You board a ship with nine other cadets, but the manifest says eleven. One of you doesn't belong, and the other nine are all looking at each other like threats. It's a locked-room mystery that trusts you to solve it alongside the cast, counting heads and catching lies, paranoia clicking into place each time someone moves wrong. Ninety minutes is all it needs. The premise does the heavy lifting, and this film never wastes a second proving why it should have aged into legend instead of obscurity.
Ten space cadets wake up aboard a derelict ship with no memory of how they got there. Their graduation test is simple: survive long enough to pilot the vessel home. Then they realize the problem. There are eleven of them. One person doesn't belong. One person might be sabotaging their chances of escape. One person could be the reason this ship became a tomb in the first place. Trapped in corridors that feel smaller by the minute, the cadets turn on each other. Every glance becomes suspicious. Every decision gets questioned. Trust becomes a luxury they can't afford, but cooperation is the only way any of them survive. As systems fail and supplies dwindle, paranoia metastasizes through the group. Some cadets grow distant. Others grow aggressive. The countdown to either rescue or oblivion ticks forward. The question isn't just who among them is the imposter. It's whether they can figure it out before the ship decides the answer for them.