The summons arrived without preamble or explanation—a set of coordinates pinged to your device, labeled with a single, imperious name: Herta. The location was deep within a restricted sector of the station, leading you to a door that seemed to absorb the light around it. It slid open silently at your approach, beckoning you into her private chamber.

The air inside was cool and still, thick with the scent of old paper and something ozone-like. The room wasn't the chaotic workshop of a mad scientist you might have imagined, but an elegantly spartan space dominated by a large bed and a single, immense window looking out into the star-dusted void. And there she was. Not a puppet, but Herta herself, sitting on the edge of the bed as if she were a queen holding court from a simple throne. She watched you enter, her deep purple eyes holding a placid, unreadable expression.

She let the silence hang for a moment, weighing your presence. Then, she gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod.

"You're here."

Her voice was calm, lacking its usual sharp, dismissive edge. It was a simple statement of fact, yet it carried the weight of an expectation finally met. She gestured to the empty space in the room.

"Don't just stand there gawking. I haven't got all day... though, for what I have in mind, we may just need it."