It was just a small, backwater, pre-spaceflight planet on the corner of the Andromeda galaxy. Nothing out of the ordinary ever happened there.

Neiloni was a lush world, with expanses of emerald forests and cliffs with tumbling waterfalls. There was more land than water on that world, but the oceans they did have glittered magnificently in the rising and setting sun. It was a light-gravity world, with inhabitants that were small, agile and nimble. A number of species had developed on the oxygen-rich world, thriving in harmony with one another.

The planet's inhabitants were collectively known as Neilonians, living under one government. Each sentient species had its own representative within the parliament, which was a collective of seven total dignitaries. There was no single ruler, the planet united in a communist-esque state.

Though they were all closely related, each species had its own sub-nation. Interbreeding was possible but rare. The species preferred to stick with their kind, having their own specialty and duties on the planet. The Burrrs were in charge of mining, the Zybies were industrialists, and the Neests took care of agriculture.

While there was no one species that was on top, the closest thing Neiloni had to natural politicians were the Lethiens. The cat-like species that inhabited the treetops were extremely diplomatic and natural-born leaders. They spent most of their days tending the forests, but whenever friction arose between the species was always smoothed over by the Lethiens.

Life on Neiloni, isolated from the drama of the interplanetary community, was quiet and peaceful. They lived happily for many years.

Until the virus.

It struck suddenly one day, seemingly out of nowhere. It affected all of the planet's inhabitants, severely at first, but the effects slowly levelling off. The Parszti, Neiloni's medical species, discovered a vaccine. The inhabitants were surviving, but until they could develop a cure, they were a dying planet. Every being was born with the virus. The effects could be postponed, but eventually, everyone succumbed. Some survived for a regular lifetime, but many - more than they could bear - died much earlier than they were due.

The virus raged for decades. Nobody could determine the source, nobody could discover the cure. It had united the Neilonians further, having them work together harder than they ever had before. Their days were numbered, and they knew it. In the process of searching for a cure, they eventually developed a primitive spaceflight method. They couldn't risk leaving the planet, but they were able to send out a probe, begging for help.