Insecticon Presents:

HATCHING DAY

A Transformers Prime: Invasion Story

Episode 8

Hate . . . bugs . . .

Insect-i-cons . . .

Pods hatching . . . !

Kickback's antennae twitched nervously in the middle of recharge, one foot twitching idly between the slow, rolling rumble of his engines. He giggled in his sleep and hissed. "''member me me me?" he muttered in the middle of a vivid dream, before returning to a noise that anyone could mistake for snoring.

Airachnid slumped forward on the flat boulder that had been her chair for the last seven Earth hours. She felt like her optics were going to melt down onto her cheeks as she kept a watch on nesting platform where five pods were anchored securely. Resting her chin on her hands and bored out of her helm, she went back to watching the locust sleep. Had he gotten lazier since he generated those eggs? Maybe even a little fat - was that even possible?

She shook her head and got up to stretch her legs, convinced that the long period of inactivity and waiting was messing with her mind. Going to the entrance of the cave to get some fresh air and scenery, she heard Kickback giggling psychotically in his sleep, muttering something about "putting someone in their place".

Must be a fun dream.

Some time had passed since Airachnid had been assigned guard duty over Kickback by Megatron. The Insecticons were apparently meeting with favor now; linked to an active hive Master their productivity and prowess had only increased. Shockwave had chalked it up to the fact that of the three Insecticons partnered with him on Cybertron, Kickback had been the most intelligent. Airachnid was just happy to be out from under those watchful eyes and enjoying a hard won respite from her long period of spark-bound servitude.

Unfortunately, peace was decaying into an enervating stretch of repetitious tasks: Get energon. Deliver energon. Watch Kickback eat himself to sleep. Check the pods. Lather, rinse, repeat.

"Primus, let SOMETHING interesting happen today before my brain module shuts down," Airachnid muttered to herself, bleary-eyed.

Primus must have been in a sporting mood. The pods a short distance away began cracking, venting plasma steam from their tops.

Airachnid nearly tripped over three of her legs in a rush towards the nesting platform. "Kickback!" she hissed. "Get up! The pods are hatching!"

"I ran th tests jus' like you said Shockwave, I can' help it if 'is head exploded," Kickback muttered, rolling over onto his side.

The spider thumped the Insecticon with one of her feet. "Get up," she commanded, louder. "The pods are hatching!"

Grunting in surprise and startling into half consciousness, Kickback pushed himself up to a sit. "Bluh?" He rubbed his face and turned around, bringing his processors more fully online and booting up.

The largest and oldest of the pods split open first with a gush of energon as a long-horned atlas beetle the size of a tall adult human flopped forward onto the nesting plate admit the shards of its shell. Standing on six shaky legs, it greeted the world with a stretch of its wings and a wide yawn, chirping once before settling into the business of eating the remains of its pod.

Airachnid crouched down, looking the little beetle over. An unusual pattern of white stripes ran down its exoarmoring. Could it be . . .?

Aware that it was being watched, the atlas beetle turned and sneezed a glob of energon out of its ventilation systems - and right into Airachnid's face.

Kickback clapped a hand over his mouth, trying to stifle a laugh.

"How cute," Airachnid deadpanned, dripping.

By now the second pod was cracking open, the sharp, elongated pincers of a stag beetle thrusting through the shell violently, the pod rocking back and forth with the force of the infant Insecticon's struggles. Wide-eyed and inquisitive, the second hatchling stood atop the remnants of its hatching pod victoriously. Sneezing out energon to activate its ventilation systems and proudly posturing with all the fierceness of month-old kitten, it sucked in a breath of air, and shrieked.

"THAT MUST BE SHARPSHOT!" Kickback shouted from behind covered audioceptors.

"WHAT WAS YOUR FIRST CLUE?!" Airachnid shouted back.

Hardshell was interrupted from his busy eating by the impossibly loud screetch, tumbling over onto his back. Righting himself, he proceeded to ram his still soft horn into Sharpshot's side, silencing the noisy stag beetle and knocking him off his perch.

The two eyed each other before diving into a flailing and shoving match.

"Oookay, that's enough of that already," Kickback chided, reaching down and grabbing up Hardshell. "If they get into too much of a fight before their exoarmor hardens they're going to deform each other."

Cautiously Airachnid picked up Sharpshot, avoiding the silvery pincers atop his head, which even now were throwing off sparks of electricity. The little bug stopped wiggling around and fixed its attentions on Airachnid. One optic shuttered as Sharpshot emitted a spluttering purr.

". . . Kickback I think he just winked at me," Airachnid flatly stated, unnerved.

"While he lacks most of his memories his personality should be largely intact," Kickback explained, fetching pieces of pod shard and feeding them to Hardshell, who was settled comfortably in the locust's lap. "He's probably wishing his body was a bit more developed right now."

"That's disturbing on multiple levels," Airachnid muttered, continuing to hold Sharpshot away from her body as the little stag beetle strained to grasp at her torso.

The third pod cracked, shell pieces pushed apart by a glistening red and black ant. Clearing her vents, she began fastidiously preening her limbs, removing all traces of energon that might still be present on her frame.

