Liora knelt in the warm soil of Greenhouse 3, her fingers brushing tenderly against the waxy leaves of the tomato vines she had nurtured for months. The air was rich with moisture and the mingling scents of chlorophyll and earth, a sharp contrast to the sterile, metallic tang that permeated the rest of Elysian Station.

The greenhouse was her sanctuary, the only place aboard the station where she could pretend she was still connected to Earth. Though she had never set foot on the planet, the plants tied her to its memory. The tomatoes, their plump red skins taut and glistening in the artificial light, were a triumph—a small defiance against the station’s growing fragility.

A faint chime echoed through the humid air, interrupting her reverie.

“Liora,” Kiran’s voice crackled over the comm system. “You’re still in Greenhouse 3, right?”

Liora rose to her feet, brushing soil off her knees. She tapped the comm panel on the nearby irrigation control. “Where else would I be?” she replied, a smile tugging at her lips.

“Command’s calling for a status update on all greenhouses after the flare this morning,” Kiran said. “They want you in Greenhouse 1 ASAP.”

Liora frowned, her fingers tightening on the edge of the panel. “Another flare? That’s three this month.”

“Tell me about it,” Kiran muttered. “The environmental systems are working overtime. If this keeps up, we’re looking at a full-scale failure somewhere on the station.”

“I’ll head over,” Liora said, turning to leave. She cast one last glance at the tomato vines, their delicate stems swaying in the breeze from the circulation fans. “And Kiran?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t let anything happen to my tomatoes,” she said, half-teasing.

Kiran chuckled. “Your precious tomatoes are safe. For now.”

The corridor leading to Greenhouse 1 was dim, the emergency lighting casting long shadows across the walls. The station’s aging infrastructure groaned softly, a reminder of how long it had been since Elysian Station had received proper maintenance.

When Liora stepped into Greenhouse 1, she was struck by the stark contrast to her own space. This was the central greenhouse, home to the station’s largest and most delicate ecosystems. Towering trees dominated the space, their canopies filtering the artificial sunlight into a soft, golden glow. Cascading vines and vibrant flowers adorned the lower levels, creating a stunning imitation of Earth’s lost rainforests.

But something was wrong.

The air felt heavy, tinged with the faint, acrid scent of overheating systems. Ayana Noor, the station’s lead biologist, stood near the base of a massive ficus tree, her expression grim as she scanned a handheld diagnostic device.

“Dr. Noor,” Liora called out, stepping carefully over a tangle of exposed irrigation lines.

Ayana looked up, her sharp eyes narrowing. “You’re late,” she said briskly.

Liora ignored the comment. “What’s the situation?”

Ayana gestured to the tree, her lips pressed into a thin line. “The flare caused a surge in the environmental controls. We’re seeing fluctuations in oxygen levels and humidity across all greenhouses, but Greenhouse 1 took the worst hit. If we don’t stabilize the systems soon, we’ll lose the entire biome.”

Liora frowned, kneeling to inspect the base of the ficus tree. The roots were dry, their exposed surfaces cracked and brittle. “This shouldn’t have happened,” she said. “The irrigation system was reinforced last cycle.”

Ayana didn’t respond, her attention focused on the diagnostic device.

Before Liora could press further, a loud hiss echoed through the greenhouse. She turned sharply, her breath catching as a small panel near the floor popped loose, releasing a cloud of dust.

“What the hell is that?” Kiran’s voice came through the comms.

Liora moved cautiously toward the exposed panel, her heart racing. The compartment behind it was small, barely noticeable amid the tangle of pipes and wires. But what caught her attention was the faint glow emanating from within.

“Dr. Noor,” Liora called out, her voice tight.

Ayana joined her, her brow furrowing as she peered into the compartment. Inside was a small, sealed case etched with symbols Liora didn’t recognize.

“What is that?” Liora asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Ayana shook her head, her expression unreadable. “Something that shouldn’t be here,” she said.

The case was heavier than it looked. Liora carried it carefully to the central workstation, her fingers brushing over the smooth, glass-like surface. Ayana stood beside her, scanning the symbols with a handheld device, while Kiran’s voice crackled through the comms, peppering them with questions.

“Any luck identifying it?” he asked.

“Not yet,” Ayana replied curtly. She tapped a sequence into the scanner, frowning as the device returned no matches. “Whatever these markings are, they don’t match anything in the station’s database.”

Liora hesitated, then carefully opened the case. Inside were rows of vials, each containing a small collection of seeds. Their labels were faded, the text written in a language she couldn’t decipher.

“Seeds,” Ayana said, her voice tinged with surprise.

