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

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. They say a lot of things. This one may be technically true, but nobody willingly enters the void without an environment suit. Key word there being willingly.

Kanji Smith did not enter the void willingly. Nor was he wearing a spacesuit. Oh, he tried to scream but no sound issued from his larynx before the void claimed him. If he were capable of reason in the last panic-stricken moments of his life he would have known screaming was futile in the absence of atmosphere, but who among us is capable of that sort of composure in the face of imminent death?

Admittedly, I didn't need to wait until he regained consciousness to open the airlock but it was important to me that he understand why he was dying. It was important to me to look him in the eyes as I pulled the airlock lever and expelled him from my ship, permanently. So, I told him why, bluntly, and saw his eyes open in sudden, frantic fear. The airlock warning lights that began flashing insistently as I finished speaking may have also had just a little something to do with the tsunami of fear that crashed through him.

His self-righteousness attitude collapsed instantly and he began to beg, not realising I'd already muted the audio feed from the airlock. I observed in stony silence, my face impassive though I could lip-read his increasingly desperate pleas as he pounded on the door with impotent fists. His frantic attacks slowed as the airlock removed all oxygen in preparation for opening the outer doors. The pounding ceased and Kanji stooped, supporting himself with both hands on his knees as his body drew deep, desperate but empty breaths. He looked back up at me through the airlock window and I noticed the tiny blood vessels in his eyes rupture, turning the whites of his eyes red and pupils sightless. Small red patches of red appeared, and spread rapidly, in the pale skin of his cheeks and forehead as capillaries failed to contain the oxygen-depleted lifeblood within. Contrary to popular belief a person does not explode into red mist on exposure to the void of space, a fact which I'd found disappointing when I learned it as a youth. Now, I was just relieved I wouldn't need to scrub down the airlock.

Finally, the airlock doors opened and Kanji moved for the last time. Technically, I think it was his bowels moving, expelling the contents in a sudden rush. His coveralls, thankfully, caught and contained the solids, and the absorbent material around his crotch trapped the liquids. Another inconvenient fact- bodies don't just fly out the airlock once you open it. I sighed and activated the robot arm in the roof of the airlock. Less than a minute later the corpse was flung out the open airlock doors in a clumsy underarm throw. It might have been my imagination, but I swear his abdomen looked quite pregnant as his lifeless blue body left the airlock. I watched his body float silently out into the darkness then closed the outer airlock doors.

Back in my cabin I lowered myself into my leather arm chair and poured myself three fingers of old Earth whiskey.

“Sweetie?”

The ship's AI responded immediately, her voice reassuringly calm. “Yes, Captain?”

“Redact all surveillance system footage from thirty seconds before I left my cabin until now. Delete last airlock cycle record. Confirm.”

A second later Sweetie's smooth, feminine voice confirmed she had performed the duties set her, and I took my first sip of whiskey and began to relax as the threat of mutiny receded like the bloated corpse in our wake.