An Imposter Among Us

1: The Day I Get a Chance to Prove Myself

Genesis (1st-person POV)

I remember exactly what I was doing when the Skeld project was announced. That thing was running to the conference room like I was being chased by a member of the Conclave.

This time, I thought. This time they'll let me do it.

I made sure I was the first one inside the ampitheater-like room, taking the ideal seat of front and center. While I straightened out my large stack of credentials, media release forms, and I-can't-sue-anyone waivers, everyone else from the Beta Wing of the Polus Initiative trickled in, their feet shuffling and their heads held low. Our bosses, who I ironically liked to call the big guys, gathered around a projector, trying to pull up the standard safety presentation.

Perfect, I thought, pulling out a cheap red pen from the middle of the stack and tapping it on the table in front of me, I could take a nap. And a much-needed one, too; last night I stayed up 'til past two Googling ways to spice up my references. Everything about my application had to be flawless if I wanted my superiors to notice how obviously qualified I was. For once.

One of the big guys—Nareem, a short Indian guy with bifocals and a permanent scowl—turned around and surveyed the humble crowd. His eyes fell across mine, and I immediately waved, my pen still in my hand. With a deep sigh, he returned his attention to the projector. As he held the power button, I allowed myself to wonder why he wore a lab coat if the most dangerous thing he did was fire people from the maintenance wing.

The other two administrators--the customary replacements that came with each Skeld mission for reasons unknown--were an older white woman with an elegant white bun and a slightly taller white man with his coarse silver hair pulled into a tail. They stepped to either side of the screen as Nareem pulled up a PowerPoint titled Skeld LV. To my horror, the presentation had ninety-seven slides.

After some hushed discussion among the trio, Nareem dimmed the lights with a remote and cleared his throat.

"Welcome, everyone, to the introductory presentation of our next Skeld project."

For the next few minutes, Nareem gave the customary speech on what the Polus Initiative stood for, why the Skeld LV and all its fifty-four predecessors were so important to the cause, et cetera. To spare the mind-numbing boredom that often accompanied his way of telling stories, I'll offer a short and sweet summary:

The Polus Initiative was established as a branch of the International Space Exploration Collective to build a space station that orbited Europa. That was all said and done, but now we need a crew to travel there and actually operate it. The problem was a certain group called the Conclave, whose members never failed to compromise every single mission. Every single Skeld mission failed because of them, no matter how particular we were about security or how thoroughly we inspected the ship before launch.

With every defeat, the Initiative lost hope of ever getting to its space station. The volunteer pool dwindled as the mortality rate increased. To everyone, the ISEC Pioneer Award wasn't worth the one hundred percent chance of dying. Everyone except me, that is. Most people treated the award as little more than a title, something to put on your brag sheet. For me, it was my response to anyone who dared belittle me, like so many people had done in the past.

Oh, no, Genesis, you shouldn't apply for that job. The environment is too fast-paced.

There's tens of thousands trying for it. There's no point in bothering.

Miss Duri, I don't recommend entering such a competitive industry. Why don't you get into plumbing?

I heard a snap, and something cold and wet spread across my hands. I looked down to find my pen split in two, red ink staining my palms and fingers. It was unsettling how much it looked like blood.