Galactic Seeds

So, here's the thing about gardening in space: it's not as simple as tossing seeds into cosmic soil and watching them flourish. Molly Wellbright, a peculiar but affable gardener with a thing for unusual plants, discovered this cosmic lesson first hand on the sprawling decks of the Starfield Habitation Station. You see, Molly was just doing her usual rounds, watering the soilless beds where they grew all sorts of herbs, interstellar ferns, and the occasional alien radish. Her heart was at peace whenever she worked amidst vibrant foliage dancing under artificial gravity. Everything changed one fateful afternoon when her trowel clinked against something hard, something shimmering in the nutrient gel. "What the—," she muttered, brushing away the gel to reveal what looked like — no kidding — tiny, glowing pebbles. Except they weren't just pebbles. They were seeds. "Galactic seeds!" Molly muttered aloud even though there was nobody around to listen. Not that anyone would've believed her anyway. But here they were, nestled in her palm like little fragments of a shooting star. "Let's see what you got," she said, deciding to plant them immediately. Weeks passed, and something incredible started to happen. The seeds sprouted into the most stunning bioluminescent plants Molly had ever seen. At night, their glow painted their surroundings in shades of fuchsia and azure. More astonishingly, when Molly spent time watering and talking to them (like she often did to tease out secrets from every flora), the plant 'lights' began to dance in rhythms. It wasn't long before Molly suspected they were responding. "You talkin' to me?" she asked one evening, plopped cross-legged on the steel floor, arms crossed. The lights blinked back twice. And so it continued, Molly having conversations with plants that glowed their replies. It wasn't the least bit weird to her. Funnily enough, these "Seedlings," as she dubbed them, knew quite a few details about the universe, warping Molly's thinking radically enough that her journal entries began to pose questions about the origins of life. The universe was no longer just a starry sky to her. It was more like a library waiting to be browsed, and she felt like she held the keys. However, with great discovery comes great drama. The Seedlings’ growing whispers across the station caught more than just curious glances from fellow station dwellers. Cosmic smugglers, the kind Molly had little faith in, also learned of her discovery and stopped by for some "research." "Nice garden you have here," one said, eyeing the Seedlings with a grin that felt more malicious than innocent. Molly's instincts screamed trouble, and she wasn't wrong. In no time at all, a plan materialized among these unsavory types to sneak the Seedlings off the station and sell them to the highest bidders. "I've gotta get you guys outta here!" Molly whispered urgently one starless night, tugging on gloves and stuffing the Seedlings into an oversized burlap bag. She ignored their flickering protests. Navigating through vacuum-clear corridors, Molly knew she was risking it all. But she had a plan. An impossible plan, but it was worth a shot. She aimed for the forgotten suit storage deck, where an old emergency pod lay. Punching in outdated flight numbers and praying for half a miracle, Molly launched herself and the Seedlings into the vast ocean of stars, trusting that these luminous companions had a purpose needing to be fulfilled. And perhaps they did. Molly trusted the Seedlings in more ways than one. As she looked out from the pod, the cosmic signals they sent were collected by their own kind — ancient guardians who existed far beyond human understanding. In the quiet tranquility of space, as consciousness stretched far beyond the tinny confines of her pod, Molly realized the scenery had changed. Somewhere, everything was one — plants, stars, and herself, in a universe dancing to the tune of those enigmatic Seedlings, still lighting the way back home.