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Out in the deep silence of the cosmos, Hiroshi stood at the edge of the known frontier. He focused his gaze on the most distant flickering light within his line of sight and pulled the trigger on his reality-warping gift.
In the next instant, he felt his boots hit nothing. His body began to sink. Even through the high-grade insulation of Herta's specialized spacesuit, a scorching, localized heat began to bleed through. He could hear the muffled, rhythmic bubbling of liquid in his ears.
"Wait—what?"
He looked down. He wasn't on solid ground; he was standing in a shifting sea of molten rock. The planet was a volcanic nightmare, a world of liquid fire.
Holy crap, talk about bad luck! Hiroshi thought, his heart hammering. If he hadn't been wearing a suit crafted by an Emanator's puppet, he would have been vaporized before he could even scream. Even so, he knew the suit's integrity was taking a massive hit. It could probably only handle a few more dips into a hellscape like this before the seams gave out.
He didn't linger. He aimed the telescope again, seeking a colder target. There.
He vanished. A second later, he was caught in the screaming, atmospheric pressure of a gas giant. It was a world of eternal storms, bone-chillingly cold, where the "rain" consisted of high-velocity diamonds and the sky was lit by jagged red lightning. The sheer force of the wind caught him, pulling him into a frantic orbit.
Worse! This is definitely worse! Hiroshi wanted to cry, but the suit's internal pressure wouldn't allow it.
Realizing he was pushing his luck, he triggered a return to the station. He reappeared in a quiet utility closet, gasping for breath as the nausea hit him. Note to self: Use the telescope to actually scan the surface before jumping. Blind-warping into 300-million-Credit suits is a quick way to go bankrupt.
For the next few weeks, Hiroshi fell into a rhythm. He supervised the Department of Applications, dodged Ruan Mei's predatory "check-ins," and spent his free time exploring the void. He burned through several suits, assuming Herta wouldn't mind the "research and development" costs.
But a billion-Credit hole in a budget doesn't stay hidden forever.
In the Master Control Zone, Asta sat at her desk, her elegant brows knitting together as she reviewed the monthly expenses.
"One billion... for material research?" she whispered. "From the Department of Applications?"
Asta's eyes narrowed. Hiroshi was the head of that department. Her mind immediately went to the most logical, cynical conclusion: Hiroshi was taking kickbacks. He was learning the darker side of management from someone like Wen Mingde.
Thwack! She slammed her hand onto the desk, making her water cup jump. "That stinky little brother! He hasn't even been in the job a month and he's already funneling funds? And a billion, no less!"
She stormed toward the department to give him a piece of her mind, but he was nowhere to be found. She checked the containment bays, the gallery, and the labs. Nothing.
Now, Asta was beyond angry. Her face was flushed, and the physical bill in her hand was a crumpled mess. "Fine! He's taking kickbacks and skipping work? Just wait until I get my hands on him!"
She pulled out her phone and sent a message with enough force to crack the screen.
Asta: [I am at your office. You. Will. Appear. Right. Now. Or you can face the consequences!] (ﾒ ﾟdishﾟ)ﾒ
Out in the void, Hiroshi felt his phone vibrate like it was trying to escape his pocket. He saw the "99+" notifications and Asta's furious avatar.
Oh no. She found out I'm not at my desk.
He didn't want Asta to hate him. He immediately focused on the office and warped back.
Asta was tapping her toe irritably against the floor when Hiroshi materialized. She turned, ready to scream, but then she saw his face. His youthful, innocent features and that look of startled guilt instantly drained the fire from her heart. It was like a bucket of cold water had been dumped on a bonfire. She let out a long, defeated sigh.
"Get over here," she commanded.
"Ow, ow, ow!" Hiroshi yelped as Asta grabbed him by the ear and led him into a deserted corner. Once she let go, he quickly took a few steps back—he didn't want his "Charm" ability to cloud her judgment during a serious talk.
"Where were you just now?" Asta asked, her hands on her waist like an older sister lecturing a sibling.
"I... I was in the restroom! And I finished all my reports ahead of schedule," Hiroshi lied.
Asta glanced at the list he'd compiled. It was, admittedly, perfect. Neat, organized, and thorough. He really does have a talent for this, she thought, but she didn't let him off the hook.
"Ahem. Fine. But explain the one billion Credits in material costs. Don't tell me you're taking kickbacks, Hiroshi."
Hiroshi froze. Crap. I forgot to ask Herta to cover the 'Gift' budget. He couldn't exactly tell her he was spending hundreds of millions to find her a star.
Asta took his silence as a confession. She walked over, gently patting his head, her voice softening into a lecture. "Listen to me. You can't do things like that. If Madam Herta found out, she'd eject you from the station. Do you understand how dangerous that is?"
Hiroshi blinked, surprised. She wasn't firing him?
"Since your work has been so good otherwise," Asta continued, tapping her chin as she thought of a "punishment," "I'll let it slide. But you need to pay it back. From now on, you come to my room every day to help me tidy up. We'll value your labor at a hundred million a month until the debt is cleared."
Hiroshi's jaw dropped. That's... incredibly generous. "What? You're unwilling?" Asta's face darkened again. "Would you rather I tell Herta?"
"No! No, I'm willing!" Hiroshi said quickly.
I'll just have to maintain a safe distance, he thought. And besides... I guess I finally have to go see that backflipping dog.
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