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Adventures in Xenobiology

The huge, stark white blast doors marked with giant numeral four stood imposingly before him. Malcolm straightened his neckerchief, combed his fingers through his hair, and took a deep breath before stepping into the ID zone indicated by a bright green square on the metal floor beside the door.

Instantly, a twelve-inch radscreen came to life in front of his face. Hidden speakers crackled.

"Who's there?!" a thin voice shouted from the speaker.

Malcolm jumped. The image of a white-bearded man with straggly wisps of hair vainly attempting to cover his baldness popped up. Watery blue eyes examined Malcolm from behind thick-rimmed correc-specs ... wait, no, those were actual eyeglasses the man wore!

"Uhh, good morning, sir, I'm--"

"Ah, of course. Malcolm Gandry. I recognize you from your personnel file."

From off screen, another male voice said something indistinct. The old man looked to his right. "Yes yes, officer Blake, you can have your monitoring station back in a moment. Can't you see I'm interviewing my new research assistant?" He turned back to Malcolm. "You're early. Good. I can show you around."

The blast doors hissed smoothly open, sliding into their recesses in the floor and ceiling.

"Sir," the unseen speaker said, "You can't--"

"Don't tell me what I can and can't do, Blake! Do I run this facility or not?"

Malcolm could only stare. The old man must be professor Albrecht. He was a legend in the field of alien studies, both for his intellect ... and for his temper. The research department's dispatch had mentioned he'd be a, 'Professorial Research Assistant' here at Ganymede outpost, and had listed the staff currently working at the station, but hadn't said exactly whom he'd be working under.

"Well, what are you waiting for, a signed invitation? Come on in, boy!"

The barked command kickstarted Malcolm's feet, and he hurried through the open doors. The moment he stepped past the threshold, the two thick barriers scissored shut with a smooth whoosh, and sense of finality, closing him off from the world on the other side. Like most orbital stations, this one was compartmentalized in case of atmosphere failure.

Directly in front of Malcolm, a frosted perspex wall partitioned the entrance area with another security checkpoint, this one featuring the arch of an analyser. Two shadowy figures moved behind the semi-transparent wall, and a muted whirring noise followed their motion. A grav-chair hovered into view beyond the analyzer, bearing the man Malcolm had seen on the rad screen. He wore a rumpled, but spotless, white lab coat with an old-fashioned necktie instead of the usual kerchief. Another man in a dark blue security uniform followed close behind the chair. Much younger than the professor, and looking harassed, he gestured at Malcolm.

"Sir, I--"

"It's perfectly fine, Blake. We both know you're here to stop things from getting out, not people from getting in."

"But--"

"No buts! Step through already, boy, before our eager officer here has a heart attack."

Poor guy. What exactly was he getting into with this job? Unwilling to keep the professor waiting, Malcolm walked through the analyzer. It beeped, flashed green lights around its rim twice, and fell silent.

"See? What did I tell you?" Professor Albrecht flapped a hand at the security officer, shooing him. "No hidden plasma rifles on this one. "

The security officer heaved a sigh, spun, and walked stiffly away. Over his shoulder, he tossed a taut, "Good day, sir. Let me know if you need anything."

"I'll do that." As soon as the man was out of earshot, the professor chuckled, turning back to Malcolm. "That one is bored, you see. Not much for security to do around here. Ah! Good. You didn't bring all of your baggage with you like the last one." He stroked his beard, looking Malcolm up and down. "I hope you're not going to wear that though."

Malcolm swallowed the nervous knot restricting his throat, self-consciously adjusting his maroon dress shirt. It was his best one ... "No, sir. My lab coat is with my gear. Didn't seem to be any need to bring it with me. I had it all portered up from the shuttle, and expect it will arrive shortly."

"Excellent. Won't need to waste my time tucking you into your quarters at least. Come with me." He worked the controls and spun his chair around. "Welcome to the department of Xenobiology, boy."

For the first time, Malcolm looked around, expecting to see specimen tanks, cages, enclosures. Certainly something more interesting than the rows of desks, each with a rad-screen and interface set up. A man and a woman, each in a lab coat, sat at two of the screens, focused on whatever task they were working on. The woman glanced up briefly, gave Malcolm a quick smile, then went back to what she was doing.

"This is our data entry and research area. That's Emma and Tad," Professor Albrecht said, hovering onward without stopping. "You'll meet them later."

Malcolm hurried to catch up to the old man, falling into pace beside his chair. What was it he'd heard? Oh of course, an incident with a pachydermal relative species on Cancorra, twenty standard years ago. That had been Professor Albrecht's last trip into the field. At least his apparent penchant for the old-school indicated by his tie and eyeglasses didn't transfer over to having a wheelchair too. Malcolm's first job might have been to push the man around!

