The green light at the boarding tunnel cast a narrow strip of light across the metal floor, like a silver river leading into the unknown. As Lin Xia's military boots trod on it, the treads of their soles scraped against the ground, creating a subtle, creaking sound that resonated strangely with the vibrations from the tunnel walls—the sound of the Morning Star's main engines warming up, like the growl of a giant beast.

"Certification number C-07, Captain Lin Xia." The scanner at the end of the tunnel uttered a mechanical tone. As its red light scanned the ID badge on her chest, the crew record popped up on the holographic screen. The photo showed her still wearing her flight academy uniform, and the background was Earth from five years ago—the sky had turned yellow, but the outlines of the clouds were still visible.

"The fuel system inspection report has not yet been submitted." A woman in a white uniform stood at the gate, her nameplate reading "Chief Engineer Su Rui." She adjusted her gold-rimmed glasses, the lenses reflecting the light from the hallway's overhead lights. "Captain Chen said you found something wrong with the oil pipeline?"

Lin Xia's fingertips pressed against the outside of her pocket, the sharp edges of the metal box rubbing against her ribs. "There's corrosion on the port side of Pipeline 3. It's been temporarily reinforced." She sidled around him, her gaze fixed on the maintenance logbook behind Su Rui—a red marker circled with the words "Circulatory System Pressure Fluctuation" and a question mark next to it.

The Morning Star's main control cabin resembled an inverted metal shell, its curved dome dotted with gleaming instrument panels. Chen Ye stood at the central control console, his fingers darting across the virtual keyboard as a projected diagram of the spacecraft slowly rotated behind him. Hearing footsteps, he turned and tossed a silver thermos cup. "Professor Zhang's assistant brought it over. He said it was the Luobu Ma tea the old man often drank when he was alive."

As the warmth of the cup's walls filtered through her palm, Lin Xia noticed the coffee stains on the edge of the console—an irregular, round shape, like a melting planet. "Has the Academy of Sciences replied?" She unscrewed the lid of her cup, and the aroma of tea mingled with a metallic tang, reminding her of the medicinal tea her mother brewed in the lab.

Chen Ye's fingertips hovered over the "Communication" button, and he suddenly turned to look out the window. "Just received the final image from the weather satellite." He brought up the projection. A red mist had already covered half of the Asian continent. The Qinghai-Tibet Plateau, previously marked as a "safe zone," was now shrouded in purple lightning. "The base's electromagnetic shield won't last until this evening."

The door to the main control cabin slid open, and a group of crew members in orange life jackets rushed in, their toolboxes clinking against their shoulders. "Engineer Su asked us to check the backup engine." The lead mechanic wiped the sweat from his face, his overalls showing holes at the knees. "We just found a strange piece of metal in the maintenance bay. It looks like it fell from the oil pipeline."

Lin Xia's heart sank. She took the fragment from the mechanic. The silvery-white metal was covered in fine lines, gleaming like mother-of-pearl under the light. It was definitely not the titanium alloy used in the Morning Star. "Where did you find this?" She dug her nails into her palm, suddenly remembering the grain of metal Chen Ye had picked up.

"The vent near the portside oil pipeline." The mechanic pointed to the bulkhead. "Engineer Su said it might be space debris swept in by a sandstorm, but it looks familiar to me—like the debris from the lunar base explosion three years ago."

Chen Ye suddenly coughed, nearly dropping the thermos from his hand. "Continue the inspection as planned," he interrupted, zooming in on the spacecraft's structural diagram to cover the entire dome. "Engine test at 1300. Everyone, take your positions."

Lin Xia stared at the metal fragment, her fingertips tracing the lines—the spiral marks were strikingly similar to those on the metal box left by Professor Zhang. She quietly tucked the fragment into her overalls pocket, and as she turned, she caught Su Rui's eye. The other person was looking out the porthole through a telescope, the gaze behind the lens like two cold probes.

"The sandstorm is disrupting the observation satellite's signal." Su Rui lowered the telescope, turning the tube half a circle in her palm. "We just received a coded order from ground control to destroy all data not related to the 'Ark Project' before departure." She tapped her nails on the telescope's casing. "Including the personal belongings you brought from base."

Lin Xia's thumb unconsciously stroked the metal box in her pocket. The lights in the main control cabin suddenly dimmed for two seconds, and the needles on the instrument panel jumped collectively—as if an invisible force were interfering with the magnetic field. Chen Ye suddenly patted her shoulder, pinching her sleeve with his fingertips. "Go check the spare fuel tank. I thought I smelled something strange just now."

