Cryptic Calls of the Cosmic Colony

In the expanse of interstellar space, where stars shimmer like nebulous diamonds against the black velvet of the void, a single spaceship crawled along its seemingly endless path. The dilation of timelessness made the passengers weary, human endurance holding its breath within the confines of the metallic '-Ark'. The Ark was their salvation, the last of Earth's legacy clenched tightly within.

Little did they know, they weren't alone.

An invisible veil hovered over the seemingly desolate universe, populated by a cryptic civilization beyond comprehension. The Cosmic Colony, as they were aptly called, hovered in the shadows, a clandestine collective of ethereal entities, who had watched over countless civilizations flourish and dwindle.

As the Ark journeyed past lonely terrain, the cosmic console flickered to life. Cryptic signals pinged, filling the celestial vessel with a song of the stars. Unidentifiable. Indecipherable. But like a lullaby to their weary souls.

Not long after, peculiarities struck. Shadows danced where light never reached, voices echoed in the vacuum of space, and chilling gusts swept along the corridors. The spaceship, devoid of the living, was suddenly echoing with life.

'Proof of life!', a biologist exclaimed. However, his elation turned into a chilling revelation, as he felt ephemeral hands grasping his shoulders around the phantom whispers.

Strange symbols began to bloom across the ship, each one a cryptic call from the Colony, attempting communication. The glow of these symbols held a haunting beauty, yet carried a warning that sent shivers down the spine of the humans.

A message replayed on the console, the crisp voice spoke foreign dialect, and yet a sense of pleasantry or were they threats? It centered around one specific symbol, a luminescent orb encapsulated by winding tendrils. Dread filled their hearts as they realized the ship journeyed directly towards this same symbol on the cosmic map.

Was it a welcome parade or a death call?

As the distance to the Cosmic Colony shrunk, the spectral interference increased. Cacophonies echoed within the ship, and phantasmal figures began to materialize in plain sight. The ethereal inhabitants were no longer invisible, their spectral bodies possessing a luminescent glow. They emanated a bone-chilling current, and their startlingly human eyes conveyed an otherworldly sorrow that sent shivers down the spine.

The ship docked at the Colony's central spaceport, a humongous structure pulsating with an eerie glow. Caught in the clutches of crippling dread, the crew disembarked, stepping onto a platform alive with phantasmal entities buzzing with electric currents—their cries, a multilingual symphony of fear, anger, and incomprehension.

A city of souls, lost in the space-time continuum, forever trapped within this spectral Colony, bound to repeat their cosmic cycle. The Ark was to be their next vessel, their hope at salvation.

A silent understanding passed between the living and the dead. Compelled by the raw, primeval emotions they saw reflected in those ethereal eyes, the humans chose empathy over fear. They gave the ghostly entities the Ark. The spectral beings filled the spaceship with an unknown glowing energy, vanishing, leaving behind an eerie silence.

The humans watched as the Ark, now animated with cosmic life, disappeared into the depths of the universe. Stranded on an alien world and abandoned by their own species, the humans began to comprehend the harsh reality of their existence. Their rebirth was to be kicking and screaming, adrift in a universe full of cryptic calls, on the pedestal of the Cosmic Colony. And so they became, cosmic satellites, lost souls, waiting for a vessel, and a hope, to be reborn.