Chen Hao stepped into the base, his shoe kicking up a clump of grayish-white dust. He didn't look down, heading straight for the conference room. The three men followed him in, none of them speaking. The air felt compressed, stifling, making everyone reluctant to speak.
He pulled out a chair and sat down, tossing his backpack onto the table. The zipper was half-open, revealing a crumpled piece of paper inside. It was a sketch he had drawn on the way back, the edges worn and frayed. He pulled the paper out and slapped it on the table.
"We have to go down."
This sentence was like a stone thrown into water; no one responded, but the ripples spread outwards.
Carl leaned against the wall, his fingers unconsciously tapping the seam of his trousers. Susan looked down to check if the zipper of her medical bag was zipped up. Nana stood at the very edge, a slight heat mark still lingering on her arm, but she didn't touch it.
“It’s not about choosing who goes.” Chen Hao pointed to the sketch. “We’ll prepare together. Equipment, routes, how to survive—it’s all up to us.”
He paused, then lowered his voice: "I don't understand these things. I used to get 60 points on exams by guessing. But now, someone has to get things done."
Nana stepped forward, and the projector activated. A star map floated in mid-air, red dots slowly spreading like ink drops into water. She spoke calmly: "Data shows that within three months, an energy imbalance will trigger a large-scale geological collapse. The impact will cover the entire region, including the base."
"In other words, staying put is the same as dying," Karl chuckled. "Since we can't escape, we might as well take a gamble."
“The problem is, what are we betting on?” Susan looked up. “We don’t even have protective suits that can last for ten minutes.”
“Then let’s build it,” Nana said. “The database contains pressure-resistant structural designs. The outer shell of the spacecraft can be disassembled and reassembled, and with the addition of insulation and cushioning, it can barely meet the standards for deep-earth operations.”
"Barely?" Karl raised an eyebrow.
“All the plans are barely acceptable.” Chen Hao shrugged. “Do you think the interstellar travel manual says ‘How a fat, academically challenged student can save a planet’? We’re just making do right now, using everything we can.”
Susan stood up: "I'll go check the inventory. The oxygen regeneration module of the water purifier is still usable; converting it into a portable version shouldn't be a problem."
"What about communications?" Carl asked. "The rock layers below are too thick; the signal can't get through."
Chen Hao pulled a black box out of his bag; the outer shell had a crack. "I've tried pulsed low-frequency transmission, which sends a signal every thirty seconds. It consumes little power and has strong penetrating power. As long as Nana writes an automatic response protocol, even if she loses contact, the machine can continue to report her location."
Nana nodded: "It's feasible. I will set up a triple backup response mechanism to prevent accidental interruption."
“Then let’s get started.” Karl rolled up his sleeves. “Let’s dismantle the hull first.”
The clanging of metal soon filled the warehouse. Carl, wrench in hand, stood beside the abandoned spacecraft and forcefully unscrewed the first protective plate. Nana squatted on the ground, comparing the blueprints and instructing him on which parts were usable and which should be discarded. Susan organized the parts nearby, arranging the usable circuit boards one by one.
Chen Hao sat in the corner, holding two battery packs in his hands, trying to modify the power supply circuit. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his fingers clumsily twisted the wires. It took him three tries to finally light up the indicator light.
"It's done?" Karl glanced at it.
"It hasn't exploded yet." Chen Hao breathed a sigh of relief. "At least it means I'm still alive."
Nana took the modified power module and plugged it into the tester. The green light came on. "Stable output, usable."
"See, I'm not completely useless," Chen Hao grinned.
“The only time you’re useful is when you’re not talking,” Carl snorted and continued unscrewing.
Time passed slowly. The protective armor's frame was complete, with three layers of different materials joined together on its surface. The air regeneration module was installed in the backpack and connected to the face mask. The communicator was fitted with an antenna, and shock-absorbing pads were added to the outer shell.
The final round of testing has begun.
Nana put on the modified protective suit, her movements slightly stiff. She walked to the door of the pressure simulation chamber and waited for instructions.
"Start." Chen Hao pressed the button.
The dashboard numbers flickered, and the airflow inside the cabin intensified. Five minutes later, the alarm did not sound.
“The parameters are normal.” Nana came out and took off her mask. “The internal temperature is controllable and the breathing and circulation efficiency is as expected.”
"Then it's usable." Susan stuffed the last bottle of purified water into her suitcase.
"All equipment is ready." Karl finished testing the communicator and confirmed the signal feedback was normal. "What's next?"
Chen Hao looked at the three of them and suddenly said, "Let's sit down and chat for a while."
No one objected.
Four people sat in a circle on the open ground in the middle of the warehouse. The light bulbs flickered, casting their faces in alternating light and shadow.
“I’ll say one,” Chen Hao began. “I’m afraid that after I go down there, I’ll never see the sun again. Not because it’s dark, but because… no one will remember that I was here.”
Susan lowered her head and rubbed her hands together: "I'm afraid the equipment will malfunction, and then I won't be able to save anyone. I've studied medicine for so many years, and in the end, I can only watch others die."
Carl was silent for a moment: "I don't want anyone to go to their death alone. If someone has to stay behind, I hope it's me."
Nana looked at her hands, the metallic knuckles gleaming slightly. "According to data analysis, the success rate of teamwork is 67 percent higher than acting alone. I'm not human, I don't have fear. But I choose to trust you. This isn't a program's judgment, it's my own decision."
After she finished speaking, she took a piece of printed paper out of her pocket and handed it over.
There were four lines of text on the paper, one line for each person, with their signature below.
The title reads: Departure Certificate.
Nobody calls it a will.
Chen Hao stuck the paper to the wall and secured it with tape at the four corners. "When we get back, whoever tears it down first will treat us to dinner."
"How many meals are you going to treat us to?" Carl asked.
"Unlimited refills, as much as you want," Chen Hao laughed.
They each checked their equipment one last time.
Chen Hao slung his backpack over his shoulder and tightened the straps. Susan hung her medical kit around her neck and checked that all the medications were present. Carl repeatedly tested the communicator channels to ensure proper reception. Nana completed the final system calibration, and the device entered low-power mode, though the interface area was still warm.
The lights in the preparation room were on.
The four people stood in front of the gate, their shadows stretched long by the light.
The door wasn't open yet.
Chen Hao reached out and touched the buckles on his protective suit to make sure they were locked. He looked up at the countdown screen on the control panel; the numbers were stopped at 00:05:00.
“Five minutes left,” he said.
Susan adjusted the position of her mask.
Carl tucked a family photo into his inner pocket, close to his chest.
Nana stood on the far right, her eye indicator light flashing slowly, as if waiting for a signal.
Chen Hao took one last look at them.
Is everything ready?
The moment the words left his mouth, the light above his head suddenly dimmed.
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