The vibrations beneath the seat grew stronger, and a low hum emanated from the storage tank at the bottom. A flash of red light, and the mechanical arm swiftly extended, its joints locking in sequence, as the silver-white figure stood up.

Nana's fingers swiped across the control panel, the movements so fast they were almost invisible. A few seconds later, the cabin's rotation slowed noticeably, as if it had been pulled out of its frantic swing by an invisible hand.

"Inertial buffering has been activated." Her voice remained unchanged. "We are expected to be out of the wormhole's influence in five minutes."

Chen Hao leaned against the handrail, his face pressed against the cold metal edge, his stomach churning. Just as he was about to catch his breath, his body suddenly swayed, as if he had been thrown into a washing machine, his internal organs shifting out of place.

"I...can't take it anymore..." His throat tightened, and when he opened his mouth, a sour, foul-smelling liquid sprayed out from the edge of his mask, coalescing into a swaying sphere under microgravity.

Nana reacted quickly, lightly tapping the side button. A thin stream of air blew out from the gap in the bulkhead, gently pushing the vomit towards the filter grille in the corner.

"The airway system is functioning normally," she said. "The airway is clear."

Chen Hao, panting heavily, pressed his forehead against the armrest: "This isn't an escape... this is interstellar torture!"

“Vestibular system disorders caused by spatial distortion are common,” she said, adjusting her posture parameters. “Your weight increases the intensity of the inner ear pressure response.”

"So you're saying I'm more prone to dizziness because I'm fat?" He looked up, his face full of accusation. "Is your AI secretly recording my embarrassing moments?"

“The data objectively exists.” She paused. “Would you like to hear an analysis of the heart rate variability curve?”

"No, no, no!" he quickly waved his hand. "I can't even stand the noise of my own heartbeat right now."

The cabin suddenly shook violently, as if it had hit an invisible wall. The overhead lights flickered twice, the navigation screen went black for half a second, and then lit up again with a blurry star trail map.

"What's going on?" Chen Hao gripped the seatbelt, his voice rising. "Are we going to fall apart?"

“Non-structural damage.” Nana stared at the recovered data stream. “It’s in the spatial compression phase before crossing the critical point, lasting about three minutes.”

"Compression? That sounds like they're going to shove me into a juicer." He swallowed hard. "That star system you mentioned... has nobody actually been there?"

“No official maps have been recorded,” she said. “The gravity model shows that the region is operating independently, with no signal transmission records.”

Chen Hao grinned: "An unregistered planet, huh... So, does that mean we've entered illegally?"

“The law does not apply to unknown coordinates,” she said. “And currently, no law enforcement agency can track them down.”

“Yeah, right.” He leaned back in his chair and grinned. “Then we’re practically space fugitives now, with nowhere to put our wanted posters.”

Before he could finish speaking, the escape pod shook violently again, this time as if something had slammed into it from below. Chen Hao bounced up and then slammed back down, his buttocks almost breaking through the seat.

"Ouch!" he exclaimed, clutching his back. "This is way more thrilling than a roller coaster! And it's one without safety bars!"

"It is recommended to maintain a fixed posture," Nana advised. "The next peak of disturbance will arrive in forty-seven seconds."

"You're giving us a heads-up?" he glared. "Can't you add a 'surprise do not disturb' mode?"

"No," she answered decisively.

Another violent jolt followed, the bulkhead groaning like metal fatigue. Chen Hao, eyes closed, began to mutter incoherently, "I should never have taken this job... X-9 cargo transport, only three thousand credits... not even enough to buy a new set of internal organs..."

“You signed an emergency transfer order,” Nana suddenly said. “The system log shows that you accepted the task because you lost a bet.”

Chen Hao suddenly opened his eyes: "Who told you that?!"

“It’s an internal company communication archive,” she said calmly. “You declared in the cafeteria, ‘Even if the spaceship explodes, I’ll still come out alive,’ and the supervisor recorded it and used it as a basis for your performance evaluation.”

"That was a drunken remark!" he gritted his teeth. "And the supervisor never said anything about issuing a company-wide notice!"

“But you did complete seventeen transport missions without a single major accident,” she said. “Until today.”

"What's wrong with me today?" he asked, his neck stiff. "I'm still alive today, aren't I?"

"Alive." She nodded. "And vomited twice, had a heart rate exceeding the limit three times, and cursed the dispatch center twenty-one times."

“That means I have a lot of vitality!” He pouted defiantly, “Look at you, you don’t even need to breathe, how would you know the fun of us carbon-based life forms?”

"Fun?" She tilted her head slightly. "Your expression just now didn't fall into the category of happiness."

“That’s because you don’t understand humans.” He wiped his face. “When you’re in extreme pain, you have to laugh, or you’ll really go crazy—that’s called mental self-preservation, understand?”

“The logic holds true,” she said, “but it’s less effective than taking sedatives directly.”

"Pills can't cure mental exhaustion," he sighed. "Besides, I didn't bring any."

The cabin jolted violently once more, even more violently than before. Chen Hao felt like his intestines were about to fly out of his mouth, and he quickly closed his eyes and shouted, "Why didn't anyone tell me before we came that going through a wormhole is just like riding a tractor on a winding mountain road!"

