Destiny, Time, Schroedinger's Cat and Butterfly are on the loose! As the Four Metaphors of the Apocalypse, they are ready to take revenge on their captor, Universe himself.
***
Respectable stories are born in a writer's cunning mind. Their less...
Sirens howled through the ship, signalling a severe hull breach.
Without thinking the situation through, Cap threw himself at the vortex and, after shattering the protective glass cylinder with a well-placed kick of his Swedish clog, picked up the unsuspecting rubber duck. It emitted a satisfying squeak while Cap stuffed its soft rubbery body into the hole in the floor like a fat yellow bathtub plug.
Then he sprinted to the first aid locker to retrieve two portable oxygen masks, attached to small emergency tanks. One of them he pressed into First's hands, at the same time clawing at the vacuum packaging of the other. With the help of his teeth, he managed to pry the cumbersome plastic away.
Cap felt already dizzy when compressed air finally expanded into his lungs. His relief was short-lived, though.
First still struggled with the offensive wrapping of his oxygen mask, his face a distinct shade of blue. Cap decided the colour definitely didn't suit the man's ginger beard and helped his friend out of his predicament.
But this wasn't the end of it. Eve's voice conveyed distress.
"Cap, what about me? Won't I suffocate without..."
The AI's voice was interrupted by a strange, sucking noise. Cap turned towards the rubber duck plugged into the still smouldering carpet, fearing the worst.
Accompanied by a second squeak, this one loud enough to drown out the alarms, Ducky was sucked through the hole on the path of destruction the acetons had cut across the bowels of the ship. On its way, the baffled rubber duck got coated by remains of Emmental cheese and sprinkled with mint oil from the spa. Narrowly avoiding the splinters of a shattered CD, it finally came to rest in the leak of the outer hull, the mixture of acetonized Emmental and mint oil forming a surprisingly effective sealing.*
The moment Ducky was glued securely in place, the sirens' cacophony stopped.
–––– * we don't recommend to test this recipe. The combination of Emmental cheese and mint oil can be intimidating.
~~~
Cap didn't trust the silence that settled over the ruined vortex room. Leaving the partially disintegrated disintegrator behind, he sprinted to the armory to tool up. This time, he chose a HP WormJet 8620. This ingenious weapon sported a handle with a trigger, a grapefruit-sized body, and a fat, short nozzle. It contained a nano-wormhole linking the nozzle to any of several hundred facilities on planet HP. As a user, you told the device what you wanted to throw at your enemy, and it wormlinked you directly to the appropriate facility on HP. There, they set up whatever disaster you had ordered and sent it, via wormlink, directly to your device.
The weapon cost close to nothing. The ammunition cost a fortune and a half.*
Armed, Cap first checked out the larder and sighed when he set eyes on his ruined Emmental. Seeing where the hole went, he descended to the storeroom.
The smell of burnt cheese, rubber, and mint oil lay heavily in the air. Not a good combination.
The rubber was stuck in the hole, belly-up, its head probably facing vacuum.
"Weapon?"**
"Yessir!"
"I need a 20 cal silver bullet accelerated to 200 mph."
"Yessir, right away sir. That'll be 2520 credits for a 20 cal silver bullet accelerated to 200 mph. If you buy ten, the eleventh will be free."
A yellow curl of gas started to rise from the duck's belly.
"Wait, weapon."
"Okaaay sir, waiting sir."
The fake animal's belly started to shrivel as more of the rubber bird turned itself into gas. Then, with the sound of a bottle of champagne being uncorked, the diminished duck was torn through the breach, and air started to escape from the storage chamber with an angry howl.
The good thing was that the yellow gas was sucked out with the air. The bad thing was that Cap had forgotten his oxygen mask.
"Weapon?"
"Yessir!"
"Gimme some fast hardening foam matter."
"I don't understand 'vast partnering moan matter', sir. Shall I look up 'vast partnering moan matter' on the internet for you, sir?"
"No, gimme some fast... hardening... ." The escaping air made speech difficult. "Foam... matter"
"Yessir, right away sir. That'll be 2103 credits for a pint of fast gardening loam platter."
For a second, Cap wondered what fast gardening loam platter was. But only for a second, he didn't have more time left. "Whatever. Okay."
"Ready when you pull the trigger, sir."
Cap pulled the trigger.
—— * Credits to @StevenBrandt for this fascinating weapon design. The business model behind it was invented here, though. @StevenBrandt is a serious author, not like us.
** The HP WormJet 8620 was voice-controlled.
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