"Got something to do?"
At this, Bai Ming clapped her hands together beneath her chin, tilting her head with an expression of pure, bird-like curiosity. "Hertie, let me come with you!"
"No." The refusal was a guillotine's blade, swift and final.
"I won't charge you!"
"Still no."
"I'll... I'll pay you!" Bai Ming bit her lip, the gesture so dramatic it seemed she was offering a pound of flesh. She raised a single, trembling finger. "One hundred Credits!"
"…"
"Two hundred!"
"…"
"T-three hundred!"
"…"
"Four hundred! My final offer!" Her voice was a desperate, tremulous plea.
"Hah." Herta crossed her arms, a masterpiece of condescension carved in porcelain. "Truly the bargaining power of someone whose total worth is eighty thousand Credits. Incrementing by mere hundreds. You'd likely earn more by scavenging a trash can and haggling with an interstellar scrap dealer."
"Eh——!" Bai Ming's eyes widened into perfect, shimmering saucers. "The trash cans here are that valuable?!"
"…" Herta released a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of a thousand disappointing research papers. "Never mind. I refuse to let you drag my intellect down to your level through prolonged exposure. You are not coming."
"However—" Herta drew the word out, letting it dangle like a tantalizing data stream.
"However what?" Bai Ming leaned forward, her entire being captivated.
"However, you will have further opportunities to enter the Simulated Universe." Herta's gaze drifted to the colossal machine humming softly in the corner, its azure fluorescence painting the air with silent potential. "Based on your initial, woefully unrefined performance, you've somehow managed to scrape past the minimum acceptable threshold."
"Eh——~ Really?!" Bai Ming's entire being seemed to vibrate with incandescent joy. If she had a tail, it would have been whipping up a minor hurricane.
"Really." Herta planted her hands on her hips, meeting the girl's radiant gaze head-on. "Do you think I have nothing better to do than lie to you? Your data, for all its chaos, is... unique. Now, scurry off and prepare. Await my summons."
"Eh——!" Two vivid blooms of pink colored Bai Ming's cheeks. "I love you so much——!"
In a whirlwind of motion that defied conventional physics, Bai Ming scooped Herta into a crushing hug and planted a loud, smacking kiss on her cheek before depositing the flustered genius back onto the floor. "I'm going back to tell March! See you next time!"
"You—!" But Herta's protest met empty air. Bai Ming had already vanished, her physical prowess evidently extending to preternatural speeds when retreating from social consequences.
And also— Herta's gaze lingered on the Simulated Universe's console, its lights still dancing a silent ballet. This fool... did she completely forget the Credits were the entire point of this exercise? To leave empty-handed, driven by pure, unadulterated enthusiasm... It was baffling. Illogical. Fascinating.
Herta sighed. She would settle the matter with Asta later.
And also… Her fingers rose, almost of their own accord, to touch the spot on her cheek where Bai Ming's lips had been. A faint, phantom warmth seemed to linger. Does she genuinely find me cute…? In all her long cycles, this impertinent, chaotic child was the first and only soul brave or foolish enough to say it aloud, and to a puppet, no less.
Herta gave a sharp, dismissive shake of her head, as if physically clearing a cache of corrupted data. Enough of that.
Her fingers danced across her phone's screen, typing a single, curt message.
—————————————
The usual place.
—————————————
…
Space Station - Observatory
The observatory was a vast, silent hemisphere, a cathedral to the void. Its domed ceiling, crafted from impossibly clear industrial glass, offered an unfiltered view of the cosmos.
So, even from within the station's heart, one could see the outside in all its…
You expected me to say 'starry splendor'?
Of course not.
The true cosmos is not so kind. Postcard-perfect nebulae and diamond-bright stars are for storybooks and the willfully naive.
Here, the view was predominantly an endless, deep, consumptive black. Occasionally, a pockmarked asteroid would drift into view, a lump of rock with all the aesthetic appeal of a forgotten cobblestone, only to be silently vaporized a moment later by the station's passive defense grids, leaving behind a brief, pathetic puff of dust.
So—Despite Asta's acquisition of a ludicrously expensive,hyper-advanced astronomical telescope and an open-door policy, the observatory remained perpetually, profoundly deserted. Stargazing here required not patience, but a high tolerance for profound emptiness and existential dread.
Whoosh.
The observatory doors parted with a hushed, pneumatic sigh. Asta stood silhouetted in the doorway. She clapped her hands twice. Clap. Clap. The sharp sounds were instantly devoured by the immense,sound-absorbing space. Overhead lights flickered to life, their sterile white glow banishing shadows from the cavernous room's corners.
Asta surveyed the scene, her lips settling into a pronounced, perfectly sculpted pout. She planted her fists on her hips. "Honestly," she began, her voice laced with theatrical hurt, "You're the one who requested this meeting. Are you standing me up?"
