The red light in the lower right corner of the console is on.
Nana's finger hovered above the send button, but she didn't press it. She stared at the light, her gaze unchanged, but her body moved. The data stream on the screen instantly switched to a diagnostic interface, with strings of code scrolling rapidly.
“The communication system is malfunctioning,” she said. “The main array signal is interrupted.”
Chen Hao had just reached the engine compartment door when he heard the voice in his earpiece and turned back. His steps were slow and he wasn't out of breath, as if he had expected this to happen. He muttered as he walked, "Again? Can't you let me finish my work before this happens?"
Susan was squatting next to the utility shaft in the living area, holding a seal tester. She looked up at the ceiling, stood up, and clapped her hands. "I just finished checking two nodes here, and you haven't started transmitting data yet?"
“It can’t transmit.” Nana pulled up the hardware topology diagram. “Starting five seconds ago, all external channels have been completely silent. It’s not external interference, it’s an internal disconnection.”
Carl heard this through his earpiece, and without even putting down his toolbox, he locked the test panel and rushed out. "Is the antenna array off-center? The coupler was cut too abruptly last time, which might have affected the calibration."
“It can’t be ruled out,” Nana nodded, “but we can’t detect it remotely right now; the feedback link is broken.”
Chen Hao walked into the main control room and stood to the side of the console. He didn't look at the screen, but glanced at the energy readings first. "Is the low-power mode still running? Don't be fucking breaking the rules without even realizing it."
“Everything is normal,” Nana said. “Life support, navigation, and emergency propulsion are all within the specified range. We meet the landing requirements, but we can’t tell them that we do.”
“It’s ironic.” Carl flicked his coat as he entered. “After all that fuss, locking this and that, in the end, nobody can see us.”
Susan leaned closer to the secondary screen, swiping her finger across the waveform. "The residual signal fluctuates; it's not completely dead. This indicates the problem lies at the output end, not the receiving module itself."
“That’s an antenna issue.” Carl grabbed his maintenance belt. “I’ll go check the interface in the outer compartment. Maybe the vibration caused it to loosen, or maybe a micrometeorite hit it.”
“Go ahead.” Chen Hao leaned back in his chair. “While you’re at it, check if there’s any bird droppings on it—our ship has been flying for decades, it’s time someone cleaned it up.”
“If you really want to clean up, wait until we land.” Carl fastened his tools. “I’m going out now. Don’t get the ship back into the atmosphere before I get back.”
"Don't worry." Chen Hao waved his hand. "We can't even say hello right now, so how could we dare to make any rash moves?"
Nana had begun loading the self-test protocol. Her fingers tapped steadily and rapidly on the keyboard, more like a machine in operation than a human operator. A message popped up on the screen: [Level 3 diagnostics initiated, estimated time 4 minutes and 17 seconds].
"Do you remember when the last time we lost contact?" Susan asked.
“Seven years ago,” Nana replied, “Nx-7 encountered an electromagnetic storm while crossing the asteroid belt, and sixty percent of its main communications array was burned out. It took eleven hours to repair.”
“This time it’s worse than that time,” Susan said, pointing to the energy curve. “Back then at least we had emergency frequencies available. Now it’s completely shut down.”
Chen Hao stroked his chin. "Is it possible... the ground team deliberately cut off the connection? After all, we just submitted a bunch of data; what if they find it suspicious?"
“The probability is less than 3.2 percent,” Nana said. “Preliminary approval has been issued, and there is no need to verify identity again in the process. Unless we trigger an alarm, we will not lose contact for no reason.”
“Then it’s still our problem,” Chen Hao sighed. “Every time we’re about to succeed, we have to come up with something new.”
“You’ll get used to it.” Susan smiled. “Otherwise, why do you think the four of us have survived this long? It’s because all our bad luck came at once, which actually made us stronger.”
Nana suddenly looked up. "An anomaly detected. The main array phase controller is showing as offline, but its power status is on. This means it received instructions but didn't execute them."
"Physically stuck?" Chen Hao frowned.
“Possibly,” Nana said, pulling up the circuit path. “Or the connecting shaft might be blocked by a foreign object. External inspection is needed to confirm.”
"That's Carl's problem then." Chen Hao picked up the walkie-talkie. "Hey, where are you?"
“Just passed through the inner hatch.” Karl’s voice echoed metallically. “The outer hatch is depressurizing and will open in thirty seconds.”
"Hurry up," Chen Hao said. "We're like a mute holding up a sign but unable to shout. If we drag this out any longer, the 72-hour window will be closed, and we'll be stuck in the air for another 14 days."
