Section B2 was a dimly lit, cramped place full of machinery and pipes dripping liquids which, based on the smell, were not fit for human inhalation. PAT (the official PassengerTech Assistant of Travel) stood before a hatch leading to an evac dart. PAT’s sleek, pristine, white panels contrasted sharply with the surrounding room. 

For the first time since Curtix had met him, Clayton was quiet. The blue-haired woman, Rachel, stopped abruptly and waited for the robot to explain this interruption in her day. Curtix almost didn’t see the fourth figure at first. He was a small man, smaller than Curtix. Even in the near darkness of the ship's boiler room, Curtix could tell his skin was almost unnaturally pale. Mitchell, Curtix presumed. 

“Welcome,” came PAT’s computerized voice. “I’m sorry for any inconvenience this may have caused you, but there seems to be just a little bit of a problem.” The monitor which constituted PAT’s face changed from displaying a smiling face to a slightly frowning face.  

“Which is…?” asked Clayton mere milliseconds after PAT had finished speaking. 

PAT’s face displayed the emoticon for embarrassment. “This may be difficult to hear, at least for three of you but we have reason to believe that one of you is a Martian spy.” 

“A Martian spy?” Rachel scoffed in disbelief. “Surely this is someone’s idea of a practical joke.” Rachel’s expression was mirrored by the other three. 

“I’m afraid there is no joke. You see our systems were scattered, most likely by some device the Martian planted. You four were the only ones who boarded during that brief window of time. Although it is most unfortunate, the only way to ensure that the other passengers are kept safe and PassengerTech maintains its five-star status is to remove you four from the equation. So…” PAT gestured toward the hatch. PAT’s monitor suddenly changed to display a happy emoticon. “The good news is that we’ve done a little digging and Mitchell here is, at least supposedly, a certified pilot. We are exactly 3 days 18 hours and 23 seconds away from the nearest planet, Grion II. You should be able to make it there with little issue. As an additional and completely coincidental bonus, you won’t endanger the PassengerTech reputation. When you ready to jet, always check PassengerTech.”

“I’ll check it from my padded seat,” laughed Rachel. “You can’t honestly expect me to believe that you’re sending us off on our own in an evac dart. I paid for a ticket.”

“Full refunds will be transferred to your accounts,” replied PAT.

“Full refunds my ass. I’m not a Martian. Now if you’ll excuse me I’d like to finish watching a rather good film while relaxing in my Martian-free padded seat that I paid for.” Rachel began to walk away. 

PAT’s monitor suddenly displayed a red angry emoticon. She reached out a mechanical hand and took hold of Rachel’s arm. A sound like frying bacon followed as Rachel cried out and struggled to free herself from the robot’s grasp.

PAT finally released her hold on Rachel leaving her to fall to the floor and clutch her burnt and blistered arm. “Would anyone else like to protest?” asked PAT in her cheery automated voice. Her screen changed once again to display a happy face. 

“I’d rather not,” stated Clayton seemingly refusing to look at Rachel’s sizzled flesh. “Mitchell, was it? You’re a pilot, right? You can take us where we need to go?”

Mitchell responded with a quick nod. 

“Excellent! Then I say we board and avoid any further conflict shall we?” He gave PAT a forced smile and began opening the wall hatch.  

Curtix looked for any way out of the situation. He analyzed every possibility but could come up with nothing. He sighed and followed Clayton. His only hope was to deal with this problem one way or another. He was nearly certain he could take on any of these strangers. It was choosing which one that would prove challenging.

The hatch popped open with a prolonged hiss as the pressure inside the dart adjusted. Clayton immediately climbed in and began looking around. “Oh yes quite nice in here. Let the record show that Clayton Pace was perfectly willing to sacrifice his own comfort and safety for the safety of his fellow man. When we get back with the Martian discovered…” Clayton’s voice trailed off as he ventured farther into the dart. 

