4 members
Long ago, during a cargo run gone horribly wrong, a lone pilot survived thanks to a single rubber duck floating through their cockpit after a decompression event. Since then, the duck has been seen as a guardian of questionable luck.
“In the beginning, there was silence… and then, a squeak.”
Long before the Order existed, before rituals, before doctrine… there was just a pilot.
An unremarkable cargo hauler. No glory. No skill worth noting. Just another soul drifting between contracts, running freight through the void.
On what should have been a routine run, everything went wrong.
Quantum drive desynced mid-jump
Power systems flickered
Cargo shifted violently
Hull integrity began to fail
And then—catastrophe.
A micro-meteor strike tore open part of the ship. Atmosphere vented. Systems collapsed. The pilot was certain they were about to die.
And in that moment… something impossible happened.
A small, yellow rubber duck—previously wedged somewhere in the ship—floated gently across the cockpit.
It bumped softly against the pilot’s helmet.
Squeak.
The ship stabilized.
Not fully. Not cleanly. Not heroically.
Just… enough.
Enough thrust.
Enough oxygen.
Enough systems.
Enough to limp home.
The pilot survived. That alone was strange enough.
But things didn’t stop there.
Every time something went catastrophically wrong…
something small would go right.
A reactor meltdown would halt at 1%
A crash would destroy the ship—but spare the pilot
A contract would fail—but still pay partially due to a clerical error
It wasn’t luck.
It wasn’t skill.
It was… intervention.
The pilot began carrying the duck everywhere.
Not out of belief at first.
Out of fear of what would happen without it.
Others noticed.
Crewmates. Mechanics. Other pilots.
They laughed—at first.
Until they flew with the pilot.
Until their ships broke in ways that should’ve killed them… but didn’t.
Until they started surviving things that didn’t make sense.
Until they, too, heard it.
That faint, absurd sound in the worst possible moment:
Squeak.
And so the first truth was spoken:
“The Duck does not save you. It merely ensures you suffer… slightly less.”
“We do not ask for fortune. We ask to survive it.”
We are not heroes.
We are not legends.
We are not the pilots who land cleanly, fight flawlessly, or profit greatly.
We are the ones who:
Land with 1% hull
Finish contracts almost on time
Survive disasters we absolutely caused
We are not blessed.
We are… adjusted.
The universe is not fair.
It is not kind.
It is not balanced.
It is slightly wrong.
Doors will fail to open.
Engines will stall at the worst moment.
Cargo will clip through reality itself.
This is not chaos.
This is design.
The Duck is not a god.
The Duck does not save you.
The Duck ensures:
The crash does not kill you
The failure does not end you
The mistake does not erase you
It does not prevent suffering.
It refines it.
We believe that perfection is suspicious.
We believe that success is temporary.
We believe that failure is inevitable—
—but survivable.
We do not seek to avoid misfortune.
We seek to endure it.
We carry the Duck.
Not for luck.
Not for hope.
But as acknowledgment.
That when things go wrong—and they will—
something will go slightly less wrong.
If something breaks, accept it.
If something works, question it.
If something almost works, give thanks.
Never trust a perfect run.
Never mock misfortune—it is already listening.
Never fly without the Duck.
“Structure is temporary. Inconvenience is eternal.”
We, the unwilling beneficiaries of survivable failure,
do hereby establish this Charter to define the purpose, structure, and acceptable levels of dysfunction within the Sacred Order of Quack.
We acknowledge that:
Things will go wrong
Plans will fail
Success will be incomplete
And yet we will continue anyway..
Every member shall carry or display a rubber duck in some form.
The Duck is not to be worshipped as a savior, but respected as a stabilizing force.
Loss of one’s Duck is considered:
A bad omen
Entirely your fault
Replacement Ducks must be acquired before undertaking any serious operation (or what passes for one).
Membership within the Order is open to any individual who:
Has experienced catastrophic inconvenience
Has survived something they absolutely should not have
Accepts that things will continue to go wrong
Initiation Requirement:
