Chapter X
Silverbolt shifted in the nest, twisting his support strut a tad, shrugging his wings, then reluctantly settling down in the nearly the same position as before; the same position he'd been holding for most of the past few weeks. The medics had put him on a strict regimen of bed rest for the final weeks of carrying, and he felt like he was about to go as insane as his gestalt mates. With his chest and abdomen so cramped, things were really starting to get warped out of shape, and the number of positions he found comfortable for any length of time was dwindling.
"It's still your move, Silverbolt."
"Huh? Oh, right." Silverbolt drew his attention back to the tray of letters in front of him (the number of specially ordered board and card games on hand in the Ark having increased phenomenally over his carrying), trying to focus on the game but failing miserably. Silverbolt half-heartedly laid out "pets", for a total of 7 points. His score was updated on his HUD, but rather than drawing new letters, he just continued staring at the board blankly.
"We don't have to play anymore if you don't want to, you know," said Skyfire. Silverbolt looked up to find the larger flyer studying him and not the game. Silverbolt sighed, and shoved the board aside, before carefully sitting up from his sideways leaning position.
"It's not you, Skyfire, it's just…"
"You've been cooped inside for weeks and are in great physical discomfort, along with imminent parenthood?" Skyfire asked, blasé. Silverbolt blinked, then chuckled, before trailing off painfully.
"At least the claustrophobia's gone away, well, mostly," Silverbolt said.
"Programming kicking in then?"
"Oh yeah. I mean the thought of leaving our quarters is actually…" Silverbolt frowned, shaking his head. "I'm just glad the guys haven't been affected as bad. Still able to go on patrol, and still convincible to leave the room so certain shuttles can fit for a visit." He offered a small smile to his larger friend, and Skyfire smiled back.
"Well, now that I'm back from my patrol round the solar system, I'll be glad to visit any time. Sorry I had to be away for so long." Silverbolt waved a hand dismissively.
"We need to keep an eye on the other planets and moons in the system to make sure the Decepticons don't start setting up any space operations, and besides, I know you've been picking up on my slack in the long range department recently…" Skyfire nodded, and they fell into a brief, contemplative silence. Silverbolt's tank and spark casing started to ache from the pressure and pull of his pouch in his sat-up position, and he reluctantly started rearranging cushions to lie down again.
"Want some help with that?" Skyfire offered, leaning forward.
"Sure, I'm just gonna try lying on my back…" The two of them fussed around with the cushions, and then Skyfire helped Silverbolt gently lower himself down onto them and fix them around his wings. After settling in Silverbolt grabbed the cooling blanket's lines still hanging out of his chest plates, frustratedly picking them from where they'd gotten caught on a vent and shoving them out of the way.
"Been overheating? It seems pretty cool in here," Skyfire said, recognizing the machine the coolant lines were attached to.
"Yeah, well, the forging of the eggs makes a lot of excess heat, and now that I'm so cramped my main fans have jammed," Skyfire positively grimaced, "so even though they installed an air conditioning unit my internals were still overheating a lot, so…" he gestured vaguely into the air, leaning his head back and off-lining his optics.
"Before you take a flight to dreamland, you comfortable?"
"Mmmmostly."
"Are you still going to be comfortable when you wake up?" Skyfire asked, a smile in his voice. Silverbolt thought a moment before answering.
"It'll do." Silverbolt fell offline to the quiet pattering of his friend putting away their game and tidying up as best he could the chaos of the Aerialbot's quarters.
He came online to the shriek of sirens and claxons announcing attack by the Decepticons. The occupants of the room had changed as well, with most of his gestalt mates frozen, optics flickering as they listened to reports of the attack and troop assignments.
"What's going on?" asked Silverbolt. Part of being off duty included no access to that particular comm. channel (for stress reduction purposes, according to Ratchet, though Silverbolt could hardly see how being ignorant of the level of danger was supposed to make him feel better).
