Page 2 of Bad Beehavior

I snap out of my trance, looking back as Captain Barban scrunches his brow.

“Sorry. Yes, the next step. After three weeks, I infiltrate the female's uterus, harvest the fertilized embryo, and signal to the Hive that I’m ready to be extracted.” We’ve already adopted the planet dwellers' sense of time. They measure time based on the cycle of their singular moon. It’s a primitive practice, but it’ll make understanding the female ovulation cycle easier if we operate on their time measurement.

“Very good.” He leans back in his chair. “Are you prepared to dwell with these species for upward of a year?”

Tension runs through my spine. “Of course I am. I know it might take time to find a perfect female specimen.” My antennas can read the doubt coating Captain Barban. Just because this brief is a little rocky doesn’t mean I’m not more than prepared for the mission.

He gives me a long, silent look before shaking his head. “One last thing, recite the importance of this mission.”

Easy. There’s not a day when the mission purpose isn’t flowing through the back of my thoughts. “Our purpose is to create a higher species. One that easily populates and rejuvenates our kind. Our purpose is to make the Blue Planet a better home for all members of the Colony, filling it back with life and teaching its original dwellers an optimal way to co-exist.”

I exude confidence. I believe in this mission with all my heart. I’ve watched our population dwindle—the recent queens could not support enough life for the Colony. The older generation is the one to suffer since there’s not enough younger population to sustain our industry and production. We need more offspring and a new planet with more resources.

The Blue Planet and its population are the perfect solution. Their atmosphere is almost identical to ours, and although we look different, our genetics perfectly match for offspring. Their planet is seventy-one percent water and contains more organic materials than five of our planets. You’d think they’d be more advanced and civilized with everything their home has to offer. That’s what we’re here for. To help bring their species to the next level while continuing our existence—a perfect combination.

This mission is just the first in the plan. I’ll be the first pollinator to bring back a fertilized embryo. Our scientists will run tests to ensure the offspring will thrive on both of our planets.

From there, we’ll slowly infiltrate more females, contact their leaders, and prove to the simple-minded creatures that we can have a mutually beneficial relationship. I’m just the first piece in the game, a job I don’t take lightly.

Captain’s antennas must read my conviction. He nods and jumps to his feet. “I think you’re ready.” He pats me on the back and offers his fuzzy hand to me.

I stand, nearly a head taller than him, and grab his hand firmly.

He taps at the side of his head, activating the implanted device that allows us to communicate from anywhere. “Team, make your way to the airlock. Let’s get Baryx to his female.”

Chapter 2: Jennessa

The front door chimes, and I pop to my feet, running from the back office to the front of the store. Anxiety runs through my veins, hoping whoever it is wants something from the sparse variety of flowers I have available and not something I can’t get my hands on.Please want tulips,I repeat in my head.

My heart drops once I realize it’s just Kent, not a customer.

It’s nearly eleven-thirty, and still no customers for the day. This isn’t surprising since this has been a common theme for the past few weeks. Disappointment wades in my gut, but I tryto change my expression before he notices. “Hi, honey! I didn’t know you’d be stopping by today.”

He waltzes into the shop and leans against the front counter, his face alight with his smile. “I wasn’t planning on it, but I just got an email from a prospective job and wanted to show you. I’d thought I could take you out to lunch to celebrate.”

“That’s great! What’s the job?” I smile, doing my best to hide the doubt in my gut. Kent never wants a job that requires effort, so this opportunity is probably too good to be true.

“It’s crazy, actually. Do you remember Tim? We went to high school together. I haven’t talked to him in years, but he reached out last night and asked what I was doing, and I told him how I’ve been looking for a good opportunity. It must have been fate because he said he just started his own business and wants to grow his team.”

“Wow, what’s his business?” I ask as I wipe down the already spotless counter, watching my reflection on the shiny surface. My brown eyes peek over dark circles. My brown shoulder-length hair sits dry and flat. You’d think not having any flower orders these past few weeks would result in some much-needed rest, but I’ve been a nervous wreck. I barely sleep, obsessing over how I will pay my rent for the shop this month.

“It’s a knife business, but selling knives isn’t where the money is. It’s more of a recruiting opportunity. All I have to do is reach out to some old buddies, get them onboard to sell the knives, and I sit back and watch the passive income roll in.”

And there it is.

“Kent.” I sigh, gazing up at him as his smile fades. His tan skin glows, and every brown hair on his head sits perfectly quaffed. I wish I could be like him. He has no money, and it doesn’t seem to bother him much.

“What?” he asks, folding his big arms over his broad chest. What girl doesn’t want a boyfriend who works out? But noticinghis muscular figure just reminds me how much time he spends in the gym instead of looking for jobs.

“How much?”

“What do you mean how much? How much does it pay? Well, that depends on how many people I can get under me. See, it’s kind of like an upside-down pizza. The more money the crust makes for me melts all the way to the top.” He positions his hand into a triangle as he man-splains some bro version of a pyramid scheme.

He’s twenty-seven years old, the same age as me. How has he never heard of a pyramid scheme before?

I take a deep breath, my hands clenching the white rag in my hand. I glance around the shop as Kent rambles on, taking inventory of the flowers that sit at the perimeter. Flowers have always calmed me. I wish my shop could be filled with all my favorites: peonies, sunflowers, cabbage roses. Instead, all I can find are the ones no one wants: carnations, baby’s breath, and a whole shit-ton of tulips.

Everything’s more expensive in New York, and flowers are scarce unless you have the big bucks, and as a new flower shop with a high-interest business loan, that’s something I definitely don’t have. I blame climate change, billionaire Over Lords, or chain restaurants; I don’t fucking know. The reality is the American Dream is fucking hard to sleep through if you’re a woman trying to make it on your own in an over-populated city where no one gives a shit about you.

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