Rachel, still clutching her arm, walked into the evac dart and said, “You’ll be hearing from my lawyer as soon as we land on Grion II. Whichever one of you,” she gave an accusatory glare toward Curtix and Mitchell, “is the Martian won’t be making it there in one piece.” 

“Glad to hear it,” PAT said enthusiastically. “And remember, when you’re ready to jet, always check PassengerTech.”

Curtix silently followed Rachel, all the while contemplating his options. Would the enemy be able to overpower him? Curtix was normally good at reading people but these were near strangers. He needed more information in order to get a clear analysis. 

Like the others, he began to walk through the dart. Though it was small relative to the gigantic craft, it was slightly more spacious than the poor excuse for an apartment Curtix had been living in for the past few months. However, it wasn’t much more luxurious. Only the essentials were present. 

“Thanks for taking this so well everyone,” PAT chimed from just outside the hatch. “I know this must be difficult news, at least for three of you. You’ll be ejected from the craft in T minus 3 minutes.” 

There were two bedrooms with two bunks each. “That’ll make it easier to find the rebel scum,” Curtix thought, immediately realizing that his agent instincts had taken over. He couldn’t let that happen. He knew that the only way out of this situation was to analyze it from the point of view of an average person. Only by reading the others’ actions and emotions would he manage to survive.

The group congregated in the center chamber. Each struggled to maintain balance for a moment as the dart launched from the craft. They were on their own now. Each viewed the others with suspicion yet none voiced it. That is until Clayton spoke up. 

“Well Mitch you best get piloting,” Clayton gestured toward the control console at the head of the chamber. “That is if you really can. Consider this a test.” Clayton’s tone made it unclear whether or not he was joking. 

“I can,” Mitchell stated simply. He sat down at the console and began fiddling with the controls. “This won’t be easy,” he said. “This dart is optimized to take autopilot orders from a localized outside source.”

“That’s stupid,” said Rachel. “Why would they do that?” 

“The signal was most likely linked to the pilot of the craft’s dart in case of emergency. That way they wouldn’t need a pilot in each dart. The pilot’s dart would lead and the rest would automatically follow. It’s actually quite an ingenious system.”

“Well if your ‘ingenious system’ ends up starving us to death cause you can’t figure out where the hell you’re going then I’ll kill you personally. I don’t care who the Martian is.” 

Mitchell nodded. 

“I mean if they’re going to do this why didn’t they just kill all four of us? We’d be a small price to pay to keep up their precious reputation,” Rachel said still hot with frustration. 

“Think about it,” Clayton chimed in. “What if someone found out they were killing people aboard their crafts? It would be a lawsuit like no other. This way they maintain plausible deniability. They don’t know for sure we’re all going to die. They certainly presume it, but they don’t know it.” 

Curtix looked Clayton over for a moment. He certainly didn’t expect anything so intelligent to come from him. Perhaps Clayton was smarter than he was letting on. Curtix would have to keep a closer eye on him. His earlier slip may not have been so minor in the mind of one who was able to analyze it. 

Meanwhile, Rachel sat down in one of the chairs around the large, square dining table in the middle of the chamber. Clayton had a point and she knew it. Frustration was getting her nowhere. 

“Right, now that we’re all settled down I suggest we discuss what is really important,” said Clayton. “Figuring out which one of you is the Martian. This dart isn’t huge but it also isn’t small. There’s plenty of room to hide secrets. My suggestion would be to stick to the old fashioned buddy system. Nobody goes anywhere in the dart without a partner.” 

“I second that,” said Rachel. 

“As do I,” said Curtix 

“Mitchell?” Clayton asked. 

