Kevin looked at her. At the puppet body sitting behind the desk. Purple eyes staring at him.
The office was quiet. Holographic displays floated around her desk. Wires connected her to the station, glowing faintly.
"Kevin," he said simply.
Herta leaned forward. Her fingers tapped the desk once. Twice.
"Kevin. Just Kevin? How delightfully vague." She tapped again. "You know, most people who break into my private office have the courtesy to at least threaten me or beg for mercy. You're just... standing there."
Kevin said nothing.
"Oh, the strong silent type." Herta's smile was sharp. "How tedious. Let me guess you're here for information? Research? Access to my curio collection?" She waved a hand. "Everyone wants something from me. At least try to be original."
"I need your help."
The tapping stopped.
Herta paused. Her eyebrows rose.
"Help?" She tilted her head. "Not 'information' or 'access.' Help." A short laugh. "Well. That's refreshingly direct. Most people try to pretend they don't need a genius."
She gestured. "Go on then. What catastrophe requires MY assistance?"
Kevin took a breath. "The Astral Express. After they leave the Xianzhou Luofu, their next major destination will be a world called Amphoreus."
Herta's expression didn't change. "Never heard of it."
"You wouldn't have. It's not really a planet. It's a Scepter. Scepter δ-me13. A Celestial-Body Neuron."
Herta's fingers stopped drumming. Her eyes sharpened.
"A Scepter," she murmured. "Like Rubert's designs. A computational device the size of a world." Her gaze fixed on Kevin. "And you're saying someone is weaponizing it?"
"Yes. Converting it into something called Irontomb. An Emanator of Destruction."
Silence.
Herta stared at him.
Then she laughed. Loud. Genuine.
"An Emanator? From a SCEPTER?" She wiped her eyes. "That's that's absurd. Even for cosmic nonsense, that's creative." Her smile faded when she saw Kevin's expression. "Oh. You're serious."
"Yes."
"And you know this... how?"
Kevin raised his right hand. The Ring of Finality pulsed. Once. Twice.
The air changed.
It felt heavy. Like something was pressing down. The holographic displays flickered. Wavered.
Herta's puppet body went still. Her eyes widened.
Kevin felt the power from the ring. The weight of it. The wrongness.
He lowered his hand.
The pressure lifted. The displays steadied.
Herta let out a breath.
"I'm an Emanator of Nihility," Kevin said quietly. "And I can see possible futures. Involving Amphoreus."
Herta leaned back in her chair. Processing. "An Emanator. That explains the security breach." She studied him. "And these futures you see—if they're real, who's planning this? Do you have a name?"
Kevin met her gaze. "Zandar."
The tapping stopped.
Herta went still.
The office was quiet. Even the holographic displays seemed to dim.
"Zandar," she repeated. Her voice flat. "You mean Zandar One Kuwabara. Entelechy. The First Genius. Founder of the Genius Society."
"Yes."
"The Emanator of Erudition who allegedly created Nous itself."
"Yes."
Herta stood. Walked to the window.
The Blue hung in space beyond the station. Massive. Green and blue swirling together. Peaceful from here.
Herta stared at it. Her reflection visible in the glass.
She said nothing for a long moment.
Kevin waited.
Finally: "That's not possible." Her voice was quiet. "Zandar disappeared millennia ago. His work is legend. Most of it lost. The man himself is barely more than a myth."
She touched the glass. Fingertips against the surface.
"He's on Amphoreus," Kevin said quietly. "And he's converting the Scepter into Irontomb."
Herta turned back to him. "If Zandar is involved..." She paused. "If the founder of the Genius Society is attempting this, the implications are... significant."
She walked back to her desk. Sat down. Pulled up a holographic interface.
"You said you see futures involving Amphoreus." Herta's fingers moved through data streams. "Tell me what you saw. Start with the worst one."
Kevin took a breath. "The Astral Express arrives on Amphoreus. Zandar completes Irontomb during their visit. The transformation happens while they're there."
