Chen Hao was awakened by a slight tremor. He was floating in the rest area's compartment, his sleeping bag swaying back and forth against the cabin wall. Outside, the system self-check notification beeped twice, like someone typing on a keyboard.
He rubbed his eyes, not moving immediately, and glanced at his watch first. It had been less than three hours since he lay down. Logically, he shouldn't have woken up so soon.
But he knew why.
The signal is still ringing.
He remembered what he had said before going to sleep—if it suddenly started singing, he must wake him up. Now he wasn't sure if he had really heard the singing, but his body was awake and his mind was working.
He unbuckled his sleeping bag, slowly floated out, and moved along the handrail toward the main control cabin. The corridor lights were dim, with only the emergency strips emitting a faint blue glow, illuminating a corner of the control panel ahead.
Nana stood there, her back to the door, her finger slid across the panel. The screen was lit, the waveform jumping, the rhythm more stable than before, but the frequency had changed. It wasn't a large fluctuation, but a subtle, almost imperceptible adjustment, like someone quietly changing the alarm clock's time.
Chen Hao leaned against the door and said, "It's changed again?"
Nana turned and glanced at him. "You're awake."
"Of course I can sleep, how could I?" He sidled up to the control panel, staring at the jumper wire. "Did this thing stop working just now?"
“The 47th pulse was delayed by 1.2 seconds,” she said. “The 51st pulse returned to the original cycle, and the 53rd pulse shortened by 0.7 seconds again. The probability of non-random fluctuation is 93.6%.”
"So..." Chen Hao grinned, "it's not having a fit of madness, it's talking?"
“It’s not certain whether it’s language behavior.” She paused, “but it’s certain that its output pattern is responding to some external variable.”
"Like us?"
"The possibility exists."
Chen Hao stroked his chin and suddenly chuckled. "I knew it was waiting for me."
“You didn’t do anything to change it,” Nana said.
“But I’m here.” He patted the chair. “As long as I’m listening, it knows someone is listening. That’s enough.”
He sat down, pulled over a secondary screen, and began adjusting the data stream. He scanned through the fuel level, flight path deviation, and spatial curvature readings, line by line. Carl's previous flight log was also there; the last entry read: **Gravity disturbance risk level b-3, recommended avoidance radius of at least 80,000 kilometers**.
"Looks like I'll have to take a detour," he said.
"Do you want to get closer?" Nana asked.
“Of course.” He looked up. “Don’t you think it would be a shame to give up now? It’s already starting to change its tune. If we don’t take action now, it might shut down completely next time.”
“Approaching means entering an unmapped area,” she said. “Automatic navigation fails, and manual corrections become more difficult. Carl has assessed that in such areas, turbulence could cause stress on the ship to exceed safety thresholds.”
“Then let’s not go full speed ahead.” Chen Hao tapped the screen. “Let’s take it one step at a time. Let’s deviate by 0.5 degrees first, drive 100,000 kilometers, stop and check everything. If there are no problems, then move on to the next section. It’s like playing a game, clearing one dungeon after another.”
Nana was silent for a few seconds. "The plan improves risk controllability by 41%, and resource consumption is below the threshold, which is in line with the principle of cautious exploration."
"Then why don't you go and call Carl?" he laughed. "Let him take the helm, you keep an eye on the data, and I'll give you feedback. A perfect combination."
"He's already here."
As soon as he finished speaking, Karl floated in from the side passage, holding half a compressed biscuit in his hand. He took a bite, swallowed it, and then spoke: "You're planning to make your move?"
"It's just a test," Chen Hao said. "We won't make any big moves, we'll just move things up little by little."
Carl walked to the driver's seat, put the food in his pocket, and fastened his seatbelt. "I'll drive in manual mode. The automatic system is too slow in this kind of place."
"Aren't you afraid something will happen?" Chen Hao asked.
“I’m afraid.” He started the engine warm-up program, “but I’m even more afraid that one day you’ll take advantage of me while I’m sleeping and change the flight path on your own.”
Am I really that impulsive?
“Yes,” Nana and Karl said at the same time.
The three of them exchanged glances, none of them laughed, but the atmosphere eased a bit.
The spaceship slowly turned. The thruster nozzles adjusted their angle slightly, and the fuselage trembled gently, as if taking a deep breath before taking its first step. The trajectory line on the main screen began to curve, deviating from its original orbit and extending a new path towards the signal source.
"Entering the first approach zone," Nana reported. "0.28 light-years from the signal source, estimated time 4 hours and 12 minutes."
"We'll pause every 100,000 kilometers," Chen Hao said, "to check environmental parameters, hull condition, and changes in signal strength."
“Automatic alerts have been set up,” she said. “At the same time, a backup sensor array has been activated, expanding the scanning range to a radius of 300,000 kilometers.”
