Twelve minutes was plenty of time to turn everything off.
It was little time to establish what must stay on.
Seo expanded the circuits beneath AUXILIARY WARMING. Haeseong opened S-6’s display. Two entries shared the heading: one kept workers warm; the other protected life-support pipes.
Darae touched no power switch. She could turn off her own terminal screen or an unused cabin light. A logistics clerk could not decide to reduce the circuit circulating other people’s air.
“Which one is scheduled?” she asked.
Seo and Haeseong read the item numbers against each other. It was indoor work heating: an old setting for fewer occupants and less equipment heat. Pipe protection used a different circuit.
“It hasn’t switched on. We’ll first check whether the schedule needs to remain.”
Believing something was off was different from confirming it. Haeseong and the designated adult checked the interior indicator. Seo read the equipment restrictions and sent a proposed change to the Safety Office. Darae watched the remaining time while instructions came back.
Nine minutes.
Someone on the shared channel asked why they did not simply turn the lights off first. Haeseong checked whether anyone was moving. Seo explained that essential position lights and alarms must remain. Losing things or missing a restraint in a dark room could exchange saved power for a different danger.
Mujin reviewed Narae’s connection and return conditions. Lower power in S-6 did not mean Narae could run every system for it. Connected vessels did not become one power station with unlimited capacity.
Approved instructions arrived.
Haeseong and the adult maintenance contact suspended the work-heating schedule and read back the state. Pipe protection, ventilation, carbon-dioxide removal, and depressurization alarms were checked separately. Darae put the actual confirmation time beside the suspended schedule.
Six minutes remained.
Past that immediate problem, other loads became visible: a large information screen left on, unused work lights, and queued data bundles awaiting transmission. Seo separated loads protecting living people now from information that could be sent later.
They deleted no original records. They reduced video transmission and screen brightness, postponing bulk archival transfers to the next window. A minimal route for measurements and alarms stayed active. Nobody told Maru to hold all communications together through the night. Two adults revised the shift schedule.
Darae watched the shared video go dark. Faces disappeared from its small rectangle. Measurements and contact status remained. Rescue had not stopped because she could no longer see it.
“It’s going to get darker now,” Haeseong told the room.
A child asked whether Raon would lose them if they turned out the lights. With permission to transmit, Darae answered.
“Narae is connected right beside you. We’ll keep the lights we need for finding you. We’re only reducing the unused lights inside.”
The guardian repeated it more simply. Darae did not add questions to test the child’s understanding. She left the guardian time to reassure them.
S-6’s lights dimmed. A brief check video showed markings beside handholds and the main passage. The contact board’s letters became gray in the gloom. People touched their belongings to check their positions and secured themselves again.
The shadow period began.
Outside, metal surfaces darkened one after another. Darae watched Narae’s clock and remaining-power display. The night outside would not cool S-6 immediately. Its heat still had limited routes out.
Seo received readings after the changes. Actual consumption showed the planned reduction. Ventilation and temporary sorbent support continued. Temperature was 32.0 degrees; its rate of increase still needed observation. Dimming lights did not immediately reverse heat accumulation.
“Does that mean it won’t rise any more?” Haeseong asked.
“We can’t say that yet. We’ve confirmed the load reduction. We need the next reading.”
Darae wrote OBSERVATION AFTER CHANGE in the empty field, rather than SUCCESS. Shorter records were not meant to leave less evidence of mistakes. Running equipment and waiting people needed the next action.
The medical-support channel lit.
Shared video remained off. Seo checked the separate message and passed only the necessary support requirements to Darae and Mujin. Everyone in the cabin did not need to hear a private medical history.
One person reported dizziness and was being assessed further. Earlier consultations, ages, and the heat all mattered. Seo relayed the medical team’s questions to Haeseong without offering his own diagnosis.
Darae took out another water pouch, then stopped. First she needed to ask what help was required and whether more supplies were needed. S-6 still had drinking water. The difficulty was reaching it and getting help to drink. An adult adjusted someone’s position instead of receiving another box.
Mujin opened the transfer-assessment sheet. Until now, it placed filter support first and transfers after. The thermal conditions recorded after Seo’s return and the medical assessment were changing that order.
