The Last Seed Vault of Kepler-186f

Kira gripped the rusted railing, her knuckles white against the peeling paint. The wind, a howling symphony on this desolate world, whipped strands of her braid across her face. Below her, the chasm yawned, its depths shrouded in perpetual twilight. This was it. The last hope for Kepler-186f. ,

She peered down at the entrance to the Seed Vault – a colossal metal structure half buried in the red sand. Generations ago, it had housed a repository of Earth's flora, a backup plan in case colonization went awry. Now, it was Kira's only chance. Kepler-186f was dying. The once vibrant planet, teeming with bioluminescent forests and strange, beautiful creatures, was succumbing to a blight that withered everything it touched.

Kira descended the rickety metal stairs, each step groaning under her weight. The air grew colder as she neared the entrance, heavy with the scent of dust and decay. A flickering lamppost cast long shadows on the vault's massive steel door, emblazoned with the emblem of Earth’s Interstellar Colonization Agency.

She keyed in the access code – a string of numbers her grandmother had entrusted to her before succumbing to the blight. The door hissed open, revealing a cavernous chamber illuminated by rows upon rows of bioluminescent fungi, mimicking the soft glow of Earth's moon.

Kira inhaled sharply. Rows upon rows of seed pods, encased in nutrient-rich gel, lined the walls, their labels faded with time: