Megatron had little patience for the small and the weak, and the hoard of hatchlings currently underpede fit both those descriptions.

With so few of his followers left he'd expected little fanfare upon his return to what remained of the Nemesis, crashed and half buried in martian sand. The bulkheads glowed a cool blue- on emergency lighting. An indication of how little fuel they had left, and no doubt these hatchlings were making swift work of what remained.

He growled, nudging their twittering forms aside with his pede. Weak and unbalanced, they fell about scrambling, squeaking in protest, their wings wriggling in annoyance.

He hummed thoughtfully. Wings.

With long tapered claws he'd reached into the scrambling mess of little ones. He hooked one by it's scruff and lifted it with ease. It's plating was a dull grey, armour still translucent in places where it hadn't yet thickened. It twisted and hissed at him, tiny mouth already full of sharp denta, limbs flailing.

He bared his own denta in warning, but it did little to curb the tiny one's insolence. Such bold defiance could only be hereditary.

Undoubtedly, they belonged to Starscream.

There were also too many of them. Clutches were large to maximise the potential of a breeding cycle and a carriers investment in reproducing. The healthiest hatchlings were favoured, nurtured with the best fuel and resources and attention, promoting the best coding; yet this mismatched bunch of spawn were all well fed and cared for.

Megatron eyed them, looking for the runts, thinking if Starscream was too soft sparked to the do the job, he would bloody his claws in his stead.

As if sensing his intentions the hatching in his grasp began to chirp. The sharp noise echoed through the empty space. It's siblings began to follow suit, throwing their helms back and opening their vocalisers, their tiny frames jumping with the effort of creating such a loud noise.

Deeper within the ship, a stronger, clearer chirp answered.