A set of sliding automatic doors lay in front of them, made of the same frosted perspex. The professor led the way through, the twin doors sliding apart with a soft hiss of escaping gas. A second set of sliding doors detained them in a small corridor, until the first set had fully closed behind them.

"Hermetically sealed?" Malcolm asked.

"Of course. Need to keep a few fail safes between the, "dangerous creatures" and the rest of the station," the professor said, accenting the words with air quotes. "As if we have anything here that could cause damage."

"If I may, what exactly do you have?"

"Ahh," the professor rubbed his hands together and prodded Malcolm with a firm elbow. "I'm glad you asked! See for yourself, and let's see if you can tell me what all of these beauties are, hmm?"

The area past the second set of sliding doors was far larger than the entry to section four. Perspex tanks of varying sizes lined it all around the edges, and more dotted the middle of the space. Several other researchers in lab coats moved about the enclosures, either jotting down notes on unipads, or checking the inhabitants of the units and the various wires and tubes which fed into the tanks.

"Well? Go on, take a look around!" Professor Albrecht urged.

Smiling, Malcolm walked up to the nearest tank. His first real research facility! With a promise of unique, living creatures to see. Far more interesting than the dead specimens they had at the university of bio-sci.

Inside the tank, thick branches with broad, dark green leaves criss-crossed. At first, the foliage appeared to be the only thing in the tank. His eyes adjusted to the bright lighting and the contrast, and he saw past the camouflage of the two tightly-curled balls of fuzzy green fur hanging from one of the central branches. Motion flickered lower down, and he leaned up against the perspex, watching a small, four-limbed mammal pulling pieces of fruit from a tray with its three-toed paws, and stuffing them between the large gray lips of its wide mouth.

"Basin simians, from Ashra minor, correct?" Malcolm said.

"Indeed. Not the most exotic creatures--one of the most common herbivores of that particular ecosystem, in fact."

The simian eating the fruit looked up, spotted Malcolm, and let out a small screech. It clutched the chunk it had been eating to its tiny furred chest, as if to say, 'Mine!' Malcolm chuckled softly. "Still, cute."

"That they are. How about that one, over there?"

Malcolm turned. The professor pointed to a smaller enclosure, this one only waist high, and shaded from the ambient light by a screen. He walked over, crouching to peer under the shade. This inhabitant was immediately apparent, resting on the crushed gravel at the bottom of its enclosure, myriad segmented limbs poised as if about to operate several interfaces at once. Tiny white bristles covered its legs, though its rounded body was smooth chiton. Large mandibles opened and closed rhythmically, and eyes as numerous as the legs' peered at--or perhaps through--Malcolm.

"Wait, I've seen one of these before ..." Malcolm furrowed his brow, trying to recall. It was similar to the common arachnid species on Earth Prime, but the two extra limbs and the long, dangling 'dredge net' fibres meant ... "Oh! It's a hunting dectite, from Cancorra."

"Right again. Glad to see you paid attention to your invertebrates. Most of the green students they send me only care about the "impressive" creatures." Air quotes again, but now, the old man wore a grin.

"I think they're all impressive, sir," Malcolm said, standing. "And I'm not a student. I'm--"

"Yes yes, you're some fancy degree graduate, all set for his tenure," Professor Albrechet flapped a weathered hand. "Boy, until I say otherwise, you're still a student, and I won't say otherwise until you've had a year or two of solid research and field experience under your belt."

Malcolm bit back a retort about it being the department of sciences decision, not the professor's, and nodded. In truth, the man did have a say in determining Malcolm's future--or at least, the speed of his recognition as a fully credited xenobiologist, and there was no sense antagonizing him.

They continued on, Malcolm managing to correctly identify most of the creatures, if not their planet of origin (he barely counted the fish as a failure--almost all fish looked alike!) Finally, they came to the far end of the chamber, which was made of a floor-to-ceiling window of perspex.

"Here we are," the professor said, practically radiating pride. "My prized specimens."

This tank was less a cage, so much as an entire compartment. A single, rubber sealed door next to the window led within. Inside the chamber, short green grass carpeted the space, and huge, fan-leaved plants with bright orange flower bulbs three feet across nearly obscured the white walls. Ten alien beasts the size of Earth cows wandered slowly among the flowers, each walking on six almost delicate looking insectoid legs. Fat, ponderous bodies covered in soft, vivid blue fuzz were divided into the distinctive head, thorax, and abdomen regions, though the abdomen seemed disproportionately large compared to the usual ratios, with the head relegated to a tiny swivelling segment with multi-faceted eyes the size of Malcolm's head.

Two lab-coated men moved about the chamber, one tending the plants, and the other apparently taking pictures of each of the beasts with his unipad, likely cataloguing their condition. The beasts paid them no heed, stepping daintily around the intruders. Long, feathery proboscises dangled from mandibleless mouths, and as he watched, one of the beasts dipped the appendage into a flower's bell, and began to drink.

