"Captain's voice log, 2354, mission day 75.

We finally pushed into the zone where the 'Astragalus' recorded the anomaly. So far, we only found empty space. I was always sceptic about the Astragalus' reports and everything seems to support the theory this was all a big hoax and our mission a wild goose chase..."

"Cap? Need you on the bridge now. Eve registers an extensive asteroid field. And... oh my god!"

Cap frowned. The last time his F/O had used these three words, the incident resulted in their ship being cut into thumb-sized pieces scattered through empty space, with the three of them—Cap, the First (and only) Officer, and Eve their AI—crammed into a lifeboat designed for one. He still remembered the nauseating smell of First's socks.

He closed the log and hurried to the bridge, fearing the worst.

The bridge, though, looked completely normal, even the coffeemaker sent its usual whiff of bitter fragrance through the dimly lit room.

The one thing unusual was the somewhat unnatural pose of First lying motionless on the checkered carpet behind his console. Cap registered with relief his old friend at least had the decency to wear a pair of slippers for the upcoming emergency.

Even if the slippers were of the fluffy, pink kind, looking like a pair of misplaced tribbles.

Cap kneeled at First's side. "Hey, mate, do you hear me?"

First groaned, nodded.

"What's happened?"

"Yellow."

"Yellow happened?"

First nodded. "Yeah. Something yellow popped up... in the asteroids. It sped towards us. When it got here, it stopped, right outside." First waved towards the diamoplast window showing the asteroid field. He coughed. "A yellow, wavering mist it was, at first... It seeped right through the window as if it wasn't there. Once inside, it took shape... turned into that... thing. Hovering in midair, it ogled me until it dissolved into that mist again. It closed in on me, entered my mouth, my ears, my nose..." He coughed hard, ejecting yellow spittle. "It went right into me, the mist... so cold. Sucking at me."

Yellow froth had formed on First's lips.

"And then..." he continued. "It left... Through there..." He waved at the ventilation grille.
"How are you now?"

First reached for Cap's hand. "It hurts."

"That thing..." Cap asked. "What did it look like? What shape did it take?"

"It..." First shuddered. "When it hovered there, it..."

"Yes?"

"It looked like a rubber duck. Just bigger."

Cap frowned and scratched his scraggly beard. Maybe he should shave, one of these days. His preferred tramp's look wasn't at all regulatory for first contact. Like First, he tended to become sloppy on long trips. Thinking of trips, was it possible his old friend was into illegal smokes again?

"Listen, mate, are you sure about this rubber duck thing?"

First's scalding glance said it all. Cap threw in another measure of beard scratching, thoroughly studying the vent grille in question.

"Eve, can you find any trace of a yellow mist or a... em... giant rubber duck in our vent system?"

Nothing happened. Although Eve was known to show the occasional attitude, so far she never had done that in a critical situation.

While First leaned on the back of his chair, still coughing yellow slime, Cap tried to access Eve's consciousness by punching keys on the main console.

Finally, his random tapping brought forth a somewhat tousled looking hologram of the AI's avatar. Her normally golden brown skin showed a distinct yellow sheen.

"Eve? Are you alright?"

"Just peachy, Cap. Swell!"

Eve never called him Cap. Now he was really worried. Especially as Eve's avatar followed her slurred words with an audible burp and a hiccup.

Eve lacked the bodily hardware for burping and hiccuping, so something had to be seriously wrong.

"Eve, you're sure you haven't seen that rubber duck?" Cap asked.

"No, Cappy, but if I do, I'll tell you right away. Rubber ducks are such beautiful creatures. Their elegance, the subtlety of their mimics, the serenity in their eyes, their—"

"You're so right," First chimed in. "The austere wisdom in their beaks' smile, the melody of their squeaks..."

Cap left the bridge, shaking his head. They had both been rubberducked, whatever that was. He was in this alone.

The cheerful pink and green wall painting adorning the ship's corridors failed to evoke the optimism it had been designed for. The faint whoosh of the ventilation was an unuttered threat of things yellow sneaking up on him.

At the armory, Cap took hold of the disintegrator. After an unfortunate misunderstanding involving a ravenous capillovore on Tronald Dump IV, First Contact Regulations had recently been updated with rules about shaving more thoroughly as well as about using disintegrators more liberally. There was no time to follow the former, but he sure would obey the latter.

A minute later, he reached the air recycling control room. In its center was a cylindrical contraption of glass, gently humming. Like everything else built by Dyson Spaceship Industries, their ventilation system's core was a vortex. This one, encaged in the glass before him, served to centrifuge the hell out of any alien molecule in the precious air they were breathing.

Using his right arm, Cap aimed the business end of the disintegrator at the vortex. Then, his left hand reached out towards a red button labeled POWER FLUSH.
He pushed.