Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, nor do I make any profit from writing this story.
Multi-verse; the Transformers belong to Hasbro and all original characters belong to me, with the exception of Miller—whom belongs to Nita (she will also be my guest author). This piece of work may contain violence, adult language, and sexual situations. And, as always, constructive criticism is welcome.
Survivor
He stared longingly at the trio of pods clinging to the damp wall.
They were the future of their race, the seekers in particular. What seemed like a millennia ago; Megatron's defeat at the hands of that human child proved difficult for his second-in-command, despite his denying any feelings that stemmed from the loss. And The Fallen—that old sack of circuits—had not a word to say about the death of his beloved apprentice and heir. The elder worked Starscream to the bone; the hatchlings needed this and the hatchlings needed that. Day in and day out, the seeker tended to the soft glowing sacks, making sure they had enough energon to sustain their still-developing systems…
It was when The Fallen became in need of his own life support system, that Starscream took the chance to step up his game.
Deep within the Nemesis, the Decepticon queen—the last, and perhaps the only, Cybertronian female to join their ranks—had lied patiently waiting for her mate. But he never came. He never cared. He only sought revenge, you see. The seeker, however, had acknowledged her want to breed, knowing that he would be risking her life as well as his own; and that fateful night did indeed provide him with three potential heirs, a full trine born of elite blood.
And then Megatron came back.
After losing the last battle to the Autobots, he took to destroying The Fallen's brood—perhaps to make way for his own, much like a rouge lion preparing his kingdom for a new world order.
o---o
Starscream's optics dimmed as he lowered his chest to the floor, bringing his helm closer to the pods. He nuzzled them lightly as if to give encouragement, praying to Primus they would survive—unlike the rest of their nestmates. He emitted soft clicks for added measure, offering comfort to his little seekerlets, and then straightened his larger form (as much as he could, anyway, considering the tight confines of the basement). His own trine awaited him outside of the hangar. They, too, were concerned for the hatchlings' safety and for obvious reasons.
"They are doing well?" Thundercracker inquired with a slow, calculated step toward his brother. The air commander made his way out of the hangar and placed a hand upon his arm in response to the mech's anxious tone.
"They will have plenty of nourishment," added the darker jet, Skywarp, as he eyed the fuel tanks, tempted to grab some for himself. Starscream gave a short nod of his head and nudged his elder brother's bicep cables in silent affection. It was time to return to their temporary base, for Megatron would be looking for them and neither jet wanted to face an enraged Decepticon leader.
The trine quickly took off into the night sky; Thundercracker and Skywarp attempting to block their commander's view of the abandoned site, and kept him from having second thoughts.
o---o
It's been an hour or so since Starscream and his trine departed, and there was almost complete silence; the only sound coming from the glowing pods; the nauseating slosh of fluid as the seekerlets moved about within their cerulean tomb. It was only a matter of time before they entered the world as tiny versions of their creator…