There were tercie ceremonies of course, but since neither Stinger nor Gina felt particularly inclined to do much more beyond telling the bees, it came down to an extremely small service, conducted by an amused Captain Tsing and witnessed by Kiza, Caine, and her majesty. They combined it with a picnic out by the pond. The day was cool and a little overcast, but none of the guests minded. Even the bees took the opportunity to visit the blooming weeds around the pond, doing their best to avoid any hungry sunfish in the process.
Stinger watched as Gina and the captain strolled back to the house. In the field, Kiza and Caine had started an impromptu game of Frisbee. He turned to look at Jupiter, who had spread the picnic blanket down.
"Wow," Jupiter told him after giving him a hug. "Pretty low-key. But nice," she added quickly.
Stinger gave a little sigh, amused at her moment of chagrin. "It's all right, your highness. Neither my queen nor I are much on ceremony."
He watched her nod, and after a little awkward pause she shot him a look that asked the question she didn't need to vocalize.
"Still working on it," he replied, trying not to sound as discouraged as he felt. "There are ways of boosting her genetic code, but they only go so far as the similarities between our lines. Once it hits the point of diversification though . . ." his voice trailed off.
"She looks a little better," Jupiter murmured. "Geez, I wish there was something more I could DO."
"Well you can't. None of us can, I suppose," Stinger replied wearily. "And while I thank you for everything you HAVE done, today's about today, all right?"
Her majesty nodded, looking contrite and for a moment Stinger felt bad for haven spoken so sharply. She was still young, he reminded himself, and not as used to the harshness of the universe. To make amends, he clumsily patted her hand and pointed back towards the house. "Do you know she wants me to build proper hive boxes? Build them when we've got a perfectly good house already loaded with hives? Is this a queen thing or a woman thing?"
As he intended, it made her laugh, and she giggled through her reply. "Oh it's totally a woman thing!"
"I thought so," came his grumpy reply. "And what's worse, she's gotten all the bees on her side about this. They're in my face about it."
More giggling. Stinger managed a wry grin and watched as his daughter drifted over after a while, dropping herself on one corner of the blanket and fanning herself with the Frisbee.
"Gah! Caine throws like a Legionnaire!" she complained.
"Ah," her father answered. "Like every throw's a shot designed to hit a target, you mean."
"Duh!" Kiza held up her hand, revealing a pink palm. Caine jogged over, looking apologetic.
"I'm sorry," he told her and glanced around the group. "I'll work on being gentler from now on, in preparation."
"It's fine, it's just a game," Kiza told him.
A beat later, Stinger heard her majesty ask, "Preparation for what?"
"The baby," Caine replied.
Stinger froze. He glanced up at his colleague, aware of his simple confidence. "Baby?"
Everyone was staring at him, and Stinger watched Caine blink. "Yes. Gina will be having one."
"What?" this came from both Kiza and her majesty; Stinger couldn't quite form the question verbally yet.
"When?" Kiza was already on her feet, bouncing a little.
Caine blushed and looked downward, his shoulders hitching a little. "I don't know; her scent tells me she has conceived, but . . ." he trailed off, shooting an anxious glance at Stinger, who felt his own face go red.
"Damn it," he growled softly.
Kiza shot him a disbelieving look. "Dad!"
"No, no it's not that," he rose to his feet, but it was her majesty who slipped her arms around Kiza.
"Hey, gotta give him a moment, okay? This is sort of . . . big," she murmured soothingly. "Okay?"
"It's good news," Stinger managed a smile, putting aside other thoughts and letting the implication of Caine's words sink in a bit. "Just . . . not what I was expecting."
He shot a sharp look at Caine, wondering if his colleague had also smelled anything else, but the man wouldn't meet his gaze, and certainly wasn't speaking now, clearly aware of his faux pas.
"I knew it, I knew it," Kiza sighed. "They way they've been . . . ah, I mean, wow. This really is . . . big!"
"Bigger than you know," Stinger muttered under his breath, aware that only Caine would hear him. More loudly he added, "Maybe I should go talk to her . . . alone."
The other nodded, although Kiza looked a little disappointed, but Stinger gave her a quick kiss to the forehead to mollify her. Then he made his way to the house, wondering exactly how to break the news to his queen. It was hard to balance his thoughts, to fight back the guilty surges of pride and hope against the bleak reality, and despite being a pragmatist, Stinger found himself hoping desperately for a miracle.
A better choice.
And he didn't want his queen to make the one he knew she would.
Consequently by the time Stinger reached the house his manner was brusque, and the bees were quick to widen their distance from him as he stomped into the house. A quick search showed that Gina wasn't in the living room but Captain Tsing was, looking over the titles in the bookcase. Her expression seemed mild, but Stinger noted the tightness around the corners of her mouth, and that made him hesitate.
"She's lying down," the captain murmured, the tone a warning, "and shouldn't be disturbed."
Stinger nodded, and ran a hand through the spikes of his hair, caught between slinking out again, and speaking up. Captain Tsing saved him the trouble of a decision by stepping closer to him, her look a bit more compassionate now.
"How long has she got?"
Stinger shrugged, holding back anger. "We don't know. What did she tell you?"
"After she finished throwing up, not much," Tsing admitted. "But I made her take some honey before ordering her to have a nap."
"Aye, that's good then," he sighed.
The bees drifted closer, circling around the corner-most hive, clustering thickly there. Captain Tsing kept her gaze on him until Stinger added, "She's pregnant too."
