Mira carefully wrapped the piece of fabric over the former queen. It was humble,no large piece of cloth needed, but Mira had still taken care to cut it out as nicely as she could from the blue shirt she had kept and cleaned and not contributed to the compost of the matter recycler.

All around her was the swarm, but it made her hair stand on end as they were all silent, covering every surface; still moving, and a soft shuffling here and there of thousands of bodies moving over in past each other. But there was no hum of flight, nor a voice.

Finishing with the wrapping, Mira carefully placed the queen on what had once been her wax palanquin, but had since been stripped and repurposed, workers chewing and reforming the wax to form what at first appeared as simply a large hexagonal cell from a honeycomb. But seeing it from this close, she could make out dense scribework: carefully carved scenes and iconography, depicting both stories the hive had told her of their life, as well as those of tales she had not yet heard.

While her eye was caught by the image of what looked almost like a humanoid cogent-android in one panel, the sound of a soft buzz broke the silence. It caught her attention as the wax lid was carefully sealed into place over the miniature inhuman coffin.

“Caretaker, we have repaired the connections and readied the jettison port. It is ready for you.”

The jettison port had been disabled when her parents had first come aboard, something her father had made sure of so as to, in his words, “Prevent any accidents from a curious child pressing buttons.”

The system was designed to jettison a small object using compressed atmosphere, possibly for use as a electronics-free communication between nearby ships requiring close coordination and stealth, but according to her mother most likely just a way to flush trash and contraband without popping open the airlock.

She had made a small sled for the coffin out of a thin sheet of metal that had once been a redundant and unnecessary bit of decorative flashing on the corner of a table. Mira had pulled it off and carefully hammered it into a more appropriate shape, and the Queen and Kin, or at least the new Queen and Kin, had noticed and sent a trio of workers armed with small capfuls of a paint made from engine oil and soot from the heater basin. Together it made for a dark and gritty color, not quite black but not quite any other color either. In fact it reminded Mira of the iridescent coloration on the queen herself, if a bit muted, and she wondered if that had been the intention.

The workers made swirling patterns across it, intricate and interlocking work that both felt purposeful and geometric, but also carefree and ethereal depending on how one looked at it. Mira took the metal sled and coffin and stood, wishing for the hundredth time that the circumstances would have allowed for her to be garbed in something more formal than a makeshift tank top that was once a t-shirt, and a pair of sweatpants that had since been converted into capris, every bit of excess fabric she thought she could spare having been added to the matter recycler to give them as much soil work with for the growing garden.

At the time she figured it was an easy trade-off, as she wasn't planning on anyone judging her wardrobe choices out here, light years from anywhere, but now she did wish she'd kept at least something more appropriate for a funeral.

She stood and watched as the bees began their dance. The Queen and Kin had told her that, once upon a time, the minds of the bees and the communication between them was fractured, incomplete, and imprecise, and required other means of communication cruder than words and unconscious mental linkages. They had utilized dance, careful and precise steps in movements, orientations and twitches, waggles and steps, each carrying deep significance and importance.

It was through this they told each other of food and shelter and safety. And while crude and imprecise, it was also this that first allowed humanity to communicate with them, and two species realized that the other existed not as an uncaring force of nature, but instead as someone else they could learn about and learn from.

As the legions of dancers precisely swayed, Mira could easily see the beauty and precision in their movements even if she didn't necessarily understand all of the nuances they carried. Then the dance began to slow, but accompanying the slower tempo was a rising hum, a single monotone buzz, not of words or communication but rather almost like a choir holding a note. Mira could see that the new queen she had spoken with had now alighted near the coffin, and following shortly behind her were half a dozen worker-artisans, carrying droplets of enamel paint that Mira recognized as being some nail polish she had truly forgotten about in a box of her effects.

It was a vibrant teal, and she could see the workers deftly painting across the queen’s abdomen. The designs were broadly similar to those on the past queen, but while the iridescent style had made the previous monarch’s body glow and glimmer in the light, it also made it hard to make out the specific patterns and shapes. But now, the glossy and uniform paint allowed for clear viewing of what was being inscribed.

There were no scenes such as the carved depictions or triptychs like could be seen in the carved wax on the coffin, but instead there were tight coils and impressionistic opening blossoms. The old queen’s style had been more speckled, individual points like petals blown from a flower, swirls as if a field had been caught in a strong wind and blown asunder. But now this teal held the color and shapes of new, calm growth, coils reminiscent of immature ferns and the dotted shapes of flowers and their petals, still intact and ranging from the simple to the complex.

Then the painters stepped back and turned to fan their wings, their buzzing an abrupt interruption to the droning chant the other bees had been intoning. Lifting her wings with an experimental flutter, Mira could see the tiny head of the queen nod in approval.

She had done her best to memorize the rites she was expected to follow as Harvestman, but Mira had still become so engrossed that it wasn't until she realized the hive was both still and calm and staring at her that she realized she was the next to act. Carefully lifting and placing the sled upon the jettison tube manifold, Mira carefully closed the rear hatch and pulled up the launch screen. They were millions of miles away from the nearest star, but at this point she realized with another pang of sorrow that more time had no meaning to the former queen.

Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

Orienting the jettison tube, she keyed in the coordinates for the nearest star, only a light year or so away, but one that she'd found when curiosity overcame her earlier had no habitable worlds or signs of civilization. Double checking that the trajectory was set to send the queen into a cremation path, she launched.

Mira could feel the tears welling in her eyes as she watched the flash of the lights from the ship reflect on the metal, before the sled was gone from sight, heading on its path toward a fiery conclusion.