"Magnificent, aren't they?"

"What are they? I've certainly never seen this one."

"And you're still one of the first. It's a new species, discovered this past month on Hephaestus. Hasn't been officially named yet, though we've tentatively been calling them emperor bees. You're going to be working primarily with them, helping to document all we can learn about them."

A thrill ran through Malcolm. A previously undiscovered species? And he got to be in on it?

"I'm honored, sir."

"Don't be. It's one of the perks of working under my wing, but it's what any assistant of mine would be assigned to. Don't go thinking you're special."

"Noted, sir. I'm still excited about it though!"

"Well, good, but you may not be after your first run-in." He cackled, slapping his knee.

Malcolm frowned, continuing to watch the creatures. They seemed docile, but ... "Are they dangerous?"

"Not at all. Their temperament is more akin to herd herbivores than anything else."

"What do we know about them so far?"

"Oh, this and that, but why don't you tell me what you observe?"

Another test, was it? Malcolm pursed his lips, studying the creatures. The thoraxes were truncated even more severely than the heads, only a slight dip in the forward quarter of the great abdomen defining the change in body region. With the exception of the head, the entire body was coated with blue fuzz, though it was broken by a smooth, approximately two-inch spike, attached to the rump by what appeared to be a bulbous liquid sac of some sort. A stinger?

Malcolm's brow furrowed. A dark abnormality caught his eye, like a hole in one emperor bee's side. It turned away before he could get a proper look, but a second bee crossing near the perspex wall showed a similar sheen; a neat square of its furred abdominal shell sliced away as though by laser cutting. Beneath lay smooth black chiton, and the bee appeared as healthy as any of the others, browsing the flowers with its long proboscis.

"Are they ... shedding their carapace?"

"Good eye. Look there." The professor pointed beneath one of the flowers without any bees near it, where a foot square piece of discarded shell lay, its inner side polished black like the under armour of the insects. "Near as we've been able to tell, it's a maturation cycle, though their general physiology and behaviour haven't altered thus far."

"Interesting. Do they produce any nectar byproducts?"

"No, though there are excretions. See along the posterior leg of that one in the corner?"

Across the spines and bristles of the indicated insect's rear leg, clear droplets of liquid dribbled down to the grass. Except for a slight cloudiness and apparent viscosity, it was nearly indistinguishable from water.

"The nectar is only food then, though there is a symbiotic relationship with the flower much like that of the honeybees back on Earth Prime," Malcolm said, confident in his assessment.

"Correct, but more in common with the post-carbon age gene-modified form rather the original species."

"With the intense greenhouse atmosphere of Hephaestus, I suppose that makes sense. These are adapted to a larger ecology of course, and wings would be a hindrance. I would think due to the size, a similar hive structure isn't feasible, though they likely have a queen."

"Also, true, though we haven't yet uncovered any such organism. Or, for that matter, any form of reproductive anatomy on the captured specimens."

Odd, Malcolm thought. Even an asexually reproducing species would show some form of perpetuation structure.

"Have any been dissected yet?"

"No need. We aren't pressed for time, and it's still possible that they may exhibit a rudimentary sentience. We're waiting until a deceased specimen is discovered by one of our research teams, or one of these reaches the end of its life cycle."

Malcolm nodded. The researcher taking pictures had walked over to the fallen section of carapace, alongside a bee drinking from one of the flowers. He stooped to pick up the piece of shell, accidentally bumping the side of the bee as he did so. The insect shuddered, its proboscis retracting. The head turned, multi-faceted eyes regarding the man as he stood, holding the carapace up and inspecting it.

"They do seem docile, sir, but I wonder about that stinger. It-- Sir!"

While he'd been speaking, the emperor bee had turned its body, posterior facing the apparently oblivious researcher. Its massive abdomen rippled, and with no further warning, the two-inch spike jabbed, lodging solidly into the man's bicep.

Malcolm was already moving for the door, prepared to run in and pull the man out, before the injected toxins could bleed into his system. An iron grip caught his wrist, stopping him mid-stride.

"Calm down, boy, Kylar's all right," professor Albrecht said, chuckling and nodding at the perspex window. "Look."

Malcolm did as he was told, heart pounding in spite of the professor's reassurance. Would the man be writhing on the floor in pain? To his surprise, neither of the researchers in the chamber paid much heed, though Kylar wore a grimace as he tugged the detached spike from his arm. The white sleeve of the labcoat remained unstained. Had it only penetrated the upper dermis?

The man tucked it under his arm along with the carapace segment. The bee was walking to another flower as though nothing had happened. Its abdomen flexed, and from the gap left by the stinger, a second stinger and attached gelsac pushed free, coated in a thin sheen of the same fluid that leaked down the creature's legs.

