The Gamin hatchling awakes hazily and begins to take in his murky surroundings. It is dark, wet, and cramped. The confines of his resting place constrict his movements. His weak muscles involuntarily twitch, while his heart begins to beat stronger. Small boney projections on his forearms scrape the sides of his prison as he begins to move around.
The sound startles him, frantically he thrashes about, his lungs suddenly becoming aware of the need for air. A dim light shines in from a fissure over his head. Pushing as hard as he can with his feeble legs, he slides the covering out of the way.
While the three claws on each hand hang on to the jagged top of his waking place, he studies this new world. He quickly spins around at the sound of wet footsteps coming from behind him. His eyes narrow, he growls and bares his tiny teeth at the stranger. The hatchling hisses back, then slowly retreats. Dozens of creatures, just like him, are breaking from their shells, hatching. Many begin to fight each other, the weakest quickly succumbing to the stronger, as is nature's way. High up on the distant ceiling, one red light blinks, then another.
On the bridge of the flagship, a subordinate turns to his leader and says "Regent, your son has hatched."