“Yes, yes, I’ve got it. There’s Grion II!” Mitchell pulled up a light-projected 3D map from the Console. “This is us here,” he pointed to a light blue speck on the spherical map. “And there, is Grion II.” A bright green spot on the map pinged red as Mitchell tapped it. A familiar computerized voice came over the dart’s speakers, “Course set. ETA in 3 days 18 hours 6 minutes and 34 seconds.” A countdown timer displaying the same time appeared above the map. 3d 18h 6m 33s, 3d 18h 6m 32s, 3d 18h 6m 31s… 

“Great,” said Rachel with no enthusiasm. “When that runs out, there will only be three of us leaving this ship.”

Curtix, of course always accompanied by at least one other person, got a proper chance to look around. The dart was outfitted with two basic bedrooms, one storage room (complete with minimal but adequate supplies and provisions), a kitchen unit, and of course the central chamber. Evidently, Clayton knew how to cook and under Curtix’s watch made a simple yet decent meal from PassengerTech emergency nutrient cubes. Curtix could feel the tension in the air as the four ate their meal. The only sounds were the scrape of silverware on metal trays and the hum of the dart’s engine.

Clayton broke the silence by saying, “Right, so I believe now would be an appropriate time to discuss how we’re actually going to figure out who the Martian is.” He looked around the table. “Any suggestions?” 

“Well, it’s pretty clear none of us have those damned bone spurs coming out of our backs so no,” Rachel said.

“Will the real Martian please stand up?” laughed Mitchell through bites of food. All eyes turned to him. “What? It’s an old… nevermind.”

“Whoever it is obviously wants something,” Curtix said. “If they were going to stage a full-on attack they’d have done it already.” 

“Or they’re just waiting,” said Rachel coldly. Curtix noticed she had hardly blinked since they boarded. Even while eating she managed to keep a close eye on everyone at the table. “Whoever it is best come clean,” she continued. “I have no issue with taking out a few innocents to- what the hell is that?” She pulled something shiny from her food. A razor blade. It was the one Clayton had used to open the boxes of nutrient cubes. Everyone looked to Clayton.

“Why is everyone looking at me like that? Do you really think I did that? I’m the one who keeps trying to find ways to make sure the Martian can’t get away with stuff like this. Please, you have to believe me, it wasn’t me!” 

Rachel stood up. Her chair clanged to the ground behind her. She reached over and grabbed Clayton by the collar. “You’d better tell me the truth right now,” she said in a calm but grave tone. “Or so help me I will use this thing to dissect every organ in your little Martian body.” 

Clayton’s eyes darted around frantically. He pointed to Curtix. “It was him! He was there the whole time! Curtix did it!” 

Without releasing her hold on Clayton, Rachel turned her head and gave Curtix a glare colder than the void of space. 

“Me?” Curtix exclaimed with genuine shock. “I never once touched the food. I simply stood by and watched. Obviously, I didn’t watch closely enough. You left it alone cooking for a good twenty minutes. For all we know it could be any one of us. It would have been easy to walk past and slip that in.” 

Rachel released her grip on Clayton leaving him to fall to the ground. “I’m keeping this,” she growled as she pocketed the razorblade. Nobody was going to argue with her. “Next time I’ll cut the ration boxes open and I have no issue eating mine uncooked.” She glared at Clayton. “Now,” she said in a sarcastically pleasant voice, “I think it’s high time we pick rooms. I’m with this one.” She nodded toward Mitchell. “Top bunk is mine.” 

The atmosphere in the dart was tenser than ever before. Not a soul spoke. Each sat for what seemed to Curtix like hours. Each all too eager to accuse another of being a Martian yet too afraid to pay the price of being wrong. No one had any suggestions. Eventually, the voice came over the speakers announcing that it was time for the nighttime cycle aboard the dart and the regularly scheduled sleep time for human occupants. Presently, Clayton was speaking from the bottom bunk to Curtix above. 

“I’m sorry for blaming you for what happened today,” Clayton said. “I shouldn’t have. It was an act of cowardice.”

“Why’d you do it?” asked Curtix

“What? I don’t know what you-”

“The only reason you’re apologizing right now is because you know for certain I didn’t do it. The only way you can know that is because you did it yourself.”

