Commander Elena Vasquez had been alone on Deep Space Station Kepler for 847 days when the last signal arrived from Earth.
The message crackled through the station's ancient communication array at 0347 hours, ship time. Elena nearly missed it—she'd been in the observation deck, watching the distant binary star system dance its eternal waltz against the cosmic dark. The automated systems had been silent for weeks now, their daily Earth communications reduced to static and then to nothing at all.
But this signal was different. It bore the proper encryption keys, the authentic timestamp, even her personal verification code. As Elena listened to the familiar voice of Communications Director Hayes, she felt her heart stop.
"Elena, if you're receiving this, then we've failed. The Kharak plague has broken containment. Ninety-six percent mortality rate. Infrastructure collapsed twelve days ago. This is likely our final transmission."
She sank into her command chair, the weight of eight billion souls pressing against her chest. Through the viewports, the universe continued its indifferent expansion, stellar winds carrying the light of dying stars across the void.
"We need you to continue the mission," Hayes' voice continued. "The seed bank aboard Kepler contains the genetic material for Earth's recovery. If... when you return, you'll need to establish Protocol Seven. The emergency terraforming protocols are in your command archive."
Elena laughed, a bitter sound that echoed through the empty corridors. Return? With what? Kepler's engines had suffered catastrophic failure fourteen months ago. She was adrift in the space between star systems, carried only by momentum and the fading hope that Earth's rescue ships would eventually find her.
Those ships would never come now.
"Elena," Hayes' voice softened, and she could hear the man behind the official words. "We know this is impossible to ask. But humanity's future is in your hands now. You are, quite literally, our last hope."
The transmission ended with the standard sign-off, but Elena remained in her chair long after the static faded. Around her, Kepler's systems hummed their mechanical lullaby—life support cycling, hydroponics gardens growing, the quantum computer processing vast datasets from the long-range sensors. A city in space, built to sustain fifty crew members, now home to just one.
She walked to the seed bank, a cathedral of preservation in the station's lower levels. Row upon row of cryogenic storage units held the genetic keys to Earth's biosphere. Plants, animals, even human genetic samples—everything needed to restart civilization on a new world. Elena pressed her palm against the nearest storage unit, feeling the subtle vibration of the cooling systems keeping entropy at bay.
"What am I supposed to do with you?" she whispered.
Over the following days, Elena threw herself into maintenance routines she'd performed a thousand times before. She checked atmospheric processors, recalibrated navigation systems, tended the hydroponic gardens that provided her food. Work was the only thing keeping the silence from overwhelming her.
But in the quiet moments, she found herself standing before the long-range communications array, her fingers hovering over the transmission controls. Who was she planning to call? What words could possibly fill the void left by an entire species?
Then, on day 851, the proximity sensors detected something impossible: a ship.
Elena raced to the command deck, her heart hammering as she analyzed the readings. The vessel was massive, its design unlike anything in Earth's databases. It moved with purpose, adjusting course to intercept Kepler Station.
First contact. The irony was not lost on her—humanity had dreamed for centuries of meeting alien intelligence, and now that dream was coming true just as humanity itself might have ended.
The alien ship sent a signal in perfect English: "Deep Space Station Kepler, we received your distress beacon. Permission to come aboard."
Elena stared at the message, her mind reeling. Distress beacon? She'd never activated one. Then she understood—the last signal from Earth, automated emergency protocols, systems she'd forgotten were even running.
She activated the communications array with trembling fingers. "Unknown vessel, this is Commander Elena Vasquez. I'm... I'm alone here. Earth is..." She paused, struggling with words that held the weight of worlds. "Earth is gone."
"We know," came the reply. "We've been monitoring your species' progress for some time. We're sorry for your loss."
The alien ship docked with Kepler twelve hours later. Elena stood in the airlock, wearing her dress uniform for reasons she couldn't quite articulate. When the seal engaged and the inner door opened, she was greeted by a being that looked remarkably like the classical depiction of an angel—tall, luminous, with features that seemed familiar yet otherworldly.
"Commander Vasquez," the being said in a voice like distant music. "I am Ambassador Threewind. We've come to offer you a choice."
They walked through Kepler together, Threewind examining the station with obvious appreciation. "Your species shows remarkable ingenuity," they said. "This ark of genetic material, these preservation systems—you prepared for catastrophe even as you hoped it would never come."
"What choice?" Elena asked.
Threewind stopped before the seed bank's entrance. "We can take you home—to any of seventeen worlds where former Earth colonies have established themselves. Some even know what became of the homeworld. You could live out your days in peace, honored as the keeper of Earth's final legacy."
"Or?"
"Or we help you complete your mission. There's a world, forty-seven light years from here, perfect for terraforming. The work would take decades, perhaps your entire remaining lifetime. But at the end..." Threewind gestured toward the seed bank. "Humanity would live again."
Elena closed her eyes, feeling the weight of the choice settle on her shoulders. Comfort or purpose. Rest or responsibility. The last human making humanity's last decision.
When she opened her eyes, her answer was waiting.
"Show me the world."