Chapter 18

The day had started fairly quiet. In the human barracks at least. Over
in the Autobot quarters, screams, cursing, and cries of a child (or a few…) were
heard. Yes, the moment you've all been waiting for... Optimus and
Megatrons sparkling have arrived!

The two mechs had spent their morning once again on their berth. They
had been talking quietly, Megatrons servo resting on the mound.
Suddenly he felt a movement. A kick. He smiled, and poked back at his
sparklings. Optimus snorted, and shifted to get more comfortable.

Suddenly, he convulsed, curling up in pain. His optics squeezed shut;
he sent a comm to his mate, telling him to contact Ratchet. Megatron
obliged. Ratchets commlink was off for some reason, so the Decepticon
commed the medics mate.

A pause.

"WHAT THE FRAG DO YOU WANT!" screamed the clearly angry Weapons
Specialist. Heavy panting and whimpering could be heard across the
link. Megatron blushed.

"Um, sorry, but Optimus is in labor..." he trailed off meekly.

"Well frag, we're not even at the base. We're a few hundred miles
inland, we're not gonna make it in time."

Megatron snarled in anger. He didn't know how to deliver a
sparkling! He looked down at his mate. Pain was written all over his
faceplates, his servos resting on his stomach. He opened his cover to
expose his already dilated valve.

"It's too late, they're coming now." he calmly said. He groaned as he
felt both sparklings make their way down. Wait. Both? At the same
time? Now the fearless leader of the Autobots was panicking. He
looked at his slightly clueless looking mate, and silently asked for
help.

In the back of his helm, Megatron knew he could help his mate deliver
the sparklings. Maybe it was his Creator programming, but he knew how.
He settled between his mates spread legs, said mate nearly screaming in pain, and eased himself closer to the valve. When he saw the two little helms, he stuck his fingers into
the stretched valve, and gently started pulling on the tiny shoulders, careful not to hurt
his sparklings. Carefully, he eased one sparkling out, the other
following closely.

The one that Megatron had grabbed first was a deep navy blue, built
like his daddy. He had red flames on his peds, giving the appearance
that he was standing in flames. Silver flames adorned his tiny chassis.

"Bluestriker." Optimus panted, relieved that the labor was over.

The second, significantly smaller, had his mommy's frame. Nearly the
same design scheme as his brother, he was a stainless silver, blue flames adorning his arms and shoulders, red flames rising from his waist. The two newborns cooed softly, curling up in their father's servos.

"Silverflame." Megatron said. He happened to notice his children's optics. Instead of blue, like his mate and his soldiers, or red like himself, their optics were gold. So were the other sparklings. He smiled, knowing the war was over. They could finally end their civil war, peacefully.