The vibration of the joystick continued, as if someone were gently tapping on the other end.
Chen Hao's hands were already numb, but he didn't let go. He braced his left elbow on the armrest of the seat, pressed his body against his right arm, and pulled the shaking control lever back little by little.
"Is this thing for disco or for getting cramps?" he said. "If it shakes a couple more times, my hand is going to run away from home."
Nana stood in front of the control panel, her finger swiping across the screen to bring up the flight control system log. Her gaze swept over the streams of data, her brow furrowing slightly.
“The servo motor output frequency is abnormal, with a peak fluctuation every 0.8 seconds,” she said. “It’s not random interference, but a regular signal injection.”
Susan stared at the external camera feed; there was no obvious damage to the aircraft's surface, and the airflow disturbance had subsided. She turned to Nana: "Could it be due to the influence of the atmospheric ionosphere?"
“The probability is less than three percent.” Nana shook her head. “The ionosphere won’t only affect the control system; other modules will also be affected. But right now, only the main control circuit is showing abnormal feedback.”
Carl then straightened up from behind the secondary control panel, holding a loose signal cable in his hand.
“Found it,” he said. “The C7 repeater interface was severely oxidized, and the retaining clip was cracked. Just now, when there was vibration, it was half-detached, causing intermittent signal transmission.”
“No wonder the thruster response was a fraction of a second slower,” Susan immediately replied. “The delay just matches the joystick jitter cycle.”
Chen Hao listened to their conversation while pressing down hard on the control lever. The vibration seemed to know he was persisting, and suddenly intensified for a moment.
He groaned and braced himself with his shoulder.
"You two seem to be having a great time... Could you please let me save my hand first?"
Nana immediately switched the operating interface and activated the backup control channel.
"Bypassing node C7, enabling redundant line D4." She tapped her finger lightly, "Three, two, one, switch complete."
The joystick jerked violently, then returned to normal.
Chen Hao let out a long sigh and shook his aching wrists. "Finally, I'm not dancing anymore. This lousy boat still managed to give me a hard time before we even got home."
"The system attitude is returning to normal." Susan looked at the parameter changes. "The yaw angle has been corrected to within 0.02 degrees, and the thruster response has returned to normal."
“I’ve reconnected the C7 interface.” Karl tucked the tools into his belt. “I added double layers of insulating tape and wrapped it three times with cable ties. It won’t come loose even if the spaceship flips over.”
Nana brought up the system status graph, and the green icons lit up one by one.
"The flight control system is stable, and the navigation prediction path has returned to the predetermined orbit," she said. "At the current altitude, we are entering the edge of the atmosphere, and the deceleration procedure can be initiated at any time."
Chen Hao leaned back in his chair and rubbed his temples. "Alright, looks like we'll still be alive enough to land and have dinner."
Before he could finish speaking, the radar alarm beeped.
The three of them looked up at the same time.
On the screen, three small red dots appeared on the right side of the channel, about 800 kilometers away, approaching at high speed, with irregular zigzag trajectories.
"What's that?" Chen Hao sat up straight.
“Target not identified.” Nana quickly retrieved the database. “The shape does not match any known civilian or military aircraft. The speed is maintained at over six kilometers per second, there is no communication beacon, and no avoidance signal has been issued.”
“A spatial fragment?” Susan asked.
“It doesn’t look like it.” Karl leaned closer to the screen. “The debris swarm wouldn’t make that kind of turning motion. They just made a sharp angle, like they were tracking something.”
"Perhaps it's an automated patrol aircraft," Chen Hao said, stroking his chin. "Has our home planet started developing an unmanned air defense network in recent years?"
“Possibly.” Nana switched to passive detection mode. “But according to procedure, patrol units should proactively send identification codes. They didn’t.”
"Should we say hello?" Carl asked Chen Hao.
“It’s okay to fight, but don’t be too enthusiastic,” Chen Hao said. “Just send a standard avoidance protocol, don’t scan proactively, lest it be seen as hostile behavior.”
Carl nodded, connected to the backup communication channel, and manually entered the signal packet.
“Sent successfully,” he said. “There was no response, but… their speed has slowed down.”
Everyone was staring at the screen.
The three sets of red dots were indeed slowing down. Two of them began to deviate from the course to the outside, while the third continued to glide in the original direction for a while before slowly turning.
"So you finally understand?" Chen Hao grinned. "You're actually quite reasonable."
“It’s more likely that they judged us to be no threat,” Nana said. “Their choice to keep their distance rather than approach suggests they have a certain tactical logic.”
"As long as no one lays a hand on us, that's fine." Chen Hao cracked his knuckles. "Let's continue on our own path and avoid trouble."
Nana did not relax and continued to monitor multi-band signals.
“I recommend activating the AI-assisted landing procedure,” she said. “While the system is currently stable, the continuous failures indicate a decline in hardware reliability. Manual operation has a low tolerance for error, and there will be insufficient reaction time should another problem occur.”
Chen Hao squinted at her. "You mean you want me to let go?"
