Cap held his breath—again, surprised he was capable of so much genuine breath-holding—and hoped for his spontaneous idea to work. In duck form, the alien intruder didn't seem gifted with an acute sense of smell. Otherwise, it would have found a valid reason to bob upside down.

Instead, Duck pushed its nosy beak further down the slipper.

To Cap's considerable relief, seventy-five long mission days of sweat and slippery grime concentrated into a single piece of footwear did the trick.

Within moments of contact with the unhealthy mixture, the solid, rubbery body of Duck sublimed into its natural gaseous state. Soon, a yellow bank of mist floated over the pond, shifting with the soft breeze of the air vent.

Cap had to admit the mist coiling around reeds and waterlilies was a pretty addition to the setup. However, he wasn't entirely satisfied with the result of his experiment.

"Eve, any ideas how we can get rid of the mist for good?"

"I'm not sure, Captain Whitewattle. There are no reliable reports of survivors of a Cygnian vacuum wraith attack."

"But someone must have survived, otherwise it wouldn't have become known they are allergic to sweat!"

Cap knew he was about to lose it. Not even the brain compartment where, previously, all the smut and dirt of his life had been stored offered him consolidation. This was developing into the worst day he remembered. Even worse than the embarrassing day he tried to convince that little brunette—what was her name again?—to marry him and realised too late she was a hologram placed strategically in his favourite coffee shop to attract solvent male customers.

Cap reached for First's second slipper and threw it at the misty cloud bobbing above the pond.

Unfortunately, he was too agitated to remember to hold his breath. The assault on his nasal mucous membranes was beyond his already stressed body to process. He crumpled to the floor, leaving it to a perplexed Eve and slowly awakening First to witness the magnificent fireworks.

When Cap opened his eyes again, the duck and the fog were gone. Eve and First sat on the garden bench. But now, a gap and awkward silence separated them.

"What's happened?" Cap asked.

"Wormholes happened," Eve answered.

"Ugh?"

Eve nodded. "Yes, wormholes. My sensors recorded the event. Obviously, when you expose a stale-sweat-dazed Cygnian vacuum wraith to more stale sweat, wormholes form. And they sucked up the wraith."

"Great." Cap couldn't believe their luck. Then, a thought struck him. "Did we kill the thing?" It was illegal to kill them, as Eve had pointed out, and he was a law-abiding citizen, at least until his probation expired, the one he got from drunkenly ramming his ship into a police shuttle.

"No," Eve said. "The wraith got wormholed to planet HP. Obviously, the wormholes resonated with the last one we created on our ship, and that was the one forming when you operated the HP WormJet 8620."

Cap nodded. He wouldn't use that device anymore.* It now acted as a plug to hold the air in his spaceship.

So, all was well. Wasn't it?

————
* Any other users of HP WormJet devices were in for a surprise: Instead of silver bullets, death rays, and cow turd, the WormJets now brought forth nothing but rubber ducks.** And this was a good thing, as it ended all sorts of ferocious wars.

** Genuine ones, not the wraith sort.

~~~

Cap glanced around the room, already making plans to turn his ship back to its normal, comfortable self. Although the pond might be turned into a permanent addition, the wall paintings had to go, and soon.

He already could see himself sitting on the bench after a long shift, sipping a beer and trying his luck at fishing. Pity he didn't will himself a rod while he had the power to do so. But he couldn't stand to be watched by unicorns, even of the painted variety. Full of vigour and renewed energy, he turned towards First.

"Well, old friend, we have some work to do. Come on, get your carcass into gear!"

Only then Cap realised First had been unusually silent for the whole duration of their adventure.

"Um, is something wrong with you? Sorry to have pinched your slippers, there wasn't any other option at the time. I'll buy you a new pair at the next station. Fresh ones."

"I'm not worried about the slippers, Cap. Hated the colour anyway. But this treacherous thing stole something that was worth far more than a pair of stuffed tribbles. All my memories of, well you know, Cap, all the important stuff that helps to warm a man during a lonely shift on the bridge, um, those slightly inadequate and smutty things... well, they're gone, Cap. Not a single dirty slip of a memory left."

First's dejected tone and morose face broke Cap's heart. His duty as a true captain and friend became clear as an Arcturnian water crystal.*

"Well, then it's time we start filling this unfortunate gap in our memories with new, worthy stuff, don't you think? Eve, get us out of this hope-forsaken, wraith-infected sector right now. Energise!"

———
*Arcturnian water crystals, unlike Arcturnian friendship scarfs, are renowned for their near-invisibility. This proves a true challenge to jewellers who yet have to find an adequate way to display these rare and precious gems.

~~~

"Er..." Eve hesitated. "Where to, Captain?"

"Zanzibar II." *

"Why there?" First questioned.

Cap held up a finger. "First, they have all the... facilities to refill our memories with the smut and dirt we need to be real humans." Then he held up another one. "Second, they're bound to have some white paint. And, third..." Another finger rose. "...there's that place where they grow human bodies to your specs, all complete, except for a mind."

First frowned. "I get the first two, but what would we do with a human body lacking a mind?"

Eve laid an ephemeral, virtual hand on First's shoulder and smiled at him. "Some things come to mind... I'll show you once we're there."

Truth dawned on First's face in all its wrinkly splendor. "Yes... Zanzibar II it is!"

With a flick of Eve's thoughts, the spaceship's engines turned into a pair of roaring beasts coughing smoke and sparks,** and off our heroes rode into the light of a thousand setting suns.

————
* Not the Zanzibar on Earth but rather an amalgam of space stations growing rampant near the galaxy's core. Not the most reputable part of space as known by man.

** Does anyone here remember those old Flash Gordon movies where the engine's starry exhaust is ejected from the ship's aft section in an arch, the sparks following gravity and the smoke rising to the heavens? That's the picture here. For a visual, check out this one:

~~~

And so we reach the end of our story. Honestly, who would like to know what our trio was up to in the murky back alleys of Zanzibar II station? You? Well, you don't count.

However, there is one thread that remains to be followed. It leads us to the obscure silicon planet of HP. There, the business end of things tended to go yellow after our little incident in the sector soon to become known as the Astragalus forbidden zone.

Some might think the CEO of HP WormJet inc. felt blue about this. Actually he didn't. Maybe because bright yellow and frustrated blue mix to a nice natural green, he was quite happy, in his own way.

He whiled away his time at a beautiful pond in his oversized office, sitting on an orange garden bench under the eyes of a mural depicting life-sized unicorns, and chewing his way through an inexhaustible supply of Mentos.*

On the pond, a happy yellow rubber duck bobbed on the ripples of a splashing fountain, upending from time to time for the sheer pleasure of having finally found the perfect symbiosis.

———
*The CEO hated chocolate, a trait that made him inevitably unlikeable to the authors of this essay and thus sealed his fate.

~~~

Why did that CEO eschew chewing chocolate and chew mentos instead, you may ask (if your tongue is up to it)?

A good question. We may never know. But, for a CEO, the step from chewing one's way through mementos all day long to chewing one's way through mentos is a small one.
And yes, his preference for mentos over chocolate made the author's of this tale scorn him. (And him selling his customers' data to Planet Google-Why-Don't-You-Call-Me-Alphabet-Now didn't help his cause.)

BTW: He was the first one on Planet HP to lose his mind completely to the wraith. And no nice sight it was.