"The Decepticons have decided to hit several nuclear plants in the SE simultaneously – we're being sent out as escort and air support against the seekers." Skydive gave a brief sitrep. He signaled, and he and Air Raid swiftly moved towards the doorway. Fireflight lingered, fretting and turning near the doorway, until Silverbolt told him he should go help his brothers.
The door cycled shut, and Silverbolt lay quietly in the semi-darkness made by a forgotten computer screen for some time. These moments were always the worst – knowing his family was in battle, in danger, but being completely unable to help them in any way. Something in the pouch shifted, and now he could tell one of the eggs was pressed up against the bottom of his spark casing where the pouch connected. Groaning, he rolled onto his side, sat up and propped himself up with an arm on the couch in an attempt to ease the pressure.
It helped, and he fell back into a doze, though with all the recharge he'd been getting recently powering down fully again was difficult. Not to mention the spikes of emotion and pain coming through the gestalt bond keeping him awake. He gripped the couch as a particularly intense wave of pain rolled through him, before it cut off abruptly and left him heaving through his functioning vent. That didn't seem like it came through the gestalt bond… Silverbolt thought to himself, sitting up further in an attempt to relieve the pressure and crampin…
Oh. The fact that he was in labor hit him like a ton of bricks, and for a moment all he could think was a detached of course, how could I have not noticed right away and I should comm. Ratchet and let him know to come over here. And then he remembered precisely where Ratchet was probably located, and then another painful contraction of his ovigenesis pouch momentarily cut off any other thoughts.
When he came back to his senses, Silverbolt tried to think rationally. Even if most of the crew was gone on a mission, the Ark was hardly going to be left abandoned or the medbay unstaffed.
/ /Silverbolt to the medbay, come in/ / he said briefly.
/ /This medbay. What you need?/ / came the reply. Silverbolt had a sinking feeling.
/ /Swoop? Who's in charge of the medbay right now?/ /
/ /Grawk, Swoop is. What you call for?/ / Silverbolt took a moment to convince himself that Swoop was a perfectly qualified medical technician and that Ratchet would not have put him in charge of the medbay without complete faith in his abilities before answering.
/ /Swoop, I think I'm in labor./ / A pause.
/ /Him Silverbolt lay eggs now?/ /
/ /Yes. Maybe./ / Another contraction, this time accompanied by both upwards pressure and painful pulling at the locations the pouch attached to his frame, particularly the bottom of his spark case. / /Probably definitely./ /
/ /Me Swoop come there./ / Several minutes later, Silverbolt got the request ping for someone at the door, and he opened it. Swoop activated the full lights, leaving Silverbolt blinking, but seemed momentarily unsure of where to step. Making up his mind, he simply plotted a straight course and kneeled down next to the jet, pulling out a scanner.
"You Silverbolt turn out from couch now, or I plug scanner into arm. Which you want?" Silverbolt offered up his medical access port, and Swoop plugged in the scanner, watching the readout intently. Silverbolt clenched both his fists and hiked his wings back momentarily as another contraction hit, and on-lined his optics to Swoop nodding slowly.
"Yes, me Swoop think you definitely in labor. I comm. Ratchet for advice. Everything is okay," Swoop said reassuringly. Silverbolt waited, panting and trying in vain to shift around the massive cramp his entire torso had become.
"Him Ratchet say to check how big is pouch exit."
"Ok, how do you do that?"
"Pouch exit next to spark chamber. You turn –" Swoop hefted under one of his arms, and they got Silverbolt facing outwards, leaning back against the couch. Swoop gestured for him to open his chest plates, and Silverbolt obliged. The cooling blanket was quickly removed and set aside.
"Me Swoop see it. Yes, right here," Silverbolt felt a scrape of a finger against his spark chamber, and a tug, presumably on the opening of the ovigenesis pouch. "Too small right now." Swoop flicked his hand, and from subspace produced a flashlight and a servo-sized mirror. "You want see?"
