Five minutes before the meeting began, the lights in the control room automatically turned on. Chen Hao sat in the main seat, twirling a pen in his hand. The pen cap clicked, but he didn't stop; he continued twirling it.

Nana stood beside the terminal, where three lines of text were already projected on the screen: Departure Time Window, Task Responsibility Assignment, and Emergency Response Mechanism. The same as yesterday's plan.

Carl was the first to walk in, placing his backpack at his feet and glancing at the projector as he sat down. He didn't speak, but his brow was relaxed, indicating he had slept well the night before.

Susan came in a little slowly, supporting her back before sitting down. She had brought a small thermos, which she unscrewed and took a sip.

"Everyone's here." Chen Hao slammed his pen on the table. "Let's begin."

Nana immediately pulled up the data model; the spaceship repair progress bar was at 37.2%. Below it scrolled a countdown: 71 days, 23 hours, and 48 minutes.

“This was the original window of opportunity,” Chen Hao said, pointing to the line of numbers. “Nana said that as long as we get to this stage, we can proceed. But now the problem is—can we really proceed on time?”

Susan put down her glass: "Let me speak first. I don't agree with setting a fixed time now."

Carl looked up: "Why? We just got the materials sorted out, and the progress is climbing. If we don't hurry now, what are we waiting for?"

“Because I’m six months pregnant,” she said directly. “Fetal development is slower in low gravity environments. If there is a violent tremor or a depressurization alarm during takeoff, the emergency procedures will be activated, and the airflow in the cabin will change suddenly, which may affect the oxygen supply. I’m not afraid, I just don’t want to gamble.”

The room was silent for a second.

Chen Hao scratched the back of his head: "We really didn't plan this out in detail before."

“It’s not that I didn’t calculate it carefully, it’s that I didn’t consider it at all.” Susan looked at him. “Do you think I can get through the launch phase like an ordinary person? The medical pod can be activated at any time, but it’s not a device specifically for preventing miscarriage.”

Carl frowned: "The longer we drag this out, the less controllable the external environment becomes. The signal flickered three more times yesterday, twice as many as last week. Who can guarantee that the system won't crash next time?"

“So we have to find a balance.” Chen Hao interrupted. “Leaving early has risks, and leaving late also has costs. Nana, pull up the data for the three windows – the original plan, adding thirty days, and adding sixty days – and see if the success rate, resource consumption, and medical support can keep up.”

Nana tapped her finger, and three comparison tables appeared on the screen.

The first train: launched within 72 days, with a success rate of 58%, sufficient energy reserves, and a medical module availability rate of 92%.

The second column: delayed by 30 days, success rate 63%, equipment debugging more thoroughly, Susan's physical adaptation period extended, and medical support matching improved to 97%.

The third column: After a 60-day delay, the success rate dropped to 59%, a warning of material aging appeared, and the number of cycles for backup batteries was approaching its limit.

“Wait a minute.” Karl stared at the third column. “It dropped after sixty days?”

“Yes,” Nana replied. “The sealing ring material will develop micro-cracks if stored in a humid environment for more than ninety days. Currently, the humidity at the base cannot be completely controlled, and long-term stagnation will accelerate aging.”

Chen Hao whistled: "So, waiting another month can increase your win rate by five points, but any longer and you'll lose money."

“Yes,” Nana confirmed.

Carl paused for a few seconds, then tapped his fingers twice on the table. "Then let's leave it at thirty days. The condition is that the repairs can't be delayed."

“Okay.” Susan nodded. “I can also reclassify the supplies list during this time and list maternal and infant-related medicines separately.”

“Okay.” Chen Hao made the decision. “The new window period is set at thirty days after the repairs are completed. We’ll neither rush it blindly nor delay it.”

He then turned to the second topic: "Who will do what next?"

Carl pulled a document out of his bag and handed it over: "I've written a first draft."

Chen Hao glanced at it and read it aloud: "Karl, engine maintenance + navigation operations; Nana, navigation + data monitoring + medical assistance; Susan, supplies management + emergency dispatch; me... overall coordination + external liaison?"

"External liaison?" Susan raised an eyebrow. "You're planning to make friends on the street?"

"What if we run into another spaceship?" Chen Hao laughed. "I can wave and say hello."

“You’ll only cause trouble,” Carl said.

"But I can liven up the atmosphere," Chen Hao shrugged. "Besides, chairing meetings, mediating conflicts, and stabilizing morale—aren't all of those skills?"

Nana interjected: "According to research on human teamwork, at least one member needs to take on the role of emotion regulation. This is usually done by a non-technical leader."

"Look, the robot has certified it." Chen Hao waved his hand proudly.

