IMPOSTOR

4

We drag Chick to the front of the ship. They don't argue or even try to resist, staring down at their plodding feet. As the semi-official leaders of this mission, Erick and myself each hold one of Chick's arms as we march them forward, the rest of the crew trailing behind us.

"We didn't have to do this," I say through gritted teeth, low enough so nobody but Erick and Chick can hear me. My dislike of Erick is no secret, but a unified front is always helpful, and it wouldn't do to disagree in front of the others.

"Yes, we did," answers Erick, huffy and annoyed, not bothering with the same discretion. "It's protocol."

"It's protocol only under circumstances where there's no doubt," I argue.

Erick scoffs. "We got a direct message from HQ. We both know that's as certain a sign as we can ask for."

I grit my teeth, unable to respond. But it stings to strap Chick onto the launching pad. Stings to hear the sharp whistle of them being ejected into space. Stings to see them look smaller and smaller through the ship's northbound window, until they're just a small cyan speck that likely already ran out of oxygen.

I'm not one to be vulnerable, but the emotions catch in my throat. I spit an insult out at Erick, then stalk off to the cafeteria.

The cafeteria, despite its name, is not just where we eat but a common rest area. It's where we sit and chat when we have time to spare between upkeep and maintenance, and it's where, on the rare occasion one of us tires out, we take our naps. I'm not tired, but I walk to the edge of the room, where the sleeping bags are laid out, and tuck myself into one anyways. If Chick wasn't the impostor, the real one could come and kill me now, and I'd be alone and defenseless. I try to close my eye anyways. I don't want to sleep, but I want to block out everything that's going on. This isn't how my mission was supposed to go.

Soft footsteps startle me. I force myself to lay still, force my eye to stay shut, even as they come closer and closer. Am I a coward? Or can I just admit to myself that if this is my time, there's no escaping.

"Dee," I hear. Livia's voice. My eye shoots open, and I look up at her, standing over my sleeping bag.

"What is it?"

Livia is trembling, her voice small. "Can I get in there with you?"