Silverbolt nodded, and through adjustments to the angle of mirror and flashlight got perhaps the only view he'd ever had of the bottom of his spark chamber. Where the pouch had originally attached in a ring around the bottom of the chamber, around the port the sparklets had passed through, a small tear had formed at the 'seam'. The area had a little lubricant that had leaked out, though with him sitting up for most of the past few minutes, not a whole lot.
"The eggs…are going to come out there?" Silverbolt asked breathlessly and incredulously.
"Hmm…" Swoop turned his head into the call for a moment. "Him Ratchet say it tear away more, then stretch more, then eggs come out. This same way as for live birth Cybertronian."
"So, what do we do?" Silverbolt had never felt more out of his depth in his entire life.
"Us wait. You want stay there or move around?" Silverbolt considered. Another contraction hit the pouch, and now that he knew what was happening he could feel a little more of the rim get torn away from his spark chamber. Swoop obligingly let him hold his hand to ride it out, and when it finished he realized what he really wanted was for the Decepticons to take a vacation and for his gestalt mates, the P-bots, and Ratchet to show up and make this all over with.
"I'm gonna comm. Ratchet, I think," he said aloud. Swoop didn't seem too affronted, though Silverbolt had never been good at reading the smaller flier, and he turned his head to focus on the comm. conversation.
/ /Ratchet, this is Silverbolt./ .
/ /Silverbolt! Swoop's given me the sitrep. Is something else wrong?/ /
/ /No…/ / Silverbolt didn't know what to say, how to convey to Ratchet the overwhelming need to just have someone familiar at this moment. How could he explain the breach of protocol? / /I'm not sure what to do while waiting for, you know-/ /
/ /Whatever's comfortable. It'll probably be a few hours, so you'll move around some. Look, 'Bolt, Omega's nearly arrived at the drop site. Swoop will handle everything until First Aid or I can make it back to the Ark, okay?/ /
/ /Of course./ / Silverbolt felt chagrined for a moment.
/ /Hang in there kiddo, you'll be fine./ / Fortunately, Ratchet dispelled his worries. / /Ratchet out./ /
The hours passed, with periodic updates about the battle coming via Swoop via Blaster, and of course the impressions he picked up through the gestalt bond. Apparently the Decepticons had adopted an unusual tactic of circling between just enough power plants to keep the Autobots spread thin, although now that Skyfire had had enough time to catch up with reinforcements it shouldn't last too much longer.
Silverbolt used the battle updates to distract himself from the increasingly painful stretching and contracting of his ovigenesis pouch. Swoop had helped him to alternately stand and lean against the wall, lean over a cluttered desk, lie down on his side, and simply move around enough to prevent too much strain from building up in any given position. Finally, Silverbolt felt compelled, and had arrived at his current position on hands and knees, hands in fists and pressed tight together, forehead resting there, trying not to curl in on himself too much with each contraction. By now his pouch and chest plates, reflexively trapped open, were covered in hot lubricant, dripping down into a puddle below him.
"You do good, me Swoop see first egg," Swoop offered encouragement.
"Wait, wh-what?" Not thinking straight, Silverbolt leaned back and looked down at the mirror placed for Swoop's view of his internals. Of course, by moving he couldn't see it anyways, and after a moment of panic and frustration another contraction hit anyway. He grit his teeth against the painful sensation of the egg pressing against the exit. Dimly, he felt Swoop gently grab his arms and lean him forward again. The contraction ended, and Silverbolt groaned into his fists.
"No, Swoop, I can't –"
"Everything okay. You Silverbolt want something? Programming say want something? You tell Swoop." Swoop held an ice pack to the back of his neck, a shocking comfort.
"Everything is not okay!" Silverbolt practically whined. "How soon is the battle gonna be done? I want," he took a break to gasp, vents desperately trying to cool him down, "I want my family, I want –" Another contraction hit and he choked, rocking back and forth with the pain. This whole time he'd resisted feeling for his gestalt for fear of distracting them at a key moment in battle, but finally his will had been ground down and he desperately reached out to them.
