In a forgotten corner of the galaxy, far from the established trade routes, and even farther from where it was supposed to be, floated a long-forgotten ship, one among many.

And at the center of that abandoned ship grew a forest.

Anna Nilsson froze in place, wishing there were someone to share the unusual sight with her. But she was alone, the only sound the hiss of the air pump in her spacesuit.

She stepped closer, mesmerized.

After the endless burnished aluminum of the Stargazer, the lush greenery before her almost hurt to look at.

Anna stood in a derelict luxury star cruiser the size of a shopping mall. She’d already made her way through winding corridors of threadbare rugs and corroded, flickering chandeliers, using her tagger to mark items of interest along the way. The passageways circled rings of rooms that extended along the sides of the ship as far as she could see. She almost felt as if she were in a Scooby Doo episode, or visiting the sunken Titanic, until she opened the latest door.

Maybe it was the lack of sleep since she’d found out she would be running her first salvage mission completely solo, or maybe the oxygen mix in her suit was a little high, but Anna couldn’t shake the feeling she’d stepped into a dream. She blinked to clear her head, but nothing changed.

She stood before a huge wall of glass, or something like glass, anyway. Beyond the wall, trees - real, honest to god trees - stretched upward, their lumpy branches bristling with bright green leaves. They had to be hundreds of years old.

As a child, Anna had visited the indoor rain forest exhibit at the Baltimore Aquarium on Earth. Clutching her big brother’s hand, she’d dashed up the wooden platforms, trying to catch a glimpse of the sloth or the toucan. The trees there had been spread out, the bustling city always looming just outside the floor-to-ceiling windows.

What stood before her now was not an engineered approximation. It was a real forest, branches growing thick enough to block out the light source above. The surreal scene was made complete by a pair of ancient looking lamp posts glowing faintly at the edge of the tree line, their light barely penetrating a few steps into the wooded area.

The ship was as good as dead, but the forest was very much alive. Tendrils of ivy burst through the crevices between the corroded metal panels that held the glass in place, refusing to bend to the will of the man-made structure.

Hot tears sprung to her eyes and Anna had to lean over and rest her hands on her knees to steady herself in the wake of sudden emotion.

She hadn’t seen a tree in six months.

Well, technically it had been far, far longer. But she tried not to think about that part.

Light from above filtered down into the woods, dappling the soil and stones beneath the trees.

For a moment Anna was back at the cafe in Tarker’s Hollow, gazing out the window at the park as her mother scolded her to bus the lunch tables. She could smell the almond croissants baking, hear the mindless chatter of the patrons as they discussed whatever it was people with real lives discussed. It had been her entire existence, and now it was just… gone.

A light breeze sent a shiver of motion through the leaves in front of her. It must have been manufactured weather, still operating on reserve energy. The movement highlighted what she hadn’t noticed before.

The plant life had run riot, but there were no birds, no squirrels, not even insects on the forest floor. Besides Anna, the forest was the only living thing on the ship.

She stepped closer, placed her gloved hand against the nearest pane in solidarity, and holstered her tagger. She couldn’t imagine needing it in here.

A tremendous sycamore towered over her head just inside the glass.

She gazed up into its branches. The light seemed to be brightening above.

No. That wasn’t right.

The tree was brightening.

Before her eyes, the green leaves faded then burst into flaming orange.

All around the sycamore the other trees erupted into a symphony of yellow, peach, pink and scarlet.

Anna was watching summer turn to fall, as if someone had pressed a button on the remote that controlled the speed of the world.

A tone sounded in her helmet.

She looked down at her wrist.

Her origami drone unfolded from its dock and then refolded itself into something resembling a bird, before fluttering up to her.

“The atmosphere is breathable,” BFF19 sang out.

Anna released her helmet and pulled it off.