“But I didn’t. I swear!” Clayton’s voice grew to a loud whisper. 

“I’m giving you five seconds to give me a plausible reason for me to believe you. Otherwise, I’m turning you over to Rachel. Five.”

“I’m telling you I didn’t do it!” 

“Four,” Curtix leaped down from his bunk and turned back toward Clayton. “You’d better come up with something better than that.”

Clayton sprang from his bed with speed Curtix didn’t know was possible. In an instant, Clayton was between him and the door. “Please don’t do this. If you tell Rachel, she’ll never believe I’m innocent. It doesn’t matter what I tell her!” 

“That’s the idea. Three.”

“Ok ok I did it just keep your voice down and I can explain everything.”

Curtix smirked, “I knew you’d come around. Now give me one good reason I shouldn’t kill you right now, Martian.”

Now it was Clayton’s turn to smirk, “Come now Curtix. Let’s not make false accusations. Also, we both know you won’t do that.”

“And why not?” 

“Think about it. The others wake up to you standing over my corpse. What’s more believable, that you figured out I was the Martian and denied to tell them until after the fact, or that you’re the Martian and are picking us off one by one.”

Curtix relaxed. Clayton was right. They were at a stalemate. 

“Now Curtix, I suggest you get back in bed and we forget any of this ever happened. Also, in case you couldn’t tell, Rachel is the Martian. I suggest we start coming up with a plan to prove it.” 

Once again the four sat around the table, silently partaking of their rations. They ate much more slowly this time, suspiciously analyzing every bite. 

Clayton broke the silence again, “I’ve come up with a way to possibly rat out our Martian. I’m not saying that it’ll work or that it’ll even help, but it’s worth a shot.” 

“Well?” said Rachel. Her tone made her distaste for Clayton clear. He was on thin ice. 

“We go around the table answering questions about our everyday lives. The Martian will surely have some kind of hole in her story.” Clayton must not have realized his slip until it was too late. 

“Her story?” Rachel glared at Clayton. The only thing Curtix could think to compare her to was a viper poised and ready to strike. Curtix was sure she was about to lash out and kill Clayton on the spot, yet she didn’t. Curtix wondered why. 

“His or her,” Clayton shrugged. He was trying to make her mad. Curtix knew it. He suspected Rachel knew it too. That’s why she didn’t kill him where he sat. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“I see,” said Rachel. She had reverted to her lifeless, matter-of-fact tone. Somehow it made Curtix more nervous. 

Clayton carried on unfazed, “Anyway, the Martian must have some sort of hole in his or her story. Let’s start with occupation. I’ll go first. I’m a writer. I’ve written a few short stories but my best seller is my novel called The Ocean is Split.” 

Clayton was a writer? What were the odds? If Clayton was truly a writer he was certainly able to tell that Curtix was lying back on the craft. He couldn’t change his story now. That would mark him as the Martian, yet he couldn’t just tell them he was an agent. If he ever survived this ordeal he’d be charged with treason. When an agent was charged with treason there was little in the way of a fair trial. Of course, Clayton could be lying. 

“And we’re just supposed to believe that?” Rachel asked. “This is pointless. There’s no way to tell if any of this checks out.” 

“If it’s so easy to lie your way out of this then you should have no issue going next,” Clayton suggested. 

“I served in the IEU army for 5 years. Now I work in a government office filing their papers and doing whatever boring thing they don’t want to do themselves. I was coming back from vacation on Grion IV and let me tell you it is nowhere near the paradise it was made out to be on the ad. Is there anything else you’d like to know or can I finish eating now?” her tone showed no sign of change whatsoever throughout her entire speech. To Curtix, it almost sounded rehearsed. Maybe Clayton was on to something. 

No one spoke for a few moments. “What? You can’t possibly tell me you believe the guy who said Cracking Ocean or whatever it is over me.” 