The pouch relaxed, and he was suddenly swamped by panic, frantic probes into his well-being from his brothers. They were not so far away that he couldn't feel them, but the who and much of the strength of the inquiries was lost. Swoop was bringing his chin up, looking into his optics and asking him questions rapid fire, but he wasn't paying much attention, sorry, leave a message; much more invested in the gestalt bond than the cramped little quarters. He opened himself up to it, searching out, trying to draw them in, almost like combining but not quite – but they were too far away. Suddenly their end of the bond quieted, not all at once but one by one his sense of his brothers dropped away, leaving Silverbolt reaching towards an almost void. Silverbolt wanted to cry.
/ /Silverbolt? 'Bolt, please, respond!/ / The comm. message jerked Silverbolt back to the physical world.
/ /Hot Spot?/ / he asked, dazed.
/ /Oh thank Primus!/ / the comm. went quiet a few moments. Silverbolt noticed Swoop had laid him down, propped up on one side and was frantically inspecting his internals and his monitored vitals. Another contraction hit, and Silverbolt jerked his hand out, grabbing Swoop's fiercely for the duration – it seemed to last forever, and the new position was not comfortable at all.
/ /Silverbolt, you just hang on, okay? We're coming back to the Ark in Omega, okay? 'Bolt?/ /
/ /Who's coming back to the Ark? What?/ /
/It's okay, all the Aerialbots, and me and 'Aid are gonna be there in just a couple hours, okay?/
/ /'Spot…/ /
/ /Silverbolt?/ / came First Aid's voice over the connection,/ /You need to follow your programming now, okay? Swoop's sent me and Ratchet the data, and the eggs are ready to be laid./ /
/ /No, I want, I want Skydive n Slingshot n –/ /
/ /Hey, they're coming, okay? We're coming./ / Hot Spot reassured.
/ /Don't worry Silverbolt, we'll be there before you've even finished, but you can't wait ~/ / First Aid continued for a moment, but Silverbolt was distracted by yet another cramp, dizzying, he buried his head in the crook of his arm.
"You Silverbolt need sit up now!" Swoop implored him after it ended, placing one hand around his upper arm and one down across his wings. Silverbolt wanted to shake his head, keep protesting that this was not right, but with Hot Spot murmuring encouragement through the comm. he found himself nodding instead. Swoop counted, and on three heaved him up back onto his knees and forearms. Silverbolt dropped his head back down onto them, and Primus he couldn't care less he had his aft stuck up in the air.
"'Nother cramp come now, okay, ready–" Swoop said, hand on the back of his helm, and boy did it come. This contraction hit him like Ramjet's nosecone, and the pressure against both the not-quite-big-enough exit and the bottom of his spark casing was agonizing. Silverbolt came down, only to discover he'd ejected the meager contents of his tanks all over his arms. He stared at the partially processed energon dumbly, venting harshly.
/ /Hey, 'Bolt, that one's over, you're doing good,/ / Hot Spot said, while Swoop mopped up the mess with a cleaning towel. / /First Aid says to keep your aft high and your spark low and gravity'll do all the work for ya, easy peasy./ / Silverbolt coughed a laugh.
/ /It feels like Bruticus is punching his way out of my chest up through my chamber./ / He said.
/ /Bruticus? Phh, you can handle him./ / Hot Spot replied.
/ /Where are you?/ / Silverbolt asked, full of emotion.
/ /We're just passing over Tennessee. Don't worry, in Omega it should just be a couple hours. Oh, First Aid says another should be –/ / The time delay for relay caught up with them, and another contraction wrenched through him. Silverbolt arched his back strut as much as he could, so much so the hot lubricants now felt like they were dripping 'upwards' over his spark chamber. He could feel the exit stretch further, and pressure pressure pressure and then it stopped, though the burn of the stretch didn't leave, nor did all the force on his chamber dissipate.
"This one almost out, I see and scanner say. Here, you want feel?"
"What?" Silverbolt said through gasps, but allowed Swoop to hold him up, guiding his right hand back from where it had supported his weight to the center of his chest. It landed on something hot, smooth, and lubricated. Swoop helped him feel around the edge, one side where it was crammed up next to his chamber, the other where it stretched the pouch exit.
/ /Primus, Hot Spot, I'm about to lay an egg./ / Silverbolt said, dumbfounded. Swoop arranged his arm back for support just in time, and perhaps the most painful moment of his life so far hit him, he could feel the bulge of the egg being forced out, scraping despite the lubricant, the whole area felt like it was on fire, and suddenly it glided easier, slid free and plopped onto the ground below him. A moment passed wherein Silverbolt only had the energy to adjust to the new looseness, a nauseating reshuffle of the remaining eggs, and nothing else.
/ /Good job, 'Bolt./ / Silverbolt couldn't care how Hot Spot knew he'd succeeded, but the pure praise and joy in his voice worked a smile onto his face.
"You Silverbolt want rest bit now?"
"Yes, but I wanna," Silverbolt forced himself up from his crouched over position, and Primus just getting onto his palms was an effort, to look at the egg. Swoop helped him sit back on his aft and lean against the couch. Silverbolt stared at the egg. What he'd thought might've been as large as Grimlock's head was really only about the size of one his fists, maybe a bit larger than his own spark chamber. It was a dull grey, though still covered in a shimmering mix of lubricant and energon. Impulsively, Silverbolt reached over to pick it up and cradle it, rolling it over, feeling the entire surface.
"It's not…hard." He said, a quaver in his voice. Swoop nodded, distracted with his ministrations in Silverbolt's chest. He was taking the opportunity to check for tears in the pouch exit or excessive damage to the chamber, as well as sopping up lubricant and temporarily reapplying the cooling blanket. The cold numbed some of the sting, and Silverbolt sighed in relief.
/ /Don't worry, it's supposed to be a little flexible./ / First Aid's voice. / /It should harden very quickly – it reacts with the atmosphere, and Earth's is much denser than Cybertron's./ /
/ /Oh./ / Silverbolt said intelligently.
/ /What's it look like, 'Bolt?/ / Silverbolt could hear the intense but restrained curiosity in Hot Spot's voice.
/ /It's grey./ / He started. / /Not as big as I thought it would be. Not shaped like a chicken egg./ / Hot Spot laughed. / /Where are you?/ / He asked, more calmly this time.
/ /Let me check./ / a pause. / /Somewhere over Kansas or Nebraska. Not quite midway over the continent./ / Silverbolt nodded to himself dully. His spark chamber ached, and more importantly, his spark ached. He just wanted them to get here already. He could feel his ovigenesis pouch tightening up; not contracting, but shoving everything upwards. It wasn't very comfortable.
"Swoop, I think the eggs left are not in a good position," he said aloud. Swoop felt around through the cold blanket and the pouch, letting out a couple quiet squawks to himself.
"Eggs can't get out with Silverbolt sitting this way. What you 'Aid think we do?" Swoop said into the comm.
/ /Silverbolt, do you think you could go back to the position from before?/ / Silverbolt considered. Then he remembered he was a mechanical being, and his arms couldn't get tired.
/ /Yeah, but I'm getting low on energy…/ /
"Me Swoop go get equipment to hook up with energon line, that okay?" Silverbolt nodded. "You Silverbolt stay here, tell him First Aid if something wrong. I be quick." 'Bolt nodded again, and after Swoop had left and he'd reverently placed the newborn egg aside, he slowly turned to face the couch and bury his chest and face in the cushions.
He must have dozed, because it really did seem like no time at all before Swoop was back and attaching a drip-line to his arm, and just a reboot of his optics and he found himself crouched over again, aft high and chest low. Now he could definitely tell something wasn't quite right with the remaining eggs.
"I still think something isn't positioned right," he said, looking up at Swoop. The Dinobot reached under his side to feel and then pass a scanner over.