"Detachable stingers, but not ones that inflict harm to the organism. Fascinating," Malcolm murmured.

"Indeed, isn't it? Ah, here comes Kylar now."

With a gentle hiss of an airlocked door, the entrance to the chamber slid open, and the researcher stepped out into the main lab. The clean-shaven lines of his face still twisted in sour expression, though it turned to a decidedly hangdog one when he caught sight of Professor Albrecht.

"Oh, good morning, sir."

"Morning, Kylar. This is Malcolm Gandry. He'll be joining you soon enough. Fresh tissue samples, eh?"

Kylar glanced at Malcolm, giving him a curt nod. "Yes, sir. Three and seven are moulting at a faster rate than the rest. Two has yet to lose any outer carapace, though there is an abdominal plate that's looking a bit loose."

"Very good. Continue to monitor and document."

"Of course, sir. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to get these to the analyzer, and, umm ..." He looked down, his face reddening slightly.

Professor Albrecht chuckled, and prodded the man's elbow. "And change. Of course, Kylar, go ahead. Hazard of the job."

The researcher looked grateful that he didn't need to explain, though Malcolm rather wished he had. He turned and beat a hasty retreat across the lab floor.

"What was that about?" Malcolm asked as soon as the man had left.

"Hmm? Oh, the look on his face?" The professor slapped his knee and chuckled. "You'll find out soon enough."

"That happens ... often?"

"Indeed. No more than once per trip into the tank. It seems that once one stings, the rest leave you alone, though as you can see, there are no ill effects. We've analyzed the injected fluid quite thoroughly, and discovered nothing detrimental to the human body."

Malcolm frowned. No toxins, perhaps, and the stinger had both not gone deep and slid free of Kylar's arm with ease. "But if the sting is harmless, what purpose does it serve? Perhaps harmless to humans, but not one of their predators?" He paused, considering. "Do they have predators?

"Not that we've discovered yet, and the stinger is another piece of the puzzle they represent."

"It can't be pleasant to be jabbed with something that size."

"You'd be surprised. Almost made me jump on my first sting." The professor cackled, nudging Malcolm with an elbow. "Tomorrow, when you start working with Kylar and Lukas there, I'm sure you'll see." He spun in his chair, manipulating the controls and floating away from Malcolm. "I'm afraid I'm due for a holo conference, however, and must leave you to your own devices for the time being. Get settled in, feel free to look around more, and report here at 1000 hours station time."

"Yes, sir." Malcolm looked back at the bee chamber, shuddering at the sight of the big stingers. Maybe if he was careful not to antagonize the creatures, as Kylar had apparently done, he wouldn't get stung?

No matter how exclusive the surroundings, initiations were always the worst.

***

Garbed in a standard labcoat and carrying the shiny new unipad he'd been assigned, Malcolm stood before the sealed entrance into the emperor bee chamber, hoping the flip-flops in his stomach weren't evident on his face as Kylar explained his role for the morning.

"Now, when we go in, they usually get a bit excited, and will emit a high-pitched whine. One or two might come over to check us out. Just hold still and wait for them to lose interest. They always do after a minute or so, and then we go about our business."

Malcolm nodded. "And if they, ah, sting?"

Lukas, who was a fellow junior assistant, standing behind Malcolm with a bag of special nutrient powder for the flowers, barked a laugh. "Then you take it like a champ and keep going."

"It doesn't hurt at all?" Malcolm turned to face him. "The professor said it was harmless, but it can't be that harmless."

Lukas wore a huge grin. "Only if it's your first time, then they--"

"Enough," Kylar cut in, glaring at the younger man. "No need to unnerve our new assistant with your weird sense of humour on his first day, Lukas. Now, as I was saying," he turned back to Malcolm. "You'll be using the chemical profiler on your unipad to analyze the secretions on their back legs. Note the molecular composition down, and compare it to the previous day's numbers. We've been noticing a steady upward trend in the sugars composing the substance, and the professor would like us to continue tracking it."

"Understood." Inwardly, Malcolm shuddered. As exciting as it was to get up close and personal with this new species, why did he get stuck with a job that brought him up close and personal with the pointy end?

"Good. Let's go." Kylar hit the door control switch, allowing it to open with a soft hiss. The three of them stepped through, and waited for the outer door to close, before Kylar cycled the inner door open.

A wave of sweet-smelling muggy air washed over them, and beads of sweat popped out on Malcolm's forehead almost immediately. They walked into the chamber, the odd transition from metal to grass feeling almost surreal. Their presence didn't go unnoticed. Three of the bees swivelled their ponderous bodies, faceted eyes inspecting the invaders.

