The door slammed shut behind them, the airtight lock hissing.
Chen Hao leaned against the wall, catching his breath; his legs felt like lead. Susan helped Carl slowly walk to the medical bed. Nana had already opened the back hatch, the mechanical arm extended, and blue light swept across Carl's left arm.
"The wound is 3.2 centimeters deep, with partial damage to the veins and an 18% tissue contamination rate." Her voice remained unchanged. "Immediate debridement is required."
“Come on,” Carl said, still lying there stubbornly. “I can’t sleep anyway.”
Chen Hao knelt down to help him remove his protective suit; the sleeve was stuck to the wound, and blood gushed out when he pulled it off. Karl groaned, sweat immediately beading on his forehead.
Susan handed over the disinfectant, her hand trembling slightly. Nana took the nozzle and began rinsing the wound. Karl gritted his teeth, his fingers gripping the edge of the bed, his knuckles white.
“You’ll feel better if you shout it out,” Chen Hao said.
"What are you yelling about?" Carl gasped. "This little pain is nothing compared to the last time my advisor scolded me for writing garbage on my thesis."
“So what you’re writing now is ‘A research log about being scratched by a wild animal.’” Susan twisted open the gel bottle. “You can even bold the title later.”
As Nana performed the procedure, she reported the data: "Antibacterial gel injection complete, surface coverage is 60% complete. Next, we will apply pressure bandage, and there will be a brief feeling of pressure during the process."
“Don’t talk to me like that,” Carl said with his eyes closed. “It’s making me feel like I’m about to die.”
"You're holding on." Chen Hao patted him on the shoulder. "That was a beautiful collision, a textbook example of selflessly saving a teammate."
Carl's lips twitched: "I'm not a hero, I just have quick reflexes."
"A quick reaction takes skill too." Susan put the used cotton pads into a waste bag. "I wouldn't be able to dodge it either."
Nana's robotic arm retracted, and the bandage was wrapped one last time. She turned off the high-intensity lighting and switched to low-light monitoring mode.
"Vital signs are stabilizing, and body temperature has risen to 36.1 degrees Celsius. Rest for at least 12 hours is recommended." After she finished speaking, the body took a slight step back, and the camera turned to Chen Hao. "My medical module has shut down the high-energy-consuming program, and the remaining power can maintain normal operation for 72 hours."
"Are you alright?" Chen Hao asked.
“That’s normal,” she said. “It just needs five minutes to cool down.”
Chen Hao nodded, turned around, and took a blanket from the cabinet, covering Karl with it. The lights in the medical room were dimmed to a warm yellow, and there was a faint smell of medicine in the air.
Carl stared at the ceiling with his eyes open.
"Are the materials... enough?" he suddenly asked.
Chen Hao took out a sealed bag from his pocket and shook it: "A few broken pieces, but they have crystalline reflections. Nana can have a composition analysis done tomorrow."
“I’m not asking you to take risks,” Karl said in a lower voice.
“Nobody gave me a break.” Chen Hao sat down against the wall. “I ran here myself. If you really feel indebted, treat me to a meal when you’re done.”
"The base canteen only has three dishes," Karl chuckled. "And you have to wait in line."
“Then it’s your turn to work the night shift.” Susan sat down on the chair next to her. “I don’t want to walk that route again.”
"Who would want that?" Chen Hao shrugged. "Could we find a planet with elevators next time?"
There was a moment of silence in the room, then all three of them burst into laughter. After laughing, Karl frowned and pressed his hand to his arm.
"Don't move around," Nana cautioned. "The bleeding has just stopped."
“I know.” Carl took a few deep breaths. “It’s just… a little frustrating. We went through all that trouble to come out here, and all we brought back was this little bit of stuff.”
“But we’re back.” Chen Hao looked at him. “All four of us are back. When that wind, that sand, that stuff came out yesterday, who could guarantee they’d still be standing here talking to us in the end?”
Susan bent down to organize her sampling tools, her finger resting on the recorder.
“Carl recorded the whole thing,” she said. “I didn’t delete it.”
"Let it out and let us see?" Chen Hao looked up.
Nana connected to the terminal, and the screen lit up. First, a sandstorm swept across their faces, then a giant lizard leaped out of the sand, Chen Hao swung his stick, and Karl shoved Susan aside, his claws tearing through their protective suits…
The video is very shaky, but it's still clear.
"That angle is amazing." Chen Hao pointed at the screen. "You even turned your head slightly before you fell."
“Instinct,” Carl said. “The fear of missing the keyframes.”
"Keyframes?" Susan glared at him. "Are you trying to leave a will for posterity?!"
