the most competent divers I’ve ever laid eyes on. I have written about his character extensively in anumber of chapters for my upcoming memoirs: The Bombus Adventures.

— Obtained enough information from this trek we caught wind of a hearty meal. It turned out the natives were so kind to direct us to a festival that was a celebration of togetherness, a journey into the delightful rejuvenating discoveries that were discovered there! It was a most remarkable venture! Their foods were delicious, made with many spices. We ate the entire afternoon, music playing, people chatting, laughing, dancing the way of the tribal people here. I remember telling my stories to a group of youngsters, showing them the survival techniques I’ve learned as an avid outdoorsman — the lessons of ‘working together’, which the Marfleet natives inspired some of my most recent ‘doing-stuff-together’ techniques! I tell you, its quite a way to build a survivalist expert crack-expedition in no time! Its remarkable, truly outstanding — the best part is that you should always try and learn as much as from others as they may try and learn from you. Upon a full belly and enough stories shared Steve and I in grandiose pompous display launched our notes and observations into the sky. Using nothing more than a bottle and a bike pump, the natives and their children standing in absolute awe — we blew our rocket into the air. It was a worthwhile adventure. A mission success.

After our goodbyes we — me, Sir Major Franklin Bombus and Steve — marched on, through the drizzling rain (which we were told was expected). Now, here’s where things get difficult you see? Upon leaving the tribals at Marfleet I was immediately caught up into another adventure (or was it my last one?). At any rate, this adventure has proved to be my most daring to date! So outlandishly adventurous that I’m all alone… After parting with Steve somewhere out in the eastern wing of the ship I stumbled into a new and strange land; designation M.R.U_!!!ERROR!!!/Planet[NAME:]_missing, a wonderful world stretching idealistically for miles and miles, trees and green and bird songs. This also happens to be one of the better spots to bird watch onboard — to any of you who happen to be into that sort of thing. Where was I? Ah-hah! Yes, there was a village somewhere, with a fare of trinkets and delights, which overwhelmed me some much so, I stalled up to present some of my own greatest finds! A TIME MACHINE! I was so captivated to get involved with the natives (who appeared in cartoon form, like from a children's book — which you may be interested to know my recent childhood memoirs are to be published soon) I unveiled this treasure of a find from within the depths of my exploratory. A time machine!

Now dear reader I must confess; despite all my best analysis and rigorous research into this device, I cannot say for sure how on Vega it works. My dear reader, even I, Sir Major Franklin Bombus has his limits of understanding; the complexities and and feats of engineering, the mathematical and material paradoxes, not to mention how unbelievably reckless you would have to be in order to even begin to comprehend and build such a thing. But despite my ill-informed but vibrantly dashing presentation of this very time machine. Was it here that yours truly wowed the natives to such an extent the next thing I know their building one. Native villagers, building time machines?! It was surely the mightiest sight I’ve yet seen to see of such immediate organisation and efficiency — it was also, quite frankly frightening to witness. Turns out all you need is cardboard, some tape, tin foil and to which we were later to discover… Time Crystals!

As the native villagers built this thing from top to bottom in mere minutes, I noticed some kind of uniformed figure, the symbol: POLICE pasted this person, wandering in the distance. Unacquainted in this culture I took a daring chance — “Officer!” I called. Non of the villagers took notice, instead absorbed by the finishing touches of their magnificently and brilliantly built at a remarkable speed, clock box. “Officer” I called nervously again. This time the distant figure stops and turns to face me. “Officer, look, they’re building a time machine!”. Watching him in the distance he pulls out a small book, taking out my binoculars I took note of the inscriptions printed on its cover — THE LAW. It wrote in bold lettering. After a short pause, I heard a whistle blow. Shrieking through the air this person was running, fast and faster towards the time machine. The officer started shouting a grisly man’s voice to the other villagers who startled to his whistle with a sprint into their brand new contraption… they’ve just built. My spirit for an adventure took hold and I too hurried inside with them.