Her duty complete, she turned as the new queen spoke.

“Our thanks for your work, caretaker. The aspect of the Harvestman is never an easy one so we appreciate it all the more that-”

Mira waved her hand up, shocking herself with the action of interrupting the swarm, but something, a sound she could barely hear, was setting the hairs on the back of her neck up. Queen and Kin cut off into silence and confusion, and as the buzzing faded Mira could hear a hiss.

It was continuous, quiet but uninterrupted, and glancing to the side she saw that there was a flutter of wind on the wings of the bees nearest to the jettison tube.

“I think we're venting atmosphere,” she said, feeling a sudden pang of terror at the thought of suffocating in space. Quickly, she moved over and began checking to see if the door had become wedged open. It appeared closed, so she realized it must be one of the internal gasket rings that had cracked from disuse.

Looking around for something to plug the hole, she found bits of metal, some malleable, but nothing to provide an airtight seal.

“How can we aid you, caretaker?

Much like the old queen's emotions sometimes came through the swarm, there was a new sensation detectable here, one that Mira felt an aching clench in her chest as she recognized it as being fear, almost echoing her own.

Mind racing, suddenly her eyes dropped to where the queen's coffin had been placed. “Wax. I need wax, please, as much as you can, as quickly as possible.”

The swarm made no sound of acknowledgment but instead raced into action, seeming to descend en masse upon the spot next to her as bees landed and shifted to make room for others. She had watched them make wax before in curiosity, seeing the bees wiggle and exude the tiny flakes of the material, but now it was happening a thousandfold a second, and within a few additional moments there was a pile deep enough to fill her hand.

She lifted it, and it felt like what she imagined snow would feel like given what she had seen on videos: lightweight and powdery, and flakes falling to the floor. She carefully squeezed it in her hand, warming and compacting it before breaking off pieces and wedging them all around the edges of the jettison tube. Carefully, she worked with her finger, jumping in alarm and then trying her best to ignore the blaring alarm that began sounding along with a mechanized male voice repeating “[Atmosphere lost detected. Atmosphere lost detected. Please move to a secure area.]”

She knew that it was probably just her imagination and panicked anxiety, but Mira felt like she was breathing even harder than normal and getting less air in return, as she worked sealing every possible gap around the edge of the jettison tube. But as she pushed the final piece of wax into place, she could hear the hissing slow, and with another small heap of wax flakes deposited by the swarm, she finished wedging and sealing the cap shut, smiling as the hissing stopped.

As she pulled back away, the bees descended upon the tube as well, and Queen and Kin spoke, calmer than before but still rattled from what Mira could perceive.

“We shall ensure the seal is strong and tight, caretaker. Thank you for your swift actions. You likely have saved-”

Again the swarm was interrupted, but this time by a clunking rattle as the door back to the rest of the ship slammed shut.

The automated voice spoke again. ”[Atmosphere pressure below acceptable levels. Pressure stable: Emergency atmosphere restoration initiated.]”

Mira realized her vision had indeed been narrowing even without realizing, as the trickle of refreshed air helped her spinning head slow. However, the temperature also began to drop and she shivered, rubbing her bare arms as the air began hissing quickly back into the space. Strangely, the swarm seemed undirected, some bees flying around in a semi panic while others milled about on various surfaces.

“Queen and Kin, are you okay?” Mira asked between chattering teeth as the temperature continued to plummet. “What's happening?”

There was no response, and instead only a discordant buzzing as Mira suddenly realized she couldn't see the queen. Quickly scanning the surfaces around her, she finally saw a vent manifold with a plume of white gas hissing in, the source of the restoring atmosphere. Unfortunately it was frigid, filled with reserve tanks of liquified gasses kept on the unheated exterior of the craft and consequently as cold as the vacuum of space itself.

Looking in increasing desperation, she suddenly saw the queen, motionless below where the vent air was pouring out. She was still, almost powdered white with frost, and Mira picked her up, carefully cradling her in her hands even as she felt her own shivering increase from the dropping temperature. A diagnostic showed the atmosphere pressure creeping slowly back up to normal, but at the rate it was going it would be well below freezing before it finally equalized.

She huddled with the queen, feeling the frost melt into dampness, and letting out a shuddering sob of relief as she felt the queen stir in her hands. Still, the tears on her cheeks felt like knives across her skin as they threatened to freeze upon her face.

But as the Queen stirred, the swarm calmed, and despite Mira's eyes still being clenched shut, she could feel as the swarm descended upon her, covering her entirely with a shifting and ticklish layer of bodies. Then Mira shivered in both chill and surprise as the bees began vibrating, wiggling their abdomens and feeling like an almost-electric buzz along her skin. Suddenly the layer of bees went from merely a curiosity to being noticeably warm, and Mira let out a sigh as her body accepted the heat and began to slow her rattling teeth.

She kept her hands carefully cupped close to her and could feel the queen nestled against a crook of fingers, curled and comfortable as she too recovered her strength and warmth.

As the hours slowly passed and the airflow finally stopped and calmed, Mira became aware of the bees slowing their vibrations until they sat still once more. She carefully stood, holding her hand open and flat as the queen stretched and flicked her wings. Then she took flight, accompanied by the rest of the swarm, now in unison once more.

Smiling to herself, Mira saw the queen and her retinue do a low dip past her in flight, an unspoken display of thanks, and she returned it with a nod of unspoken appreciation. Then stretching herself, Mira began the trek across the ship to her garden, surrounded by the comfortable familiarity of the bees once more.