The Herta Space Station - Orbiting the Blue
Deep within the labyrinthine halls of the Herta Space Station, in a secluded chamber where cold blue lights hummed in steady rhythm, a ball-jointed puppet stirred.
Her long ash-brown hair shifted like threads of silk as consciousness returned to the body she inhabited. Purple glass eyes flickered to life—dull for a moment, then brightening with an eerie, sentient gleam.
She sat upright with unnatural precision.
The puppet's attire was immaculate, as if she had been asleep only minutes rather than months. A frilled white minidress, patterned with lilac diamonds, peeked out from beneath a black and purple coat that left her porcelain shoulders bare. A golden lock and chain pinned across her torso glinted under the chamber's lights, unmoved by her sudden motion. Her black beret — decorated with a soft purple flower — remained perfectly tilted atop her head, and a small key swayed gently at her choker as she breathed a slow, unnecessary sigh.
Dark purple and white heeled boots clicked against the metal floor as she shifted, the gold safety pins chiming faintly. Two indigo ribbons fluttered as her legs swung off the table.
"Hmm…" she murmured, voice airy and lightly bored. "It would seem I haven't used this peculiar one in quite some time. The joints are a touch stiff. Unacceptable."
Her fingers unfurled with elegant, doll-like precision — one joint, then the next — each movement smooth yet subtly uncanny. She lifted her hands, examining her nails. The violet polish gleamed without a single flaw
"Well. At least that part of maintenance wasn't botched," she said, a tiny, pleased smirk touching her lips.
She slid off the table, landing with a soft click of heels. Her steps were purposeful, almost predatory, despite the delicate appearance of her frame.
A monitor on the far wall flickered awake.
[ Unit: Spare Body No. 01, Serial number No. 00250 ]
[ Status: Reactivation Confirmed ]
[ Pending Tasks: 1,487 ]
The puppet—Herta—tilted her head.
"Ridiculous," she sighed. "I leave for a handful of months, and the station immediately devolves into backlog."
She flicked the console with two fingertips. The screen obeyed immediately; servos in the walls shifted like a giant creature stretching awake. She walked through the corridor without hurry, following a faint disturbance thrumming beneath the station's systems—too subtle for the automated sensors, impossible for her to miss.
It led to a containment wing sealed under layers of protocol.
The reinforced chamber opened at her approach.
Inside, suspended in stabilizer fluid, rested the objectthat a fellow and rather close Genius Society member had entrusted to her: a fused relic—half a shattered fragment of THEIR hammer, half a fragment from THEIR Propagation.
The relic pulsed faintly, a rhythm like a heartbeat remembered rather than lived.
The Qilpoth fragment glowed with a pale, stubborn gold. The Tayzzyronth shard lay coiled and inert—quiet, unsettlingly so.
Herta placed a hand against the glass. The containment field sang beneath her touch, readings unfolding in the air like blooming equations.
Herta's eyes narrowed.
"So it wasn't the Propagation fragment," she murmured. "Good. That would've been annoying."
"Which means something out there is tugging at THEIR leftovers."
The pulse flared again — directional, intentional, distant. Far beyond the station. A signal crossing sectors like a whisper carried on cold dark matter.
"That's inconvenient," Herta murmured. "And interesting. But mostly inconvenient."
She keyed the long-range sensors into full burn. Charts realigned. Trajectories sharpened. A vector began to form — a thread pointing outward, away from the star system, toward…
Her eyes brightened ever so slightly.
"The Astral Express?" she murmured.
Another pulse came from the relic behind her, soft but insistent, as if confirming the reading.
Herta crossed her arms, tapping a finger against her sleeve.
"In an area unmarked by the IPC, no less." Her tone flattened further, a sound between disdain and mild amusement. "Of course they'd end up somewhere inconvenient. They always do."
The system highlighted the region — a blank patch of space, devoid of documented trade routes, settlements, or planetary classifications. A place the IPC hadn't bothered to claim, survey, or monetize.
Herta's lips pursed.
"How quaint. A stray corner of the universe no one bothered to catalog. "She paused. "…Or no one could."
The relic in the containment tube throbbed again — stronger, clearer. Qilpoth's hammer fragment glowed like a restrained heartbeat. Tayzzyronth's shard twitched faintly, disturbed by the reaction.
Neither responded to the Astral Express itself.
It responded to something aboard it.