One bee detached from the group and wandered over, its long legs daintily picking a path that barely disturbed the grass. It stopped a mere foot in front of them, proboscis fluttering. Malcolm held as still as he could, staring back into the reflective surface of those eyes. The pattern was almost hypnotic, and he wondered idly if this was how the prey of a Belvian churrus felt before it was consumed. A spicy aroma tickled at his nose, too faint to properly identify.

"Look at that, Mal, he likes you already," Lukas said, chuckling softly.

"So long as he doesn't get any ideas," Malcolm shot back.

"Quiet," Kylar ordered.

The quiet stare-off with the bee continued a moment longer. Then, after what seemed an age, it turned and meandered off to browse the flowers. Malcolm let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding.

"It's like that all the time?"

"Only on days that end in 'y'" Lukas said, sounding just a touch disappointed. "Guess he didn't think you were pretty enough, Mal. But don't worry, one of them will have lower standards."

"I'd just as soon they didn't, thanks," Malcolm bit out, more harshly than he'd intended. He could take a joke as well as the next guy, but the constant ribbing and continued lack of explanation on the subject were beginning to chafe.

"Enough chit-chat. Let's get to work," Kylar said.

Lukas began to move along the haphazard clusters of flowers, mostly avoiding the bees, and pouring nutrient powder. Kylar took his unipad out and began walking around the bees, scanning them and recording data. Malcolm took a deep breath, and headed for the closest insect, one of a pair that were feeding on a flower cluster close to the wall.

As he drew near, the two bees looked up from their feeding, then, apparently deciding he wasn't a threat, went back to their meal. Both had seemingly random sections of their blue-furred carapace missing, showing the strange black underlayer.

"Why are you shedding those?" Malcolm murmured, frowning. It wasn't a cocoon or skin. Perhaps breaking free of a formative shell was merely a maturation stage, as the professor had said, but if so, it was unlike any form of morphology he knew of. Steeling himself, he opened up the chemical profiler function on his unipad, and crouched down next to the trailing abdomen of one of the bees.

A line of clear, viscous fluid dripped down the shiny black leg before him. The spice scent wafted up again, almost like cinnamon, but with a distinct alien piquancy. Gingerly, Malcolm dipped the unipad's probe into a droplet of the liquid, and waited for it to calculate the sample.

His neck hair prickled. A flash of motion in the corner of his eye made him flinch.

"Oh f-"

The sharp pinch of a needlepoint puncturing skin jerked him bolt upright. A tiny flower of pain bloomed from the sensitive flesh of his posterior. Malcolm's eyes widened, heat flashing up his spine.

A rush of euphoria.

He was floating, soaring weightless through the chamber.

Nerve endings vibrated like tuning forks, his skin flashing hot, then cold, then hot again, unable to keep pace with his pounding heart. Blood rushed to his nether regions, a painfully hard erection springing to life with far greater enthusiasm than he'd experienced with any partner. A familiar, inevitable need built in his groin, all sense of control or decency absent from his mind.

He shuddered, let out a groan.

Oh god.

The moment passed. Sweat rolled down his nose, dripping onto the forgotten unipad. Malcolm blinked, closed his foolishly hanging jaw. The tent was rapidly receding from his pants, though the spreading sticky stain inside would start to show soon if he didn't get a change. Shame burned in his ears, and he could hear Lukas laughing somewhere behind him.

Well. At least now he knew the secret.

"How was it, Mal? Better than viagra, right?" Lukas called, still chortling.

"Could've at least bought me dinner first," Malcolm grumbled.

"Burns a bit the first time, doesn't it?"

Malcolm grumbled, standing on shaky legs. Something fell quietly to the grass and rolled between his feet. He stooped and picked up the discarded stinger, wanting to rub the spot he'd been stung, but unwilling to give Lukas even more ammunition.

The gelsac at the base of the hollow black tube was collapsed like a deflated balloon, its contents the clear culprit of his wild drug trip. Holding the stinger up to the light, Malcolm squeezed the empty sac, coaxing a small bead of fluid from the tip. There it was; that cinnamon smell! And to top it off, the fluid looked identical to that which the bees secreted.

"What is this stuff? Is that effect a property of the flower?" Malcolm turned, and started when he found Kylar standing directly behind him, a wry smile on his face.

"Don't worry," the older man said, nodding at the stinger. "As I'm sure you've guessed, that little experience has become a bit of a rite of passage around these parts. And no, it seems to be an internal compound the bees themselves produce, though they certainly require the nectar to do so. The effect is ... potent, to say the least, and it's the reason the only researchers allowed in the tank are male."

"Is the effect worse on females?"

"I'm sure the professor would be interested to find out, but unless any of our female staff volunteer to be stung, any request for exposure to toxicology we don't yet fully understand would be illegal. So far, our female staff haven't been willing to experiment with the compound."

