Humans do not go gentle into that good night
Huddled in a corner of the broken shuttle with a crewmate, Yet'zaks was confused.
"What are the humans doing?" Xe asked quietly.
"They are seeking supplies." D'A!!k responded, their whistles muted as they struggled to vocalise in the frigid air.
"Why? There is no way to repair the shuttle and no recovery planned."
The honourable and dignified way to die in these situations was quiet and still. It was to sleep.
The humans did not understand that. They were searching for ways to generate warmth, for water and food.
"There are no rescue ships coming. They know we will be dead before they can arrive." D'A!!k tried to explain to the humans.
"That- apologies, I believe I have had a malfunction in my translator."
"I doubt it. I said bollocks and I meant it." The human snapped back. "The atmosphere is breathable, the temperature's low but there's fuel for a fire, there's snow so there's water, and there's vegetation so there'll be something to eat."
"It is futile if we are never rescued."
"Twenty percent of our colony worlds started with a crash." The human laughed. "You spineless bastards can lay down and die-"
"We have spines." D'A!!k corrected, confused as to why his anatomy was being referenced.
"We do not go gentle into that goodnight, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage, against the dying of the light." The human picked up, to D'A!!k's rapidly growing horror, an actual stone tipped spear. "You can curl up and die while we build ourselves a new home." The human turned away. "Hey guys, I've got a name for the planet! Thomas! We can be the Dylan colony on planet Thomas!"