Chen Hao was awakened by a low-frequency vibration. The sound seemed to be crawling up from underground, close to the hull, making his back teeth ache. He turned over, the helmet of the propulsion suit under his pillow digging painfully into his neck, but he was too lazy to move, just wanted to sleep for three more minutes—just three minutes, anyway, the system was stable, and even if the sky fell, Nana would be there to hold it up.

"Atmospheric pressure continues to drop, and wind speed monitoring values ​​have reached 18 meters per second." Nana's voice came right on time. "A strong storm is expected within 24 hours, with peak wind speeds possibly exceeding level 12."

He opened his eyes, stared at the ceiling for two seconds, then buried his face back in the pillow: "Could you wait until I've slept for a full hour before releasing the doomsday prediction?"

“No.” She stood in front of the control panel, the optical lens pointed at the gradually yellowing sky outside the window. “You have one hour and forty-seven minutes to participate in the reinforcement work. Missing the window of opportunity will affect the overall protection efficiency.”

"So I should thank you for arranging overtime for me?" He propped himself up, the shoulder of his suit making a dull thud, like a rusty spring finally deciding to give up. He cracked his wrists, his joints popping, his whole body like an old-fashioned tractor that had just been plugged in, ready to fall apart at any moment.

“Thank you is not a necessity,” she said, already walking toward the tool cabinet, “but your weight can help hold down some loose parts.”

"The way you put it makes it sound like I'm only good as a punching bag."

"That's certainly true so far."

Chen Hao rolled his eyes and slowly put on his shoes. He walked to the outer cabin door, opened the observation window, and saw that the once relatively flat sand outside had begun to swirl with fine dust, and the distant horizon was blurred into a murky yellowish-brown, like someone had spilled a whole bottle of paint from an old map.

"In this weather... the visibility will probably be less than five meters in a little while," he muttered.

“To be precise, it’s 3.7 meters.” Na picked up a metal plate and placed it on the ground. “First task: seal the south-side ventilation opening. The gap left after the last storm has not been fully repaired, and strong winds may cause resonance tearing.”

"So you want me to use this piece of sheet metal to patch the wall?"

"To be precise, it's secured with rivets and then sealed with sealant. You're responsible for handing over the materials and holding the ladder."

"Another support role." He sighed, bent down to move another board, and as soon as he stood up, he felt a tightness in his lower back and almost knelt down. "Oh my god... is this damn push suit holding a grudge?"

“It simply reflects your physical condition as it is.” Nana had already climbed the ladder, her arms outstretched, and precisely inserted the metal plate into the groove. “I suggest you reduce the frequency of your complaints and conserve your energy.”

"What's there to save? I'm not a robot, I can't standby and charge!" He dragged the toolbox over, panting, and opened it to find a bunch of odds and ends inside: half a roll of old rope, a few crooked rivets, and a tube of sealant that had expired for who knows how many years, which looked exactly like some kind of toothpaste that shouldn't be there when squeezed out.

"This thing still works?" He held up the tubing and shook it.

"The ingredients haven't completely deteriorated." Nana took it and squeezed some onto the seam. "Just don't expect it to be waterproof for a hundred years."

"What if the wind gets too strong and blows us to the next planet? Whose responsibility would that be?"

“Attribution analysis will be conducted after the accident.” Without turning her head, she said, “Now, please hand me the wrench.”

For the next forty minutes, Chen Hao was basically in a cycle of "moving things - holding ladders - being directed". He walked around the bulkhead, helped Nana re-tie several loose pipe supports, used ropes to bundle the scattered spare battery packs together, and was finally forced to climb up to the top platform to help secure a piece of insulation that was about to be blown away by the wind.

"Would you call this a last-minute renovation?" he asked, panting as he tightened screws. "We just fixed the cooling system, and now we have to deal with a typhoon."

“This isn’t a typhoon.” Nana looked up from below. “This is a Martian-level sandstorm. It doesn’t bring any rain, but it carries six times the amount of sand that an Earth hurricane would.”

"Wow, you're really good at comforting people."

"I don't have a comforting function module."

