Chen Hao's hand was still on the orbital control lever, his knuckles slightly white from the force. The vibration from the thruster ignition traveled up the floor, making the whole ship seem to sneeze.

“Orbit correction complete.” Nana’s voice was flat. “New course has been locked onto the signal source. Estimated arrival time is two hours and seventeen minutes.”

Carl stared at the energy meter, his brow furrowed: "Fuel consumption is nine percent higher than planned."

"It's not going to save us any money." Chen Hao loosened his grip and flexed his wrist. "That thing isn't going to fly to our doorstep by itself."

“Assuming it actually exists.” Carl looked down at the route map. “We’re on a dead end right now. If the signal is fake, or it’s already drifted away, we won’t be able to catch up with the original route when we go around in circles.”

"Do you have a better idea?" Chen Hao turned to look at him.

Carl didn't say anything.

Nana interjected: "The current signal can still be captured, although it is intermittent, but the coordinate changes are minimal, so the probability of identifying it as a stationary or slow-drifting target is 82 percent."

"Look," Chen Hao grinned, "even the robot says it's worth a try."

“I’m not questioning the decision,” Carl said, putting away the blueprints. “I’m just reminding you that we’re gambling with every step we take now.”

"Isn't life all about gambling and trying to survive?" Chen Hao slapped the control panel. "I didn't even copy correctly on my last exam, but I still made it this far."

No one responded.

The spaceship continued forward, passing through a dimly lit area. The once clear starlight outside the porthole began to blur, as if covered by a layer of gray mist.

"High-energy particle stream detected," Nana suddenly said. "The intensity exceeds the safety threshold. Activation of the magnetic deflection shield is recommended."

"Start it." Chen Hao nodded.

The system buzzed, and the hull trembled slightly as the shield deployed. On the main screen, the ship's outline was enveloped in a pale blue halo, like an incomplete eggshell.

“Some sensors are malfunctioning,” Nana continued, “Navigation accuracy has dropped by 30 percent, and we need to manually calibrate the heading.”

“That’s what I’m worried about.” Carl walked to the secondary control room. “The old system can’t withstand the high-intensity protection; the cooling module has already started to alarm.”

"Turn off unnecessary equipment." Chen Hao pressed several switches directly. "Turn the lighting to the lowest setting, stop the temperature control, and don't use the entertainment system either."

"Including my joke database?" he added.

“If you think telling corny jokes is a necessary function, then keep it.” Carl said without looking up.

"Never mind, saving your life is the most important thing."

The three fell silent. The spaceship moved slowly through the radiation cloud, the alarm sounding intermittently, only to be quickly silenced by Nana. Every few minutes, Karl adjusted the ship's attitude to prevent it from veering off course due to magnetic field disturbances.

"This place looks like an abandoned junkyard." Chen Hao looked at the gray expanse outside. "You can't even see a decent star."

“This area was once part of the old interstellar shipping lanes,” Nana said. “After a major collision thirty years ago, the debris spread and formed a radiation belt, which most ships chose to detour around.”

"No wonder it's so dilapidated." Chen Hao stroked his chin. "If only we could salvage some scrap metal and sell it for money."

“We’re practically scrap metal ourselves.” Carl glanced at the power panel. “The backup line in section B is leaking electricity again, and the insulation is severely aged.”

"Can it still be repaired?"

“For now, yes.” Carl got up to get his toolbox. “Just wrap it with insulation, enough to get through this area.”

He squatted down at the inspection port, dismantling the hull with practiced ease. Chen Hao handed him a roll of silver materials and casually asked, "How many more years do you think our ship can survive?"

“At the current rate of wear and tear, it will take at most three years,” Carl said as he wound the thread, “provided there are no more major problems.”

"Three years is enough for me to finish college," Chen Hao laughed. "It's a pity that my diploma might not be sent to deep space."

"You didn't even register."

"That's not important."

Carl tightened the last roll of tape and closed the cover. Just as he stood up, the alarm on the main screen lit up again.

"A dense stream of micrometeorites has been detected ahead." Nana spoke faster. "They range in diameter from five to eighty centimeters, and their trajectories are irregular, making them impossible for the automatic avoidance system to handle completely."

"Damn." Chen Hao leaned closer to the screen. "This isn't stone, it's broken wall!"