“Nobody said that,” Clayton replied, attempting to conceal a smug look. “Curtix, you’re up.” 

Curtix had an idea. He only hoped it would work. “I am -or at least I was - Grion IV’s last librarian. Admittedly, I’ve been obsolete for years. Creds got tight. The library closed up. I’ve been trying to take up writing to support myself while I’m in between jobs but so far it hasn’t been enough. I was hoping to find better-paying work on Grion Prime.” 

“Librarian huh?” Clayton said. “That would explain the suit and hat.” Clayton chuckled as he gestured toward Curtix’s fedora. No one else laughed with him but Clayton didn’t seem to mind. “Mitchell, your turn.” 

Mitchell wrung his hands, “I know this will be difficult to believe but it is the absolute truth. I swear.” 

Rachel looked up at him with sudden interest. “Well?”

“I work for the IEU. It’s classified, that’s all I’m allowed to tell you.” 

Another agent? Curtix wondered if it was possible. What were the odds that two agents would end up in this situation? He could be lying. There was no way to know for sure just yet. Curtix braced himself to restrain Rachel if need be. He didn’t understand her. She was clearly more intelligent than she let on. Why did she keep up this façade? 

To Curtix’s surprise, however, she didn’t move. She looked Mitchell over. It seemed as if she was looking directly through him. She shrugged and continued eating. 

“Thank you for believing me,” Mitchell said. His relief was obvious. 

“I never said I believe you,” Rachel replied. “I just haven’t decided that I’m going to kill you yet.”

Curtix had to test Mitchell. The problem was getting him alone away from the other two. The sooner he could make this happen the better. There was no telling when or if Rachel would decide to lash out at Mitchell. Curtix felt as if he had a talent for figuring people out yet Rachel was still a mystery to him. Her motives eluded him now more than ever before. He had to test Mitchell before she could get to him. 

Curtix and Mitchell were assigned to preparing the next meal. That was his chance. The two ended up alone together while retrieving more nutrient cubes. Everything was coming together perfectly. Curtix would test Mitchell, and he knew exactly how… 

“So you said you work for the IEU?” Curtix asked. “Can you tell us anything at all more? It doesn’t have to be much. We just need a little more detail that’s all.”

“I’m sorry but no,” Mitchell replied, still reaching through shelves for a box of nutrient cubes. “I swear I would if I could, but you’d never believe me anyway. I know it sounds strange but the more of the truth I tell you the less you’ll believe me.” Mitchell didn’t even look at Curtix as he spoke. 

The more he listened to Mitchell the more convinced Curtix became that Mitchell was another agent. Everything he said added up to one answer, but Curtix couldn’t be sure. Not yet at least. “That’s fine,” Curtix said nonchalantly. “Of course, I want to believe you Mitchell. I think you’re a good man. I just don’t know how Rachel would feel about that. You saw what she almost did to Clayton. It’d be a shame if the same fate would befall you.” 

Mitchell stopped and looked at Curtix. “Are you trying to threaten me? Listen I can’t tell you any more. I’d rather face Rachel one hundred times over than face the consequences of revealing IEU secrets.” 

Curtix realized now was his chance. “Such loyalty to the Earth Union, tell me then, have you ever seen Earth in all her glory?” 

Mitchell sighed. “No I haven’t, and only by keeping her secrets will I ever get the chance.”

Curtix was beyond surprised. He had asked Mitchell the agents’ passphrase and Mitchell had responded incorrectly. How had he managed to fool a trained agent? By not inventing a lie, he had created a better lie than Curtix. Curtix didn’t respond for a moment, then said, “Keeping secrets on this ship is what denies you such chances.” 

Once again the ship reverted to nighttime procedures. Curtix and Clayton lied in their bunks once again. Both prayed that the rest of this voyage would go without conflict, yet with a live Martian on the ship, they both knew this dream would prove impossible

“You’re not planning on reporting me to Rachel again tonight are you Curtix?” Clayton said jokingly though his tone carried a slight bit of hidden malice. 