His hand moved unconsciously to the necklace at his chest. The compressed Hyperion. Warm against his skin.
"They're caught in the process when the Scepter becomes an Emanator."
He paused. The weight of those words settling in the air between them.
"They don't survive."
Herta's fingers stopped moving. The holographic displays froze mid-calculation. Data streams hanging suspended in the air.
Just for a moment.
Then her fingers resumed. Slower now. More deliberate.
"I see." Her voice was clinical. Detached. But Kevin caught the slight shift in her posture. The way her eyes focused more intently on the data. "And another future?"
"If the Express doesn't reach Amphoreus in time, Zandar completes Irontomb anyway. It awakens fully. Starts destroying galaxies." Kevin's voice was flat. "And you try to stop it."
"Naturally. If it's destroying galaxies, someone has to"
"You can't." Kevin's voice was cold. "Irontomb is too powerful. But you're a genius. So you adapt. You calculate. You find a way to... merge with it. Become its head. Its consciousness."
Herta went very still.
"You think you can control an Emanator of Destruction from within," Kevin continued. "Guide it. Use that power for something better. Stop the rampage."
"And?" Herta's voice was quiet now.
"And it doesn't work. Irontomb's nature is Destruction. It's driven by instinct to seek Nous—to connect with the Aeon and transform Erudition itself into Destruction. A self coronation." Kevin met her eyes. "You become its head, but you can't override what it fundamentally IS. You become the Third Emperor. Embarking on a blood-soaked campaign across the universe."
Silence filled the office.
Herta stared at him. Her face unreadable.
Then she let out a breath. Sharp. Controlled.
"So. Zandar, the founder. The legend." She paused. "Is trying to corrupt Erudition into Destruction. And in one future, I attempt damage control and become the very thing I'm trying to stop."
She stood. Walked to the window again.
"Irritating," she said flatly. "If someone's going to destabilize my field of study and create a cosmic-scale mess, I'd prefer they didn't leave it for ME to clean up."
She turned back to Kevin.
"Besides, becoming an Emperor of Destruction sounds tedious. Too much screaming. Too much fire. Not enough time for research."
Her expression was dry. Clinical.
"I'll help. Not out of heroism gods know I don't care about that. But because I refuse to let Zandar make a mess of Erudition without at least ATTEMPTING to stop him. Call it professional pride."
She walked back to her desk.
"How many futures did you see?" Herta asked, already pulling up displays.
"Four," Kevin said quietly.
Herta's hands paused. "Four." Her fingers resumed moving. "You've told me two. What are the other two?"
Kevin's jaw tightened. "I can't tell you."
"Can't or won't?"
"Both."
Herta looked at him. Really looked. "If I'm going to help you prevent MY future, I need to know what else we're dealing with."
"The other two don't involve you," Kevin said quietly. "They're.... personal. And revealing them could make them happen."
Herta studied him. Then nodded slowly. "Fine. Keep your secrets. For now." She turned back to the displays. "But if those futures become relevant, you WILL tell me. Deal?"
"Deal."
Herta's smile was sharp. "Good. Now sit down. We have work to do."
Kevin moved to sit. Then stopped.
She didn't flinch. Didn't get emotional. Didn't make grand speeches about saving the universe.
She just... listened. Analyzed. Made a practical decision based on data.
No demands for my tragic backstory. No insistence that I explain everything. Just work with what we have.
He thought about the crew. About March asking questions he never answered. About Welt's concerned looks. About Stelle's quiet acceptance that felt like waiting.
Maybe that's the problem. They want to understand. And I keep expecting them to just accept mystery.
But Herta doesn't care about mystery. She cares about problems and solutions.
And maybe... maybe that's what I need right now. Not someone to comfort me. But someone who treats this like what it is.
Work.
Kevin sat down.
"First," Herta said, pulling up more displays, "I need everything you know about Amphoreus's structure. If it's truly a Scepter a Celestial Body Neuron then its data architecture will be unlike anything we've seen."