"Egg try come out is turned sideways. Me Swoop fix – Silverbolt must be still!" Silverbolt nodded, and locked his joints, stiffening in preparation. It actually wasn't as bad as he'd feared – there was still a little extra room to maneuver, and the pouch was flexible. Swoop just nudged it and the next tightening of the pouch did most of the work. Silverbolt's processor flashed an image of nudging Fireflight away from a crash, and a rush of humor, love, and loneliness hit him. A thought occurred to him, in this pause before the next egg started emerging.
/ /Why haven't any of the other guys been joining in to the conversation? I didn't make them get hurt, did I?/ / he sent to 'Spot and 'Aid.
/ /They are all fine. No major injuries. Don't worry about them, okay, Silverbolt? Just focus on what you need to do./ / First Aid reassured, though it didn't really answer his question.
/ /First Aid's got them all in hand, they're just, ah, resting/ / sent Hot Spot. Silverbolt wanted to get a straighter answer, but apparently his break was over and instead he grunted with the force of the next contraction. It had not dialed back down to the originally intensity, but instead hit him with the same strength as those near the end of the last birth.
"Oh boy," he gasped when it finished. Swoop pat his wing and, without any erotic overtones, massaged the area around the newly emerging egg.
"This one smaller. Be much faster me Swoop think." Silverbolt nodded, though Swoop could hardly be expected to see it, with his face hidden between his arms. It only took a few contractions before Swoop informed him it was nearly over. Hot Spot and First Aid also continued to pepper him with encouragements, until finally another contraction came and he could tell, could feel the egg pass the peak circumference and shluck out. This time he'd turned his head down, looking back towards his legs, and had actually seen the tip of the egg hanging down for a moment before it dropped, watched it fall to rest underneath him. He stared at it, panting, feeling once again the strange sensation of all three remaining eggs shifting.
Touching his left wing-tip to the ground for balance and support, he reached down towards the egg with his right hand a brought it up for inspection. It was also mostly a dull grey, though it had a mottled darker, charcoal patch, and like Swoop had said was noticeably smaller than the first one. Hand trembling with fatigue, he passed it off to Swoop, who placed it with its sibling.
Silverbolt decided slag to moving and flopped forward into the cushion of the nest. His abdomen ended up in a somewhat disgusting puddle of lubricant, but he really couldn't care less.
/ /Never again./ /
/ /What?/ / said Hot Spot, sounding mildly distracted.
/ /We are never doing that again. I am never doing this again./ / he said slowly.
/ /Whatever you say, Silverbolt. You're doing great though, y'know. Only three left, and we're gonna be there any minute, Omega says we're passing over Idaho now./ / Silverbolt groaned, realizing he mathmatically wasn't even halfway done yet.
Swoop asked if he wanted to be cleaned up any, but Silverbolt just waved him off with a flick of the wing. Instead the Dinobot readjusted the energon drip and added another bag, then sensing the concord wanted a little space puttered off. Silverbolt drifted in a painful haze, interrupted by bouts of shrinkage on the part of the ovigenesis pouch. He squirmed into the nest with another cramp, and knowing instinctively that the brief interlude had come to an end, got himself back into position.
A full contraction came and went, and now the third egg was truly in position. Fortunately the way had been paved before it, and Silverbolt could feel steady progress for the next several contractions. By now the pain had settled in and he was becoming used to the constant tension, so with each contraction he merely grunted, arching and grinding into them, Swoop occasionally reminding him to at least try to keep his internals cool.
Then they hit a snag. The next contraction hit, and Silverbolt again felt the intense, stinging pain of the pouch exit stretching further, and more compression against his spark chamber than even the first egg, and then it stopped. Silverbolt vented, off-lining his optics. Another contraction, more burning strain, and his poor chamber oh Primus let it just crush my spark already. Several more agonizing contractions later, and Silverbolt was wondering just what the hell was taking so long.
