It’s never really quiet in the ruined hulk of what was once the Nemesis. There’s the howl of the ever-present wind and rain on the moon the warship crash landed on some time ago, moisture dripping from broken plating to form caustic pools on the metal flooring below. Sometimes a hollow clatter as something degrades enough to fall in the darkness. And of course the chitter and chirring of the Hatchlings in their numerous pods, stuck anywhere there was a wall to support them once the hatchery was left insufficient by the inclement weather.
Though there are less voices now than there once were, fewer corresponding spots of energon blue glowing in the dark of the warship. It’s been more difficult to gather the necessary energy to keep them growing on track since most of the rest of the Decepticon Elite were killed on Earth during the battle for the Allspark. It’s only by virtue of using the Fallen as something a battery that he’s managed to keep up at all. Best use for the ancient mech in his opinion; after all, it was the Fallen’s decree that they ‘spawn an army’.
His own footsteps are lost under the hiss of the wind and groaning ship around him, and he pauses in his rounds to eye one of the hatchlings, looking at the little creature’s features through the nutrient rich goo of the pod for perhaps something familiar. Not his own countenance reflected back at him of course, but he knew many of the mechs who participated in the breeding program. It was only by abusing his rank that he was able to opt out of it himself, which had not endeared him any to his comrades that lacked such an option. Nor had he bothered explaining himself to them. Let them think him too vain, too egotistical to participate along with the rest of them.
Delicately, he brushes the backs of his talons along the pod casing, watching the hatchling within wriggle playfully as it tries to catch his claws, before moving onward to his actual destination. The day has been very long and tiresome, and while it is never really safe to rest on the Nemesis with the Fallen there, it is a necessary evil. Fortunately, he’s found himself a little hidey-hole that works well enough when he must give in to the call of recharge.
Nowhere near his quarters, he tucks himself into a hollow formed by the thick cables and tubing scattered to feed and maintain the hatchling pods. It’s a bit claustrophobic, but worth it to be out of casual sight, and better yet warmed by the energy flowing through those tubes. With a small sigh he settles himself, squirming a bit to find the most comfortable position without compromising the structures he’s leaned against.
Time for a nap before it’s back to the grind.
