Carl crouched at the bottom of the boat, his right hand gripping the welding torch, his left hand pressing down on the edge of the patch. The metal surface began to glow red, and molten silver lines slowly extended, firmly locking the old and new materials together.
Chen Hao stood at the door of the engineering module for a while, then turned and left without saying a word. He still held the newly printed testing procedure sheet in his hand, glancing at it as he walked, though he didn't actually read a single word. His mind kept replaying Nana's words—"The real test is in the sky."
He suddenly felt a little tired.
It's not a physical emptiness, but a vague, inexplicable feeling in my heart. It's like running for a long time, finally reaching the finish line, but not daring to push the door open and go in.
When Chen Hao returned to the control room, Susan was sitting in front of the terminal, flipping through documents. Her fingers moved very slowly, pausing for several seconds after finishing a page, as if she were thinking about something else. When she saw Chen Hao enter, she smiled, but the smile seemed a little forced.
"How's the repair going?"
"Almost done." Chen Hao stuffed the paper into the drawer. "Karl said we can retest in two more hours."
Susan nodded, continuing to stare at the screen. After a few seconds, she said softly, "I'm wondering... will anyone ever come to this place again?"
Chen Hao was taken aback.
He hadn't thought about that.
The base was built on this desolate planet, constantly threatened by wind and sand. If left unattended, it would collapse in half within ten years, and be nothing but an empty shell within twenty. Yet, they were always busy repairing ships, inventorying supplies, and arranging itineraries, and no one ever mentioned the word "farewell."
Hearing her ask that question now, I suddenly felt a lump in my throat.
"Who knows?" He chuckled dryly. "Maybe one of those unlucky guys will crash here someday and then be able to pick up our leftover coffee cans."
Susan didn't laugh. She placed her hand on her stomach and glanced out the window. Outside was a gray-yellow wasteland, the wind whipping sand against the protective shield with a soft, persistent sound.
"I'm a little reluctant to part with it," she said.
Chen Hao opened his mouth, then closed it again.
He hadn't expected Susan to say that. She was always calm, and after becoming pregnant, she suppressed her emotions even more deeply, only wincing slightly even when in pain. The fact that she could say it now meant she had been holding it in for a long time.
He left the control room and went to the living quarters.
The living room was empty. On the table was a half-empty glass of nutrient solution, with a sticky note underneath that read, "Tools put away, done." The handwriting was Karl's, messy like a primary school student's.
Chen Hao took the cups away, wiped the table, and then rummaged through the storage cabinet for the round tablecloth that had been lying idle for many years. The cloth was red, with slightly faded edges, but he remembered that everyone had hung it up together on the day the base was built.
He moved the table to the middle, placed four chairs there, and then put several boxes of compressed biscuits and heated drinks on the table.
At eight o'clock sharp, he turned on the public address system and kept the volume very low.
"There's a tea party tonight. Attendance isn't mandatory, but if you come, you're not allowed to talk about work."
He turned off the radio and sat down to wait.
The first to arrive was Susan. She was carrying a blanket and hesitated as she entered.
"You really don't want to talk business?"
"Let's have a heart-to-heart talk," Chen Hao said. "For example... what's the last thing you want to take with you?"
Susan sat down.
“It’s a rock,” she said. “I picked it up secretly, in that rock formation on the north slope. It had the first map sketch that Carl and I drew on it, and although it was crooked, we were very proud of it at the time.”
Chen Hao laughed. "I thought you would bring a medical manual."
“That can be replicated.” She shook her head. “But there’s only one of that stone in the whole world.”
The second person to arrive was Carl. He entered with oil still on his hands and paused for a moment when he saw the table.
"What are you doing?"
"Let's chat," Chen Hao said, handing him a bottle of water. "And see who's most afraid of dying."
Carl sat down, unscrewed the cap, and took a sip. "I'm not afraid of death."
"What's that?"
“I can’t protect them.” He glanced at Susan. “It’s not that the spaceship has problems; what’s scary is that if something happens, I can’t save you.”
