Chen Hao rubbed his arms, feeling a chill creep up from his feet.

He shrank back, his hand touching the edge of the seat. Several patches of paint had chipped off, and it felt rough to the touch.

“If this keeps up, we’ll freeze into popsicles,” he said.

No one answered. The only light in the control room was the blue glow of the instrument panel, illuminating four pale faces. The air grew increasingly stuffy, and even breathing felt chilly.

Nana stood in front of the control panel and slid her finger across the panel.

“The oxygen system can last for another six hours,” she said. “But the temperature drops two degrees every half hour. After three hours it will be below the human body’s tolerance threshold.”

“That means you’ll either die from the heat or freeze to death,” Karl said, leaning against the wall, his voice hoarse. “The difference is that you don’t have to sweat now.”

Susan clutched her tool bag, her arm pressed against her chest. "We have to do something; we can't just sit here and wait."

"What are you doing?" Carl looked up. "The lights are all off, and you can't even see a screwdriver."

Chen Hao slapped his thigh and stood up, the movement so sudden he almost bumped his head on the sensor rack above him.

"Let's find something!" he said. "There's so much junk on the ship, surely something usable is there? We can't let this bunch of us die in a pile of scrap metal."

"Which way do you want to turn?" Susan asked.

“The warehouse,” he said. “It’s where we used to store supplies; there might still be some modules that haven’t been dismantled.”

Nana pulled up the ship's structural diagram, and light spots danced on her fingertips.

“There are three sealed compartments in Warehouse B that have no record of being opened,” she said. “Theoretically, this could contain spare components or discarded energy packs.”

"Theoretically?" Karl sneered. "Are we living off theories now?"

"What else?" Chen Hao shrugged. "You lie down and play dead, waiting for aliens to come and collect your corpse?"

Carl didn't say anything, but slowly stood up.

As the four of them passed through the transition cabin, the emergency lights in the corridor flickered briefly and then went out. The last stretch of the journey was entirely in darkness.

The warehouse door was stuck halfway and rusted shut.

Carl pulled a crowbar from his belt and struck the door twice, creating a crack in the door.

The room was filled with boxes, some of which had collapsed, revealing broken wires and shredded plastic.

“It’s like a garbage dump.” Susan kicked aside an overturned cabinet.

"Don't be picky, just pick what's usable." Chen Hao bent down and rummaged through a metal box. "We're not here for a picnic."

Karl crouched down next to a row of wrecked thrusters and reached out to touch the interface.

“These can still be stripped of some copper wire,” he said. “At least they can be used as conductors.”

Susan found a set of robot wreckage in a corner; the heads were missing, but the bodies were intact.

She pried open her chest cavity and took out a flat battery.

“The voltage is very low, but it’s not completely destroyed.” She held it up and looked at it. “If we put it together, maybe we can make a temporary power source.”

Nana took the battery and scanned it in her palm.

“It can be modified into an inefficient energy converter,” she said. “With the right circuit board, it can provide a small but continuous output.”

"How much is considered a trace amount?" Chen Hao asked.

"Enough to light a lamp or turn on a small fan."

“That’s better than nothing,” Chen Hao grinned. “At least we won’t be biting each other in the dark.”

Carl snorted and continued stuffing parts into the bag.

Susan put the battery into her tool bag and turned to rummage through another box.

Chen Hao leaned against a pile of wooden crates, catching his breath. He picked up a circuit board and examined it in the dim light filtering through the cracks.

"What do you think we are?" he suddenly asked, "An interstellar scavenging team?"

“A little better than a beggar.” Carl didn’t even look up. “At least beggars bring their own bowls.”

“I think it’s pretty cool.” Chen Hao clipped the circuit board to his ear. “Future textbooks will say: the last spark of human civilization is being kept alive by a bunch of madmen using scrap.”

Susan smiled, then quickly covered her mouth.

Nana had already squatted down and started assembling the parts. Her fingers moved so fast they were almost invisible as she connected an old motherboard, two batteries, and a piece of copper wire.

“The prototype device can be completed in ten minutes,” she said.

"Then hurry up." Chen Hao sat down next to her. "I'm afraid I'll freeze before I become a cosmic celebrity."

Suddenly, a tremor came from beneath my feet.

It started very softly, like distant thunder. Then the entire cabin shook, and the pipes overhead creaked.

"An earthquake?" Susan leaned against the wall.

Nana suddenly looked up and put down the device in her hand.

“Something’s not right,” she said. “The external gravitational field is abnormal.”

She rushed back to the main control room, followed by the others.

As soon as the main screen lit up, a red light burst out.

A line of text scrolled rapidly: [High-intensity cosmic storm detected, distance 0.3 light-minutes, gravitational waves have reached the ship's hull]

"What does that mean?" Chen Hao stared at the screen.

“A storm is coming.” Nana’s finger swept across the data stream. “Level seven, rapidly approaching.”

"Can we dodge?" Carl grabbed the edge of the console.

“We can’t change direction,” she said. “The engine doesn’t have enough power to support the trajectory deviation.”