Karl's hands remained on the control stick, his eyes fixed on the star field ahead. Nothing could be seen there, just a wall of blackness. But he knew some things radar couldn't detect, things that could only be judged by experience. He had flown near a dead star once, in a similarly quiet environment, and had nearly been torn apart by an invisible gravitational well.
“Pay attention to the three o’clock position on the starboard side,” he said. “Something’s not right.”
Nana immediately pulled up the partial scan image. The spatial curvature data showed that the area was slightly distorted, like an underwater current.
“Microgravitational distortion,” she said. “It’s not strong, but it persists. It could be residual collapsed material.”
“Get around it,” Carl said. “Don’t get too close.”
Chen Hao watched as the flight path was replanned, circling around into an arc. "We're like an old man walking now, looking around every few steps."
“Old men live long,” Carl said. “Young men die quickly.”
The spaceship continued its journey. They passed the first checkpoint, and everything was normal. At the second checkpoint, the background radiation level increased by 0.4 units, which wasn't dangerous, but Nana raised the alert level. At the third checkpoint, the signal strength increased by seven percent; the pulse rhythm was still unstable, but it was more regular.
“It’s responding,” Chen Hao said in a low voice.
“It could just be a coincidence,” Nana said.
"You're really going to kill all the romance out of me."
"I'm just stating the facts."
"Facts can be told in a gentler way."
She didn't reply, but instead opened a deep database comparison program. Thousands of communication protocols were being matched in the background, the progress bar slowly climbing. So far, none matched.
Before the fourth checkpoint, they encountered a dust cloud. It wasn't thick, but it was dense, almost rendering the optical lenses ineffective. Carl switched to infrared tracking and glided forward using inertial navigation.
"Visibility was zero," he said. "It was all thanks to the instruments."
“Reduce the power of the thrusters,” Nana said, “to avoid generating electrostatic interference.”
Chen Hao leaned against the window and looked out. It was as if a gray cloth had been draped over the outside, blurring the stars into patches of light. He suddenly felt this place looked familiar.
"Have we been here before?"
“No,” Nana said. “This star system has never been recorded.”
“But I feel like…” He shook his head, “Never mind, maybe I dreamed about it.”
They successfully passed through the dust zone. Upon exiting, the spaceship shook slightly, as if it had collided with something unseen. The alarm didn't sound, but the propulsion system briefly lost power for two seconds.
"What happened?" Chen Hao asked.
“Unknown source of resistance.” Nana checked the log. “Similar to magnetic dragging, but the characteristics do not match any known type.”
“If we do it again, we’ll have to turn back,” Carl said.
"We won't be coming back." Chen Hao stared at the screen. "We're almost there."
The signal strength had doubled. The waveform was no longer a monotonous hum; subtle layers had appeared, like multiple people whispering simultaneously. Nana converted the audio into a visual spectrum and discovered a repeating sequence hidden within.
“This pattern…” she zoomed in on the image, “is characterized by a superimposed harmonic every nine pulses.”
"Nine times?" Chen Hao frowned. "Not the seven minutes and forty-three seconds cycle?"
“Two mechanisms coexist,” she said. “The base pulse remains unchanged, with additional signals nested on top of it. It’s like… an encryption layer.”
“So someone really is sending messages.” Chen Hao laughed. “And they’re quite particular about it, afraid that others might misunderstand.”
“It could also be a self-repair attempt by the faulty equipment,” Nana said. “Some older repeater stations use multiple signals to enhance transmission stability.”
"Can't you believe in a miracle just once?"
“I’m not responsible for believing,” she said. “I’m only responsible for recording.”
They reached the fifth checkpoint. Less than 100,000 kilometers from the signal source. The spaceship stopped, and all systems entered silent scanning mode. Nana activated full-band monitoring, Karl shut down unnecessary power, and even turned the lighting down to its lowest setting.
The only light in the control room came from the screens.
The signal has arrived.
This time is different.
It didn't start at the usual pace; instead, it started a full twenty seconds earlier. And the sound had changed; it was no longer a deep hum, but a metallic tremor, like wind blowing through a tin roof.
Chen Hao sat up straight.
Nana immediately detected the anomaly. "The signal azimuth angle has shifted by 0.3 degrees. The source location may have shifted slightly."
"Moveable?" He stared. "Isn't it a stationary device?"
"Or it may be influenced by external forces."
"For example...us?"
She didn't answer.
Karl suddenly raised his hand. "Wait."
He pointed to the surveillance footage on the right. There was a blurry point of light in the edge area, which flashed and disappeared in an instant.
"Playback," he said.
Nana pulled up the video. She slowed it down to three times speed. The point of light did exist; it appeared about 50,000 kilometers to the right rear of the spaceship, lasted for less than a second, and then disappeared.
“It’s not stellar reflection,” she said. “The temperature characteristics don’t match.”
“It wasn’t a shooting star,” Carl said. “The trajectory was too straight.”
As Chen Hao looked at that frame, he suddenly felt a chill run down his spine.
"Are we... being watched?"
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