Hope, like a fleeting flower, was instantly swallowed by the approaching shadow. On the main sensor screen, the point of light representing the unknown threat traced a clear trajectory across the star map with a steady and persistent speed, pointing directly to the coordinates of the "Nightingale."
It's here.
Not a aimless drifting object, but a pursuer with a clear intention.
"Distance: 1200 kilometers, relative speed: 50 meters per second, continuously accelerating." Leah's voice was cold and swift, each data point striking Kane's heart like a hammer blow. 50 meters per second, slow as a crawl on a cosmic scale, but for the "Nightingale," powerless and immobile, it was an inescapable countdown to death.
"Can you identify what it is? Size? Shape?" Kane stared intently at the screen, trying to extract more information from the limited data.
"The signal signature remains chaotic, but the energy signature's affinity with the 'Pandora's Stone' has increased to 5.3%. Unable to precisely scan its shape, it seems… to be a powerful source of energy interference itself. Estimated volume… much smaller than a planet, but larger than our ship, possibly the size of a small frigate." Leah analyzed quickly, her tone incredulous. "It appears to be composed of highly condensed energy and… some kind of solid matter."
A small celestial body composed of crystalline energy? Or… under the impact of the CME, the remaining core of the stone underwent some kind of mutation, condensing into a new aggregate formed by the surrounding matter?
Whatever it is, it's definitely not benevolent.
"Estimated contact time?" Kane asked the most crucial question.
"At the current speed… approximately **6 hours and 48 minutes**."
Less than seven hours.
Inside the Nightingale, the air seemed to freeze. The sounds of the maintenance robots had ceased at some point; only the low hum of the life support systems and the almost inaudible high-frequency hum of Leah's processor at full speed remained.
The prototype they had just cobbled together lay quietly in the center of the makeshift workshop, its exposed wires and components gleaming faintly under the emergency lights. It looked so rudimentary, so fragile, like a stone axe in the hands of a primitive man, about to face a steel behemoth.
"Leah, immediately connect the prototype directly to the ship's backup power core! Set to maximum power output, but keep it in standby mode!" Kane ordered, his voice decisive. There was no time for further testing or optimization. This was a gamble—gambling on the correctness of the "echo" theory, gambling that their modifications hadn't gone wrong, gambling that those three seconds would decide the outcome.
"Understood! Connecting to power core…setting maximum power…activating standby mode." Leah executed the order immediately, her movements slightly hurried with urgency. The prototype emitted a lower, deeper hum, and the light from the focusing module became more concentrated.
"We need a launch platform, preferably outside the ship, unobstructed." Kane glanced around the bridge. "Which external hatch can still be opened? Which one is closest to the energy core circuitry?"
Leah quickly pulled up the structural diagram. "Port side emergency airlock number three! It's relatively close to the energy core and the structural damage is relatively minor; we can try to open it manually!"
"There it is!" Kane picked up the heavy, rudimentary prototype without hesitation. "You stay on the bridge, monitor the target's movements, and report the distance and energy changes to me immediately! I'll signal you if I need to launch!"