"Primus fuck it come out already!" He half yelled, half wheezed. A gasp came from the doorway, and Silverbolt on-lined his optics in surprise, lifting his head to see who it was. None other than Hot Spot and First Aid were rushing over, Hot Spot to fling himself down and plant a kiss directly on Silverbolt's lips. Silverbolt melted into it, oh, / /So glad you're h /ere/. In reply Hot Spot said nothing, merely broke the kiss and threw his arms around Silverbolt as best he could.
A contraction ripped through their reunion, and even though having Hot Spot and 'Aid nearby helped him emotionally, it did nothing for the physical pain of the largest egg yet being shoved out of his chest.
"'Aid, can't you do anything for him?" came Hot Spot's worried request now that he'd actually seen the state of the exhausted jet. Silverbolt sensed more than saw the ambulance shake his head.
"Anything I gave for the pain might either cause him to loose consciousness or the contractions to loose strength. You're doing well, though, Silverbolt, this one's just particularly large. Ah, thanks Swoop."
"Me Swoop leave you now, but you let me come see all eggs later, right?" The larger of the two medics said.
"Yeah," croaked Silverbolt, "later. Thanks, Swoop." The pterosaur transformer pat his back one last time and vacated the room. First Aid indicated for Hot Spot to move to kneel in front of Silverbolt so he could occupy the spot by his side. As another contraction rippled through him, Hot Spot placed both his hands in Silverbolt's to be squeezed, and First Aid felt the progress of the egg.
"Well, from the readings Swoop gave me I can tell this one hasn't been making much progress. I'm going to try pushing some on the next cramp, okay?" Silverbolt gave muffled assent, and when the current zipped through the pouch to contract it First Aid placed his hand 'under' the back end of the egg and gently pressed it forward in time. Unfortunately, because there were two other eggs taking up the back end of the pouch, First Aid wasn't pressing at quite the right angle. Silverbolt let out a cry of pain as all the pressure of the contraction, rather than directed towards the exit, was redirected almost straight up into his spark chamber.
"Oh, Silverbolt, you alright?" First Aid had ceased instantly, but waited for the entire contraction to pass before asking. Silverbolt, through tears, stutteringly explained the pain he'd felt, and everyone agreed not to try that assistance technique again. Instead the two Protectobots essentially replaced Swoop, and eventually even this large egg was forced through a much enlarged exit. After having caught it, First Aid almost took it away to place it with the others before Silverbolt almost panicked. Hot Spot helped him to visually and tactilely examine it, perhaps a bit less than twice the size of the others and a slightly paler shade of grey, and then it was allowed to be placed away at a safe distance.
The break before the fourth egg started emerging was brief, but fortunately it was nowhere near as large, and as First Aid had originally suggested gravity almost made it practically slide right out. By the fifth and final egg, Silverbolt had gone numb from exhaustion to the contractions, the stretching, the pressure on the side of his spark chamber, everything. His arms were numb from having been locked in the same unusual position for so long, his back strut too protested to arching and force of the contractions using it as a base, and he couldn't even remember what it felt like to have his chest plates closed. A contraction would hit, his frame would stiffen, hands would pet his helm or shoulders or wing, it would fade to a dull ache and moments later would repeat.
"Almost there Silverbolt, you're almost across the finish line, just hang in there –" a stream of motivation flowed, whispered, from Hot Spot's vocalizer to his ear. A contraction came, the egg wedged through the gap and escaped. Silverbolt trembled to hold himself up. First Aid retrieved the egg, and Hot Spot helped Silverbolt roll over to lie on his back. Silverbolt watched, detached, as First Aid set the final mid-sized egg in his cupped hands, before setting about sopping up as much of the fluid filling the jet's chest cavity as possible.
"All right, you're good enough for now. Want to close your chest plates?" First Aid suggested. Silverbolt tried activating the mechanism, but his whole chest felt stiff, numb, and he soon realized completely locked into place.
"That's alright, it should unlock within a few hours," First Aid said.
