There is one thing, which I have more enough. So it's time to think now. First, about how to survive at least six and a half years waiting for a response from Earth in a compartment that is not equipped for life. Let's start with food. Especially since my stomach is already growling. It's good that the standard landing kit stored in personal lockers includes a liter bottle of water and a vacuum-packed dry ration. They are designed for cases where someone gets lost after landing on the planet and is found the next day. Nothing serious. But if you eat one every 1-2 days, it will last for 200-300 days. What to do after that? I don't know. The water situation is even worse... Even if I use only one liter a day, I can only last 200 days.
Nevertheless, I have to survive somehow. Pushing away the painful thoughts, I methodically examine the contents of the personal boxes, putting what I found into plastic boxes. Luckily, some candy's lovers put chocolate bars and candy bars in their personal belongings. So now I have 17 chocolate bars and a two-liter bottle of cola at my disposal. Not too bad. All this unhealthy crap will probably add a couple of weeks to my life.
I drag my supplies closer to my capsule, putting them in plastic containers from under my personal belongings. I sit on the edge of my open coffin and, chewing on my dry breakfast, continue to ponder. Another problem is the cold. The 10 degrees maintained by the thermocouple panels in the walls are perfect for electronics, but the temperature inside the cryocapsules is even lower, and I need at least 22 degrees to stay alive. What to do?
The solution comes to my mind along with a dose of sugar from the cola. A school physics course, a set of tools from the landing kit, and a little home electrical engineering. It should all work. But first, I need to haul some rags into the capsule and set up a place to sleep. I don't know how long I'll be gone.