"At least say 'Well done'? I'm practically a construction worker now."

Nana paused for a moment, then slightly refocused the camera: "When you tightened the third bolt just now, your technique improved by 23 percent compared to last time."

"...This can be measured?"

"I can detect the torque output curve."

"Okay, could you give me some applause next time? Even just a mock round would be nice."

"Due to limited resources, unnecessary sound effects are not supported at this time."

Chen Hao grinned and continued working with his head down. The sun had been completely swallowed by the clouds, and the sky was as dark as the bottom of a pot. The wind began to thud against the cabin, making a dull "thump-thump" sound, as if someone was knocking on the door outside.

After the last metal plate was installed, Nana jumped down the ladder and scanned the external structure. "The main gaps have been sealed, and the equipment is 89% secure," she said. "The remaining eleven minor nodes can be completed within six hours before the storm."

"So, I can go in and lie down for a while now?"

“Okay.” She turned and walked toward the hatch. “But the south sensor filter needs to be replaced in two hours, by which time the wind speed may no longer be suitable for going out.”

"Can't you just list all the tasks in one go?"

"That would affect your work motivation."

"Ha, you even know about management psychology?"

"Knowledge Base ID: hR-3021, Incentive Strategies for Grassroots Staff".

"Could you memorize something more interesting next time? Like how to reduce the number of meetings the boss needs to attend?"

The hatch opened, and the two entered one after the other. Chen Hao took off his propulsion suit jacket and threw it in the corner, sinking into the chair as if his bones were groaning. He glanced at the control panel and saw the sealed canister that had contained coolant still in its original place, the cap askew, as if someone had hurriedly used it and tossed it aside.

"Why didn't you put that thing away?" he asked.

“Preparing to convert it into a temporary storage tank.” Nana was checking the power lines. “The internal residue has been cleaned out; it can be used to store small parts.”

"Do you want to recycle everything I've used?"

"Making the best use of resources is a basic principle of survival."

"So, will my propulsion suit be dismantled and used as a flowerpot in the future?"

“It’s possible.” She looked up at him. “Especially the left arm joint.”

"Hey! It's just a temporary freeze!"

"Based on the wear curve prediction, the time to complete failure is seventeen days later."

"Can you please stop saying things like that? I was just starting to feel safe."

“A sense of security should not be based on the reliability of equipment,” she said, closing the distribution box. “It should be based on the ability to respond.”

Chen Hao rolled his eyes, too lazy to argue. He stood up to get a glass of hot water, but just as he was halfway there, the alarm suddenly went off.

“External wind speed exceeds 30 meters per second.” Nana immediately turned to the monitoring screen, “Early warning: The storm front has reached within 50 kilometers. It is recommended to complete the remaining reinforcement immediately.”

"How much time has passed? It hasn't even been two hours!"

"The rate of weather change is exceeding expectations."

"So what happened to the promised 24 hours?"

"Revised to twelve hours."

Why didn't you say so earlier!

"The data has just been confirmed."

Chen Hao cursed, grabbed his coat, and rushed outside. The wind was so strong it was pushing people, and the sand stung their faces. They finished the last few securing points in one go, including sealing the main entrance of the escape pod with double-layered canvas and metal strips, driving ground anchors around it, and tightening the securing ropes.

As the last rope was tied, Chen Hao leaned against the bulkhead, panting. His hair was plastered to his forehead, and his clothes were covered in dust and oil stains. He looked up at the sky, which had turned an eerie brownish-red. The clouds rolled down, like a herd of silent behemoths slowly approaching.

Nana stood next to him, the camera kept updating the air pressure reading, but the aircraft remained completely still.

"Do you think... we can pull through this time?" He wiped his face and asked in a low voice.

She didn't answer immediately, but instead raised her hand and pointed to a jagged flash of light that suddenly appeared in the distance—it was an electrostatic discharge at the forefront of the sandstorm.

"The question now isn't whether we can," she said, "but how long we can hold out."

Chen Hao stared at the light, his throat bobbing, about to speak—

The wind suddenly crashed against the cabin, making a loud noise, as if the whole world had been pushed.