"So who is that one?" Airachnid asked, pointing with a spider leg, still holding Sharpshot cautiously away from her body.

"I'm not sure," Kickback replied, puzzled. "I honestly expected drones, but that one's entirely new."

The fourth pod rocked back and forth, and a black and yellow wasp stinger punctured through the top.

And got stuck.

Furious buzzing rumbled through the pod, spindly, clawed limbs shoving through the shell, which seemed to crumble around the hapless Insecticon inside. The pod collapsed in on the hatchling, the green torso of a wasp-frame digging its way out of the shards, one still stuck to its rear. It grumbled to itself in buzzing pops, fumbling around the nesting plate, trying to unstick itself from the stubborn shard on its butt.

"And that one?" Airachnid asked, biting her bottom lip in an attempt to keep from laughing at the wasp's newborn ineptitude.

"Again, not a clue," Kickback answered.

As the fifth pod started to crack, the ant, observing her surroundings, fixed her optics on Kickback. Raising herself up in as dignified a manner as possible, she stepped over the remains of the other hatching pods, pausing to let the wasp roll his way past her, still engaged in a protracted battle with the shell fragment lodged on his stinger. Continuing onward she crawled towards her generator, and upon reaching his lap, shoved Hardshell out and away, snuggling up against Kickback. She looked over at the flailing atlas beetle and hissed for good measure, clinging possessively to her parent.

The fifth pod burst open, the spikey jaws of a manticora tiger beetle spread wide, sneezing energon and chirping determinedly, challenging all who might approach the mighty, mighty hatchling - at least until he became distracted by the shards of the other shells. Casting a shifty-eyed glance across the room, the tiger beetle began snatching away pieces of other shells and piling them into his own.

"Five for five, Kickback. Is that normal? I'm guessing it's not. I don't recall finding a hive that ever had that many non-drones in one nest," Airachnid mused, observing the microcosm of chaos playing out in front of her.

By now Sharpshot was frustrated in being denied the object(s) of his affections; he took action to rectify the situation by screaming again. Loudly and insistently.

The other hatchlings shrunk away from the noise, chirping, hissing and droning in discomfort. Kickback righted Hardshell and scooped up the little wasp, fanning open his wings to try to shelter them from the noise. The tiger beetle buried himself in the shards he'd stolen from the other pods.

"Aaaugh, what is he DOING?!" Airachnid shouted over the din.

"He's not going to shut up until you hold him closer!" Kickback called out.

"Oh you have got to be kidding me!" Airachnid grimaced and pulled Sharpshot in closer, reluctantly cradling him closer to her torso.

Satisfied, Sharpshot stopped shrieking and returned to a warbling purr, cuddling up against Airachnid. "Manipulative little scraplet," she grumbled, enduring tiny claws happily clutching her torsoplate.

A collective sigh of relief was vented. Kickback pulled the remaining shell fragment off the little wasp, who fluttered his wings in gratitude.

"This is not what I expected," the locust said, standing up, gathering three of the hatchlings in his arms and walking over to the fourth, who was still happily collecting every one else's pod shell fragments. "These hatchlings are all hive masters. I'm guessing there's more than normal due to what was done to me, but trying to keep track of all five? I don't have enough me to keep them out of trouble."

"And I don't think I'm going to be able to transport enough energon and raw material to keep them all fed," Airachnid muttered. "You were bad enough when you were younger, but five at once?"

Chittering softly in the basic language of the hive, Kickback crouched down, four of the hatchlings clambering up on to his back, shoulders, and head. "Much as I hate the thought, we're going to have to take them to the Nemesis. It's the only place we'll be able to keep them contained and fed, and we'll be able to get help from the rest of the swarm."

"Megatron is going to want a report on the hatching as well," Airachnid sighed. Sharpshot stubbornly clung to her, unwilling to let go.

"I hope he's patient with hatchlings," Kickback thought out loud.

"Megatron? Patient? Are we talking about the same mech?" Airachnid asked.

Kickback's antennae drooped. "We're doomed."

"Not if he wants his Earth-conquering swarm," Airachnid noted, thinking the situation over out loud. " . . . He's going to have to learn to be patient. So are the rest of them."

"True," Kickback agreed, seeing Airachnid's point. Still, it wasn't going to be easy. The hatchlings were already squabbling among themselves, naturally competitive. He walked to the entrance of the cave.

" . . . Airachnid, the hatchlings can't fly yet. How are we going to get them to the Nemesis?"

The spider smiled. "Oh, I think I can spin up a solution."

"I hope this works," Kickback replied, turning and watching Airachnid weaving a cargo net from the spinnerets in the palms of her hands.

"You don't exactly come equipped with hatchling safety seats. It's the best we can do," Airachnid replied, Sharpshot observing from the safety and comfort of Airachnid's chest.

"I'll radio ahead to the Nemesis," said Kickback. "Let's just hope this doesn't turn into a disaster."

Unfortunately, Kickback, it probably will. . .