“Don’t give me a reason to,” Curtix’s mood was still sour. How could he have been wrong? A trained agent who couldn’t recognize who was and wasn’t one of his own. Pathetic. He would need to be much more careful in the future. “Planted any razorblades I should know about or are you just going to let me discover them on my own?”

“Curtix, I’ve never been more certain that Rachel is the Martian. Did you notice how she gave so few specifics about anything? She never gave the name of the office she works at. She never mentioned anything more than serving in the IEU army. She didn’t even give an IEU battalion number or anything.”

“What do you make of Mitchell’s answer?” Curtix asked. 

“It’s true. I’m nearly certain of it. It has to be.”

“And how can you be so sure?”

“Because if he wanted to make up a lie on the spot he could have. It would have been easy. I believe that’s what Rachel did but Mitchell didn’t. He could have said almost anything else to make us believe him and make Rachel not want to kill him but he didn’t.”

“I thought the same,” Curtix whispered but Clayton didn’t seem to notice. A strange thought came to Curtix. Why was Clayton here? PAT said that something was disrupted when the four of them boarded, but Clayton had boarded late. Curtix remembered getting on the craft right behind Rachel and he was sure Mitchell could have been right behind him and he wouldn’t have noticed, but Clayton was the last passenger on. He was nowhere near the other three. He barely made it before the craft took off, so why had they decided to send him along? An idea began to formulate in Curtix’s mind

Clayton continued to talk, “...need to get him alone for just one minute. All I need to do is ask him something. One thing, and then I’ll know.”

“Have you ever seen Earth in all her glory?” Curtix asked. 

For the first time in a very long time, Clayton was without words. Then he whispered, “Only from a distance.” 

This time Curtix was right. Clayton was an agent. That’s why he was put on the dart. They must have known. The two stayed silent for a moment. A minute passed, then two, then three. Finally, Clayton asked, “Have you tested Mitchell yet?” 

“Yes, he’s not one of us. He fooled me as well.”

“How did he know to say all those things? He said them just as an agent would have. He must know about the agency at least,” Clayton said, clearly discomforted by the idea. 

“It’s entirely possible that he doesn’t. You’ve seen the films. Everyone carries that basic archetype of a super spy. He took those notions and contextualized them in his lie.” 

Clayton nodded. Then, realizing Curtix couldn’t see him from the bunk above, he said, “You’re right. This means two things. First, Mitchell can’t be ruled out as a suspect. Second, one of us has to be with each of them at all times.” 

“Agreed,” Curtix said simply. 

Little further discussion followed and Clayton, now more reassured knowing there was another agent on the ship, drifted off to sleep. 

Throughout the dart’s next daytime cycle, Curtix and Clayton did exactly as they’d planned. Curtix kept tight surveillance on Rachel and Clayton did the same to Mitchell. They switched off occasionally so as not to arouse suspicion. Time was running short. The Martian would be forced to come into the light soon enough. It was just a matter of time. Everyone was on edge. Once again they sat together at the table. They went through each others’ stories time and time again but everyone was hesitant to reveal anything. After all, no one wants a Martian spy to know their entire life’s story.  Both Curtix and Clayton knew the whole thing to be an effort in futility as everyone at the table was lying. 

“There has to be some way to figure this out,” Rachel said in frustration. “I’m running out of ideas and we’re running out of time.” She gestured toward the ever-present holographic timer at the head of the room. It relentlessly ticked away the time to one of their deaths but whose death none could be sure. 

“Well there’s always the chance that you’re not trying to come up with ideas,” Mitchell said, seemingly uncaring of the weight his words carried. 

“If you’re implying what I think you are I’d advise you to tread carefully. I hate the Martians. They…” Rachel stopped herself before she could say anymore. For the first time since Curtix had met her, she seemed to feel genuine emotion. 