The words had barely left his mouth when the ship lurched violently, and everyone stumbled a few steps. A loosely secured monitor detached from the wall and shattered on the ground.

"Secure something!" Chen Hao shouted. "Don't let it fly up and hit people!"

Carl grabbed the safety rope and lunged toward the main control panel. He looped the rope around the support frame and tightened it securely.

Susan rushed to the navigation module and pressed her hands against the core interface to prevent it from loosening.

Nana switched modes in the system and manually locked the heading parameters.

Another violent shaking ensued, and the lights went out completely, leaving only the faint red glow of the emergency lights.

“The storm’s gravity is increasing,” Nana said. “The ship’s structure is under critical pressure.”

"How much longer can we hold on?" Susan asked.

“I don’t know.” Nana looked at the readings. “If the intensity continues to rise, the shell may crack within twenty minutes.”

"Then let's not talk so much." Chen Hao grabbed the handrail to steady himself. "Get to work!"

He dragged over a metal table and used it to brace against the swaying equipment cabinet. The cabinet was still shaking, but he held it firmly with his shoulder.

After securing the control panel, Carl turned to reinforce the power supply box.

Susan endured the pain in her arm and carefully inserted the data cables back into the lock slots one by one.

Nana kept adjusting the system's balance, calling out the parameters aloud.

"Port pressure is increasing...stabilizing...slight displacement of the starboard cooling pipe, now locked."

The ship's hull emitted a metallic, twisting sound, as if it were about to tear apart at any moment.

Another wave of impact hit, and Chen Hao was thrown out, his back slamming against the wall.

He coughed, got up, and continued to push the table forward.

“This thing is harder to set up than a gym,” he said, panting. “At least the air conditioning is on there.”

Susan tossed him a rope: "Tie it up, so you don't fly away."

Chen Hao tied the rope around his waist and wrapped the other end around a pillar.

“Do I look like a pig waiting to be slaughtered?” he asked.

“More like it than before,” Karl retorted.

Nana suddenly raised her voice: "The storm's center is approaching ahead of schedule! The estimated contact time has been shortened to eight minutes!"

“What can you do in eight minutes?” Susan gritted her teeth. “You can’t even finish tightening a screw.”

"At least don't let it bring us down." Chen Hao gripped the armrest and stared at the main screen. "Right now, whoever falls loses."

The ship's tilt angle has increased, so you have to walk at an angle on the ground.

Carl climbed to the cargo hold entrance and inspected the door frame joint. There were already small cracks there.

He took out his tools and forcibly tightened several loose bolts.

“If this door collapses, the entire section behind it will be exposed,” he said.

"Then don't let it collapse." Susan came over to help, handing over a wrench.

Nana kept operating the console, her fingers never stopping.

“We could try injecting a reverse stabilizing flow,” she said. “That might alleviate some of the oscillations.”

"Will it work?" Chen Hao asked.

You'll only know once you try.

She pressed the confirm button.

The ship shook even more violently, as if it had been hit hard by something.

The alarm didn't go off—there wasn't enough power, so the system didn't even bother with an alarm.

But everyone felt that the ship was sinking, as if it were being pulled into an abyss by a giant hand.

"That last moment..." Carl said, leaning against the wall, "Did you bump into something?"

“It wasn’t an impact.” Nana stared at the data. “It was a gravitational tidal effect. The storm created local spatial folds, and we got caught in them.”

"What should we do then?" Susan asked.

“Keep the structure intact,” she said. “Wait for it to pass. Or…”

"Or what?"

"Or we can just break it apart first."

Chen Hao chuckled, his laughter trembling slightly.

“I said I wanted to be a cosmic celebrity,” he said, “but it all fell apart before I even debuted.”

Another violent shaking occurred.

A beam on the top of the main control cabin emitted a screeching sound as it slowly bent downwards.

Nana looked up.

“The support point is about to fail,” she said.

Chen Hao let go of the handrail and walked in that direction.

"I'll take over."

“You can’t hold on,” Carl shouted.

"Am I not heavy?" Chen Hao grinned. "Being fat has its advantages."

He climbed onto a workbench, raised his hands, and forcefully supported the beam.

The metal was still pressing down, and his arms began to tremble.

Susan untied her bra strap and tossed it to him.

"Tie it on! Don't let it fall!"

Chen Hao wrapped the belt around the crossbeam and tied it around himself.

“I’m a human support now,” he said. “Repair costs are separate.”

Nana continued operating the system, swiping her finger across the interface.

The data stream was scrolling wildly.

The storm outside did not weaken; instead, it grew stronger.

The ship made a sickeningly loud noise, as if it might break in two at any moment.

Carl shouted at the cargo hold door, "The door frame can't hold up!"

Susan rushed over immediately.

Nana looked up at the main screen.

The storm intensity value is still rising.

Chen Hao looked up at the beam that was about to break, and his throat moved.

“I said…” his voice was a little hoarse, “If we really can’t survive, could you throw me out?”

"Why?" Susan asked, turning around.

“Space burial is pretty cool,” he said. “You don’t even need to carve a tombstone; the whole universe knows—the unluckiest underachiever is floating here.”