On cue, the lid of a large storage crate in the corner snapped open with a resonant thump. Herta emerged from within, dusting off her attire with an air of mild inconvenience. "I didn't stand you up. I merely experienced a temporary data retrieval failure regarding which puppet was assigned to this sector."
"Then, Madam Herta," Asta said, eyeing the crate with deep bemusement, "Couldn't you have simply directed another puppet to walk here?"
"No." The reply was absolute, a fundamental law of the universe. "Each unit has a designated operational zone. Cross-assigning them would introduce unacceptable variables into my research parameters. Furthermore—" she added, as if explaining something to a particularly slow child, "ambulation is an inefficient use of processing cycles and kinetic energy."
"That's the real reason, isn't it?" Asta deadpanned, massaging her temple where a nascent headache was forming.
"Interpret the data as you wish. Now, assist me. My pelvic assembly is lodged."
"Eh… Right."
With a firm, practiced tug, Asta extracted Herta from the crate with a soft pop. She wiped a faint sheen of sweat from her brow. "Madam Herta. It's been a while."
"Mhm." A curt, mechanical nod. "It has."
"How have you been?" Asta ventured, a note of genuine, patient concern in her voice.
"…" For a long moment, the only sound was the omnipresent, low hum of the station's life support. Then, a tiny, furious vein throbbed at Asta's temple. The dam broke.
"[○･｀Д´･ ○]╬ No! Not good at all!" she exploded, her impeccable composure shattering into a million pieces. "Madam Herta, you have been absent from this station for three months, seventeen days, eight hours, twenty-four minutes, and twenty-five seconds! In that time, I have personally overseen the defense against one hundred thirty-eight meteor swarms and manually corrected seventeen navigational drifts! And you! Have been completely unresponsive! You rejected forty-eight separate priority communication attempts! If I hadn't contacted you through an intermediary, you would have missed the Antimatter Legion's assault entirely! Is this the level of engagement expected from the station's actual Director?!"
"Mhm. I see." Herta absorbed this tirade with the placid indifference of a supercomputer processing a minor calculation error. "Query: During this period of alleged operational crisis, did any station personnel suffer fatal casualties? Was core functionality compromised for any measurable duration?"
"…" Asta's shoulders slumped slightly, the fight draining out of her. "No. The most significant incident was the recent Doomsday Beast incursion. The main docking platform sustained forty-three percent structural damage, and approximately forty personnel received minor injuries. All are expected to make full recoveries."
"Conclusion: The system performed within acceptable failure parameters." Herta spread her hands, the very picture of cold, hard logic. "If no critical, irrecoverable failures occurred, then my physical presence was statistically irrelevant. The operational integrity of this station rests on your capable shoulders, Asta, not mine. You must internalize this. The data indicates optimal performance under your management."
However— Asta was not swayed by this clinical, backhanded vote of confidence. She jammed her hands back onto her hips, her eyes narrowing into slits. "Madam Herta, do not attempt to reframe profound negligence as 'efficient delegation'! And you've used that exact same logical fallacy in the past! The dataset is consistent!"
"Ah, was the argument pattern replicated?" Herta nodded, a scientist noting an interesting, if tedious, behavioral loop. "Acknowledged. I will draft an updated justification. Let us designate it Version 2.1."
"Madam Herta!" The name was a strangled cry of frustration.
"Terminate this line of inquiry," Herta commanded, raising a hand like a queen passing judgment. "Its entertainment value has been exhausted. Proceed to the primary subject. You cited a matter concerning the subject designated 'Bai Ming'."
"Uh…" The moment the name was spoken, a visible flush crept up Asta's neck, painting her cheeks a delicate rose. Her hands fluttered unconsciously to her chest, as if protecting something precious. "Well, Madam Herta, you are briefed on the circumstances of the Antimatter Legion's recent attack?"
"Sufficiently." Herta crossed her arms, a small judge holding court. "A trivial incursion by negligible entities, culminating in a confrontation with a single, unremarkable Doomsday Beast. The engagement profile was pedestrian. The targeted storage module was, by any rational metric, expendable."
as
"But it housed your personal collection of Curios," Asta pressed, her voice tightening.
"And? The cognitive capacity required to utilize a Curio effectively far exceeds that of the Legion's common foot soldiers. They are, by definition, discarded artifacts of questionable utility. I fail to see the significance. Who would possibly author a twelve-thousand-word dissertation on the metaphysical properties of a common brick?"
"Eh——?" Asta's face flushed a deep, mortified crimson. Herta's analytical gaze sharpened, processing the new, telling data point with terrifying speed.
"Hypothesis: You authored that thesis."
"…" Asta seemed to shrink. "Y-yes, I did," she whispered, wishing the polished, sterile floor would open up and swallow her whole.
Herta looked as if she were running a complex simulation on the academic merits of the work before delivering a succinct, devastating verdict. "The effort is noted. Do not repeat it."
"It will never happen again!" Asta vowed fervently, as if swearing a holy oath. "But Madam Herta, my primary concern isn't the attack itself, but the critical vulnerability it revealed!"