“We’re considering transfers before all filter work is finished,” he told the Safety Office.
Darae looked at the sound cartridge. They had come all this way to make it usable. If following the equipment’s work order kept people in a hot room longer, the order needed to change.
“The sound replacement remains secured here. I’ll separate the packages so handover preparation and priority transfers can proceed together.”
Seo said to open packaging only once the actual work scope was established. Keeping seals intact, she rearranged items for access or waiting. One temporary canister was already operating inside S-6. One remained aboard Narae, with the pump and main cartridge.
She secured a box with its new seal number visible. Moving cargo shifted her shoulder in the opposite direction. Her handhold arm drew taut. Mass had not diminished; wanting more passengers did not create space for them.
A short message came from Maru, giving the contact board’s current position with the adult’s permission. Maru had tried to add their name to the next shift, but Haeseong had corrected it to rest time.
“Now there’s nothing for me to do.”
Darae started to laugh, then checked that her reply would not send the child back to work.
“Closing up your things and resting is preparation too. When you get to Raon, you don’t have to tell anyone about our missing pens.”
“I already did.”
“Difficult to cancel an intake once it’s filed.”
A little laughter returned. An adult took over the transmitter afterward. Contact continuing when the person holding the radio changed was one small improvement today.
New measurements arrived. The existing backup canister had 38 percent capacity remaining. The added temporary unit shared some of the load. Seo conservatively recalculated the current support range for both systems: roughly five to seven hours. Temperature, power, and actual activity could require another calculation.
“That’s sorbent support alone,” he told Haeseong. “It doesn’t mean everyone can safely wait that long despite the heat or medical needs.”
The first estimate of eight to eleven hours belonged to old conditions now. Darae did not delete earlier values; she folded them into measurement-time order. More than an hour had passed since verification began. They had learned faces, docked, and used one support item. None of that made time free.
The Safety Office was reviewing whether another rescue vessel could depart. Nobody could promise immediate arrival. If Narae moved first, they also needed support and contact arrangements for residents remaining. They could not leave every responsibility with one representative.
“Do I decide who goes first?” Haeseong asked.
“We’ll consider the medical assessment and actual transfer conditions together,” Mujin said. “We’ll explain to the people concerned and their guardians, and confirm their wishes. You won’t make the decision alone.”
Darae checked her list. Long-term relocation preferences and emergency-transfer consent had separate fields. Someone hoping to return to the main habitat had not changed their mind by moving somewhere cooler now. A future home and today’s body needed different decisions.
She closed her personal-baggage compartment. A barley-tea packet touched her palm. She had just been thinking that removing its little mass might let them carry something else. But a safe passenger restraint was different from the floor area left by an empty box. She secured the packet again and looked at the passenger area. Straps lay neatly against folded seats on the wall. They had to hold whoever sat there.
One strap end was twisted. From a permitted position, Darae straightened it and requested a condition check. Mujin added it to the assessment. While seeking room for more people, they also needed to make the existing places usable. She moved to the next strap.
The medical recommendation arrived with priority support requirements and transfer needs, without detailed identities. Two adults and two children—four people—needed prompt transfer assessment. Guardian-accompaniment requirements needed further checking.
Darae made four fields. She did not turn medical advice into confirmed boarding. Mujin opened Narae’s approved return seating plan. It already included their three operations and support positions.
Below them, three passenger places remained.
Darae looked at her name. Her first thought was that she could give up her place. But volunteering to stay without deciding where or under whose support would create another person needing rescue, rather than simply another seat.
Mujin saw her expression.
“Don’t erase a crew position. We review the return conditions first.”
She lifted her pen away. Wanting to help and planning a safe return could not be settled in the same field.
Haeseong prepared to explain the recommendation to the people concerned. This was no signature about returning to the main habitat. It was a question about bodies that could not wait as long and people who needed to travel together.
Thin reflections of Earth’s city lights crossed Narae’s window. Darae thought of the room holding twenty-three food containers. After assigning three seats, twenty people would remain. They needed a plan that did not turn the places people left into abandoned places.
A further check request arrived from the medical channel.
One child’s guardian said they could not send the child alone. That guardian was outside the four people marked for priority assessment.
Beside her four fields, Darae drew a place for a fifth person.