The swirling vortex of Gargantua dominated the viewport, an abyss edged with a halo of distorted starlight. It was a breathtaking & terrifying sight, even through the Endurance’s reinforced windows. "Decades," Romilly murmured, his voice heavy. "If we go down to Miller's planet, we risk losing that much time. If we make a mistake, decades could pass back on Earth..." Cooper met Amelia's gaze across the table & a silent understanding passed between them. “We all knew this was part of the deal,” Doyle said. “Miller’s planet is the most viable candidate we’ve found. It’s close to the black hole, yes, but the data is clear—it has liquid water, a solid surface. It’s worth the risk.” “But Doyle… think about this.” Cooper immediately countered. “If we’re wrong about Miller’s planet, we’re wasting precious time. Time Earth doesn’t have. There’s more to think about here than just our fuel.” He pushed himself away from the table, moving closer to the screen projection of the system. "We’re making a decision with potentially catastrophic consequences based on a handful of readings." Coop’s eyes lingered on another marker, further out from the black hole. Mann’s signal. It had been silent for years, but the data sent before its dormancy was promising. "Mann's planet is further out," he said, turning back to face his crewmates, "which means no time dilation. If his readings were accurate..." Amelia nodded. "Mann's data is old,” she said, “and the planet’s closer to the accretion disk. But…" "We could be talking about a difference of years, decades even.” Cooper finished her thought. Doyle seemed to lose his temper then, "This is reckless! We’re deviating from the mission parameters based on… what exactly?" Cooper met his look head-on. “Hope and calculated risk, Doyle. We owe it to ourselves, to Earth, to not risk precious resources. Not just fuel, but time. Every moment we spend down there will cost us a great deal of that.” The silence in the Endurance was thick with tension. The fate of all humanity hinged on this one decision. "So," Coop finally said, breaking the silence, "what's it going to be? Do we stick to Miller’s planet and risk losing decades, or do we take a chance on Mann’s? I know where I stand.” Amelia stood, her voice calm but firm. “Cooper’s right about the time dilation—it’s a major factor. Mann’s planet has its own risks... If we find nothing…” “It’s not ideal, but it’s better than spending years to decades on Miller’s planet.” Romilly added. “We have to weigh the potential benefits. Miller’s planet offers immediate data on surface conditions, but long-term viability is unlikely.” Doyle’s jaw tightened. “And if it’s actually habitable?” “Then we’ll come back to it after we’ve investigated the other planets, assess its costs and benefits,” Coop said, his stare intense. Amelia nodded. “I vote we go to Mann’s planet. I agree—it’s the better long-term play.” Doyle’s fist struck the table with a resounding crack. His face grew flushed, eyes blazing with anger. “This is irresponsible!” he snarled. “We have protocols, data, a plan! We can’t just—” He sputtered, searching for words to contain his outrage. “We can’t throw it all away because of your feelings!” Romilly pushed his glasses higher on his nose. “Doyle, listen to what we’re saying to you. This is not about mere feelings.” Doyle spun to face him, “We are scientists, Romilly! We don’t make life-and-death decisions this way!” Cooper stepped closer, his voice taking on a frightening tone, “Enough, Doyle. We’re not just scientists. We’re a team. And we’re here for something more.” He leaned in, meeting Doyle’s glare with his own intensity. “We’re not just choosing for ourselves. We’re choosing for everyone back home.” Doyle erupted at that. “This is preposterous!” “We heard what you think!” Coop snapped back. The decision had been made, the die was cast. “We’re going to Mann’s planet. Now.”