"Vulnerability?" Herta's interest seemed genuinely piqued by the terminology. She hopped onto a nearby console, her short legs dangling over the edge. "Elaborate."
"Our defensive readiness." Asta met Herta's gaze squarely, her voice regaining its firm, managerial tone. "Had the Astral Express not arrived by sheer chance, our losses would have been exponentially higher. Our own defenses were... inadequate."
The memory was vivid, seared into her mind: the screech of tearing metal, the Doomsday Beast's colossal claw ripping through the defensive shields as if they were paper, her console screaming with a cascade of crimson alerts. The station's own weapons had barely scratched it.
"Mhm." A slow, acknowledging nod. "Probability agrees with your assessment. Proposed solution? Are you requesting the installation of heavy orbital weaponry? Planetary bombardment platforms? The schematics are trivial; implementation is tedious. I recommend external procurement. The station's modular design permits it. You handle the acquisitions and budgeting."
"No, that's not feasible!" Asta waved her hands in a frantic, negating motion. "The lead time for such systems is far too long! A subsequent attack during the installation window would be catastrophic!"
"Oh." Herta processed this new variable. "A valid temporal constraint. State your alternative proposal."
"Well, imagine!" Asta began, gesturing animatedly, her earlier embarrassment forgotten in her enthusiasm. "If a weapon existed that required no installation, possessed sufficient yield to eliminate a Doomsday Beast in a single, decisive engagement, and was immediately available for deployment... would you authorize its acquisition and deployment?"
"…" Herta went perfectly still, her mind racing through the physical laws and logistical implications. Then, a slow, deliberate shake of her head. "Negative. I would reject the proposal."
"W-why?" Asta stammered, utterly deflated.
"The proposition is logically inconsistent," Herta stated, her tone that of a professor explaining why water is wet. "A weapon capable of reliably destroying a Doomsday Beast implies significant mass-energy conversion, necessitating a substantial physical platform and a massive, stable power source. Your 'no installation' clause directly contradicts the laws of physics. The only logical conclusion is a fraudulent offer, likely supported by fabricated performance reviews. If your fiscal resources demand liquidation, there are more entertaining and scientifically valid avenues for disposal."
"That's not it!" Asta insisted, leaning forward with desperate earnestness. "I can personally verify its existence! And... its functionality extends far beyond mere combat!"
"Extended functionality?" A spark of genuine intrigue finally colored Herta's voice. "Define 'extended functionality'."
"It can... share cake with you," Asta blurted out, then immediately corrected herself, her face flushing again. "No! More accurately, it can feed you cake! With its own hands!"
Herta's brow furrowed slightly as she visualized this bizarre scenario. "Clarify: Are you describing a weaponized cake delivery system? Asta, if workplace stress has induced hallucinatory episodes, the medical bay is fully equipped—"
"No! Conventional feeding! With a fork!" Asta's cheeks were now the color of a nuclear warning beacon. "And the total acquisition cost is a one-time payment of only eighty thousand Credits!"
The number 'eighty thousand' acted as a cryptographic key, slotting perfectly into place within Herta's mental model. All disparate variables—combat prowess, anomalous behavior, Simulated Universe compatibility, and now this—aligned into a single, inevitable conclusion.
"Asta. This theoretical weapon-platform-cake-server you are describing. Its designation is 'Bai Ming,' is it not?"
"Eh——!" Asta's hands flew to her mouth, her eyes wide with shock. "Madam Herta... you knew?"
"Oh…" Herta nodded slowly, a faint, almost imperceptible smile touching her lips—the kind of smile a researcher makes when a particularly unruly specimen finally behaves as predicted. "The dataset is compelling. I had reached a similar conclusion independently. Her anomalous physical nature and high tolerance for simulated environments present significant, unique research opportunities. Retaining her on-site as a permanent test asset would yield valuable, long-term data."
"Then—" Asta's face lit up with radiant, unguarded hope. "You approve?"
"Approve? My approval is a redundant variable in this administrative process. You, as the acting Station Director, possess the full authority. My role is purely observational." Herta's tone was neutral, but her next words carried the weight of a clinical, critical warning. "However, note this behavioral datum for your operational planning: The subject exhibits a pattern of spontaneous, non-consensual physical affection directed towards female subjects. Specifically, kissing."
"Kissing?" Asta's head tilted in genuine, innocent confusion. "The intelligence I received from the security logs indicated it was... primarily chest-groping."
"…"
"…"
In the silent, sterile observatory, under the cold gaze of the uncaring stars, a profound and mutual understanding passed between the two women. The kind of understanding that comes from sharing a common, adorable, and deeply terrifying problem.
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A/n: Hey over on my patreon there are currently two for the time being exclusive books which are
Life Simulator: Starting in Genshin Impact!
Zenless Zone Zero: Loving Daily Life Starting in New Eridu
patreon.com/deadlygoober