"I suggest using a low-speed serpentine approach." Nana brought up the path simulation map. "Update the safety window every three minutes, and have Karl manually adjust the thrusters."

"You want me to do it again?" Carl rubbed his eyes. "I've been watching for seven hours straight."

"Otherwise what?" Chen Hao shrugged. "Nana can't touch the control stick, and I'll just keep pressing the wrong buttons."

Carl sighed and sat back in the driver's seat.

The spaceship began to slowly twist and turn, like a snake crawling in the mud. Each short thrust caused the hull to tremble slightly, and occasionally a muffled "thud" could be heard as a small piece of meteorite struck the shield.

“A crack has appeared in the port side window,” Nana reported. “The impact point was in the third block. It did not penetrate, but the structural integrity has decreased by 45 percent.”

"Don't tell me it's going to explode suddenly." Chen Hao stared at the thin line.

“The probability is less than 10 percent,” Nana said. “But if there is another impact of the same intensity, the risk rises to 68 percent.”

“Then don’t let it crash.” Carl gritted his teeth. “Next window, 15 degrees to the right, advance 0.3 seconds.”

"Push it." Chen Hao pressed the command.

The ship jolted, narrowly avoiding a tumbling rock. The thing grazed the shield, making a screeching sound.

“That piece was at least half a meter long.” Chen Hao swallowed. “If it had been solid, we would have had to drink vacuum-sealed water.”

"Speak less," Carl said, staring at the screen. "Save your energy."

Time passed slowly. Seven hours later, Carl's hands began to tremble. His forehead was covered in sweat, and the back of his work clothes was soaked.

“I say,” he suddenly spoke, his voice a little hoarse, “what if this signal is just a looping broadcast from some defunct detector? Aren’t we risking the entire ship?”

The cabin fell silent instantly.

Chen Hao didn't answer immediately. He turned back and retrieved the initial signal record, finding that line of parameters amidst a jumble of random characters.

“Look at this,” he said, pointing to the screen. “The valve part number is exactly the same as the one on our ship. This part model has been discontinued for a long time. Do you think there could be two identical drifting objects in space?”

Carl didn't say anything.

Nana added: "The probability of similar parts surviving in deep space is 1.7 out of 10,000, and the probability of them reappearing and matching signals is less than 0.3 out of 1,000."

"It sounds like they're saying we're incredibly lucky." Carl leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes for a moment.

“It wasn’t luck,” Chen Hao said. “It was because we finally hit the right rhythm.”

Carl opened his eyes, glanced at him, and said, "Go for another two hours. If we don't see him, turn back."

"Okay." Chen Hao smiled. "Let's take a gamble."

The spacecraft continued its journey. After passing through the final asteroid-dense zone, the external alarms gradually decreased. The shields deactivated, and the lights regained some brightness.

"The signal strength has improved slightly," Nana said. "The distance has been reduced to 3.2 optical centimeters, and the source remains stable."

"Looks like he wasn't lying to us." Chen Hao stretched, his bones cracking.

"Don't get too excited yet." Carl was still checking the system status. "There's still turbulence ahead, and communication might be interrupted."

"As long as it's still there, that's fine." Chen Hao stared at the red dot on the star map. "We're looking for more than just a part."

What is it?

“It’s an option to survive,” he said. “You can’t live on duct tape and cooling pads forever, can you?”

Carl did not refute this further.

The three re-entered monitoring mode. The spaceship advanced smoothly, passing through a relatively open area. In the distance, a dark red star slowly rotated, its reflection on the porthole resembling a piece of cooled charcoal.

Chen Hao suddenly remembered something and pulled out the notepad covered in jokes from his pocket. The corners of the paper were crumpled, and the writing had been blurred in several places by sweat.

He looked at it for a while, then tore off a line and stuffed it into the gap in the control panel.

"To keep as a souvenir," he said.

Nana suddenly spoke up: "New signal fluctuation detected, the frequency is the same as before, but the duration has increased by forty percent."

"Is it responding to us?" Chen Hao sat up straight.

“I’m not sure,” she said, “but the signal source hasn’t moved, and the technical parameters are still being repeatedly transmitted.”

Carl stood up and walked to the main screen.

“A little further ahead,” he said. “If we haven’t found the target within two hours, we’ll—”

Before he could finish speaking, the main light flickered.

The three of them looked up at the same time.