"Jizz juice," Lukas said, nodding. "Not to mention, if it's a mating thing, for all we know, these guys could decide to go to town one of our unsuspecting ladies."

"Highly unlikely," Kylar said, glaring at Lukas. "We've been over this. For it to be a reproductive function, we would have found evidence of genitals or gametes by now. Comparisons to similar species aside, there is nothing to support that hypothesis."

Malcolm nodded. "If they ate anything but nectar, I'd say it's a hunting method, but my guess would be a defensive mechanism against predators."

Lukas snorted. "Because a horny predator isn't a hungry predator. Right. If these things even have predators."

Malcolm shifted, feeling a sudden unease. If the emperor bees did have predators, he wasn't too keen to meet one. Any apex predator of a planet with such a robust fauna ... formidable. He adjusted the hem of his dress pants, trying unsuccessfully to be subtle. The stickiness was drying, leaving uncomfortable knots and stiff undergarments behind.

"See? Told you he liked you," Lukas said, snickering. "Hell, I still say we should capitalize on this--bottle the stuff and sell it as a rec-drug."

"And promptly be shut down by the trafficking authorities," Kylar said, rolling his eyes.

"Hey, but think of the applications! A shot of this stuff each, and--"

"That's enough of that," Kylar finished. He reached out and took the stinger and unipad from Malcolm's hand, adopting an uncharacteristic smile. "Go," he said, "get changed and come back. You might get a bit of teasing on your way, but you did fine. You reacted less than Lukas did his first time."

"What can I say, I had a larger load to blow," Lukas jibed. "But in all honesty, way to go for taking it like a man, Mal."

Malcolm's cheeks warmed. Camaraderie was another new experience. Sure, he'd had friends back in university, but the constant competition for placements and grants made such relationships cool at best.

"Thanks."

Maybe his first week wouldn't be so bad after all.

***

The following days established a pattern for Malcolm. Much of the work was standard 'observe and report' fare, with the three of them tending the bees, recording every scrap of information possible, and going over the data with the professor.

Daily, the bees stung an unlucky--or, perhaps lucky, if only the physical sensations were taken into account--victim, without any apparent reasoning or selection, though never more than one sting per trip into the enclosure. The running theory was a pheromone marker, injected with the other chemicals, that temporarily pacified the bees' urge to sting. Malcolm endured three of the humiliating orgasms himself, including both of the stings from the past two days. The effect didn't seem any less potent due to exposure, and he'd already needed to make use of the station's laundry facilities.

All ten of the bees had shed the majority of their shells by the end of the week, curiously leaving the back and posterior plates intact with uniform precision. Sleek, shiny black chiton replaced the soft fuzz, and the debate raged among the four researchers whether the lingering ridge of the original carapace would remain, or if the bees had a final metamorphosis in store.

The buzzing began at midnight.

***

A shrill wail severed Malcolm's connection to pleasant dreams (possibly ones involving himself, holovid star Cherrie Yurovig, and a scandalous lack of clothing). He jerked upright in his bed, ears ringing with the alarm, and waved a hand through the sensor bar to activate the lights.

The low humming came from the vents. Beneath the banshee klaxon of the alarm, undercutting the louder, more obvious sound, it vibrated the very air, tingling on Malcolm's skin like an electric current.

"The hell?"

Distantly, a horrible splintering crash split the cacophony, followed by an indistinct shout.

Malcolm shook off the lingering sleep, rolled out off bed, and hastily tugged on his pants and lab coat. Waving the door open, he stepped out into the corridor.

Several others were also emerging sleepily from their units, staring toward the source of the commotion. Malcolm nearly collided with Lukas, who had the unit opposite him. Garbed in similar fashion, the fair-haired man was paler than usual, his eyes wide. Malcolm grabbed him by the shoulders.

"Woah, easy. Any idea what that is?" Malcolm asked, nearly needing to shout over the din.

"Containment alarm," Lukas replied, shuddering. "They tested it once, about a month ago. This one isn't a test."

"Well, what are we waiting for? Maybe we can help. Let's go!"

"Are you nuts?"

Malcolm ignored the other man's protests, tugging him along past the dawdling researchers, heading for the door into the main lab.

"Bad idea, bad idea!" Lukas shouted as he stumbled along behind Malcolm. "That shit tends to mean run away, not to!"

"You want to leave the professor to deal with it?"

"No, but--"

"Then come on!" The first set of lab doors hissed open at their approach, and Malcolm pulled Lukas into the containment chamber, allowing the entry to seal in their wake. Lukas let out a moan.

"For the record, I hate you for this."

"Duly noted."

The second pair of doors hissed open, to a scene of madness.

