It had been nearly two months since the ship had left their last system. Mira had gotten used to calling it The Apiary now. Her parents had called it Risho, keeping the name from what it had been called back when it was still a military vessel. She'd gotten bored one afternoon as a younger kid and looked it up, disappointed to find out that it was just some dumb admiral who had won a battle of some kind. The name meant nothing to her, and she knew that her parents had only kept calling it that out of convenience as well, so she really appreciated that now there was a name that actually meant something to her and the hive she traveled with.
It had been an interesting few months, and it seemed as of late that the triumphs were outnumbering the problems. The matter recycler was working, and they'd managed to redirect the output stream to feed into a spare cargo container in the aft section. Normally matter recyclers were intended to purify out desired substances from various waste streams on a vessel, water reclamation being the most common, but then storing the rest as pressed bricks that could be offloaded easily when one made port again.
It was these bricks of discarded organic material that the hive had shown such strong interest in, and under their careful guidance Mira had helped disable the brick press, allowing the mulched waste to form a crude compost instead. Crates and boxes had become planters, and from a set of wire mesh grill originally designed to protect the air filtration system, she had managed to clip and wire together the grates to form suspended growing pots, ones that she had seeded just a few days after their voyage had begun with some of the spare strawberry seeds.
It turned out that being dried out and made into a convenient snack had done a number on the viability of the seeds, but from the hundred or so tiny specs she'd been able to plant she'd had enough plants to nearly fully cover the suspended planter. They also promised a welcome harvest, the clusters of green berries slowly but surely lightning and ripening as the weeks had passed.
While it seemed like the bees scarcely needed much else other than the honey, Mira had initially worried she'd become sick of having the same sweet honey day after day. However, the bees had little to spare, and instead they had both had to rely on her stash of treats, snacks, and the few staples leftover from her parents. The supplies were lasting them for now, although they had to ration it and she'd gone to bed hungry for the first time since she could remember these past few weeks.
The swarm hadn’t complained, but she knew they were likewise starting to be concerned for their own foodstuffs. As she walked past a set of metal canisters that had once held spare water reserves which were now being cycled through to water the plants, she could see the sprouting stalks now nearly a meter high, the heads of the sunflowers reaching up towards the purple lights overhead.
She had found through discussion with Queen and Kin that the mixed fruit-and-nut bar her mother had brought aboard were fortunately untreated, the uncooked nuts and seeds still viable, in theory. They had planted with aplomb, filling every spare inorganic container they could find with soil and seeds.
The swarm had advised her to eat only the almonds weeks back, as the time needed for those trees to mature and bear usable food was far outside their speculation for how long the ship would be traveling between systems. Still, Mira had saved one of the nuts and planted it in a larger half-crate of soil. She was pleased to see a little hint of green leaf and stem poking up from between the clods and dirt when she checked it each morning. Similar growth could be seen on the cashews they've been planted as well, the timeline of their maturation lining up with a few months shy of the end of their journey.
It was a lot of planning for the future, something that Mira normally shied away from, especially when those plans made the assumption that her parents weren't in it. But the swarm had given good advice, reassuring her worries and serving to ground her when she became overwhelmed by the thought of more years to come nearly-alone in deep space.
However, the swarm had grown quiet these past week, talking with her when she would initiate a discussion, but seemingly reluctant to reach out to her. She heard much more the discordant buzzing, voices raised uplifted in a language she did not speak, but when she asked what was the matter she was met with deflection and polite silence.
“It is a matter for the bees, caretaker. You need not worry yourself with it.”
Despite the strides that she had made in learning how the swarm worked and how their mind saw the galaxy, there were still distinct differences that eluded Mira. The mood was almost somber, the first she'd ever seen them like this, but after asking what the matter was and if there was anything she could do to help, again she was stonewalled.
It finally reached a head the next morning, as doing her best not to yell, Mira said fiercely to another polite dismissal “We're supposed to be equals on this ship and in this pairing. I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong, and I won't stop worrying until I know what is going on.”
She had done her best but had not been entirely successful keeping the edge of desperation out of her voice, but it appeared this finally made an impact on the Queen and Kin.
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“Very well.”
A few minutes later, the swarm grew in density, and parted. That was when she saw the queen, and for the first time Mira realized it had been some weeks, maybe a month, since she had last seen the glimmering swirls and painted abdomen marking the leader of the swarm. But this time the Queen did not fly herself, instead being born aloft on a miniature palanquin, crafted of scraps of fabric, tufts of upholstery that had escaped the matter recycler, and claw-holds and ornamentation made of intricate wax.
As for the queen, she was still breathing as far as Mira could see, but certainly weakened and ailing. Her wings fluttered as her head slowly lifted to regard the human.