Mitchell chuckled, “There. Now we’re getting somewhere. Would you like to elaborate on that or can we just assume you’re the Martian like you did to me?”

In one swift, fluid motion Rachel stood up from her chair and brought her leg around for a kick to Mitchell’s face. Neither Curtix nor Clayton doubted her story of military training anymore. Mitchell fell to the ground. A curved black and silver object clattered to the ground beside him. Curtix immediately recognized it for what it was. A handgun. It was practically an antique. It was an old ‘32 Dawson Firearms Pyropistol. Before anyone could react, Rachel had Mitchell pinned to the wall. Her elbow pressed painfully against his throat. “What were you planning on doing with that? I warn you, answer quickly or I may just decide to kill you right now,” her voice carried no emotion with it. 

Curtix didn’t doubt her words in the slightest. Her tone was that of a stone-cold assassin. The thought chilled him to his very core. It almost made him afraid. 

Mitchell struggled to get out the words, “I found it in storage. I was gonna use it to take out the Martian. I swear.”

Rachel laughed a real and genuine laugh, “For the Martian huh? Then why didn’t you bother to tell us about it? Don’t you think this could have benefitted the group?”

“Didn’t know if I could trust you,” Mitchell’s face began to turn purple as he spoke. 

“Says the one hiding the gun.” She let him fall gasping to the ground. 

Mitchell regained his breath and began to speak. “Thank you. Thank you. I-” His speech was cut off by the sound of a sickening crack. 

Rachel had, with deft ease, snapped his neck. “I think we were all in agreement there,” she said looking back at the other two. She picked up the gun and began to inspect it. 

Curtix was an agent. He had experienced death before, but it had never been so sudden. He looked at Rachel with a sort of horrified admiration. Curtix looked over at Clayton and expected to see him in complete disgust, yet Curtix saw that Clayton seemed to share his sentiment. He was an agent too after all. Curtix felt something else though. It was something he hadn’t felt in a long time, at least, not since he became an agent. It was exhilarating and awful all at the same time. Adrenaline rushed through him. He felt completely helpless to it yet stronger than ever before. He couldn’t even begin to explain what was happening to him. Then he realized. It was fear. Curtix, an agent, was feeling fear.

After failing to coerce them into helping her, Rachel single-handedly hauled Mitchell’s corpse to the airlock and unceremoniously released it into the void of space. Only three remained on the ship. Rachel checked and double-checked the navigation parameters Mitchell had set on the dart. “Got to make sure that Martian bastard can’t screw us over from beyond the grave,” she said. From her point of view, victory was theirs. Or rather, victory was hers. 

As she fumbled with the controls, Clayton pulled Curtix aside into the storage room. “I don’t care if she’s the Martian or not. She’s too volatile to have that gun. We’ve got to get it away from her,” Clayton whispered. 

“Agreed,” Curtix whispered back. “But how? Even without that gun, she’s deadly. We won’t be able to get close.” 

“I have a plan. We’ll act during this night cycle. Taking the gun isn’t enough. If we want to serve the IEU we can’t suffer this Martian to live. Are you in?”

Curtix nodded. 

“Great, it’s settled then. I need you ready. Tonight, we kill a Martian.” 

Curtix didn’t sleep. He lied awake in his bunk for hours and hours on end. In his mind, he ran through every possible contingency. He knew Clayton must be doing the same. Soon enough, the time came. 

“Curtix,” Clayton whispered, “Time to go.” 

Without a word, Curtix rose from bed and donned his fedora. He was ready. 

Putting their agent stealth training to use, the two silently made their way across the dart’s main chamber. The dim lights denoting it was nighttime were barely enough to see by. Clayton pressed the illuminated green button, opening the door to the room which now housed Rachel and Rachel alone. Curtix winced at the sharp hiss of the opening door, yet as he looked in the doorway he saw Rachel hadn’t noticed a thing. She was asleep. 