“These aren’t in the greenhouse inventory,” Liora said, picking up one of the vials. The seeds inside glimmered faintly in the artificial light, as if infused with some kind of energy.

“Where did they come from?” Kiran asked over the comms.

Ayana’s lips pressed into a thin line. “That’s the question, isn’t it?”

The next few hours were a blur of activity. Ayana took the case to the lab for further analysis, leaving Liora to oversee repairs in Greenhouse 1. Kiran joined her, his toolbelt jangling as he crouched beside the damaged irrigation system.

“Find anything useful in that case?” he asked, his voice low.

“Seeds,” Liora replied, her tone distant.

“Seeds?”

“Not just any seeds,” she said. “Ancient ones. From Earth, maybe even before the Collapse.”

Kiran let out a low whistle. “That’s one hell of a find. Could they still grow?”

Liora hesitated, the weight of the question pressing against her. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “But if they do, they might be the key to something we’ve lost.”

Before Kiran could respond, the station shuddered violently. The lights flickered, plunging the greenhouse into brief darkness before the emergency backups engaged.

“What now?” Liora muttered, gripping the edge of a support beam to steady herself.

Kiran checked his wrist console, his expression darkening. “Another surge,” he said. “And it’s a big one.”

The greenhouse’s environmental systems hissed and sputtered, their strained hum rising into a discordant whine. Liora’s stomach tightened as she realized the truth:

The station was failing.

The station’s alarms blared faintly in the distance, a monotonous sound that underscored the growing tension. Liora tightened the straps of her tool belt as she hurried down the corridor toward the lab. Her mind was still spinning from the discovery of the strange seed case and the warning signs from the greenhouse systems.

When she stepped inside, Ayana was already at work. The biologist stood over a sterile workstation, examining one of the seed vials under a glowing microscope. Data scrolled rapidly across the terminal beside her.

“What did you find?” Liora asked, stepping closer.

Ayana didn’t look up. “These seeds are extraordinary,” she said. “Genetically modified far beyond anything I’ve seen. They were engineered for resilience—drought tolerance, high carbon dioxide levels, radiation resistance. Traits that shouldn’t have been possible before Earth’s Collapse.”

Liora frowned, crossing her arms. “So, they’re from Earth?”

Ayana nodded slowly. “Almost certainly. But they’re not just a scientific artifact. Whoever created these seeds designed them for survival in an environment much harsher than Earth ever was.”

“Like here?” Liora asked.

Ayana’s gaze darkened. “Perhaps. Or perhaps they’re the last attempt to preserve Earth’s legacy.”

Liora leaned against the table, staring at the glowing vials. “Why were they hidden?”

Ayana straightened, meeting her eyes. “That’s what worries me. Someone didn’t just store them—they buried them. As if they didn’t want anyone to find them.”

Before Liora could respond, the comm system crackled.

“Liora, Ayana, get to Greenhouse 2 now,” Kiran’s voice came through, sharp and urgent. “We’ve got a situation.”

The moment Liora entered Greenhouse 2, the acrid smell of smoke hit her. The once-pristine air was clouded with a faint haze, and the sound of hissing steam filled the space. Kiran stood near the center of the greenhouse, his face grim as he gestured toward a tangle of broken pipes near the irrigation system.

“The environmental controls overloaded,” he said. “Humidity’s all over the place, and we’ve got pressure leaks. If we don’t get this under control, the plants are going to fail.”

Ayana surveyed the damage, her jaw tightening. “This isn’t from the solar flare,” she said. “These pipes were tampered with.”

Liora knelt beside the broken lines, her fingers brushing over the jagged edges. The cuts were clean—too clean to have been caused by a random failure.

“This was deliberate,” she said, her voice low.

Kiran swore under his breath. “Sabotage?”

Ayana nodded. “It’s the only explanation. Someone’s trying to destabilize the greenhouses.”

Liora stood, her heart pounding. “But why? The greenhouses are the only thing keeping the station alive.”

“Maybe someone doesn’t want it to stay alive,” Kiran muttered darkly.

Ayana glanced around, her sharp eyes scanning the greenhouse. “We need to stabilize this section immediately. Kiran, get the pressure regulators back online. Liora, reconfigure the irrigation system. I’ll handle the humidity levels.”

The three of them moved quickly, their hands working with practiced efficiency. Liora’s fingers trembled as she adjusted the irrigation valves, her mind racing. If someone was actively sabotaging the station, it wasn’t just the greenhouses at risk—it was everyone aboard.

Hours later, the greenhouse systems were stable, though the tension lingering in the air had only grown. The three of them stood near the central console, exhaustion etched into their faces.

“This wasn’t an accident,” Ayana said, her voice firm. “And it wasn’t random. Whoever sabotaged these systems knew exactly what they were doing.”