Herta tilted her head, the motion sharp and doll-like.
"So," she murmured, voice softening to curiosity, "what exactly is riding along with them that agitates a fragment of THEIR hammer?"
Her fingers glided across the interface again, pulling up the Astral Express's last known movements, crew manifests, and anomalous readings — all spotty, all incomplete.
After a moment, she gave a quiet sigh — the kind that suggested resignation more than fatigue.
"Annoying," she muttered. "I suppose I'll have to see for myself. They'll be here soon, after all… to hand over the relic I requested."
She paused, eyes narrowing in thought.
"Assuming they don't get themselves derailed on the way. The Astral Express has a remarkable talent for wandering into trouble."
Thelha Ra'tha - Astral Express, observation deck
Himeko exhaled softly, the steam from her cup mingling with the faint hum of the train's engines. The smell of roasted coffee beans filled the lounge, but it did little to ease the knot forming in her chest. She leaned back, gaze unfocused on the passing streaks of astral light outside the window.
"Five to six hours…" she murmured, repeating Pom-Pom's words under her breath. "That's far too long."
The little conductor tilted their head, pom-pom's fluffy ears bobbing slightly. "March, Dan Heng, and Mr Welt all checked in once… but after that, no messages."
Himeko's eyes narrowed slightly, concern replacing her usual calm. "This world is one of the worst we've seen. The reports said the environment itself was unstable. It's a miracle that it can even sustain itself with such planetary damage."
Pom-Pom fidgeted with their paws. "Pom-Pom doesn't like this at all. Pom-Pom can feel it too… the Express feels heavier, like something's pulling on it."
Himeko's grip tightened around her cup. "The Stellaron's corruption, perhaps. But even then…"
She set the mug down gently, the porcelain clinking faintly against the table. Rising to her feet, she crossed the lounge, each step measured and deliberate. Her black heels echoed softly against the floor — a steady rhythm that contrasted with the quiet unease filling the room.
Through the wide observation window of the Observation Deck, the vastness of the void stretched endlessly — stars like scattered embers against the cold dark. Below, Thelha Ra'tha loomed in the distance, a broken world suspended between light and shadow. Entire continents shimmered in and out of focus, like the planet itself was struggling to remember it existed.
And then — something caught her eye.
A glint. Movement. The faint, unmistakable burn of thrusters piercing the gloom.
Her eyes widened. "Pom-Pom," she said sharply. "Bring up the external sensors — rear quadrant."
Pom-Pom hurried to the nearest console, paws tapping against the interface. "Pom-Pom sees it too! Something's coming up fast — signal matches the detached car!"
Himeko leaned closer to the glass, her reflection overlapping the sight of the planet below. There it was: the rear car of the Astral Express, rising from the atmosphere, its thrusters flickering erratically as it broke free from the planet's gravitational pull. The hull was scorched, its magnetic clamps sparking as it drifted closer to the main body of the Express.
"I was worried when we didn't get a message for a few hours..." Himeko murmured as she brought a hand up to her chest.
Pom-Pom hopped nervously. "Pom-Pom will begin reconnection sequence! But — something's strange, Himeko! The readings inside the car… they're not normal!"
"What do you mean?"
"Pom-Pom detects four life signatures instead of three."
Himeko's brows furrowed. "Four…? There was only Welt, Dan Heng, and March on that mission."
Static crackled faintly over the comms, followed by a burst of distorted audio — half a voice, half static: "—This is Welt. We're coming aboard. Prepare—"
The transmission cut out abruptly as the rear car's docking clamps engaged with a metallic clang, the entire Express trembling from the impact. Steam hissed from the coupling valves, lights flickered once, twice… and then stabilized.
Pom-Pom's ears flattened as the vibrations rattled through the lounge. "R-Reconnection complete! But the readings — they're still strange, Himeko! That fourth signature… it doesn't match anything in the Express's database!"
Himeko turned toward the door leading to the adjoining car, her heels clicking softly against the metal floor as she approached. Her expression had hardened, though her voice remained calm. "Keep the internal systems on standby. If something goes wrong, seal the lounge and divert power to the outer locks."
"Pom-Pom understands," the little conductor said, clutching their terminal nervously.
The air in the lounge grew heavier as the sound of the airlock cycling echoed through the corridor. Metal groaned. A pressurized hiss filled the silence. Then — slowly — the door slid open.
