Page 1 of Bad Beehavior

Chapter 1: Baryx

“Attention, Baryx, making landfall with the Blue Planet shortly.” The intercom sounds from above my head.

It’s nearly time. The mission I’ve been preparing for my whole life is just moments away.

I sit up from my cot, running my hands through my short black hair to ground myself. This is it. I’m the first of my kind to step foot on this planet. I’m not nervous; I’ve trained for every possible scenario imaginable, but I can’t help the strange emotions that mix in my abdomen.

I walk to the mirror at the far end of my room, taking inventory of my appearance. There will be photos taken before I leave. I want to make sure I look my best. I’m making history, after all. I closely examine each side of my angular jaw before turning away, ensuring my fuzz is evenly shaved. I don’t entirely trust the onboard groomer. He’s not the same as the one I have back home, but he’s done a decent enough job, and there’s no point obsessing over the tiny details. The inhabitants of this plant have hair growing wildly from all parts of their bodies.

I walk to the exit, waving my hand at the sensor, and the metal door slides open. I look back at my living quarters one last time, wondering where I’ll be sleeping for the duration of my mission. The species on the Blue Planet are known to sleep in the mud, but I wonder if I can make myself a bed once I find my target.

The details of my mission twirl around in my head as I go to the Hive’s control room. The shiny hallways are desolate. No sounds to distract my thoughts. I know what to do, but it calms me to think about my tasks as if it’s a checklist I’m about to mark off. Number one: make my way through the planet’s atmosphere. Easy. The second task, not so much.

I turn the corner, entering the control room, as the buzz of my team sounds around me.

Captain Barban stands at the bow of the Hive, calm and collective as ever, looking out the glass wall at the Blue Planet coming into view. His muscular black and yellow arms rest over his chest, and he ignores the chatter around him, seeming focused on staring down my new home. His face lights up once he sees me in the corner of his eye. “Baryx! The Pollen Jockey of the hour,” he calls, walking toward me. Pollen Jockey is a nickname pollinators receive. It’s a term of endearment, but it makes my fuzz stand on end.

His words signal the rest of the crew. All six of my teammates turn their attention to me, walking over to pat me on the backand offer words of encouragement. All except Bailiff, who stands to the side, his brow furrowed and his arms crossed over his broad chest.

Bailiff isn’t my biggest fan; my antennas indicate jealousy of my status, but I appreciate the space he gives me.

“You got this,” Bialar says as he slaps my back.

“We’re almost there,” Bane says with a chuckle before rubbing the top of my head.

I put on a forced smile. I have no need for their obvious words or their affections. I mostly keep to myself, but apparently, being on a team means we must act a certain way, a way that makes my fuzz crawl.

I step forward, breaking away from the crowd and addressing Captain Barban. “How much longer until my launch?”

As if on cue, the robotic voice from the control board sounds, “Shield activated.”

We can’t tell from inside the Hive, but we’re now invisible to anyone from the Blue Planet. It's an extra precaution, as there’s no indication that its life forms are capable of such technological advances. The whole planet is millions of years less evolved—one of the main reasons we’re here.

“There we have it.” Captain Barban clasps his black hands together, his eyes sparkling with excitement under the scar that slashes across his face. “Let’s do one final brief before we send you out. Clear the room.”

The team slaps me on the back before exiting.

“I wish you the best,” Bailiff says before leaving, his expression not matching his words. His spiky mohawk nearly touches the ceiling as he exits. He won’t be in attendance at my deportation since he’ll be needed at the control center to ensure my pod takes off as planned. I’m not worried that his dislike of me will hinder any part of our mission. Just like myself, the mission runs deep in all of us.

“Have a seat.” Captain Barban motions to an empty chair and takes his spot in another across from me.

We’ve had a brief every day since the mission began. The details have been drilled into my brain since I started training so long ago. The regime’s philosophy is that repetition creates the most reliable worker. I’d be an absolute idiot to forget the steps of my mission at this point, but it’s not about remembering. It’s about the mission becoming every part of my being.

Captain Barban leans back in his chair, his wings, guarded in their armor, tucked behind him. “Start from the top.”

I clear my throat, keeping my back straight and my wings high above my shoulders. “I start by infiltrating the planet’s atmosphere in my compact form so as not to cause suspicion.” There’s evidence that the planet dwellers have a species of lifeform similar to our compact state. “Next, I locate a female.” I stop. I’ve repeated these steps for most of my life. I’ve been bred for my position. But something about saying them out loud, now that the task is finally here, makes my brain stutter, reflecting on the gravity of the situation. Sure, we’ve come in contact with other lifeforms on different planets before, but never with this sort of mission.

Captain Barban leans forward, clearing his throat and examining me. His antennas twitch as if he’s looking for a better read on me. “Go on.”

I shake my head slightly, regaining my train of thought. “Yes, I will capture her after locating the perfect female specimen based on blood type, age, and genetic traits. I’ll wait until her eggs are ready for fertilization and pollinate her, making sure to keep the environment and position in perfect condition for fertilization.”

I stop again, my heart suddenly beating out of my chest.

Back at home, pollination is only performed on the Queen, the only female of our kind, until the next Queen comes to power.Pollinators are assigned at birth—my birthright if I wasn’t predestined for a different kind of pollination.

I’ve been shown images of these Blue-Planet females—colorless, fuzz-less skin except for patches across their bodies. I’m numb to the idea of them from being exposed to their pictures all throughout my life, but now the thought of being up close to one, thrusting deep inside until I fill her with my thick seed—the thought leaves me unsettled.

“Baryx.”

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