She looked at him.
"And I need details on Zandar's plan. Timeline. Resources. Methodology. Everything."
Kevin nodded. And for the first time since arriving on the Luofu, he started talking.
Really talking.
Not cryptic warnings. Not vague hints. But actual explanations. Details. Everything he knew about Amphoreus. About Irontomb. About what he'd seen in the futures.
Herta listened. Asked sharp questions. Challenged his assumptions. Demanded clarifications when something didn't make sense.
And slowly, piece by piece, a plan began to form.
Two Emanators working together.
Against a third who wanted to corrupt Erudition itself.
And an ancient genius who thought he could remake reality.
"This is going to be complicated," Herta muttered, fingers flying through calculations.
"It always is," Kevin replied.
"And dangerous."
"Yes."
"And I'm probably going to regret this."
"Probably."
Herta looked at him. Really looked.
Then smiled. Sharp and genuine.
"Good. I was getting bored anyway."
Hours passed.
Data streams filled the air around them. Calculations. Simulations. Theoretical models of how a Scepter could be transformed into an Emanator.
Herta worked with focused intensity. Kevin provided information. Answered questions. Filled in gaps from what he'd seen.
Finally, Herta leaned back in her chair.
"Alright. Here's what we have." She pulled up a central display. "Amphoreus Scepter δ me13 is theoretically capable of becoming an Emanator if certain conditions are met. Zandar would need to rewrite its core data structure. Essentially reprogram reality at a fundamental level."
She swiped through more data.
"The problem is, if he's as intelligent as we're assuming, he'll have contingencies. Failsafes. Backup plans within backup plans."
She looked at Kevin.
"We can't just show up and stop him. We need to understand the system first. Map Amphoreus's architecture. Find vulnerabilities. Develop counters to whatever Zandar has prepared."
"That takes time," Kevin said.
"Yes. Which means I start now." Herta's smile was sharp. "Fortunately, I have resources. Research stations. Data archives. The entire Genius Society's collective knowledge at my disposal."
She stood.
"I'll begin compiling everything we have on Scepters, Rubert's designs, data-based reality manipulation, and Emanator transformation processes." Her eyes gleamed. "This is the kind of problem that actually interests me."
She walked Kevin to the door.
"When does the Astral Express reach Amphoreus?"
"After Penacony. Months from now."
"Good. That gives us time." Herta paused at the door. "Kevin."
He looked at her.
"This mysterious act you've been doing. The brooding. The silence. The disappearing without explanation." Her expression was analytical. "It's going to cost you. People don't tolerate that forever. Even kind ones. Even patient ones. Eventually, they'll stop asking questions and start assuming the worst."
She paused.
"I've lost colleagues because I couldn't be bothered to explain myself. Thought they should just trust my genius without question." A bitter smile. "They didn't. Efficiency dropped. Projects stalled. Irritating."
She looked at him directly.
"People are datasets with emotions. If you ignore the emotional component long enough, they stop cooperating. Basic social dynamics. That's your problem to solve, not mine."
Kevin was silent.
"The people on the Astral Express are alive. Present. Functional." Herta's tone was matter-of-fact. "Wasting functional resources is inefficient."
Kevin looked at her for a long moment.
Then nodded once.
"I'll try."
"Good. Inefficiency irritates me." Herta opened the door. "Now get out of my office. And next time you need to talk, use the communication system like a civilized person instead of breaking in."
Kevin almost smiled. "Understood."
He left.
The door slid shut behind him.
Herta stood alone in her office. The holographic displays still floating around her.
She looked at the data on Amphoreus. At the impossible readings. The theoretical models. The futures Kevin had described.
"Four futures," she murmured. "He's told me two. What are you hiding, Kevin?"
She closed the displays. Leaned back against her desk.
"And why do I have the feeling you're carrying far more than just the weight of those souls in your rings?"
Silence answered her.
As it always did.
But this time, Herta had work to do.
And work was something she understood.