March stumbled out first, her hair disheveled and face a bit pale. "We're back! Finally — ugh, I thought that car was going to tear apart before we even got halfway up!"
Dan Heng followed in quiet stride, his spear strapped to his back, his expression composed but weary. There was a faint glimmer of crimson dust and residue clinging to his clothes.
Behind them came Welt, his coat marked with burns and fine scratches. He held himself upright, but his eyes carried the weight of fatigue.
Himeko stepped forward, relief softening her features for a moment. "I was starting to think you'd gone silent on purpose," she said lightly, though the tension in her tone betrayed her worry. "Are you all right?"
Welt nodded once. "Yes. However…" He turned slightly, glancing over his shoulder. "There's something you need to see."
The mist that had followed them began to part — and from it emerged a figure that Himeko nor Pom-Pom recognised.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, his posture straight despite the subtle pull of the Express's artificial gravity. Strange pelts, weathered and torn, were wrapped around his torso, held together by crude straps. The faint scent of smoke and dust clung to him. Scars crossed his arms and neck — some long healed, others still fresh, all telling stories of violence and survival.
But it was his eyes that struck Himeko first. Deep, sharp, and eerily calm. The kind of calm born not of peace, but of someone who had long since accepted the world's cruelty. They moved slowly across the lounge, scanning every corner, every light fixture, and Pom-Pom. His gaze lingered on them the most, probably confused as to what Pom-Pom was.
The hum of the Express seemed to grow louder in his silence.
Pom-Pom's fur bristled. "P-Pom-Pom doesn't recognise this person! W-Who — who is that?"
Welt exhaled softly, setting a hand on March's shoulder to steady her before answering. "We don't know everything yet," he said, voice steady but low. "But… his name is Anthony Cloyne."
The name hung heavy in the air. Himeko's eyes narrowed slightly, her mind already piecing together implications as she took a quick look at Thelha Ra'tha, and back to Anthony. "He was on that ruined world?"
Welt nodded. "...Yes, for a very long time."
Himeko studied him closely — his ragged gear, the exhaustion that lingered behind his stoic expression, the faint tremor in his fingers he tried to suppress.
Anthony didn't answer right away. His gaze turned toward the large window, where the dying glow of Thelha Ra'tha shimmered faintly below.
"…Alone," he echoed quietly. "Yes. If you can call it that." Anthony said as he continued to eye Pom-Pom
Anthony tilted his head slightly. "I'm sorry… but what exactly… is that?"
Pom-Pom blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the question. Their ears twitched as they looked up at the tall stranger towering over them. "E–Eh?! Pom-Pom is Pom-Pom! The conductor of the Astral Express!" they declared, puffing out their chest as if to recover their composure. "And Pom-Pom is not an 'it,' thank you very much!"
A flicker — barely noticeable —passed across Anthony's expression. It wasn't quite amusement, but something close to it. A faint lift at the corner of his mouth before his features settled again. "Right… conductor," he murmured, as though trying to fit the idea into a world that had long since forgotten such things.
He gave a small nod, as if filing the information away. His eyes remained on Pom-Pom for a moment longer, thoughtful rather than wary, before drifting back to the lounge around them—lights, seats, the wide window of stars.
Pom-Pom huffed, satisfied. "Good! Pom-Pom is very important, after all."
"Actually…" Anthony said, his tone even as his gaze drifted back toward the window. Beyond the glass, Thelha Ra'tha still glimmered faintly in the void. "There's been a question I've been meaning to ask you all."
He turned slightly, eyes settling on Himeko and Welt. "How exactly… did you find this place?"
"Well…" Himeko murmured, following his gaze. She exchanged a brief look with Welt, who gave a small nod. "We were brought here by a gravitational anomaly."
She crossed her arms loosely, thoughtful rather than worried. "We were actually supposed to arrive somewhere else, but the Express got pulled off course. The readings we picked up… they didn't match any known stellar behavior."
Welt adjusted his glasses. "At the time, I thought it might be deliberate. The distortion was too precise to be natural — like something was acting as a beacon. Just my initial thought, though."
Himeko's gaze returned to the fractured glow of Thelha Ra'tha. "We assumed it was the Stellaron."
Anthony was quiet for a moment, eyes fixed on the dying planet. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm but certain:
"…That sounds like the Stellaron."