Massive black forms hovered freely about the lab, the air above them a sparkling blur in the glare of the overhead lights. Midnight black carapace gleamed, any hint of welcoming blue fuzz gone. The low, persistent buzz dominated, nearly drowning out the alarm entirely. Insect legs trailed over specimen tables and across the metal floor, dangling below their owners like the world's most improbable landing gear.

At the sound of the door opening, several of the emperor bees rotated, faceted eyes staring back at the two humans. Proboscises unfurled, tasting the air. The buzzing ramped up in intensity.

"Wings," Malcolm breathed. "The bastards grew wings."

"That's not all they grew. Look!" Lukas hissed.

Malcolm followed his pointing finger. The bee's stingers, formerly a modest two inches, had also been upgraded with the final metamorphosis. Now a wicked spike almost six inches in length, the gel sac in the middle had been joined by two larger, dangling sacs at the base of the spire. Shimmering liquid dripped from the ends, leaving a trail. Was the tip still a detachable, relatively harmless sting? Or would they now put the full length of that impressive tool to use?

Sprinkled through the lab, smaller creatures scampered, scuttled, or oozed, their enclosures broken open by movements of the huge invertebrates. A basin simian leaped to the top of a storage cabinet nearby, screeching. Malcolm winced, catching sight of five rainbow-scaled fish--paradise scutes from Ashra Minor--flopping about in a spreading puddle, near the shattered remains of their tank.

A shout from the far side of the lab. Three security personnel, officer Blake included, were waving plasma rifles at the bees, apparently attempting to coax them back into their enclosure. Judging by the spray of glittering perspex shards littering the floor, the bees had already given their opinion on the makeshift habitat. The professor sat in his chair behind the guards, barking orders over the incessant buzzing.

"No! Don't shoot them you idiots! Even with stun blasts, we don't know how it will affect them!"

"But sir--!"

"Don't 'but sir' me, Blake!"

The doors behind Malcolm and Lukas whooshed open, and Kylar entered, along with several others.

Yuki, one of the tech assistants, let out a gasp. "What the hell are those?!"

"I was afraid something like this might have happened," Kylar said. "They've fully matured, into something we aren't equipped to contain!"

"Everyone!" Blake shouted, waving at the group, "get back! Let us handle the situation!"

"You heard the man," Lukas said, grabbing Malcolm's elbow. "Let's--"

An arc of blue light spat from one of the plasma rifles, connecting with the closest emperor bee. The creature's legs stiffened, its steady hum turning to a sharp squeal. It collapsed to the floor with a heavy crash, wings falling still, tipping over a delicate magnification array in the process.

"You idiot!" professor Albrecht screamed at the quaking guard. "You--"

As one, the three bees who had turned toward Malcolm and Lukas twitched. Three dark streaks flew across the room. The guard screamed, staggering back and dropping his rifle as three long spikes, each topped with bulbous gelsacs, sprouted from his chest. Even from across the room, Malcolm caught the stomach-turning sight of the large gelsacs contracting, squeezing their contents into the helpless man.

"Oh hell," Lukas moaned. "Now they shoot them?"

As if on cue, the other bees turned, lining up. Black projectiles zipped through the air, faster than the guards could react. The other security officers went down, a plasma stun blast arcing wild into the ceiling. Terrified screams joined the hellish din of alarm, buzzing, and animal cries. One stinger whizzed past Malcolm's shoulder, striking its target with a wet squelch and a pained groan.

"Down!" he yelled, grabbing Lukas by the wrist and pulling him behind the smashed basin simian enclosure. His colleague didn't argue, diving out of the incoming hail of stingers. More screams indicated direct hits, researchers dropping like flies.

Looking back, Malcolm saw Kylar lying on the floor, convulsing, three inches of stinger protruding from the side of his neck. Their eyes met, a brief moment of lucidity in the other man's gaze. Then, he stiffened, his mouth forming an 'o'. A trail of drool bubbled from his lips.

His eyelids fluttered closed.

Sweet mother of mercy ...

Others were collapsing to the floor around the door, crying out in shock or terror with vibrating stingers protruding garishly from their bodies. Those struck formed a blockade, preventing those who'd managed to duck out of the rain of stingers from escaping. One man whose name Malcolm couldn't remember, wearing nothing but a sleeping robe, fumbled with one of the six-inch spikes, attempting to tug it from his thigh. Malcolm started to move toward him in a crouch. Maybe he could--

Before Malcolm had taken a step, the man stiffened, mouth going slack. Turgid gelsacs pulsed, emptying their contents. Malcolm looked away in disgust as sticky white ejaculate stained the front of the man's rumpled sleeping robe. When he looked back, he man's head lolled, sightless eyes fixed in horrified surprise, at odds with the slack-jawed pleasure.

"Bloody fucking hell," Lukas swore. "So much for my grand marketing scheme on that stuff. Guess we ruled out defence mechanism too early!"