“Only transfer primary control authority,” Nana explained. “You retain the right to intervene in emergencies. The AI is responsible for fine-tuning attitude and thrust distribution, while you are responsible for decision-making. This reduces the operational workload and avoids errors due to fatigue.”
The cockpit was silent for a few seconds.
Chen Hao stared at the gradually enlarging outline of the planet ahead, the edges of the clouds gleaming.
He sighed. "You're right. I can barely hold onto the stick anymore, how can I have the strength to control it the whole time?"
He raised his right hand and made a pressing motion in the air.
"Authorize AI to take over the main control system, and set the security threshold to the highest standard. Call me if there are any problems."
"Received." Nana tapped her finger, and a confirmation box popped up on the screen: "AI Assist Mode activated, real-time monitoring enabled."
The thrusters made a slight adjustment the instant the system switched over, making the spacecraft's attitude more stable.
Susan looked at the sensor data stream and said softly, "All indicators are in the green zone."
“I’ll go check the life support system again.” Carl turned and walked toward the hatch. “In case the power goes out again, at least we won’t suffocate.”
"Go ahead," Chen Hao waved his hand. "Also, check if there's any instant noodles left in the kitchen. I'm hungry."
Carl turned and glared at him. "We'll talk about it after we land."
After the door closed, Susan glanced at Chen Hao. "Are you really planning to lie down all the way back?"
"If I can lie down, I won't stand up." Chen Hao shrugged. "Anyway, Nana will take care of things. If I worry too much, I'll go bald."
Nana suddenly spoke up: "According to medical database records, stress-related hair loss typically occurs after the age of thirty. Your current hair density is normal, so the risk is low."
"Look how considerate the robot is," Chen Hao laughed. "It even takes care of my hairline."
Susan shook her head and continued staring at the screen.
The sky outside turned from deep blue to gray-white, and a slight tremor from atmospheric drag came through the bulkhead.
Nana's voice rang out again: "Current altitude 12,000 kilometers, deceleration panels are about to deploy. AI has planned the optimal entry angle, and we are expected to enter the final landing trajectory in forty minutes."
"That's great." Chen Hao placed his hands on his stomach. "I'm just waiting to hear the words 'Welcome home'."
Just then, a soft sound came from below the control panel.
It looked like a piece of metal falling off.
Chen Hao didn't pay any attention.
Susan looked up. "That sound... came from the engine room?"
Nana immediately pulled up the audio waveform from the internal monitoring system.
“An abnormal vibration frequency was detected,” she said. “It was located near the main power coupler and lasted for 3.2 seconds, but the intensity was insufficient to trigger an alarm.”
"I'll go check it out." Susan unbuckled her seatbelt.
"Wait." Nana suddenly raised her hand. "Don't move."
Her gaze was fixed on the energy monitoring chart.
A tiny ripple of current just swept across the main line and disappeared in an instant.
“The coupler output voltage experienced a momentary drop of 0.5%,” she said. “Although it recovered quickly, this is the third time this has happened.”
Chen Hao sat up straight. "Does that mean... the power is acting up again?"
"We can't rule out human error," Nana said, her tone unchanged, "but it's more likely due to poor contact caused by aging from long-term operation. On-site testing is needed."
“Carl isn’t back yet,” Susan said. “Can’t I go instead?”
“You’re not familiar with high-voltage modules,” Nana said. “Wait for Carl.”
The three of them stared at the screen in silence.
The energy curve is currently flat.
Ten seconds later, a new wave flashed by.
This time it's deeper than before.
Chen Hao reached out and gripped the joystick. Although it wasn't his turn to operate it yet, he was already prepared.
Nana's finger hovered above the emergency cut-off button.
Susan stared at the hatch, as if trying to see a hole through it.
Footsteps finally sounded.
Carl pushed open the door and came in, his face slightly sweaty.
"The outer cabin inspection is complete," he said. "The antenna array is fine, and there are no cracks in the insulation. What's wrong?"
“The power coupler experienced three momentary drops,” Nana said. “The last one reached 78% of the warning threshold.”
Carl's expression changed. "If that thing explodes, we won't even have the black box left."
He immediately went to the tool cabinet and took out insulated gloves and a testing instrument.
"I'll go in and take a look. You guys prepare for an emergency power outage."
Nana nodded. "The main circuit can be cut off at any time."
Karl walked toward the engine room door and placed his hand on the switch.
He glanced back.
"If I don't come out in ten minutes..."
"Don't say things like that," Chen Hao interrupted. "Hurry up and fix it. I'll treat you to spicy snacks when you're done."
Karl smirked, opened the hatch, and climbed inside.
The cabin was dimly lit, and the machines hummed softly.
He crouched down and opened the coupler housing.
The reading jumped as soon as the probe of the detector was placed on the screen.
"Sure enough... the connector is burned out." He muttered. "If it's shaken a couple more times, it'll short-circuit."
He took out a wrench, ready to loosen the fixing bolts.
The moment he exerted his strength, the entire spaceship swayed slightly.
It felt like I'd been bumped by something.
But it wasn't a violent impact.
It was more like—being gently pushed.
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