The police officer stopped outside the entrance of this towering device, catching his breathe he said “Alright. All of you out”. But behind him a cat strolled, “Come on, out, now!” angrily and unwittingly, the cat meandered around his ankles it took the police officer all but one step to completely fall off balance tumble back and forth and rolling into the time machine. The cat in a fit of dazzled panic punched and scratched, the officer stooped and rose grappling the ignition and on switches — bodging all kinds of buttons, wailing to the floor. The interface lit up, the doors closed sealing the only way out, and the time machine made all sorts of noises. We began spinning. The others were not pleased with the situation. Blaming the fumble as an very unfortunate accident. An awful argument ensued. That poor officer was being fed to the wolves — in a manner of speaking. I stepped in to diffuse the situation, from the lessons learnt from the Marlfeet tribes, I rallied a togetherness to find solutions. I said: “Yes, he may of taken us back to an unknown point in time and space, but remember you did build the thing!” — As the one responsible for showing them the thing in the first place, I was careful to keep myself out of the picture — skillfully and diplomatically no further arguments erupted. I began to feel like a tremendous team was emerging despite all our misdemeanours.

The time machine trapped, un-crystallised and static in the Land of Dreams as part of my debut publication: Trapped in Time. To my regret the book never got through to being published and my grand tour release was inevitably cancelled.

The time machine crashed into what the dials described as the fatal Land of Dreams… I’ve never been here before, flashing displays ‘Out of fuel — no time crystals’. “Where do we find the crystals?” I turned to the others, who shrugged. Damn, I though, we’re outta juice.

The Land of Dreams I have never in my life travelled through in all my existence, nor any of my cartoon compadres, the villagers whom I’ve met, and built the foundations of trust with. Trust, which it must be — an essential element to replace time crystals. Marooned we left what safety there was inside of the time machine into a dense forgotten jungle, we were miniaturised by the scene! Here, in the Land of Dreams we travelled and travelled in search for a clue, a way out! Behind the overgrowth and beneath the undergrowth we muddied through… until a group of fairies appeared (or is it a gaggle… or murder of fairies? I’m again, not sure on this one). Anyway! They appeared like it was someone’s favourite T.V. show. Out of nowhere! In astonishment my team were stunned, for non of us, not a soul had ever known fairies were onboard! I courageously stepped forth and offering them some of my finest liquor, I said clearly and calmly “Have any of you heard of time crystals, and would any of you know where we could find them?”

The fairies looked at each other, confused, one said “Of course we know what time crystals are and of course we know where to find them — we’re fairies”. Remarkable! My team and I felt a surge of relief within us. We’re homeward bound ladies and gentlemen, homeward bound! “However”, the fairy continued, “For us to help you will need to help us…” It was then we were attacked, by a swarm of creatures, cloaked in shadow. Shadow Creatures.

Who had loomed to lurch at us in this eerie jungle surrounding, striking upon our party. Fortunately their interruptions had scathed the fairies with anything but a swift throwback to the times I wrestled the Duke of Ghalitchy in the coliseum of Drome. With the help of a few flying fairies I quickly made do of our opponents…

Hold on, my dear reader an idea has come to me! You see, out here, in the jungle, alone, right now… I’m a dead man. Listen, there is not much time, as anyone would otherwise say, it is not my day today… but I believe I’ve struck an answer! You see, upon departing ways from the expedition — I’ve become broken, forgetful… like a magnet on the poles. Lost I am but this time to reflect may have just saved my life. I remember, the overloadification, then leaving — ill-supplied, carrying nothing but priceless artefacts, I became inevitably and utterly lost… isolated… on the edge of breaking

Perhaps a way out is a way in? If so, that would mean tracing my tracks back to the others. Back to them would mean finding the time crystals. Finding the time crystals means fuelling the time machine, which means, my dear reader, A WAY BACK! For now the adventure is not over, it never ceases, nor does it ever end. The journey must take a new turn. If I do perish on my performance back you should all know I died doing what I loved. As long as I don’t get too hungry out here…

Franklin, Out.

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That is, Major Franklin Bombus, I’ve earned the stars.

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