In 500... (or less)

The Maximum Capacity is Thirty

A collective gasp filled the room. Pregnant? Was that even a thing anymore?

"No gasping," Capt. Rogers said. "It takes up more oxygen."

"What's the procedure for this?" asked Trevillo. "We haven't had a live birth here in a very long time."

"It's been 163 years, to be exact," the captain said. 

Haley blushed a little at the captain's first statement and glanced over at Mark, the baby's father. Until her exam, she thought she was sterile, like all of the other females on the outpost.

"Well, what is it, then?" Trevillo demanded.

The captain shuffled uncomfortably.

"Look, when this outpost was established, it was only meant to be temporary," he started. "The resources have always been limited. There has always been enough for 30. No more, no less."

"We know that," Trevillo interrupted. The crowd scowled at Trevillo for his impertinence.

"As I was saying," Rogers continued without acknowledging the rude interruption, "limited resources. We have always functioned by activating one of the embryos when someone dies. But when there were live births in the past, it was put to a vote."

"A vote?" Trevillo said, suddenly becoming the uncomfortable one.

"The rest of us have to decide who, umm." The captain paused to think of more polite euphemism. "Who gets to go outside."

A chatter grew in the room as a dozen separate conversations broke out. 

"Please, everyone," Rogers told the crowd. "We need this to be orderly and fair. The vote will be a secret ballot."

"Voting begins in an hour," he explained. "There is a terminal set up near the Commons. It will only record who each person votes for, nothing else."

The crowd again began to talk among themselves.

"Again, people," Rogers said over the clatter. "I must ask you to be mindful of the oxygen. Unnecessary talking is still prohibited. We've talked enough as it is. We're through most of the ration for the day already."

Knowing eyes roamed to Trevillo. He gulped as he realized his name was more than likely to show up during the voting.

The room fell silent, save for the notification alerts on personal displays, as the conversation became digital.

"We will reconvene here in four hours to announce the results," Rogers said.

Haley was the first to be permitted to vote. She wasn't afraid of the outcome. As a curiosity of nature, she was certain to be kept aboard to understand what happened to her.

Trevillo had campaigned vigorously during the hour before voting, hoping to save himself. He knew he could be abrasive and wasn't well liked among the group.

"The votes are tallied," Rogers announced before the assembled group. "It looks like Teddy will be asked to leave."

The 10-year-old boy contributed the least to the outpost, and was often in violation of oxygen usage guidelines. He stood stone-faced as his name was called.

"Trevillo," Rogers said, "escort Teddy to the airlock."

Nearly everyone followed the pair to the airlock. Trevillo knelt down and hugged the boy tightly. 

"Goodbye."

The crowd gasped once again as Trevillo jumped into the airlock and pressed the button to go outside.