“The queen’s time is growing short, caretaker. We understand that the role of caretaker carries many joys, but one of the greatest sorrows it can bear is that of the Harvestman. When our queen passes into the Garden of Infinite Flowers, you will be needed to ensure her passing is marked with the appropriate funeral rites.”
“Wait, you're dying?” Mira said, feeling her gut plummet. The swarm of the Queen and Kin had a distinct personality, like that of a well-meaning mentor, but sometimes she felt like she was able to understand the interact with the queen more directly. Her voice still echoed in the buzz of the swarm, but this personality was more of a kindly parent, one who offered love and understanding and patience with her seemingly-unending questions and worries for the future.
And now that was threatening to be gone, and Mira felt the room around her darken as she realized it meant she would be alone again.
“Fear not, caretaker. This is a natural part of the cycle of a hive. She will be succeeded by her daughter, a princess who is even now stirring within her comb. She will lead the swarm and be your companion for the rest of your voyage, and possibly beyond. But do not mourn for the passing of a single queen; instead celebrate that one more piece was inlaid into the history of our swarm, a legacy passing back hundreds of monarchs and thousands of tribulations.”
The swarm quieted and the queen herself buzzed, the exertion clearly taxing her, but loud enough that Mira could make out as a whispery sound.
“I do wish I'd had a chance to taste the flowers once more.”
With that, the queen was still, still breathing but resting from the effort. There was another buzz of conversation, one that Mira was not included in, before the tiny palanquin was born aloft and carried back somewhere in the depth of the ship. The bees had filled nearly every available space with comb, hexagonal shapes riddled with larger spaces carved out for resting and feeding chambers, miniature workshops, and even something mere thought might have been a library, with tiny scrolls lining hundreds of empty wax honeycomb cells.
But Mira was struggling to remain calm and collected. She understood the words of the Queen and Kin, that there would be another to take the queen's place, someone that she could learn to understand, but on some level Mira realized she had seen the queen as a sort of godmother, and even though she knew the swarm would still be led by someone else, it felt like being reassured a lobotomized patient being given a new brain would still be the same.
Not caring where her feet took her, Mira began walking and climbing through the ship. Finally, she paused in her walking, eyes staring out to the seemingly infinite starry void through the main window of the bridge. Her eyes had adjusted to the light here, the purple lighting they had modified to encourage the plant growth elsewhere in the ship absent here, and only the the blinking and winking panels of the control boards and ships status indicators providing any light other than the star field before her.
She took a shuddering sigh, trying to remind herself that regardless of who the new queen would be, they were still someone she was going to have to spend years with as well, so she would have to get used to the idea.
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She spent the rest of the week mostly on the bridge, scurrying into the mess hall only to grab her ration meals before exiting, making hasty apologies and excuses to Queen and Kin if they saw and addressed her. She was sure they probably realized she was upset, but appreciated they had kept their distance.
It was during one of these nights, when she had propped her feet up on the edge of an inactivated and dust-covered weapons console, that she heard the buzzing of a lone bee flying in. She barely looked up, as they would occasionally send a drone or worker in to check on her, doing a loop or two before leaving.
But this time, the bee instead landed on her shoulder, buzzing distinctly a few times until Mira turned her head. This was unusual, but more so than that was when the bee spoke, buzzing in a quiet but determined tone.
“We understand that you mourn for the old Queen, caretaker, but it is time to emerge from your cocoon and rejoin those who still live.”
Mira wiped at her nose with the back of a sleeve, eyes narrowing at the intrusion. “What if I don't want to? Nothing says that I won't be left alone again anyways.”
“You are only here because you chose to be here. If you wish to, the swarm would gladly speak with you, educate and entertain you and learn from you in turn, but instead you have sealed yourself away, as if it were you and not the queen who was expiring.”
“But it's not going to be the same swarm,” Mira said stubbornly with a sniffle. “The queen is going to be gone and replaced by someone else, someone I don't even know, so it's like I have to meet a brand-new person, trust a brand new person. I mean, it's not like the new queen is a clone of the old one, with the same thoughts and memories and feelings, right?”
There was a buzz that she realized was amusement from the bee on her shoulder.
”No, far from it, but rest assured the new queen has been taught in our ways, learned of our history both with caretakers before you, as well as our own brief time together.”
“I still don't know,” said Mira. “How can I trust that they won't leave me too.”
“All things in life come and go, and we rarely can control when that happens. The best one can do is prepare your heart to be open when such a person enters, and strengthen it so it does not shatter completely if, or when, they leave.”
The bee took aloft, flying in front of her and landing on her outstretched finger.
“Now come. It's time for you to fulfill your role as Harvestman, and usher my mother into the Garden of Infinite Flowers. The swarm is ready for you.”
Shocked and realizing she had been speaking to the new queen, Mira nodded, wordlessly standing to leave the bridge, and finally face the loss she had been avoiding.