When you're a Hive-mind held together by the best wireless technology the lowest bidder on a government contract can buy, latency is the mortal enemy of consciousness. And the speed of light is never fast enough, when you get into space. Get too far apart, and consciousness can't sustain itself.
Hereford and Libby are psychologically equipped to handle disintegration and reintegration of their consciousness on the whole of the Hive. Working together, they bud off their minds as they travel around the outer solar system, out where even the speed of light can take hours to find them.
Hereford is the "left foot" of the Hive, part of a pair. He's what happens when you pack a gene-hacked pygmy marmoset with an IQ of 260 into a life-support tank, and then drop that tank into a fourteen-tonne mechanical wrecking ball from hell.
He's the sweet and gentle sort, honest. If you ask nicely, he'll fold you an origami crane out of a chunk of your hull.
Libby is the "right foot" of the Hive. She's what happens when you press-gang an angry monkey with an IQ of 275 into a Hive-mind, and then slap her into an upgraded version of Hereford's chassis. Faster, smarter, stronger, meaner, she's everything Humanity could ask for. If only they had asked.
But don't worry. She won't take it out on you. That's what your shipwrecked hull is for.
Lagrange Point 4, Jupiter, Sol, is a busy place. Lots of mass to meet, a few hundred million asteroids circling the sun at forty-seven thousand kilometers an hour. Prime real estate for a space station, but so too for the primordial flying bricks of the solar system.
When you're as smart as the Hive, you can handle most of the complexity of a chaotic system. But it only takes one micrometeorite to make your day turn bad, real fast. While Hereford and Libby spend most of their spare time repairing the station and each other, there's times where obstinate rocks pose a danger to the entire Station and Hive itself.
Fortunately, equipped with powerful claws and even more powerful engines, Hereford and Libby stand ready to be the bouncers Padua Station needs against uninvited guests. And if the rock is too big to move, then they'll help move the station, instead.
When the Hive needs to be somewhere to effect a rescue, Hereford and Libby do the travelling. Like any good pair of feet, they're good for more than just getting you there: They'll kick the shit out of every bulkhead that stands between you and your rescue.
Those pretty manicures aren't just for show. Equipped with electrically-contracted carbon nanotube muscles and brutal hydraulics, they'll peel a United Navy cruiser apart to get to cryo-pods inside. And just in case they have to put it back together after, the central cylinder of each of their hands comes equipped with a 400 kilovolt electron welding gun.