"You did it, 'Bolt! Here, I'm gonna help you up to see them all," Hot Spot interjected.
"Gnnnooo…" Silverbolt groaned without enthusiasm, but each bot got a grip on his shoulders and together all three of them managed to get him briefly vertical, just long enough to drop him a few meters over in a different part of the nest of the room. This jolted Silverbolt back to himself, and he leaned over to place the final egg with the others, then sat back against Hot Spot's chest to marvel at all of them, whole and real in front of him.
"Do you want to lie down and get some recharge?" Hot Spot murmured over his shoulder.
"I –" his vocalizer fritzed with static, he couldn't seem to get any words out through his sluggish processor and overwhelmed spark. Instead his mouth bobbed open and shut, and he just shook his head. A moment later he said, "I can't believe it. We're all gonna be parents." They sat there together a few moments while First Aid cleaned up, Silverbolt contemplating his swiftly arriving new responsibilities. Imagining spending time with cute little jets or cars, teaching to walk and talk (or whatever they needed teaching, he hadn't gotten to those data pads yet), playing with them…It doesn't sound so bad after all Silverbolt thought to himself.
Just as he was about to doze off into Hot Spot's comforting hold, spark casing aching with pain but spark itself suffused with warmth, Silverbolt jolted back awake at a flash of fear swiftly followed by overwhelming anxiety.
"What, what is it?"
"Gestalt," was all Silverbolt managed to say before the door to the hanger flew open and four frantic jets tumbled over themselves to get inside. First Aid almost did a suicide dive to prevent them from crashing into the two seated mechs in the crowded room (or, horror of horrors, the eggs) and shortly they were all packed in and snuggling Silverbolt and wondering over their offspring.
"Oh Primus Silverbolt when you called out to us it was terrifying I'm sorry we weren't here –" Fireflight was speed talking, carefully glomped onto one side. Skydive and Slingshot had taken up kneeling positions, glancing back and forth between him and the eggs, and Air Raid occupied his other side, head laid on Silverbolt's lap.
"It's okay, you guys, it's okay," Silverbolt shushed them. "I am curious though, I felt you at first, but then you all went quiet. What happened? What took you so long to come over here?" The other Aerialbots went quiet, and then Fireflight mumbled something.
"What? You had to be sedated?" At first he felt shock, then a wave of guilt through the nearly completely open gestalt bond, and finally when he disentangled himself irritation. "Resting my aft, Hot Spot, you could have just told me."
"Don't blame him," said Skydive, "we really did flip out when you reached out for us. Hot Spot managed to get the gist of the problem from one of us, hard to tell who, and then Ratchet ordered us sedated and shipped back here." The four jets drew closer to their leader, surrounding him with brief remorse they couldn't have been there for the whole thing and then merely the great calm and satisfaction that came from seeing a difficult but worthwhile hurdle overcome. Silverbolt almost had the urge to combine with them all right there, but the physical proximity would suffice, and he was beginning to realize he really needed to recharge.
Eventually, after the other jets had also had a chance to feel the eggs, hold them close to their own sparks for the first times, the five jets and two vehicles settled down into a ring around them and prepared for recharge after a long, long night and morning. Lying on his back with Hot Spot on one side and Fireflight curled on the other, Silverbolt had finally quieted his mind enough from the events the past hours to enter recharge, a ping came over the room's comm..
Slingshot heaved himself up to go answer it. Silverbolt could hear the unmistakable voice of Optimus Prime say something, though not what, and then the unprintable reply by Slingshot, ending with "tomorrow, sir," and the click of the comm. unit being deactivated. Slingshot trudged back to their pile and flopped down next to First Aid.
Silverbolt knew he should reprimand Slingshot for being so disrespectful to their Prime of all people. He really should. But he would follow Slingshot's lead on one thing: tomorrow.
A/N: This is officially the final chapter! Only have some epilogue bits left to go; no worries if you actually want to meet the bitlets.