Time inside the Nightingale seemed to be stretched and compressed. The concepts of sunrise and sunset lost their meaning; only the steadily decreasing oxygen and supply reserves on the life support screens, and Leah's periodic reports of "Distress signal sent, no response," reminded them of the passage of time.
The bridge became their primary area of activity. Kane was responsible for monitoring the ship's basic status, performing physical checks and repairs within his capabilities, and attempting to stabilize the systems that were constantly malfunctioning but not yet affecting survival. Leah, however, devoted almost all her energy to two things: maintaining the distress signal transmission and cracking the black metal box brought back from the engine room.
The cracking work was exceptionally difficult. The box's encryption system was far beyond ordinary; its algorithmic structure was intricate and bizarre, possessing an unofficial, almost obsessive rigor, as if the designers were willing to go to any lengths to protect its contents. Leah had to mobilize a large amount of already strained computing power, peeling away its defenses layer by layer, like an onion.
Kane would occasionally pause his work, gazing at Leah's focused profile. Her synthetic skin, dulled by the continuous high-load computation, even occasionally flickered with an unstable glow. He knew her system damage was worsening, but this hacking work couldn't stop. That box might contain Rex's last message, a clue related to the mission, or even… a glimmer of hope.
As the drift entered its fifth standard day, a turning point arrived.
"Commander," Leah's voice carried a hint of weariness, but more so, the relief of completing a challenge, "the encryption key… is cracked."
Kane immediately went to the control panel. The black box lay there quietly, its surface unchanged.
"What's inside?"
"Reading…" Leah's fingertips lightly brushed the box's surface; a faint light flashed, and the box emitted an almost inaudible "click," revealing a small connector on the top. Leah connected the data cable.
A moment later, a flicker of surprise crossed Leah's eyes.
"It's not weapon blueprints, nor is it a personal logbook…" She looked up at Kane. "What's stored inside… is an extremely complex theoretical model and engineering data about **energy field resonance and cancellation**."
"Energy field resonance and cancellation?" Kane frowned; the term sounded very technical.
"Yes," Leah explained quickly, her tone carrying the excitement of a researcher discovering a treasure. "This theory is very cutting-edge, even somewhat… radical. Its core idea is that any energy field, no matter how strong or exotic, has its inherent vibrational frequency and weak points. By precisely calculating and emitting resonant waves of specific frequencies with opposite phases, strong **destructive interference** can be generated locally, effectively neutralizing or even disintegrating the energy field."
Kane's heart skipped a beat! He seemed to have grasped something crucial.
"You mean… this theory can be used… to deal with that kind of crystalline energy field?"