[Static noise]
Come on, don't be like that... ah, it's running. Good girl! [clearing throat]
Begin voice recording. Greetings to you, whoever you may be! I am recording this now and will send it, portion by portion, to the nearest star-system with sufficient technological sophistication to pick it up. If the translator mechanism is working, this should appear in the most commonly used vernacular of your planet, either in text or video form. If not, you'll probably just see a pink weasel speaking gibberish right now and will, in all eventuality, already have turned this off. If you want me to continue speaking, please indicate your approval by putting both hands/top tentacles to the sides of your head, thumbs/sides to the temples, and wriggle said appendices. Thank you.
[Static noise]
Temporal navigation is malfunctioning, so all I can do is make sure these broadcasts reach you in the correct order. I have hardly any control of the time elapsing between each portion on your side. If you could trace back my signal and send me some information about where, and when, we are, I would be very grateful. If not, I will at last have a good laugh looking at the footage of you wriggeling your appendices beside your head, as recorded a few moments ago by the camera on the communications device you are holding now.
[Static noise]
Sorry. I don't get much entertainment drifting out here. That being said, I believe an introduction is in order, in case there is still someone out there listening. My name is very long and complicated (yes, even by the standards of Raxacoricofallapatorius. Lovely place, by the way, if you happen to be listening from there. If not, let's just say it doesn't hurt if you visit the place with an intense head cold. But I digress.) As I said, my actual name would probably be quite a bother for your vocal organs, so feel free to use the abbreviation, Libelle, which should also be provided as a nametag with this file.
[Static noise Static noise Static noise]
I am, to my knowledge, the last remaining crew member of my vessel and in need of direction and a safe place to land and make repairs. I'm afraid I cannot disclose any information concerning my planet of origin and species as of yet, but I can assure you that my intentions are entirely peaceful and that I will, after repairing my craft, most likely be on my way, never to see you again.
[Static noise, accompanied by an unpleasant screeching. Voice slightly out of breath]
It seems my time for this broadcast is coming to a close. Please forgive any mistakes in grammar, expression or orthography; all circuits of my vessel have been damaged and it's a miracle the translator matrix is still working.
Please respond. Which species is reading this? Which planet are you on, in which era?
Next time I shall explain to you the cause of my misfortune, as far as I dare to.
This is Libelle, signing out.