Susan shook her head: "Don't get too cocky. Your 'external liaison' sounds like menial work."

"It's better than writing a report." Chen Hao suddenly remembered something. "Speaking of which, who's going to take notes today?"

All three of them looked at Karl at the same time.

"Me again?" He glared.

"You signed the duty roster yourself," Chen Hao laughed. "It was arranged by the system, so you can't blame anyone else."

“The rules must be changed next time.” Carl took out a pen and drew a few lines in his notebook. “First, let’s talk about the division of labor. I will inspect the engine every day and report any problems in advance. But if the navigation deviates by more than 0.5 degrees, you must notify me immediately.”

Nana responded, "I will synchronize the orbital data every six hours, and an alarm will be automatically triggered for abnormal fluctuations."

"Regarding supplies," Susan continued, "I will recalculate consumption according to the new timeline, especially for water and medicine. In addition, I need independent authority to freeze some energy allocations in emergencies."

“That makes sense.” Chen Hao nodded. “For example, if someone has a fever and needs a temperature-controlled chamber, you can’t just make them endure the heat to save electricity.”

“And another thing,” Susan said, looking at him, “we need to have a special meeting on the medical contingency plan. The baby’s birth wasn’t planned, but we still need to prepare for it.”

"Okay." Chen Hao noted it down. "You decide the agenda for next time."

“Designing the maternal and infant care process,” she said. “I will be in charge, but Nana will need to provide medical database support, and Carl will assist in modifying the medical cabin space.”

“No problem,” Carl replied.

Nana updated the shared folder, and the status is marked as "confirmed".

Chen Hao stretched: "Of the three topics, two have been implemented, and one has been arranged. The meeting went quite smoothly."

“Because they haven’t started arguing yet,” Susan said.

"Didn't you two almost have a fight just now?" Chen Hao laughed. "If I hadn't brought out the data in time, you two would have had a shouting contest."

“I’m just stating a fact,” Carl said expressionlessly. “She is too.”

“But you have different stances.” Chen Hao leaned back in his chair. “One is afraid of getting into trouble if he leaves too late, and the other is afraid of getting into trouble if he leaves too early. Actually, it’s all about survival.”

“That’s why we need a meeting.” Susan picked up her glass. “Let’s get things clear so we don’t end up blaming each other.”

Nana suddenly spoke up: "This meeting lasted a total of 117 minutes, resulting in three effective decisions and three follow-up tasks, with the responsible parties all clearly identified. I suggest that the next meeting be held in 72 hours, with the topic being the maternal and infant care contingency plan."

"Set a reminder," Chen Hao said.

“It’s set,” she said. “71 hours and 58 minutes countdown.”

"It's that number again." Chen Hao stared at the screen. "It feels like I'm being chased by a countdown."

"You're only finding out now?" Susan laughed. "I've been used to it for a long time."

Carl closed his notebook: "I'll go send the task assignment document to the group chat."

"Remember to highlight the key points," Chen Hao called out to him. "Don't write too densely; I can't read the small print."

"Then go to sleep early, so your eyesight won't deteriorate." Carl opened the door and left without looking back.

Susan put away the cup, her movements more relaxed than when she came in.

"Thank you for persisting just now," Chen Hao said softly.

"Thank me for what?"

"Don't keep quiet just because you're pregnant. If you had kept it to yourself, we might have really gone for it."

She glanced at him and said, "I'm not that kind of person."

“I know,” he grinned. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t have chosen you as the supervisor.”

"Stop being so frivolous." She stood up, straightened her back, and said, "I'm going to check the medicine inventory."

She walked out, her steps steady.

Only Chen Hao and Nana remained in the control room.

He stared at the new countdown on the projector: about 100 days.

"It's almost a month longer than before," he said. "Do you think it will work this time?"

“The last time you said the same thing, the success rate was 58%,” Nana said. “Now it’s 63%.”

"So I'm making progress?"

"Data shows that when your participation in decision-making increases, the overall efficiency of the team increases by 12.7%."

“Listen to this, they even use percentages to praise me.” Chen Hao stood up. “Looks like I really am indispensable.”

"That's the logical conclusion," she said, "even though you're often late, lazy, and snacking in meetings."

"Thanks." He walked towards the door. "Next time I'll try not to eat potato chips and eat apples instead—healthy leadership starts with diet."

He opened the door, and half of the hallway light shone in.

Nana stood still, the task assignment chart on the screen still flashing.

She said softly, "It's been entered. The tag is: brief lucidity."

Chen Hao's footsteps sounded outside the door.

The control room door slowly closed, and the last line of text projected on the screen read:

[Next meeting agenda: Contingency plan design for maternal and infant care]