Himeko turned to him. "You're sure?"
"As sure as I can be," he replied.
Welt gave a slow nod. "Like I said, it was just my assessment back then. I wasn't certain — but your experience seems to confirm it, and so did the preliminary analysis."
Himeko folded her arms, concern threading through her otherwise calm expression. "You lived under its influence for more than twenty years."
Anthony shook his head slightly. "Ah… you've got it wrong. I was on that world for twenty-two years, yes, but the Stellaron only appeared at the end of my sixteenth year."
Welt gave a small, reassuring nod. "She just hasn't been updated on all the details yet. That's all."
Himeko's expression softened as she absorbed the clarification.
Welt continued, calm and steady, "Even so, twenty-two years surviving on that world is more than enough reason to be cautious. That's why I told March and Dan Heng back when we were still down there that you should be examined once we reached the Herta Space Station."
Anthony gave a short nod. "Long enough to recognize the signs."
Himeko studied him for a moment and gave a small nod. "I'm glad you understand."
March glanced over at Anthony, her usual brightness tempered but still present. "Yeah. He didn't sugarcoat it either."
Dan Heng spoke evenly. "Prolonged exposure to a Stellaron is dangerous, even without immediate symptoms... Considering how much is unknown about the Stellaron to."
Anthony didn't bristle or protest. "That's… fair. If I were in your position, I'd suggest the same."
Himeko studied him for a moment, then gave a small nod. "I'm glad you understand."
The tension eased slightly as the conversation shifted. March stepped closer, hands resting on her hips.
"So," she said, tone lighter but not flippant, "twenty-two years on a broken planet. That's… not exactly something you put on a résumé."
Anthony exhaled quietly. "Wasn't planning on it."
She smiled faintly. "Still. You kept yourself alive, helped us, and didn't panic when reality tried to fold in on itself." She tilted her head. "That counts for something."
Dan Heng nodded once. "It does."
Anthony was quiet for a moment, then looked back toward Welt and Himeko.
"…This station you mentioned," he said. "The Herta Space Station. What exactly is it?"
Himeko folded her arms lightly. "A research hub — though calling it that might be underselling it. Herta of the Genius Society founded it to study unusual phenomena from across the cosmos. Relics, Curios, fragments of things that defy common logic. All of it cataloged, preserved, and… experimented on."
Welt added calmly, "In practice, it's closer to a floating museum. Researchers from many worlds live there, devoting themselves to studying anything that can't be explained. Herta's goal was simple — every mystery answered should lead to an even deeper one."
Anthony absorbed that quietly. "I can understand the relic bit… but what are Curios, exactly?"
"Artifacts," Welt replied, folding his hands behind his back. "The name comes from 'curio' — an object collected because it's rare or unusual. But in this case, they're far more than antiques. Curios tend to possess… anomalous properties. Things that don't obey the rules we know."
Anthony let out a slow breath. "So not just museum pieces."
"No," Welt said. "Some are harmless. Others… less so. That's why they're sealed, catalogued, and studied very carefully."
Anthony nodded, thinking that over. "Ah. I see… So I guess because of these things, they'd have a medical section in case people got hurt?"
Himeko smiled faintly. "Quite a good one, actually. When you gather dangerous mysteries in one place, accidents are… statistically inevitable."
Dan Heng added, calm and matter-of-fact, "Specialists as well. People who study the effects of abnormal phenomena on the body and mind."
Anthony gave a short nod. "Makes sense. If you're going to invite trouble, you may as well prepare for it."
Welt's expression softened with quiet approval. "Precisely."
Anthony hesitated a moment, then asked, steady but subdued, "So… that'll be where I'm getting my check-up?"
Welt inclined his head. "Yes. The medical division on the Herta Space Station is well-equipped. They may not be accustomed to cases involving a Stellaron directly, but they are experienced with unusual phenomena and the effects those can have on people."
March watched him carefully, her usual brightness muted but still present. "They handle weird situations all the time. You won't just be dropped in front of strangers who don't know what they're doing."
Anthony shook his head lightly. "No. I just… wanted to be sure."
Himeko met his gaze, reassuring but honest. "We'll make sure you're in capable hands. They'll proceed carefully — and you'll have us there."
Dan Heng nodded once in agreement. "It remains the most reasonable course of action."
Anthony let out a slow breath. "Alright. Then I guess that's the plan."