"We didn't, you did," Malcolm said, feeling sick.

Lukas barked a mirthless laugh. "Jeesh. At least he went out happy. Oh god, what is that?"

The skin of the man's thigh rippled, a bulge travelling beneath the surface, forming a massive lump. A second grotesque bulge appeared, squeezing beneath the skin at the point of penetration, and settling down near man's exposed hip.

"Are those ... what I think they are?" Malcolm said, staring fixedly at the grisly sight. The bulges pulsed, seeming ready to burst.

"It certainly isn't a fucking tumor."

"Which means that those aren't really stingers ..."

"Nope. They're not. They were there all along, beneath the shell. Waiting to be whipped out."

"And we haven't found a queen because they don't need one. They just need to poke a big enough creature with ... that."

"Hard to say 'no' when they can blow their load at you from twenty feet away."

More screams, the buzzing reaching a fever pitch. Emma ran by their hiding spot, breaking for the exit. Four stingers caught her mid-flight with deadly accuracy, punching into the skin of her back. She fell without a sound, rolling into the growing stack of the bee's victims.

I suppose we're their queens, Malcolm thought sardonically. The whole crazy scenario felt surreal, and he half expected to wake up at any given moment.

"Maybe we can sneak around," Lukas hissed. "I could try for one of the plasma rifles."

Malcolm peeked out from the corner of the simian enclosure. Ten bees hovered in a rough group, surrounding a single point. One of the bees shifted, giving Malcolm a view of the professor, slumped over in his chair, a single stinger lodged in his chest. The bees seemed almost ... reverent, as if respecting the human who'd discovered their existence. Just ... not enough to leave him unmolested.

Nothing else moved in the lab--the small specimens had wisely taken their cue to quietly hide. The bees had yet to turn from the professor, but both exits were still blocked off.

"No good," he said, ducking back around the enclosure. "The one that got hit is back up again. Guess it was only dazed. Everyone else, though--"

"Shh!"

Malcolm's teeth clicked shut, a shiver rolling down his spine. The buzzing was growing steadily louder. Glass tinkled nearby, audible over the still shrieking klaxon. A shadow loomed, cast beside their hiding place.

"We are so fucked," Lukas whimpered. "Fucked by bees. How's that for an epitaph?!"

Two of the massive insects hovered into view, flanking them on either side of the simian enclosure. Emotionless, faceted eyes studied them. Malcolm's skull vibrated with the overwhelming buzz, turning his fight-or-flight response to a cold freeze. Maybe if he didn't move ...

In unison, the bees pivoted, bringing stingers to bear. Lukas moaned wordlessly.

Huh, Malcolm thought, tracking the two deadly phalluses. They sure don't need much of a rest. He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the quick jab.

Phht!

There was a wet, meaty squelch. Lukas gurgled. Wild staccato thumps indicated thrashing limbs. Malcolm held still, not wanting to watch his own demise coming.

Nothing happened.

Something soft and feathery tickled his cheek. Gasping, Malcolm opened his eyes, tried to jerk back from the thin proboscis inspecting him. His back slammed into the base of the simian enclosure.

The bee's alien head filled Malcolm's view, its frantically buzzing wings creating a rainbow shimmer above. Delicate forelegs hovered inches above Malcolm's ankles.

"So, what are you waiting for?" Malcolm muttered, glaring at the beast. "I'm not giving you a ring."

The bee ignored the comment. Its proboscis retracted with a final ticklish pass along Malcolm's neck, and abruptly, it drew back, trailing drops of its now deadly juice. Together, the two bees flew off across the lab, leaving Malcolm to stare after them in stunned silence.

"What, I'm not good enough for you now?" Had they simply decided to leave one alive, for some unknown reason? Or, could it possibly be the pheromone marker? They'd stung him exclusively these past two days, so perhaps to their senses, he smelled 'bred'.

_Huh. Never thought I'd count being jabbed with a dick to be a good thing. _

He rolled away from Lukas' limp form, peering around the corner. The insects gathered, buzzing, and hovered as a group toward the far door out of the lab. They began nudging it, somehow knowing it lead to freedom, though for the time being, they fortunately weren't close enough to the door's activation switch to trigger it. Soon, however, they might find a way out of the lab, and if nobody shut the blast doors, they would find a whole orbital station of victims.

Malcolm began to crawl toward the closer exit. It all made sense now. The reason they hadn't discovered a predator species, an apex predator of that ecosystem. The bees were that predator. Only, their prey wasn't for food.

He reached the door, throwing a wary look over his shoulder. The bees were still fumbling, unsuccessful in their efforts to escape. If he could get around through the back corridors, he might be able to shut the blast doors and sound the alarm.

Now or never.

He slapped the door switch, and ran.