Liora looked at her, a knot forming in her stomach. “Do you think it’s connected to the seeds?”

Ayana hesitated, her expression unreadable. “It’s possible,” she said finally. “But I’m more concerned about what this means for the station as a whole. If someone’s targeting the greenhouses, they’re targeting the station’s life support.”

Kiran folded his arms, his brow furrowed. “Who would do that? Everyone here depends on these systems. Sabotaging them is suicide.”

“Not if they have a backup plan,” Ayana said quietly.

Liora’s chest tightened. “What kind of backup plan?”

Ayana didn’t answer. Instead, she turned to the console, pulling up a schematic of the greenhouse systems. The display flickered, lines of data scrolling rapidly across the screen.

“What are you looking for?” Kiran asked.

“Patterns,” Ayana said. “If this sabotage was deliberate, there might be signs of tampering elsewhere in the system.”

As the data loaded, a red alert flashed across the screen. Liora’s pulse quickened as she leaned closer, reading the message:

WARNING: UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS DETECTED IN GREENHOUSE 1 SYSTEMS.

Ayana straightened, her eyes narrowing. “There it is.”

Kiran swore again. “Someone’s been in the system.”

Liora’s breath caught. “They’re not just sabotaging the greenhouses—they’re controlling them.”

The three of them hurried to Greenhouse 1, their boots echoing against the metal floor of the corridor. When they arrived, the space was eerily quiet. The towering trees swayed gently in the artificial breeze, their leaves casting long shadows across the ground.

“Spread out,” Ayana said, her voice low. “Look for anything out of place.”

Liora moved cautiously through the rows of plants, her eyes scanning for signs of tampering. Her heart pounded in her chest, the weight of the moment pressing down on her like a physical force.

Near the base of the massive ficus tree, she noticed something unusual—a faint glow emanating from a panel hidden among the roots.

“Ayana,” she called out, her voice trembling.

The biologist joined her, her sharp eyes narrowing as she studied the panel. It was open, wires spilling out like veins from a wound.

“This isn’t part of the greenhouse system,” Ayana said, kneeling to examine the exposed circuitry.

Liora’s stomach twisted. “Then what is it?”

Before Ayana could answer, the comm system crackled to life.

“You shouldn’t have found this.”

The voice was low and distorted, each word sending a chill down Liora’s spine. She looked around frantically, her breath quickening. “Who’s there?” she demanded.

“You’re wasting your time,” the voice continued. “The station was never meant to last. Let it go.”

The comm went silent, leaving the greenhouse in oppressive stillness.

Ayana rose slowly, her jaw clenched. “We need answers,” she said. “And we’re running out of time to get them.”

The silence in Greenhouse 1 hung like a heavy shroud. Liora stared at the panel near the ficus tree, her mind racing with questions. The distorted voice still echoed in her ears, its warning as chilling as it was cryptic.

“You’re wasting your time. The station was never meant to last.”

Ayana slammed the panel shut, her sharp gaze cutting through the haze of tension. “We’re not wasting anything,” she said firmly. “But we need to act fast. Whoever this is, they’ve already destabilized one greenhouse, and they won’t stop here.”

Kiran stepped forward, his brow furrowed. “How are they even doing this? They’ve bypassed layers of security protocols. That kind of access shouldn’t even exist.”

Ayana folded her arms, her expression grim. “It doesn’t—not for us. But if this is connected to the station’s original systems, they might have found a way in through old command protocols.”

Liora’s heart sank as she realized what Ayana was suggesting. “You think this person has access to the founders’ systems?”

“It’s the only explanation,” Ayana replied. “The founders designed Elysian Station to preserve humanity’s last ecosystems. If someone’s exploiting that infrastructure, they’re operating on a level far beyond anything we’ve dealt with before.”

“Great,” Kiran muttered, running a hand through his hair. “So not only do we have a saboteur, but they might be sitting on a system that can control the entire station.”

Ayana nodded. “Which is why we need to find them—and stop them—before the damage becomes irreversible.”

The next several hours were a blur of frantic work and growing tension. Ayana tasked Liora and Kiran with running diagnostics on the greenhouses, searching for signs of further tampering. Meanwhile, Ayana began combing through the station’s system logs, hunting for clues about the saboteur’s access point.

In Greenhouse 3, Liora knelt by the irrigation lines, her fingers trembling as she adjusted a faulty valve. The system hummed faintly as water began flowing again, its rhythm a fragile reminder of the station’s dependence on the greenhouses.

“How’s it looking?” Kiran’s voice came through the comm panel.