It was amazing to watch her mouth pucker up so quickly. Stinger held up one hand in anticipation of a lecture and spoke up quietly. "She doesn't know yet, and I need to tell her. Not what we'd considered, but that's the way of things right now."
Captain Tsing gave a slow sigh, shaking her head very slowly. "I thought you were living the easy life too. I'm sorry to be wrong this time."
"Don't be," Stinger managed to dredge up a lopsided grin. "She's worth it, all of it."
The captain inclined her head to that, and Stinger left her, making his way to the bedroom and slowing as he approached the door, wondering exactly how to say what he needed to say.
She was curled on her side, asleep, and as he approached Stinger noted three bees along her lips. He waved at them but they didn't react, didn't fly off, even when he came to the edge of the bed and bent down to look at her face.
So dear, he thought. Hardly any time at all for it to become dear to me.
Gina opened her eyes and their gleam let him know he'd been caught right in the middle of being sentimental, so he coughed to cover it. "You're knocked up, you know."
"Thanks," she dryly shot back, and gave a sigh. "Yes, I've figured that out." Impatiently she brushed the bees from her lips and moved to sit up, her wild hair fluffling around her face. Stinger sat next to her on the bed, not quite willing to meet her eyes.
"So," she began.
"So. You can't die," he told her very quietly. "That's off the table now."
Gina nodded, which startled him, but when she turned her head, her dark eyes were bright and wet. "I've been trying NOT to, my lovely drone. So—"
Before she could say anything, a bee dove straight into her mouth.
Between his own snorts, and her outraged spluttering as she dislodged the wet and slightly mangled worker, neither of them could talk for a moment. Gina managed to spit the bee out, and ran a finger over the damp fluff in her palm, shaking her head. "What on the planet's gotten INTO them? This is the tenth bee that's gone kamikaze on my face today!"
Stinger looked down at the bee, and scooped it out of Gina's hand. The slick insect managed to get her feet under her, flexed her slightly crumpled wings a few times, and began to move to the high point of his fingers.
He brought it closer, staring, and something began to rattle in the back of his brain, something important. "Ten? All at your face?"
"My mouth," Gina grimaced. "So if you see any bees out there wearing traces of Maybelline Touch of Spice you'll know where they got it."
"Your mouth," Stinger replied, and rose up off the bed. In two strides he was in the middle of the bedroom, gesturing to Gina to open the window.
Stinger closed his eyes, calling out forcefully, "To me, Hive Mellifera, to ME."
They came. In waves, golden and quick, filling the room with their hum and hurry. Stinger held his arms out from his sides, feeling the snag of hundreds of bee legs, the sudden weight of thousands of bees as they poured in from the window and doorway, clinging to him, leaving only space for his nose and mouth. He slowed his breathing, letting himself take on the heft of his hive, and tried to soothe their agitation.
As it was, it took nearly five minutes to calm them all enough to speak.
/feed!feed!mustfeed!/ They buzzed at him.
/feed?/ Stinger asked, trying to stay steady in the madness clinging to him.
/Feed!FeedOligobombus!/ they thrummed, and he began to feel their panic seeping into himself, the urgency making Stinger fight a shudder.
/Sheeatsthehoney/ Stinger tried to reassure the masses. /EverydayShe isn'thungry./
/NoOliogbombus!/ the hivemind practically screamed back. /firstfoodOligobombus!/
/Idon't/ he tried, /Idon'tunderstand!/
Then a bee—a single little worker—crawled along his lower lip, and when she did, Stinger tasted the cool, bitter slickness coating her body.
All the connections clicked at the same time, images flickering in his head at triple speed: Filba and Biffla, the dissolution, the increase of the hives in the kitchen, Kiza saying 'grublet', all of it locking in, finally.
And the bees knew it. They rose off of him, soaring away all in glittering sails except for the dozen who flew to Gina and formed a circlet across her forehead and in her dark curls. When the last bee left him, Stinger spun, did a quick jump of Drone's Lure steps, and caught Gina's shoulders in his hands. "They have it! They're feeding you what you need!" he barked.
Gina blinked, and flicked her tongue out against her lower lip. Stinger bent and kissed both, reluctantly pulling back to add, "jelly, my queen."
"Royal Jelly? But Mellifera—" she protested.
He shook his head. "NOT Mellifera. Oligobombus."
"Oligo—how?!" Gina demanded, her eyes brighter now, dangerously so.
Stinger merely stared at her, waiting for Gina to figure it out, to remember the last gift of her ladies and how his own had known what to do. She gave a little gasp, and the tears spilled then, dribbling down her cheeks and onto his shoulder has Stinger pulled her close to let her cry.
"Gone but not forgotten. Never forgotten. The hive remembered and gave them back," he rasped gently. "We looked for the answer everywhere but here in our own home, eh?"
Before Gina could say anything, a rap on the bedroom door brought them back to the moment, and when Kiza's worried face peered around the door they tried to look normal. Tried, anyway.
"Are . . . are you guys okay? Because first the whole hive disappeared in here and now they're out out circling the house like a tornado, which is really freaky, even for our bees."
"Yes," Gina gave a little choked laugh. "Yes we are. We're going to be just fine!"
"Fine," Stinger echoed, grinning. "Everything is. Mind you, we'll need to shop for fiddly little clothes and buy a car seat and all that, but the important thing is . . . fine."
Kiza gave him her 'you are so weird' look—a look he hadn't seen in the last few years—but he didn't mind at all, especially when Gina pulled her into a group hug that somehow managed not to squash the bees in her hair.