“Leave evidence,” Carl corrected. “Otherwise, you’ll all say I made it up.”
After Chen Hao finished laughing, he suddenly stopped laughing.
He stared at the rock formations that flashed by in the corner of the screen, which had a faint reflection.
“Wait a minute,” he said. “Replay that stone from before.”
Nana rewinds ten seconds, freezing the frame.
"See that?" Chen Hao leaned closer. "That's not ordinary mineral crystal. It's moving."
“The reflected light fluctuates,” Nana analyzed. “The frequency is 3.7 times per second, and it disappears after eight seconds.”
“It’s not the wind,” Chen Hao shook his head. “It’s an internal tremor.”
The room fell silent.
Susan looked up: "You mean...it's alive?"
“I don’t know.” Chen Hao stared at the photo. “But it reacted. When we were outside, it was like it was activated by something.”
"It might be a temperature change," Nana said. "The ambient temperature suddenly dropped by two degrees."
“It could also be a tremor.” Chen Hao recalled something. “When we ran over, the whole sandy area trembled as we stepped on the ground.”
Carl propped himself up a little: "You mean...it responds to the outside world?"
“It’s more than just feedback.” Chen Hao’s voice deepened. “It’s responding. Like… an ear that hears a sound.”
Susan looked at him: "So you suspect that this ore is not a passive energy source, but some kind of... sensing device?"
No one responded.
The air seemed a bit heavier.
Chen Hao slowly stood up, walked to the terminal, and brought up the database interface.
"Nana, check if there are any similar records in history—underground minerals that can produce regular light or vibration in response to external stimuli."
"Searching." Nana connected to the system. "Keywords: resonance, non-biological signal response, deep crustal material activity."
The progress bar is moving slowly.
Three seconds later, an incomplete report popped up.
Chapter 752: Preliminary Observational Records of Anomalous Samples
“It’s this number again,” Susan read aloud.
Chen Hao opened the file, which contained a blurry image and brief text:
[Sample number x-9 exhibited periodic pulse signals under specific temperature and pressure conditions. It was speculated that it possessed information storage or transmission capabilities. Further research was interrupted due to equipment damage.]
“This isn’t an energy source,” Chen Hao said in a low voice. “It’s a beacon.”
"Who left it?" Susan asked.
"I don't know." Chen Hao looked out the window. The wind hadn't stopped outside, and sand grains were hitting the bulletproof glass with a pattering sound.
Nana suddenly spoke up: "Based on the existing data simulation, if the ore is indeed a signal transmitting device, then its original design purpose may not have been to provide energy, but rather to wait for external triggering."
"Waiting for whom?" Karl leaned against the headboard. "Waiting for us?"
No one answered.
Chen Hao stared at the fragment, his fingers tapping lightly on the table.
Click, click, click.
The rhythm is the same as the pulse frequency on the screen.
Susan noticed his movements, looked at him for two seconds, and suddenly asked, "Have you... thought about this a long time ago?"
“No,” Chen Hao shook his head. “But I remember reading a little-known paper before, which said that some planetary mineral deposits form natural electrical networks to conduct underground energy flows. If this thing is part of that network…”
“Then it shouldn’t exist alone,” Nana continued. “It should have a supporting structure.”
“For example?” Carl asked.
“For example, a larger array,” Chen Hao’s eyes lit up, “or a central node.”
The room fell silent again.
This silence is different.
It wasn't fatigue, nor worry, but a calmness that suppressed excitement.
Susan put the recorder away and placed it on the corner of the table.
"So what do we do next?" she asked.
"Survive first." Karl raised his hand and touched the bandage. "I can't even hold a cup properly right now."
“You lie down,” Chen Hao said. “We’ll take care of the rest.”
Nana restarted the analysis program, and the screen displayed a scrolling data stream. Susan got up and made three cups of hot water, handing one to Chen Hao and the other to Nana, before taking a sip herself.
Chen Hao stood in front of the terminal, his fingers still tapping.
Click, click, click.
It's like typing Morse code.
It's like responding to some distant call.
A routine broadcast from the base's main control system came from outside the door:
"Night patrols begin; all areas must maintain open communication channels."
As soon as the voice finished speaking, the terminal suddenly beeped.
Nana turned to look at the screen.
“A weak signal fluctuation was detected,” she said. “The direction of the source is consistent with yesterday’s sampling point.”
Chen Hao stopped tapping.
He slowly turned around.
“It’s still sending,” he said. “It’s been sending.”
On the signal waveform diagram, a small and stable pulse is continuously pulsating.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com