Alien—though there was a harsher word for it in Sylix’s language—was the term taught by the Federation. Simply put, it meant something that didn’t belong. A life form of different origin with more variations than similarities to his own. He cared little for technicalities or the fact that his disdain for your species—and the many others in the Federation— was seen as a hindrance to his people’s efforts to bridge galaxy divides. The anomalies that walked the halls were plenty enough to sour his mood every time he stepped foot aboard the Federation’s massive ship—Messenger Zero.

The Kaykro were a strong people, thriving in their solitude for eons. To seek, and change, to grow? These were foreign concepts, resisted by many, including Sylix, when the time came to decide whether to accept the Federation’s offer. Joining their united hub of aliens was not the future his people envisioned.

Still, there was something…decent to have come from the whole ordeal he supposed. The flora and fauna center on the outskirts of the ship, a sanctuary from the overwhelming presence of outsiders. And you, the garden’s director, were the only abnormality he could stand to be around for any length of time. You were in charge of protecting and nurturing the diverse plant life brought aboard by various Federation members, a role Sylix grudgingly respected.

“The vegetation on Kaykron grows quickly even in harsh conditions,” he grumbled, leaning over your shoulder as you tended to a pot of what should have been a thriving plant. It was a flower from the Earth colony, the first seed Sylix had ever chosen himself. Usually, he left such decisions to you, but this one had caught his eye weeks ago. “It is defective. Or weak. We should be rid of it.”