“If I were Rachel,” Clayton whispered almost inaudibly, “Where would I hide a deadly weapon that determined the fate of myself and others?” 

Curtix wondered the same. He looked at Rachel. It was odd. When she was asleep she bore no resemblance to the cold-hearted killer they had witnessed earlier. She almost looked… peaceful. None of this changed Curtix’s mind. He was no stranger to this kind of mission. Agents weren’t allowed even a moment’s hesitation. That’s when he noticed a silver gleam poking out from beneath Rachel’s pillow. He tapped Clayton on the shoulder and pointed toward the gun. 

Clayton gave him a look as if to say, “Go ahead.” 

Curtix reached in and in one quick motion, as if he was ripping off a bandage, pulled the Pyropistol from beneath her pillow. He held his breath as she tossed and turned for a moment, mumbling something to herself, but eventually, she settled back into slumber. Curtix looked the gun over in the impossibly dim light. This was it, the terrible instrument of death that would bring an end to his brief companion. 

It was beautiful. 

He held it to Rachel’s head. 

He looked her over one last time, remembering the events of the past few days. 

Clayton looked away. 

Curtix pulled the trigger. 

The Pyropistol made a shrill whirring sound for a split second. 

Then, her life was over. 

A concise, circular, orange-rimmed hole pierced through her entire head, skull and all. Clayton let out a heavy sigh. “Well, that’s done. I feel better now at least knowing I served my nation.” He was trying to comfort himself. “At least there’s one less of those brutish Martian scum in the universe right?” 

Curtix let out a chuckle at the irony of it all. “You see Clayton that’s where you’re wrong.” He turned and aimed the Pyropistol towards Clayton. 

“C- Curtix? What do you think you’re doing with that?” Clayton forced a smile at what he tried to convince himself was some kind of ill-timed joke. 

“Well you see I just wanted you to know that we ‘Martian scum’ aren’t all as “brutish” as you take us for. I mean, if I was able to single-handedly fool your entire agency, how barbaric can we be?” Curtix laughed but his tone still carried aggression. “You’ve all been misled. You, your damned agency, the whole IEU. We’re not even human to you. You may not think so but the IEU loves us. With the amount of power at their back, they could have wiped us from the universe a long time ago, but they chose not to. Why do you think that is Clayton?” 

Tears welled up in Clayton’s eyes. He raised his arms in surrender. Though he was an agent, he felt fear. “Please, Curtix don’t do this. I beg of you please!” 

“Clayton.” Curtix drew nearer. His aim never wavered. “Would you kindly answer the question? Why do you think they keep us around?” 

Clayton broke out into full sobs. “I don’t know Curtix just please let me live. I’ve been good to you I-” 

Curtix cut him off. “I’ll tell you why.” His voice grew ever louder and his tone more bellicose as he spoke. “Because we’re the scapegoats Clayton. Have you ever stopped to think about it? Every time something goes wrong we’re the ones to blame. How many times do you look on the news and see that ‘Martian Rebels started a riot today’ on some far off planet that probably doesn’t even know we exist. ‘The economy crashed because of the funds that go toward fighting Martian rebels.’ ‘People are dying of some plague or superbug because the Martians are employing biological warfare.’ They always say we fight because we don’t know how great IEU society is but in reality, we fight because we’re the only ones who aren’t blind to its faults. And still, people like you are all over out there, believing that we’re beneath them. It makes them happy that no matter how god-awful and vicious they are to each other, at least they’re still better than us. You all have a deep-seated desire to feel superior. People like you would rather dream a blissful lie than live out a bitter reality. Well it’s time for you all to wake up!” Curtix shot Clayton right between the eyes. His body slumped to the ground. 

Curtix looked over at the clock. 0d 23h 57m 42s “Great,” Curtix thought. “I still have enough time to clean up this mess.” He got right to work. He had no time to waste. After all, he had important IEU information to report.