Tatehan stood there in the middle of the main cabin, surrounded by his tools and the evidence of his hard work, feeling the exhausting aftermath of the day's work and decision pressing down on him.

His entire body ached from two consecutive days of intensive manual labor. His hands were sore and stiff, his fingers slightly swollen from gripping tools for extended periods. His back was stiff from bending over access panels and working in awkward positions. His shoulders burned from the strain of working overhead and climbing around the ship's exterior. And his mind was utterly exhausted from hours upon hours of precise, careful work that had demanded his complete focus and attention.

Who would have thought he'd be capable of doing something like this?

This wasn't just normal work like replacing light bulbs or fixing a leaky faucet. This wasn't even like the basic electrical wiring repairs people did on Earth—running new cables through walls or replacing outlet boxes.

This was something entirely different. This was advanced spacecraft engineering. Alien technology, or at least technology centuries beyond anything Earth had possessed before the Great Space Dragon War. Multi-layered systems where every component connected to and affected dozens of other components. Power distribution networks that operated on principles he didn't fully understand. Shield generators that manipulated energy fields in ways that defied his basic physics knowledge. Precision calibration work measured in fractions of degrees where a single mistake could cascade through the entire system and cause catastrophic failures.

The complexity was staggering. Each repair had required understanding not just the individual component he was working on, but how it integrated with the broader system. How the power conduits fed energy to secondary systems. How the shield emitters coordinated with each other to create overlapping defensive fields. How the energy coils needed to maintain specific resistance levels to ensure proper power distribution without overheating.

And somehow, with the AI's patient guidance and his enhanced brain he'd actually done it. He'd successfully repaired systems that should have been completely beyond his capabilities.

That realization was both satisfying and surprising.

And after all that physical and mental exhaustion, he was supposed to make major life decisions?

With a heavy sigh that seemed to come from the depths of his soul, Tatehan decided firmly that he wasn't going to make any major decisions right now while he was this tired and mentally drained. Decisions made in exhaustion were rarely good decisions.

He'd take a bath first. Clean off the layers of sweat and grime and accumulated exhaustion from the past two days. Then he'd eat something substantial, not ration bars or bread and butter, but actual properly cooked food. Then he'd sleep for as long as his body needed, no alarms, no schedule, nothing to wake him if he wasn't yet to do so, just pure rest.

And after all of that, once he was rested and thinking clearly with a refreshed mind, he'd figure out his future plans with proper consideration.

The spaceship could wait. The decision about where to live could wait. The question of whether to stay here or move to the city could wait.

Thinking clearly was another intricate process on its own, one that required energy and mental clarity he simply didn't have right now.

Right now, what he needed most was basic self-care, the fundamental maintenance of his own body and mind.

"I'm going to take a bath," Tatehan announced to the AI, beginning to gather up the various tools scattered around the cabin floor and returning them to their designated place in the storage compartment room.

As he worked, placing each tool back in its slot, he couldn't help but think about how he'd never even known this storage compartment room existed until the AI had directed him to it. He'd been living on this spaceship for two full months, and he'd had absolutely no idea there was an entire hidden tool storage area built into the wall.

What other hidden compartments and spaces existed throughout the vessel that he hadn't discovered yet? Were there other storage areas? Additional equipment caches? Maybe even specialized rooms for purposes he couldn't imagine?

A amusing thought crossed his mind: maybe there was even a gym somewhere, an exercise space with weights and training equipment. That would certainly be useful for maintaining physical fitness during long space voyages. Perhaps when he eventually restored the spaceship fully to operational status, he'd discover spaces like that. Training facilities, recreational areas, maybe even a proper medical bay instead of just basic first aid supplies.

The spaceship was clearly designed for extended missions with a full crew. There had to be more to it than just the basic areas he'd discovered so far.

[Understood,] the AI replied to his announcement. [You've earned it. Take all the time you need.]

Tatehan sealed the tool storage compartment, watching as it became a seamless section of wall once again, then walked toward the hygiene station.

As he walked towards the hygiene station, his mind continued to turn over the various possibilities and options for his future, but more distantly now, without the urgent pressure to decide anything immediately.

Maybe he'd stay here at the crash site for another week or two while he explored housing options in Waython Hollow city. Maybe he'd talk to Riven in detail about the housing situation there, get her honest perspective on what living in the city was actually like day-to-day—the costs, the complications, the benefits, the drawbacks.