The room fell silent.
Chen Hao didn't rush to reply. He knew Karl didn't usually talk about these things, but since he did today, it meant he really couldn't hold back anymore.
Nana was the last to arrive. She stood at the door without sitting down immediately.
“I have nothing to take with me,” she said. “I can upload all my data and back up my memories. But I’ve noticed… you’re all saying goodbye to something. I don’t understand this feeling, and there’s no emotional model for ‘farewell’ in the database.”
Chen Hao looked up at her. "So what are you feeling right now?"
“It’s a… decreasing frequency.” She slowly walked to the table and sat down. “Your heartbeats have slowed, your speech has slowed, and your movements have become sluggish. This isn’t fatigue; it’s something heavy pulling you down.”
Chen Hao nodded. "We're scared too."
He looked around, his voice lowering. "I'm afraid the universe is too big, so big that we could fly our whole lives and never get back to Earth. I'm afraid that one day the navigation will fail, and we'll be adrift in the darkness, unable to find our way. I'm also afraid... that after we get off the ship, we'll find that our home is long gone."
No one spoke.
But the atmosphere changed. Not more somber, but more relaxed.
Susan spoke softly, "I'm scared too. I'm scared that my child will be born on a spaceship, never having seen the land, never having seen trees, never having seen how rain falls."
Carl chimed in, "But if we stay here, the next generation won't even be able to see the sky. This planet won't sustain us for long."
Nana looked at them and suddenly said, "I can record the sound of the wind here and store it in an audio library. I can also record what the sunrise looks like, the speed at which the sand dunes move, and even the tone of your voices right now. If needed in the future, I can recreate it completely."
Susan looked up at her. "Can you do it?"
"Yes," Nana nodded, "as long as you're willing to stay."
Chen Hao smiled. "Look, we're not completely broke. The ship's repaired, supplies are back, and even the robots are starting to hoard memories."
Carl smirked. "Then I'll check the luggage racks tomorrow, make sure her stones don't fly away."
Susan leaned gently on his shoulder. "Thank you."
Chen Hao stood up and opened the last box of cookies. "Actually, what I miss the most is that old oven in the kitchen. Although it can only heat up food, the cookies it bakes never burn."
Susan laughed. "Do you remember that time you insisted you could make cookies, and then burned them three times?"
"That's called an experiment!" Chen Hao exclaimed, his eyes wide. "Scientists allow for three failures!"
Carl snorted. "It was barely edible on the fourth try, and we had to feed it to the recycling machine."
The laughter inside lasted for a few seconds, then slowly subsided.
But no one got up and left.
The lighting was dim, with only a small lamp on the table. The four people sat around, but no one mentioned the time, and no one said they should get to work.
Looking at them, Chen Hao suddenly felt that the emptiness he had felt earlier was gone.
It's not that the problem is solved, it's that you know someone is there to support you.
He tidied the empty boxes on the table, his movements gentle. Susan helped stack the cups, and Carl casually pushed the chair back into its place. Nana stood by the terminal, silently recording the keywords of this conversation: stone, wind, oven, fear, companion.
Before leaving, Chen Hao stood at the door and looked back.
Susan leaned on Carl's shoulder, and the two spoke in hushed tones. Nana's screen was still lit, the light reflecting on her face as if something new was taking shape.
He turned off the light.
In the darkness, only the hum of the ventilation system could be heard.
The next morning at six o'clock, Susan opened her suitcase and put the stone into the innermost compartment of her carry-on bag. She touched the bag to make sure it was sealed securely.
Carl was already inspecting the securing straps in the engineering workshop, pulling them one by one to make sure each buckle could withstand violent shaking.
Nana updated the psychological support module and added a new rule: when a team member mentions the "past", the memory archiving program is automatically activated.
Chen Hao stopped in his tracks as he passed the kitchen and looked at the old oven.
He reached out and touched the outer shell; it was a little hot.
Then he opened the drawer next to him, took out the last packet of biscuit powder, and stuffed it into his bag.
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