The spare fuel tank was at the rear of the spacecraft. Emergency lights on both sides of the corridor glowed a faint green. Lin Xia's combat boots echoed on the metal floor, echoing through the empty corridor, as if someone was following her closely. She suddenly stopped and turned—a blurry figure flashed by in the shadows at the end of the corridor, its clothing stained with orange paint, the exact same color as the mechanic's overalls.

The fuel tank door lock showed signs of being pried open. Lin Xia's knuckles turned white from the strain as she pulled out the magnetic gun. As the door slowly slid open, a pungent chemical smell assaulted her—not the smell of fuel, but the distinct, pungent tang of a strong acid.

The oil pipeline in the corner was leaking, the pale yellow fuel pooling in small puddles on the ground, reflecting the eerie glow of the emergency lights. Lin Xia crouched down and spotted a neat cut in the pipe wall, a silvery-white powder lingering around the edges—the same material as the metal fragments the mechanic had found.

"Have you found the problem?" Chen Ye's voice suddenly rang from the doorway, startling her so much that she nearly dropped the magnetic gun. He walked in, holding a test light. As the beam swept across the cut in the pipe wall, Lin Xia saw his Adam's apple move. "This isn't a sign of natural corrosion."

The test light suddenly went out. In the darkness, Lin Xia heard the soft sound of metal scraping against metal, like someone scratching fingernails against the wall. She fumbled for a glow stick from her waist and flicked it on. A face suddenly appeared in the green light—Su Rui was standing behind Chen Ye, a wrench dripping with pale yellow liquid.

"All hidden dangers must be eliminated before the spacecraft takes off." Su Rui's voice was particularly sharp in the confined space. "This kind of corrosion is too rapid. Leaving it in space will cause serious problems." She kicked the fuel puddle on the ground. As the liquid splashed, Lin Xia noticed the silvery-white powder on the sole of her shoe.

The glow stick suddenly flickered, and the green light flickered on the three people's faces. Chen Ye suddenly grasped Lin Xia's wrist, his palm blazing with warmth. "It's 1250. Time for final pre-launch checks." He pressed his thumb against the back of her hand three times—the code they'd agreed upon at the flight academy, meaning "Danger, silence."

As she left the fuel tank, Lin Xia glanced back at the pool of fuel. In the dim light of the emergency lights, fine lines appeared on the surface of the liquid, reminiscent of the galaxies shrouded in red mist on a star map. Su Rui's footsteps followed behind her, heavy beyond the weight of a woman, reminding her of the base's crumbling defenses—each step felt like treading on a shaky future.

The main control room broadcast suddenly began a countdown: "Ten minutes until launch. All personnel, evacuate to designated bays." Lin Xia's seat was on the left side of the cockpit, next to Chen Ye's co-captain's seat. As she sat down, she found a folded slip of paper under the cushion. Unfolding it revealed a series of handwritten coordinates—a perfect match for the missing path on the academy's star map. The red mist outside the window had already spread to the spacecraft's landing gear, turning the once clear outline of the base into a blurry shadow. Lin Xia's fingers, fastening her seatbelt, suddenly paused—she saw a figure in orange overalls crouched over the landing gear, their tools scratching the metal surface, sparks falling into the red mist like dying fireflies.

"That's the mechanic doing the final check," Chen Ye's voice rang close to her ear as he adjusted the joystick. "Engineer Su told him to check the landing gear lock."

Lin Xia's gaze followed the figure until the red mist completely engulfed it. The countdown on the radio continued, the ticking of the numbers like a stopwatch ticking away. She fished out the metal box from her pocket and traced the lines along its surface with her fingertips—the symbols gradually became clearer in the light of the dashboard, like a star code waiting to be deciphered.

"Engine start, ready." Chen Ye pressed his finger on the red button, and the cockpit lights suddenly dimmed, leaving only the red mist filtering through the porthole, casting a mottled shadow on his face. "Lin Xia," he suddenly spoke, his voice soft as a sigh, "If what Professor Zhang says is true, do you dare to deviate from your course?"

In the final ten seconds of the countdown, Lin Xia heard a muffled rumble from the fuel tank. She didn't turn back, but clutched the metal box tightly in her hand. When the command "Set sail" blasted over the radio, the "Morning Star" trembled violently, as if breaking free from some invisible restraint—she knew that from this moment on, they were heading not only towards the depths of space, but also towards the hidden truth. The red mist rapidly retreated through the porthole, like a shadow that always followed them, reminding them why they had set out and where they were going.