The comms crackled to life, spitting static and a voice laced with desperation. “Nathan! It’s Fizzwick! You gotta listen to me! You’re in serious trouble!”

Nathan, nursing a lukewarm synth-coffee in the cramped galley of the *Stardust Drifter*, frowned. He’d just finished re-calibrating the Whispering Vault's interface after the near-disaster at the Zenith Exchange. Fizzwick, the twitchy, gear-grinding Clockwork Cog artificer from whom he’d acquired the Titanium Tears, hadn't struck him as the type to deliver apocalyptic warnings.

“Fizzwick, what’s wrong? You sound like your cogs are slipping faster than usual.”

“The Tears! You… you traded them, didn’t you? You sold them to someone else, somewhere… else!” Fizzwick’s voice rose in pitch, edging towards a metallic squeal.

“Yeah, I moved them. Decent profit, too. What’s the problem? Didn't seem like you valued them *that* much back on… where was it? Kepler-186f-Beta Nine?” Nathan took another swig of the synth-coffee, which tasted suspiciously of rust and regret.

A moment of silence, thick with static, followed. Then, a strangled, robotic sob. “You… you unleashed Him! You’ve doomed us all!”

“Unleashed who? Look, Fizzwick, you’re not making a lot of sense. Spit it out before my signal booster gives up the ghost.”

“The Great Cog! The Maker! The… the Clockwork God!” Fizzwick practically shrieked the words. “The Tears… they were His tears! Crystallized grief and frustration! He needs them to maintain His… His calibration! Without them, He’s… unstable! And He *knows* who has them now!”

Before Nathan could demand further clarification, the comms went dead. He stared at the console, a cold dread creeping up his spine. He’d dismissed Fizzwick as a desperate hustler, unloading useless trinkets to make ends meet. Now, he was talking about a *Clockwork God* and crystallized tears of grief. This was escalating faster than a malfunctioning grav-lift.

He quickly accessed the *Stardust Drifter's* long-range scanners, inputting the last known coordinates of Fizzwick's dilapidated station on Kepler-186f-Beta Nine. The scanner whirred, spitting out a series of readings. Nothing unusual… at first. Then, a massive energy signature flickered into existence, dwarfing everything else in the system.

The image resolved itself slowly, painfully. It was… incomprehensible. A colossal construct of gleaming brass, grinding gears, and pulsating energy conduits, radiating an aura of immense power and barely contained rage. Its size was staggering, easily eclipsing the largest space stations Nathan had ever seen. This wasn't just a machine; it was a being of unimaginable complexity, its metallic face contorted in what could only be described as divine displeasure.

This, apparently, was the Clockwork God.

“Well, scrap,” Nathan muttered, slamming his fist on the console. "This is going to be a long day.”

He immediately initiated the *Stardust Drifter's* emergency jump drive. He had no illusions about taking on something that size. His only hope was to get out of the system and put as much distance as possible between himself and the wrath of a mechanical deity.

The jump drive sputtered, coughed, and then died with a disheartening *clunk*. Nathan cursed. He’d been meaning to replace the damn thing for months.

“Okay, Plan B,” he muttered, scrambling towards the cockpit. “Evade and survive.”

He fired up the *Drifter’s* engines and steered a course for the nearest asteroid field. He was banking on the dense debris to mask his energy signature and provide some measure of cover.

As the *Drifter* hurtled towards the asteroid field, Nathan caught a glimpse of the Clockwork God through the viewport. It was moving, slowly but inexorably, leaving a trail of distorted space in its wake. The God's gaze, represented by a massive, multifaceted lens, seemed to lock onto the *Drifter*. A shiver ran down Nathan's spine. He was being hunted.

He plunged the *Drifter* into the asteroid field, weaving between colossal rocks and dodging stray energy blasts from the enraged deity. The *Drifter's* sensors screamed as they struggled to keep up with the chaotic environment. The ship groaned under the strain, its aging hull protesting every near miss.

He knew this couldn't last. The Clockwork God was too powerful, too relentless. He needed a plan, and he needed one fast. His eyes fell on the Whispering Vault console, still glowing faintly. An idea, desperate and insane, began to form in his mind.

He engaged the Vault. The familiar hum filled the cockpit as the transdimensional energy field shimmered into existence around the console. He needed something… something that could distract, confuse, or at least slow down a being of that magnitude. Something utterly bizarre, something completely unexpected.

He began cycling through potential trades, frantically searching for the perfect item. Scraps of forgotten technologies, biological oddities, fragments of shattered realities… nothing seemed adequate. The Clockwork God was still closing in, its immense form looming larger and larger in the viewport.

Then, he saw it. A signal, faint but unmistakable, emanating from a dimension he’d never encountered before. The image on the console flickered, resolving into a… a giant inflatable rubber duck.

He blinked. “Are you kidding me?”

The description was simple: “Interdimensional Bath Toy of Unfathomable Proportions. May cause temporal anomalies if exposed to extreme gravitational fields.”

It was absurd. It was ridiculous. It was perfect.

With a shrug of his shoulders, Nathan initiated the trade. The Vault shimmered, and a moment later, a massive, iridescent yellow rubber duck materialized in the *Drifter's* cargo bay, nearly crushing the ship with its sheer bulk.

He quickly routed power to the cargo bay doors and activated the release mechanism. The doors groaned open, and the giant rubber duck was ejected into the asteroid field, tumbling through space.

The effect was immediate. The Clockwork God stopped, its multifaceted lens focusing on the bizarre object floating in its path. Its movements became erratic, almost hesitant. It was as if the sheer absurdity of the inflatable duck had overloaded its processors.

Taking advantage of the God's confusion, Nathan steered the *Drifter* deeper into the asteroid field, using the debris as cover. He hoped the distraction would buy him enough time to repair the jump drive.

He worked frantically, his fingers flying across the console, bypassing damaged circuits and jury-rigging replacement components. The minutes stretched into an eternity as the Clockwork God slowly resumed its pursuit, its anger seemingly amplified by the presence of the giant rubber duck.

Finally, with a triumphant yell, Nathan re-engaged the jump drive. The *Drifter* shuddered, groaned, and then vanished in a burst of transdimensional energy, leaving behind only the chaotic asteroid field and a very confused Clockwork God staring at a very large, very yellow, rubber duck.

He dropped out of warp in a remote, uncharted system, far from Kepler-186f-Beta Nine and the wrath of the Great Cog. He slumped back in his pilot seat, exhausted but alive.

“Well,” he said to himself, wiping sweat from his brow. “That was a close one. Remind me to never underestimate the power of a good bath toy.”

He knew he wasn't out of the woods yet. The Clockwork God was out there, somewhere, and it wouldn't forget what had happened. He'd made an enemy of a being of unimaginable power, all because of a few tears made of titanium.

But for now, he was safe. And he had a story to tell. A story about a giant rubber duck, a furious clockwork deity, and the resourceful salvager who managed to escape them both. It was a story that would likely become a legend in the Shattered Star Sea, a testament to the power of ingenuity and the sheer, unadulterated weirdness of the fractured multiverse. He smiled, a tired but genuine smile. After all, what was life without a little bit of chaos?

He took another sip of the rust-flavored synth-coffee. Maybe he’d invest in a decent coffee maker next time. And definitely a new jump drive. And maybe, just maybe, he'd think twice before trading with desperate Clockwork Cog artificers in the future. But probably not.