“Stable for now,” Liora replied. She wiped her hands on her jumpsuit, glancing around the greenhouse. The tomato plants swayed gently in the artificial breeze, their vibrant red fruit a stark contrast to the metallic walls beyond.

“I can’t believe someone would do this,” she said softly. “The greenhouses are everything. Without them, the station is...”

“Dead,” Kiran finished. “Yeah, I know. Whoever’s behind this either doesn’t care or has some twisted reason for doing it.”

Liora hesitated. “Do you think it’s connected to the seeds we found?”

There was a pause before Kiran replied. “It’s hard not to. Whoever buried those seeds didn’t want anyone to find them. And now, suddenly, someone’s tearing apart the very systems keeping us alive?”

Liora’s stomach tightened. The seeds were a mystery she couldn’t stop thinking about—a piece of Earth’s lost history hidden beneath layers of secrecy. But now, they felt like a puzzle piece in a much larger, more dangerous picture.

Later, in the control deck, Ayana’s voice cut through the comms with urgency.

“Liora, Kiran, get up here now.”

The two of them arrived moments later, stepping into the dimly lit room. Ayana stood at the central console, her expression grim as she gestured to the screen.

“What’s going on?” Liora asked.

Ayana pointed to the display, where lines of data scrolled rapidly. “I found the saboteur’s access point. They’ve been operating out of Deck 7.”

Liora’s eyes widened. “Deck 7? That’s been sealed off for years.”

Kiran frowned. “Why there? What’s on Deck 7?”

Ayana’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Deck 7 housed the original command center before it was decommissioned. The founders built it as the nerve center for the station’s core systems—greenhouse controls, life support, orbital alignment. If the saboteur has access to those systems, they could destabilize the entire station.”

“Then we need to get down there,” Kiran said, already heading for the door.

“It’s not that simple,” Ayana said sharply. “The deck’s environmental systems have been offline for years. If we go down there, we’ll need full pressure suits and oxygen reserves. And that’s assuming the structural integrity is still intact.”

Liora stepped forward, determination hardening her voice. “We don’t have a choice. If we don’t stop them, everything on this station will die.”

Ayana met her gaze, then nodded. “Suit up. We’re going to Deck 7.”

The elevator ride to Deck 7 was silent, the air heavy with tension. Liora adjusted her helmet, the faint hiss of her oxygen supply a constant reminder of the station’s fragility. Beside her, Kiran clutched a small toolkit, his jaw tight as he stared at the doors.

When the elevator came to a halt, the doors opened with a hiss, revealing a dark, narrow corridor. The air was frigid, their breath fogging the inside of their helmets as they stepped into the space.

“This place gives me the creeps,” Kiran muttered.

Ayana activated a handheld scanner, its soft glow illuminating the path ahead. “Stay close,” she said. “And keep your eyes open.”

The corridor stretched on, its walls lined with rusted panels and exposed wires. The sound of their footsteps echoed faintly, each step amplifying the oppressive silence around them.

When they reached the old command center, Ayana stopped abruptly, her scanner beeping faintly. “There’s power here,” she said. “Not much, but enough to keep something running.”

Liora’s heart raced as Ayana pushed open the doors. Inside, the room was bathed in a faint, sickly glow. A single terminal stood at the center, its screen flickering weakly.

“This is it,” Ayana said, stepping cautiously toward the console. “This is where they’ve been working.”

The terminal’s display was a chaotic mess of data—system overrides, encrypted commands, and schematics of the greenhouses. Ayana’s fingers flew over the keyboard as she accessed the logs, her eyes narrowing as the information unfolded.

“They’ve been rerouting control systems from here,” she said. “Oxygen flow, irrigation, stabilizers—they’ve been pulling the strings all along.”

Liora leaned over her shoulder, her breath catching as she recognized one of the files. “That’s the Elysian Protocol,” she said.

Ayana opened the file, the text filling the screen:

Elysian Station is humanity’s last sanctuary. Earth’s surface is no longer viable. Preservation of the station’s ecosystems is paramount. Under no circumstances are the contained species to be reintroduced to Earth. Protocol is to remain in effect indefinitely.

Kiran’s voice was quiet but filled with disbelief. “They knew. They knew Earth might recover, and they still kept us here.”

Ayana’s jaw tightened. “This wasn’t about survival. It was about control.”

Before they could process the revelation, the terminal beeped loudly. A warning flashed across the screen:

UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS DETECTED. LOCKDOWN INITIATED.

The doors slammed shut, the sound echoing through the chamber. A distorted voice filled the room, low and mocking.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” it said.

Liora’s blood ran cold. “Who are you?” she demanded.

The voice chuckled. “Someone who understands the truth. The station is dying—and you’re going to die with it.”

The lights flickered violently, plunging the room into darkness.