#14

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say.

If it is true, I’m grateful, because they’re about to throw someone off the ship. I entered the meeting quietly, the crew already in full swing of interrogating one of our own.

“It wasn’t me, I walked in and he was already lying there!” he shouts in defense. It’s a guy I recognize but haven’t spoken to often. Although our crew is made up of only thirteen members, the ship is fairly large and we all end up being spread out pretty evenly. #9 is a young man, likely around my age. He might be handsome were he not drenched in a nervous sweat, being actively accused of murder.

“What’s going on?” I whisper to a woman standing next to me – #10, I believe.

“Crew member #6 was found dead in the Decontamination Chamber. The Captain walked in on #9 standing over the body. Didn’t seem like he was reaching for his walkie or trying to leave the room to report it any time soon,” she explains, fear swimming beneath the surface of her otherwise composed expression.

A sudden yell from who I learned was #9 interrupts us. “I went to service the ventilation system in there. I’m one of the only members with that protocol. I didn’t think to send out a call right away because….I was scared, I was in shock. There’s a dead body for Christ’s sake.”

The Captain continues to sit back and listen; it seems like the Lieutenant is leading this meeting. The Captain and Lieutenant are #1 and #2, appropriately, but are the only two aboard who aren’t called by their numbers. “You are aware that if you did commit the murder, the sentencing is ejection from the ship.” The Lieutenant doesn’t phrase this as a question.

“I’m more than aware,” #9 answers anyway. We all wait quietly as #9 and the Lieutenant hold eye contact. The faint hum of the fluorescent lights mocks the silence.

The Lieutenant clears his throat. “We’ll hold a majority vote. Those in favor of ejection say I.” Two or three voices pipe up. “Those opposed?” The rest of us, myself included, say I. “Majority vote, no ejection.” #9 sighs in relief but quickly sucks a breath back in as the Lieutenant whips around to face him again. “This time. Next time you may not be so lucky.”

We all dismiss, all of the crewmates taking extra care not to get too close to #9. #9 looks genuinely distraught. As he should – he isn’t guilty.

Our spacecraft, affectionately named Spacecraft 001, is the first of its kind. While we all have unique abilities that help the ship run smoothly, this voyage is more akin to a pleasure cruise. The entire crew signed up of our own volition. This particular voyage is of the ‘solar elliptical path’ variety, meaning we take a quick week trip around our solar system and back. It’s like the space equivalent of backpacking through Europe. It’s something only the unprecedented design of this ship can accomplish. And, I suppose, the copies that come after it, given this trip goes according to plan. It’s my job to make sure it doesn’t.

To the remaining crew on this ship, I am #13, a young woman with a proclivity for space navigation. In reality, I am #14; I executed #13 before she even made it on the ship.

As the youngest and newest member of the SDCF – Space Defense and Conservation Force – of course, I’m apprehensive. This mission is imperative to the future of space travel; Spacecraft 001 is toxic to our solar system. It must be stopped, whatever the cost. Being that I’m not a complete monster, the execution of otherwise innocent people isn’t easy. If it were up to me, no one would have to die to accomplish our goal. But it’s necessary. The SDCF shed blood, sweat, and tears in the effort to stop the launch of 001. Much like a parent to a child, when a gentle approach doesn’t work, there must be stronger discipline, harsher consequences. Whether it's by the Captain turning the craft around and returning to Earth or myself executing every remaining crew member on this ship, this voyage will end up a failure.

Following my first kill aboard the ship, the nerves have eased. No one even noticed that I was late to the mandatory meeting (or interrogation, more like). I had to travel the long way around so the security cameras wouldn’t place me at the scene of the crime. It would have been easier on me had the group decided to eject #9, of course. Had more people voted in favor of ejection, I could have jumped in, too, but the most important part of my quest here is to blend in. I can’t put myself in the spotlight. The real #13 wouldn’t have.

#9 slipped through the cracks this time. But I suppose I’ll just take care of him the old-fashioned way.