“Civilian-grade escape capsules do not have optimized features for a smooth passage,” she said. “The design purpose is to ‘get out alive,’ not ‘a comfortable experience.’”

"So this is just a tin can with a rocket booster?" He opened his eyes. "No wonder it was shaking my brain so much."

“Simple structure means lower failure rate,” she added. “Complex systems tend to be more prone to failure.”

"For example, the time I took my driving test," he said with a wry smile. "I failed the second part of the test five times. The last time, my instructor said I was turning the steering wheel like I was having a cramp."

“You’re holding on very firmly now,” she said.

Chen Hao looked down and saw his hands gripping the armrests tightly, his knuckles white. He chuckled awkwardly, "I'm just afraid of flying out..."

“Fear is a normal reaction,” she said, “but excessive stress can impair judgment.”

“I know.” He took a deep breath. “But the problem is, right now I can’t do anything but hold onto these two handles.”

“You can try to relax,” she said. “For example, recall some peaceful scenes.”

"Calm?" He rolled his eyes. "All I can think about right now is the taste of energy bars mixed with stomach acid—do you call that calm?"

"It is recommended to change the memory material."

"I can't change it!" he wailed. "The most peaceful thing in my life is when no one knocks on the door while I take a nap, but now all I hear are alarms!"

The alarm suddenly changed tone, from a short, sharp beep to a sustained, long sound. The star trails on the screen began to distort and stretch, like an oil painting smeared with a finger.

"An increase in spatial fold density has been detected." Nana looked up. "The final stage is about to begin."

"How much longer?" Chen Hao swallowed.

"Three minutes and seventeen seconds."

"So accurate?" he exclaimed in surprise. "Are you hiding a cosmic alarm clock?"

"Based on calculations using gravitational wave frequencies," she said, "the error is no more than 0.3 seconds."

"Wow." He gave a thumbs up. "So, guess if I'll throw up again in the next second?"

“The probability is 62 percent,” she said. “The referral process has already been initiated.”

"You're so thoughtful." He rolled his eyes. "Next time, could you at least include a plastic bag?"

“These items are not included in the cargo inventory,” she said. “But filter storage bags can be temporarily modified.”

"Never mind, never mind." He waved his hand. "Everything looks like a vomit can to me now."

The cabin jolted abruptly, as if it had crashed into a viscous liquid. The light and shadow outside the window stretched into thin lines, then suddenly exploded, transforming into a chaotic vortex. The gravitational field fluctuations intensified, and the cushioning device under the seat constantly adjusted its angle, emitting a faint clicking sound.

Chen Hao closed his eyes tightly: "This feeling... is like being stuffed into a washing machine in spin cycle, and it also stirs up the agitation function."

“The analogy is apt,” she said. “The current acceleration is about nine and a half times the standard force of gravity.”

"I knew it!" he screamed. "Earth's gravity raised me, and now it's going to send me to my death!"

“You are not dead,” she said. “Your vital signs are still within a safe range.”

"But I'm almost there!" he gritted his teeth. "If this keeps going on, I won't be meeting aliens, I'll be meeting the King of Hell first!"

“The King of Hell is not included in the database,” she said. “It is impossible to confirm whether his office accepts appointments across galaxies.”

"You're quite serious about this." He chuckled, panting. "If I can still move after we get out, I'll definitely get you a humor upgrade package."

“No need,” she said. “My core program does not support an emotion module.”

“But you just told a lame joke.” He narrowed his eyes. “Admit it, you secretly added some drama.”

“I’m just stating the facts.” Her gaze swept across the screen. “Countdown, thirty seconds.”

The cabin began to vibrate at a high frequency, as if metal were being cut by a high-frequency chainsaw. Chen Hao was pressed against the seat, unable to move.

"Hey... Nana..." he said with difficulty, "If we really can't get out this time..."

“We’ll go out,” she interrupted.

“I mean, if,” he insisted.

“There are no ifs,” she said. “I have calculated 3,729 paths, all of which point to a successful escape.”

"Can't you just cooperate with the last words part?" he said helplessly.

“A will is meaningless,” she said. “It’s better to think about how to live after you’re laid to rest.”

"You're already thinking about the next step before we've even landed?" He smiled wryly. "Your robot has a better plan than I do."

“Because I don’t sleep,” she said.

“Alright, you win.” He closed his eyes. “It’s the last minute. Let me quietly enjoy this cosmic-level shoulder-shaking dance.”

Nana didn't speak again, but stood in front of the control panel, the blue light flashing steadily. Her fingers were still fine-tuning the parameters, ensuring the attitude axis was precisely aligned.

Outside the window, the distorted light and shadow gradually coalesced into a bright outline of an exit. The star trails reappeared, unfamiliar yet no longer chaotic.

“Ten seconds,” she said.

Chen Hao gripped the handrail tightly, clenching his teeth.

"five."

The cabin accelerated forward.

"three."

A smile suddenly appeared on his lips.

"two."

"This trip... was worth the price of admission."

"one."

The escape pod shot out of the wormhole like an arrow, and the deep crack behind it slowly closed, eventually disappearing into the void.

Ahead, a dark red star burns silently, surrounded by several planets of various shapes. One of these planets, a blue-green hue, is slowly rotating, its atmosphere glowing faintly at the edge.

Chen Hao gazed at the planet and murmured:

"You said... does that place offer takeout?"