The door opened, but Chen Hao didn't turn around. He stared at the string of colored glass beads that had just been hung in front of the display stand, and tapped his fingers lightly twice on the edge of the table.

The person who came registered their name and left, and one pair of pliers was missing from the tool rack.

“We can’t stay here forever,” he said.

Susan looked up, the blueprint in her hand frozen in mid-air. Carl's screw-tightening motion also stopped. Nana's information screen, still displaying yesterday's registration summary, suddenly switched to an energy consumption curve.

Chen Hao walked to the control panel and pressed a few buttons. The screen lit up, displaying the base's overall operational status. Power was at 37%, the water circulation system had two minor leaks, and food reserves could last for four months—if no one increased their intake.

"We've successfully created this cultural event," he said. "But what happens after that? People start giving gifts, taking photos, and leaving their names. After a while, will anyone want to get married and have children here?"

No one responded.

“I’m not saying this is bad.” He sat down against the edge of the control panel. “I’m saying we need to figure out our next step. Staying here will only turn us into a bunch of old men and women living off memories.”

Susan put down her pen, folded the drawing, and stuffed it into a folder. "You're thinking of leaving?"

“It’s not a matter of whether I want to or not,” Chen Hao shook his head, “it’s a matter of whether we can. Our bodies weren’t designed for this kind of place. The radiation levels are rising every day, and every pill we take reduces our supply. If we delay for another six months, the spaceship might not even be able to fly after it’s repaired.”

Carl stood up and walked to the energy monitoring section, looking at it for a long time. "The escape hull's power unit hasn't been restarted," he said. "The last inspection was three months ago; the capacitors are severely aged. Even if we start it now, we're not sure if it can last until we reach outer space."

“Then let’s fix it,” Chen Hao said. “We’ll repair the ship while preparing supplies. We can’t wait for others to come and help us anymore. This time, we’re the ones leaving, so we have to do it ourselves.”

Nana's optical module flashed twice, bringing up the database interface. "Initiate the navigation preparation protocol," she said. "Load resource model calculations."

After scrolling for a few seconds, a message pops up: "[Interstellar navigation sub-library version is outdated; the latest star map has not been synchronized]".

"What do you mean?" Chen Hao asked.

“Some flight path data is missing,” Nana replied. “The database was last updated three days before departure. Subsequent changes in jump points and new records in gravitational anomaly zones were not included.”

"So you don't know which path will lead to success?"

“The optimal path cannot be confirmed,” she said. “We recommend prioritizing obtaining actual observation data for the current satellite region, or contacting the nearest relay station for calibration.”

The room fell silent.

Susan flipped through the inventory log beside her. "There are only six doses of anti-radiation medication left in the medical kit," she said. "The pregnancy support medication is long gone. If we really have to leave, we need to replenish these things."

"What about food?" Chen Hao asked.

“The protein powder will last for two months, and the vitamin tablets will last a little longer.” She turned a page. “The problem is that the source of fresh food has been cut off. After the greenhouse module broke down, it hasn’t been restored.”

Carl walked to the tool cabinet by the wall and pulled open the bottom shelf. "The filter for the oxygen regeneration unit also needs changing," he said. "We only have one spare set. If something goes wrong on the way, it won't last more than three days."

"It all sounds like a lot of trouble," Chen Hao said, leaning back in his chair. "But it's better than just sitting here waiting to die."

“Don’t you think this is too hasty?” Susan looked at him. “We’ve just stabilized the workshop, and now we have to start all over again?”

“It’s not about tearing everything down,” Chen Hao said. “It’s about changing direction and continuing. Before, when we were working on culture, it was to prevent people from breaking down. Now that we’re moving forward, we need to ensure people survive. The goal has changed, so the methods must change too.”

Nana's screen reloaded, and a new progress bar popped up: [Preliminary resource requirements estimation in progress... Estimated completion time: 47 minutes].

“At least we have a division of labor now,” she said. “I can compile a list of existing equipment and mark maintenance priorities.”

“I’ll take charge of the tools and power system,” Carl said. “First, check the condition of the escape hull’s main engine and see if it can be repaired.”

“I’ll go through the medicine and food inventory.” Susan closed her notebook. “Make a list of what’s missing and see if we can get it from other areas.”

"And what about me?" Chen Hao asked.

“You’re in charge of convincing everyone,” Carl glanced at him, “including those who have already gotten used to life here.”

Chen Hao smiled. "I'm good at this job. Anyway, I'm always the one who says 'let's try again'."

“This time it’s different,” Susan said. “Before, we were getting people moving; now we’re getting them to abandon what’s already been built.”

“Who said we’re giving up?” Chen Hao stood up. “The workshop can stay. The rules can continue to be used. It’s just that the four of us have to go first. Once the boat is repaired, we can come back to pick everyone up.”

"That is, the ship can fly," Carl said.

“Then let it fly.” Chen Hao walked to the control panel and tapped the screen. “First, check all the malfunction records of the escape hull and make a list.”

Nana immediately pulled up the file. The screen flashed, revealing a structural damage report. The corrosion rate on the left side of the fuselage reached 62%, the fuel lines were blocked, and the attitude control system signal was interrupted.

“It looks like scrap metal,” Carl frowned.

“But it’s still there,” Chen Hao said. “It wasn’t blown up, it didn’t collapse, and it wasn’t buried by sand. That means it can still be saved.”

"How long will it take to fix?" Susan asked.

"I don't know," Chen Hao said, looking at the data. "But I bet it will take longer than we think."

Nana's screen suddenly displayed a warning: "[Life support system backup power load abnormality]".

"Here we go again." Carl walked over and glanced at it. "The battery pack was just replaced last week, how come it's breaking down so quickly?"

"It might be due to oxidation of the connection port," Nana said. "It needs to be cleaned manually and resealed."

“I’ll go.” Carl picked up his toolbox. “While I’m at it, I’ll check if there are any similar situations in other sections.”

"Wait," Chen Hao called out to him. "It's too dangerous for you to go alone. The pipes over there are complicated. If you fall or get stuck, no one will know."

"Then what should we do?"

"We'll go together later," Chen Hao said. "Let's divide up today's tasks first, then we'll go in pairs. From now on, everyone must go out in pairs. That's the rule."

Susan nodded. "The safety procedures need to be revised, especially for operations involving high-risk areas."

"Nana, add this to the new rules," Chen Hao said. "From now on, all outings for maintenance must be done in pairs, with a communicator, and the location must be reported every half hour."

“It’s been recorded,” Nana responded. “I also suggest adding emergency location beacons.”

"Alright." Chen Hao slammed his hand on the table. "It's settled then. Repair the ship, replenish supplies, revise the procedures. Let's take it one step at a time."

Susan opened her new notebook and wrote three headings on the first page: Medical, Diet, and Protection.

Carl stood in the doorway, his hand resting on the doorframe. "I still stand by what I said," he said, "even if everything is ready, we still have to face one problem—"

He paused.

Will we still be able to fly?

No one answered.

Nana's screen was still scrolling; the resource model's progress bar was halfway through when it suddenly paused for a few seconds before continuing.

The control panel light flickered on and off.

Chen Hao stared at the line of text: [Estimated completion time: 47 minutes].

He sat back in his chair, placed his hands on his knees, and looked at the three people opposite him.

The machines inside the room emitted a slight hum.

Carl tapped lightly on the metal door frame with his fingers.

Susan's pen stopped on the paper.

Nana's optical module kept flashing, and the data stream kept refreshing.

The lights stabilized.

The text on the screen continued to scroll.