Mira opened a radio channel to the silver ship, her voice shaking. "This is Veil Station. Who are you?" Static crackled, then a calm reply came through: "We are the gardeners. We seed dying stars with slow light, so something can grow after they fade. Your grandmother joined us. We came back for you."

Mira didn't answer the ship. Instead she watched it dock against the station's old airlock with a soft clunk. The greenhouse vines all pressed against the inner door, straining toward it like they wanted to greet whatever was coming. Mira picked up a wrench, took a deep breath, and walked toward the airlock alone.