Maybe he'd use the communication device to message the commander and ask more specific questions about what living at the Red Crest Clan compound would actually entail on a practical level. What would be expected of him? How often would he be called upon for missions? Would he have his own space and privacy, or would it be more communal?

Or maybe, once he was properly rested and thinking more clearly with a refreshed mind, a completely different option would occur to him that he hadn't even considered yet. Some solution he couldn't see right now through the fog of exhaustion.

Some divine intervention, perhaps!

Thinking about it more, he realized something about himself that had been true since childhood. Anytime he thought about something too deeply and too intensely, trying to force an answer or decision, he never reached a satisfying conclusion. His mind would just spin in circles, considering the same options repeatedly without making progress.

The only time he actually achieved clear answers to his deep thinking was when he deliberately took his mind off the problem entirely. When he stopped consciously trying to solve it.

For example, he'd be in the shower, just relaxing and not thinking about anything in particular, and suddenly the answer would appear fully formed in his mind. Or late at night, lying in bed in that space between waking and sleeping, a solution would present itself out of nowhere.

Unexpectedly! Perfectly clear!

Some divine intervention indeed!

It was crazy how the human mind worked that way. Or maybe it was just his particular brain. Either way, he'd learned to trust that process. When faced with difficult decisions, the best approach was often to stop actively thinking about them and let his subconscious work on the problem.

The future was genuinely uncertain, but at least now it was uncertain with multiple viable options rather than uncertain with pure desperation and no path forward. That represented real progress.

Tatehan placed his hand on the hygiene station access panel, and the door slid open smoothly and silently.

He stepped inside the compact space, activated the nozzle system with a mental command, and finally—finally!—allowed himself to truly relax as warm water began to cascade over him from multiple angles simultaneously.

The water pressure was absolutely perfect, neither too weak nor too forceful. The temperature was exactly right, hot enough to soothe his aching muscles without being uncomfortable. And for the first time in days, Tatehan felt the accumulated tension in his muscles beginning to genuinely release and dissolve.

He stood there motionless for a long time, much longer than was probably necessary for basic hygiene purposes, just letting the water work its simple therapeutic magic on his exhausted body.

Tomorrow, he'd figure out his life and make concrete decisions about where to live and what to do next with his situation.

But tonight, right now, he'd earned the simple luxury of not thinking about anything except the physical sensation of hot water and the profound satisfaction of a difficult job completed successfully.

Forty-six repair points. The threshold finally reached after months of struggle. The spaceship secured, or at least securable, whenever he chose to make that final decision to transfer it to his system space.

Even though he hadn't actually moved the spaceship into his inventory yet despite having reached the required threshold to do so, he decided that all the work had been worth it in the end.

The physical suffering and all the mental strain and slight pain that had come with the intensive repair work, all of it had been worth the achievement and the security it provided.

After everything he'd been through over these months, after all the risks and desperate struggles and multiple near-death experiences, he'd actually accomplished something that had seemed completely impossible when he'd first started.

That was definitely worth celebrating, even if the celebration was nothing more elaborate than a long, hot bath and the promise of a good night's sleep.

Tatehan closed his eyes and let the cascading water wash away everything, the physical exhaustion, the mental worry, the constant pressure of survival that had been weighing on him since he'd first woken up in this strange new life.

For this particular moment, at least, everything was okay. Not perfect, not completely resolved, but okay to a reasonable extent.

And that was enough for now, especially considering he still had hopes for that divine intervention to provide clarity on his future decisions.

After he'd thoroughly bathed and felt clean for the first time in days, Tatehan dried off and dressed in comfortable sleeping clothes from the wardrobe in the sleeping area.

But despite his exhaustion, his stomach was growling insistently, reminding him that he'd eaten nothing but a ration bar and some bread since breakfast many hours ago.

He headed to the kitchen area and decided on something more substantial for dinner. He found a sealed container of preserved beans in the storage (actual beans!) along with some dried vegetables, spices, and what appeared to be a tomato-based sauce concentrate.

He prepared a proper meal, cooking the beans with the vegetables and sauce, adding seasonings to taste, letting everything simmer together until it smelled absolutely delicious.

When he finally sat down to eat, the simple bean dish tasted like the best meal he'd had in weeks.

He ate slowly, savoring each bite.

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