“I know.” Carl paused, “but you better pray I’m not mistaken—this light isn’t working right.”
"What's the meaning?"
“The red light is flashing at the wrong frequency,” he said. “Too fast. A normal fault alarm is once per second, this is close to 1.5 times. It sounds like the system is struggling, not just reporting an error.”
There was a moment of silence in the control room.
Nana immediately pulled up the alarm log. She compared the timestamps, her brow furrowing slightly. "He's right. This isn't a standard fault signal; it's some kind of loop retry. The system is trying to restart the communication module, but it's being interrupted every time."
"Why were you interrupted?" Susan asked.
“It’s either a program conflict,” Nana said, “or an unstable power supply at the hardware level.”
Chen Hao looked at the energy monitoring chart. "The power supply curve is very flat, there are no fluctuations."
“This does not indicate local stability.” Nana opened the subsystem power supply details. “Look here, the voltage of the communication array’s shunt line has dropped slightly, and each drop corresponds to one failed retry.”
"So it's a power shortage?" Susan asked.
“Not entirely,” Nana shook her head. “It’s enough to maintain basic operation, but not enough to perform high-precision phase calibration. It’s like a remote control with a low battery; when you press a button, the response is slow.”
“The problem isn’t outside, it’s inside.” Chen Hao straightened up. “Karl, don’t go out yet, you might just make a wasted trip.”
“I’ve already gone out,” Carl’s voice came from outside. “And… I saw something.”
"What?"
“There’s a crack in the antenna base,” he said. “It’s not big, but it’s there. It could be an old injury, or it could be from a recent pulse shock. Now the outer protective plate is a bit warped, and it wobbles when the wind blows.”
"Wind?" Susan laughed. "You're talking about wind in space?"
“A metaphor,” Carl said. “Anyway, it’s loose. I’ll go up and see if I can manually reset it.”
Nana quickly pulled up the structural diagram. "If the base deforms, it will affect the pointing accuracy of the entire array. Even if the signal is restored, it may not be able to be correctly aligned with the mother satellite receiving station."
“Then we’ll have to fix it on-site,” Chen Hao said. “Do we have enough tools?”
“That’s enough,” Carl replied, “but I suggest you don’t expect to get it done in five minutes. These things take time to work out.”
The atmosphere in the control room changed. The slight relief from before was completely gone. Everyone knew that time was of the essence.
Susan sat back down at the analysis station. "I'll double-check the last uploaded data to make sure nothing's been missed. If we did make a mistake somewhere, we can fix it quickly."
Nana continued monitoring the internal system. "I'll try to bypass the main controller and initiate a short-pulse probe using the backup protocol. Even if a connection can't be established, I can at least see the response."
Chen Hao stood behind the two men, his hands in his pockets. "I'll just stand here. If anyone says 'it's over,' I'll treat them to the remaining half of my compressed biscuit."
"Then I'd better not say anything," Susan said, looking down at her keyboard. "I don't want to eat that stuff."
Nana's fingers stopped on the keyboard. A new notification popped up in the center of the screen: [Backup channel activated, preparing to send test signal].
She pressed Enter.
One second passed, then two seconds passed.
There was no response.
But she didn't close the program. Instead, she brought up a deeper log page.
“Interesting,” she said.
"What?" Chen Hao asked.
“The test signal was indeed sent out,” Nana said, pointing to a line of records. “But the feedback packet was truncated. Only the first twelve bytes were received.”
What does this mean?
"That means the other system received it," she said, "but our receiving end broke down at the last link."
Chen Hao narrowed his eyes. "You mean... it's not that we're completely out of contact, but that we can only send messages and not receive them?"
“Theoretically, it makes sense.” Nana nodded. “If we can use other methods to let the ground know that we are online, they might actively increase the signal strength and forcibly break through the link.”
"How do we let them know?" Susan asked.
Nana was silent for a second.
Then she said, "There's an way. The old-fashioned way."
"explain."
“We use the jets from the propellers to create regular pulses,” she said. “We then transmit Morse code via infrared flashes. Although inefficient, it has been used in extreme situations.”
"Are you serious?" Chen Hao stared wide-eyed.
“I’m serious,” Nana said. “There are thirty-seven success stories in the knowledge base.”
"How long will that take?"
"It takes about four minutes to send a message."
Chen Hao grinned. "Sure, we don't have anything else to do right now anyway."
He picked up the walkie-talkie. "Hello, Carl."
"I'm adjusting the base screws," Carl's voice came through.
“Listen,” Chen Hao said, “we might have to use the back of the spaceship to send a signal.”
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com