Herta was not used to silence.
The echoes of her voice, her musings, and the constant buzzing of her experiments had filled the Herta Space Station for decades. But now, as she stood in her pristine workshop, staring blankly at the countless projects sprawled across her desk, she found herself grasping at the unfamiliar void left behind by a quiet moment.
The reason for that silence? Ryan.
Her son—a brilliant but reckless 16-year-old—was currently attending some of the most dangerous classes the universe had to offer, with a teacher, Mr. Lopez, whose idea of "education" often bordered on sheer madness. She had warned Ryan against it, countless times, but he had inherited her stubbornness. He was just as impossible as she had been at that age—if not worse.
Herta sighed, her signature deadpan expression softening ever so slightly. She picked up a holographic photo frame from her desk. It flickered faintly, showing a younger version of herself, her bright blue hair tied back neatly. Beside her stood Elio, his enigmatic smile as unreadable as ever, his arm draped casually around her shoulder. And in the center of the photo: Ryan, barely three years old at the time, grinning with pure, unfiltered joy as he clutched a stuffed toy shaped like a miniature stellaron.
She hadn't seen Elio in years. Their paths had diverged long ago—hers a winding road of endless research and immortal projects, his a cryptic journey shaped by premonitions and a future only he could see. The divorce had been inevitable, yet amicable. There were no screaming matches or bitter disputes, only a quiet understanding that their lives could no longer intertwine.
And yet… Ryan had been the thread that tied them together, even after the separation. For years, she had tried to keep her distance, to bury herself in her work and avoid confronting the emotions she didn't fully understand. But raising Ryan alone had forced her to change. She learned patience, understanding, and even a strange form of affection she hadn't known she was capable of.
"Mom, you're staring at that thing again," Ryan's voice broke through her thoughts, pulling her back to the present.
Herta turned to see him standing in the doorway, his usual lopsided grin firmly in place. His uniform was slightly singed—a clear sign that James Lopez had, once again, dragged the students into another perilous "lesson." His dark hair was disheveled, and a faint smudge of soot marred his cheek, but his amber eyes sparkled with energy.
"I see James has succeeded in not killing you yet," Herta remarked, setting the photo frame down and crossing her arms. "Though, judging by the state of you, it's not for lack of trying."
"Please, like I'd let him. You know me—I'm too stubborn to die," Ryan replied, plopping down on a nearby chair. He kicked his legs up onto the table, much to Herta's annoyance. "Besides, it was fun. We were fighting off rogue automatons in an abandoned space station. You'd have loved it."
Herta arched an eyebrow. "Fun? That's your idea of fun? I can see your father's influence more than ever."
Ryan flinched slightly at the mention of Elio, though he tried to hide it. "Yeah, well… Dad's not exactly around to give his input, is he?"
Herta's gaze softened, and for a moment, the air between them grew heavy. She wasn't good at this—at emotional conversations or comforting words. Her realm was logic and data, equations and experiments. But Ryan wasn't a machine to be fixed. He was her son.
"Ryan," she began, her voice quieter now, "your father may not be here, but that doesn't mean he doesn't care. You know that, don't you?"
Ryan shrugged, staring at the floor. "I guess. It's just… sometimes I wish things were different, you know? Like, maybe he could've stayed. Maybe we could've been a family."
Herta walked over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I know. And I wish that too, sometimes. But life doesn't always give us what we want. Your father and I… we both love you. Even if we couldn't stay together, that hasn't changed."
Ryan looked up at her, his expression conflicted. "Do you still see him? Like… ever?"
"Rarely," Herta admitted. "He's always chasing after his visions, his grand plans. But he checks in, from time to time. He asks about you."
Ryan's eyes widened slightly. "He does?"
Herta nodded. "Of course he does. You're his son. And whether you realize it or not, you're a lot like him."
"Great," Ryan muttered, though there was a hint of a smile on his lips. "That's exactly what I needed to hear."
Herta smirked, ruffling his hair despite his protests. "Don't get too full of yourself. You've got plenty of me in you too."
"Yeah, yeah," Ryan said, swatting her hand away. But the smile lingered, genuine now.
For a brief moment, the silence returned, but this time it wasn't empty or oppressive. It was comfortable, filled with the unspoken bond between mother and son. Herta knew there would be challenges ahead—Ryan's reckless nature, James's dangerous teaching methods, and perhaps even Elio's shadow looming in the distance. But for now, she was content to simply enjoy the moment.
After all, even in the vast, chaotic expanse of the universe, family was the one constant she could rely on.