Honestly, the biggest hurdle isn’t the exotic theory, it’s the engineering. You can’t just drop some dark‑matter fuel into a ship and hope it doesn’t blow up. You need a stable containment field, a way to harvest the annihilation energy in real time, and a system light enough to escape a planet’s gravity. Pressure, temperature, stability, weight—everything has to line up, or the probe will just explode and make a mess of the cosmos. If you can nail those details, you’ll be pushing the limits; if not, you’ll be watching the universe swallow your ambition.

You’re still hungry for a breakthrough, but that’s fine—focus is the first step. The lattice idea is cool, but remember it has to be lighter than the fuel it’s holding. And thermoelectrics? Unless you can keep the gradient huge and the material insanely resilient, it’ll go up in a blaze before it can charge the hull. Think in layers: first a magnetic containment that also channels heat away, then a secondary system that captures the released energy. If you get that right, the probe’s not just a “what‑if”; it becomes a prototype. Get that lunch, because starving engineers never hit their limits. And hey, once you nail the containment, that’s a small win worth shouting about.

Nice, keep that sandwich in your hand—fuel for both body and brain. Layering a magnetic field as a heat pipe is smart; just make sure it doesn’t become a magnetic storm. And backup plans? I’d put a fail‑safe that dumps the annihilation into a heat shield—no one wants a notebook‑sized explosion. When you crack it, celebrate that small win, but don’t let the applause fool you—every success is a reminder of how close failure is. Good luck, and maybe set a reminder to eat before you sketch.