Chen Hao tore up the test report and threw it into the recovery crater, his fingers still trembling. He stared at the spaceship's repair progress bar; the line had only climbed to thirty-seven percent. He turned to Nana and asked, "How long do you think this will last?"

Nana looked up at him.

“I mean, once the boat is repaired, how long can we survive?” He chuckled after he finished speaking. “Don’t tell me we have to stay in this godforsaken place for another three years.”

Carl took off his soaking wet coat and hung it on the back of the chair; water had pooled on the floor from the soles of his shoes. He didn't say anything, but his eyes remained fixed on the maintenance log, as if afraid of missing a single number.

Susan walked in from the entrance, carrying three thermos flasks. She placed one in front of Chen Hao, steam rising from it. "Have something to drink first," she said. "You're all soaked."

"Thanks." Chen Hao warmed his hands with the cup. "The materials are sorted out, but what's next? We can't wait until the ship is repaired before we start thinking about how to get there."

“Then let’s have a meeting.” Susan sat down. “Let’s finalize the routes, supplies, and division of labor. The sooner the better.”

"Sure," Chen Hao nodded. "We'll open it tomorrow."

Nana immediately brought up the schedule: "I suggest allocating two hours to prioritize discussing the flight window and contingency plans."

“That’s not all.” Susan opened her tablet. “I’ve made a list, including food rationing cycles, oxygen circulation system maintenance frequency, backup energy switching procedures, medical pod usage rights allocation… every item needs to be detailed.”

Carl frowned: "Starting to scavenge these things now? The ship isn't even repaired yet."

“That’s precisely why we need to prepare in advance,” Susan said, her tone becoming more serious. “We’re not going anywhere alone. Who will be responsible if something goes wrong? How will resources be allocated? Who will be the first to respond to a malfunction? If these things aren’t clarified, things will become a complete mess.”

“But we don’t even know our departure time yet,” Carl said, pointing to the projection. “The weather data is unstable, and the orbital calculations aren’t complete. What’s the point of me deciding who will control the oxygen valves right now?”

“At least get the framework up and running first,” Susan insisted. “Otherwise, the meetings will just be a waste of time.”

“Then let’s set the general direction first.” Karl’s voice rose a little. “First, determine when we can leave, then divide the tasks into groups, and finally refine the process. Let’s take it one step at a time.”

"Step by step?" Susan sneered. "By the time you take it one step at a time, it'll be too late. These things have to be done all at once, otherwise you'll always be stuck at the first step."

“You two, stop arguing,” Chen Hao interjected. “One wants to plan the whole thing, the other wants to get things moving first. Both are good ideas.”

“But this isn’t a ‘good or bad’ question,” Susan said, looking at him. “It’s a choice between efficiency and safety. I’m six months pregnant now, and I can’t risk my life by thinking ‘it’ll probably work.’”

The room fell silent.

Carl opened his mouth, but in the end he just lowered his head to untie the straps of his backpack. He didn't say anything more, but his movements were a bit more forceful than usual.

Chen Hao rubbed his face, stood up, and walked around the table twice. He suddenly stopped and pointed at the projection screen: "Like this—we'll only talk about three things on the first day."

Both of them looked at him at the same time.

"First, the departure time window. Nana, you've calculated which days are the most recent stable period, right?"

Nana nodded: "Theoretically, it could set sail in as little as seventy-two days, provided that the maintenance progress meets the standards."

“Then let’s set a goal: complete all repairs within seventy-two days,” Chen Hao continued. “Second, the principle of assigning responsibilities. For example, who is in charge of engine repair, who monitors navigation, and who is in charge of supplies. No detailed rules, just assign responsibilities.”

Susan frowned: "If the specific operational standards are not consistent, there will be problems with the handover later."

“That’s for the next phase,” Chen Hao waved his hand. “Third, the emergency response mechanism. For example, what to do if the spacecraft depressurizes, what to do if someone is injured, and who takes over command if communications are interrupted. We need to have a basic contingency plan first.”

He looked at Karl: "Isn't that simple enough? We can get started without waiting for all the data to be ready."

He then turned to Susan: "Don't worry, there are people in charge of the key parts, so we won't be caught off guard at the last minute."

The two remained silent for a few seconds.

“I can accept that,” Susan finally said, “but a special meeting must be arranged to follow up on the details.”

"No problem," Chen Hao decided. "The first evacuation planning meeting will be held tomorrow morning at 10:00. These are the three topics."

Carl looked up: "I can prepare a draft of the task assignments, and it can be finished tonight."

"You're still so curvy." Chen Hao laughed. "Alright, you write the first draft, and everyone can give their feedback tomorrow."

Susan opened her notebook to update her schedule, swiping her finger across the screen a few times. "I'll compile a risk level chart, marking the response priority according to different situations."

"You're not here to attend a meeting, you're here to supervise the construction," Chen Hao muttered.

“Someone has to take it seriously.” Susan glared at him.

Nana has already generated the meeting template, and the projector automatically redirects to the agenda page. The title reads: "Evacuation Plan Preparatory Meeting - Phase One".

"Do I need to set a reminder?" she asked.

"Let's set it up." Chen Hao stretched. "Anyway, from now on, we won't have any free days."

“There’s one more thing,” Susan suddenly said.

