“I don’t mean to alarm you, lieutenant,” Kellin Rayco said softly. To emphasise his point, he straddled one of the stools at the science lab’s only collaborative workstation. He made himself smaller, rolling his shoulders forward and tucking his long legs under the workstation’s pedestal.

“I have a very simple question to ask you,” Kellin explained earnestly. Keeping his wide eyes on Simmons, he tilted his head to the left. He leaned into the control panel.

Finally, Kellin asked, “How would you describe every way that flora can kill us?”

Simmons barely turned from the small fern he had been tending as a thoughtful murmur rolled behind his lips. On the bench, the plant’s tiny leaves seemed to vibrate with a cat-like purr as he stroked the fronds whilst he considered the question.

“Insidious,” the young officer finally replied. “Most floral defence mechanisms we encounter, we probably won’t identify until it’s too late.”

He lifted the fern back onto a nearby airponics shelf, where its pleasurable quivering ceased as it settled into the miasma of misty air.

“Toxic spores, acidic amber, hypodermic thorns, paralysing enzymes. And that’s not even starting on fungal growths.” Simmons tilted his head as his brain flipped through the array of botanical guides he had committed to memory. “Though I can only think of about a dozen known cases of actual consumption by a floral entity.”

The young man looked towards Kellin, whose face was beginning to turn a few shades lighter on the colour chart at the unexpected breadth of the answer.

“If it helps, they digest a lot slower, so there is usually time to pull someone free,” Simmons offered with a weak smile. “Why the sudden interest commander?”

Glancing warily at the purring fern on the shelf, Kellin leaned to the side of the stool that was farthest away from the green menace. Then he blinked and shook his head.

Looking to Simmons, Kellin said, “Starbase Eighty-Eight peeped through the windows of our abandoned mystery ship, and they spotted an old-growth forest. As first officer, safeguarding the crew is going to be my top priority.”

Kellin’s gaze drifted to the overhead, while he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I could practice pulling crewmembers out of vertical jefferies tubes before we arrive.”

“A forest?” Simmons asked with sudden excitement. “Deciduous or coniferous?”

The chiselled features of the commander contorted with uncertainty as he went to speak, but Simmons was already lost in his thoughts as he leapt up from the chair and began walking to and fro across the tiny lab.

“Deciduous would suggest there must be some sort of seasonal cycle within the biome, which would also mean a greater array of insect life is present.” Simmons almost skipped in excitement as he turned about to cross the room again, barely making it five steps before coming about once more energetically. “But coniferous would be a better bet for long-term closed system arboration, given the reduced need for waste management.”

Simmons stopped suddenly in his tracks and looked across to Kellin.

“Just trees?” The young man asked with wide, hopeful eyes.

Once Simmons started pacing across the small compartment, Kellin got to his feet and followed Simmons’ trajectory on a parallel path. Rather than full-on strides, Kellin padded from one hexagonal edge of the cooperative workstation to another. He offered polite nods to every confusing thing Simmons said. When Simmons stopped, Kellin braced his palms against the darkened LCARS panel and leaned forward.

“Forest globe is still an assumption of the science team aboard eighty-eight,” Kellin said, his timbre turning downward in apology. “They’re too far to get a good look, and we’ll be the first scout to arrive at the mystery ship. The transparent dome could be filled with green ice cream cones for all we know!”

“An ambient stable ice cream is as big a reason to go explore as anything else,” Simmons smiled. “I’ll just be glad to be looking at something other than nebulae and empty moons.”

He took a step towards the small rack of potted plants inset into the nearby wall and considered a tall orchid flower topped with a bright yellow bud, straining to burst forth. With slow, deliberate movements, he ran a finger along its length, tapping with a calloused pad against the closed petal edges. At his gentle bidding, it unfurled with a pleasant sigh of relaxation, the delicate translucent petals twisting open with the release of tension. A broad smile of satisfaction spread across Simmon’s face, his toothy grin highlighted by the powerful white airponic sunlamps.

“Ensign Tyson will be very happy to see you,” he whispered to the blossoming plant. “He’s been bothering me about his special coffee beans in Java for weeks.”

Kellin rounded the table, closing the distance between them. “Does your flower produce coffee beans,” Kellin sincerely asked, “or eat them?”

“Produce. Connie is the only one in here who actually technically eats anything.” Simmons’ head tipped sideways towards the small fern he had been working on earlier. For just a second in the aggressive top-down light, the shadowed fronds of its stubby leaves seemed to twist into a carnivorous smile, sharp green canines that flexed minutely with an unsettling hunger.

Side-eyeing Connie, Kellin folded his arms over his chest, while keeping his forward gaze on Simmons.

“But to answer you’re initial question, Commander, the away team should probably take some extra rebreathers in case of toxic pollens, and I’d pack some spare dermal regenerators in case of contact injuries.” Simmons tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Most other risks should be avoidable by common sense and a wary attitude.”

“Sage advice,” Kellin said amid a nod. “Thank you, lieutenant. I’m sure the eventual away team will value your perspective. I know I sure do.”

“Though I suppose there is one more thing you could take that mystery plants love,” Simmons smiled widely, his perfect rows of white teeth lending his face a predatory air in the shadowed room. “A slow crewman.”