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“Dead ahead, twenty-six clicks,” crewman Aaron Denuv reported. The command center was silent except for essential communications. “Gravity disturbance, something’s… pulsing.”
“Switch feeds one, two, and five to long-range,” Captain Jana ordered.
Outer space demanded stoicism. One wrong move spelled doom; there were no second chances. Crews only lasted a few years; completing a tour of duty before retiring back to warmth, laughter, and family on Earth. No normal person could withstand more than that.
Which is why the Eld Maren became a legend of extraordinary proportions. A veteran crew of two decades, led by Captain Jana Aldotter, who had left the United Continents Space Station and never returned. Seventeen of the most daring, certain death missions in the sector without complaint or emotion.
A perfect mark. So far.
Flickering screens cut into the viewing window at the command center. One side offered an unfiltered look outside; dark and dismal, as always. On the other, however…
“Damn!” Jana cursed as the screens exploded in bright colors and burned into the crew’s retinas. Alarms blared in the command center as the crew relayed crucial information, a delicate cadence they had mastered.
“Critical systems offline: hyper-jump, solar sails, main mast, GPS, and manual override.” The alerts came rapid fire. As Jana’s eyes refocused, she could see the entirety of her ship being washed in that strange kaleidoscope of colors, dancing like a cosmic whirlpool.
“Report!” Jana commanded.
“Aye, sir,” a strange voice snickered. “Initial diagnostics indicate this universe is not so doom and gloom after all!” The voice had a petulant air, mocking and snide and much too pleased with itself.
“Aaron, what do you see?” Jana began, only her words were not words.
They were… quacks.
The colors faded, leaving behind neither the Eld Maren nor its crew. Instead, it was a strange approximation of what Captain Jana only distantly remembered as a child’s bath toy. Her ship and her crew were rubber ducks.
“Oh, it’s not just them,” the voice said. A screen appeared in what looked like one giant black eyeball and turned its view onto the captain’s chair, wherein sat another rubber duck, Jana. Just above floated a human-like creature. Its clothes seemed to shift into and out of reality, changing from one whimsical costume to another. One moment it wore a bright green suit and top hat, the next a rather rotund and polka-dotted one-piece, and then it appeared bare-chested with overalls. Its eyes were constant crescents, squinting up in strange half-moons buried in its enormous, toothy smile.
The screen switched to an external view from a hundred meters away. In the darkness of space, a bright yellow rubber duck sported a comically large rocket thruster sticking out its rear end. It sputtered and fired off, quacking loudly with each burst, rocking the toy crew. One of the crew tried to speak up, recognizing his own quacking, and electing instead to type a message to the Captain’s log.
“Onboard controls are coming back online. Quack!” it read. “Hyper-jump honkperational!”
“All honks on deck! Let’s go!” Jana replied.
The hyperspace engine thrummed to life with a pffbt sound, building in volume until the space in front of the ship distorted and stretched, the ship snapping through with a loud quack.
“Now comes the fun part!” a text line pinged on Jana’s computer, signed by one Galactic P.
Jana had hoped to escape whatever spacetime distortion they had stumbled into by leaving the immediate area. This entity, alien, whatever it claimed to be, had other plans. It was not the near-Earth orbit they had charted that the Eld Maren, Rubber Duck Ship, found itself, but a planet that was covered in nothing but dense golden wheat fields. They glided over the surface of the planet, seeing, but not believing, their eyes. Cows, honest-to-goodness black and white cows, floated harmlessly through the air, undisturbed by gravity. They tumbled like dandelion seeds, snacking on tufts of wheat as they went.
“What the honk,” Jana spurted. She made eye contact with a placid cow that floated right past the Eld Maren and saw the reflection of the rubber ducks she and her crew had become.
With another spurt and a quack, the crew traipsed through world after world, each more fantastical than the last. A world that rained sticky syrup over cake islands. A dark swamp that featured a frog stand-up comedy routine. A planet of trees dancing the flamenco. The absurdities left Jana and her crew speechless.
Then, they appeared in front of a planet whose surface was one large mirror. Once again, in stark view, was the Eld Maren’s strange visage.
Jana’s cheeks flushed, and she could see several of her crew rock back and forth. Her mind could take it no longer. The universe was not as dark and scary as she had spent the last two decades learning. Joy, cheer, and humor filled every corner.
“Honk, honk, honk!” Jana burst out laughing, each honk only adding to her fits. The crew couldn’t stand the sound of it and joined in the raucous cheer. Amid it all, the Eld Maren made one more hyper-jump back home just outside of Earth. Jana realized that they had all been returned to their original form when Base Command hailed their ship.
“Captain Jana Aldotter,” a transmission came. “Respond!”
“Aye,” she laughed, “The Eld Maren hears your call!”
“You’re needed in the Saturnalia Belt, sending coordinates now,” was the response. Behind the call, a few surprised chatters asked, “Was she laughing?”
Jana looked down at her console, awaiting the coordinates. What met her gaze was a rubber duck and a small note.
If you need good cheer, a smile ear to ear; if your laughter is stuck, squeeze this duck! - Galactic P.
“Coordinates sent, please confirm.”
“Honks away, command!” Jana said, stifling another fit of laughter. Her crew did not have the same presence of mind, however, and howled out as their ship jumped once more into the great unknown.
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Galactic Prankster
Honk!