"explain."

“Everyone must speak at the meeting.” Her gaze swept over the three of them. “No one is allowed to hide in the back and just listen without saying anything. Especially you, Chen Hao, don’t think that you can shirk your responsibility just because you’re the host.”

"How could I dare?" Chen Hao raised his hands in surrender. "If I dared to slack off, Karl could hit me on the head with a wrench."

Carl snorted, not denying it.

“Furthermore,” Susan continued, “before each meeting ends, the agenda and the person in charge for the next meeting must be clearly defined. We can’t just end the meeting and leave without any results.”

"I've noted it down." Chen Hao took out a pen and circled something on the paper. "The next agenda item will be determined by this meeting, with responsibilities assigned to specific individuals, and feedback ensured."

“That’s more like it.” Susan closed her tablet.

Nana saved the new agenda to a shared folder, marking its status as "Pending Confirmation." A notification popped up on the screen: [First Meeting Countdown: 21 hours 47 minutes].

“And another thing,” Carl suddenly looked up, “what if the repairs are delayed and the window of opportunity is pushed back? We need to consider that in advance as well.”

“Add it to the emergency plan,” Susan responded immediately. “Set up two alternative time periods, one for a 30-day delay and the other for a 60-day delay.”

"Okay." Chen Hao nodded. "Let's do it this way. Does that mean we've reached an agreement?"

The three looked at each other.

“For now,” Susan said.

"Then let's make one last thing before the meeting adjourns." Chen Hao picked up his pen. "Who's responsible for writing the meeting minutes?"

No one spoke.

"Shall we take turns?" he suggested.

“In alphabetical order by last name,” Nana said calmly. “This time, Carl should write it.”

"Huh?" Karl was taken aback. "How come you even included this in the list?"

“The system automatically generated a rotation list,” she said. “You are now in first place.”

Chen Hao laughed out loud: "Look, the robot understands the rules better than you do."

Carl rolled his eyes, pulled out his notebook, and slammed it on the table: "Fine, fine, I'll write it. But next time it has to be you."

"I'll try my best to escape alive," Chen Hao shrugged.

Susan put away her thermos and stood up: "I'll go back and double-check the supplies list. Some medicines need to have their dosages recalculated."

"Take a break," Nana reminded her. "Your activity time today has exceeded the standard by two hours."

"Okay," Susan waved her hand. "I'm not made of glass."

She walked out of the control room, her footsteps fading into the distance.

Chen Hao leaned back in his chair, staring at the still-lit projection screen. Departure time window, responsibility allocation, emergency mechanism—three lines of text floated silently in the air.

"I really have to go," he said softly.

Carl paused for a moment as he packed his toolbox.

“It’s time to leave,” he said. “If we stay any longer, this awful place will wear us down to the bone.”

"I'm quite used to it," Chen Hao grinned. "There are people to cook for me, do my chores, and even keep me company when I argue."

"Stop pretending to be sentimental." Karl zipped up his backpack. "You're just lazy and don't want to take responsibility."

"Isn't this just the beginning of my leadership role?" Chen Hao pointed to the screen. "Chairing meetings, driving decisions, leading the team—a true leader in every sense of the word."

Nana suddenly said, "According to database records, on average, humans experience seven moments of self-doubt, three moments of escapism, and two moments of feigned optimism before taking significant actions."

"So I'm a normal person?" Chen Hao laughed. "Then you'd better write this down, it's one of the highlights of my life."

“It’s been entered,” she said. “The tag is: brief confidence.”

Carl picked up his bag and walked towards the door: "I'll send the draft division of labor to the group at eight o'clock tomorrow morning."

"Received." Chen Hao waved his hand. "Remember not to write too much detail, leave me some room to maneuver tomorrow."

After the door closed, only the two of them remained in the control room.

Chen Hao stared at the countdown timer and suddenly asked, "Do you think we can really make it?"

Nana didn't answer immediately. Her optical lens subtly adjusted its angle, as if searching through some deep file.

“Based on the current data model,” she said, “the success rate is 58 percent.”

"Not even 60%?" Chen Hao whistled. "And I was being so bold just now."

“But this is the highest probability you’ve ever had,” she said. “The previous estimate was 41 percent.”

Chen Hao was stunned, then burst out laughing: "So I really am the key person?"

“That’s the logical conclusion,” she said, “even though the process is often accompanied by invalid statements and delays.”

"Thank you so much, I'm almost embarrassed by your compliment." He stood up and stretched. "Alright, since it's so important, I'll reluctantly hold on for a few more days."

He walked to the console and pressed the save button. The agenda was officially locked.

The text on the projection flashed, confirming that it had taken effect.

Chen Hao turned to leave, but then stopped.

"Oh, right." He turned around, "Could you please not play that background music during the meeting tomorrow? Every time it plays, I feel like I have to hand in an assignment."

“That’s the system’s default notification sound,” Nana said. “It can’t be changed.”

“I knew it.” He shook his head. “Even high technology has its limitations.”

He opened the door and walked out, his footsteps echoing in the corridor.

Nana stood still, the agenda on the screen still lit up.

Her voice module vibrated slightly, like laughter, but not quite.

The lights flickered dimly, illuminating the words "Topic 1: Departure Time Window Assessment".