Baby Blunder

Chapter 10

Diego Garcia… about morning tea time…

General Morshower leant on the railing of the overhead gangway, his lips firmly pressed together, his hands gripping the metal in a 'god-help-me-I-don't-want-to-do-this-but-I-have-to' kind of way. It was a way he was used to, except, this time, a little different. This was going to be about giant robots and their personal stuff.

Oh boy. Or girl, actually, come to think of it. The Autobot leader could produce either, er, gender when he gave birth. Or whatever his kind did to produce a baby. He didn't think he could handle the kind of screams Optimus would be capable of if his labour was going to be anything like as painful as human labour.

Christ.

He felt like making a helpful array of colored stick-it notes on the railing so that when he told President Obama that Optimus Prime was pregnant, he could kind of force his mouth to keep moving by rote reading the notes and try making some kind of sense. Because, really, what kind of sense was there in the fact that fearsome, huge, male robots could get knocked up in the first place?

Hey, maybe Ratchet – their doctor - should be doing this?

Er, no.

As Optimus had pointed out to him (several times) Ratchet wasn't the most polite and sensitive soul to deal with. The Autobot CMO was likely to bluntly smack the American leader over the head with the fact that Prime was preggers, then rudely walk off mid-meeting while muttering and swearing about how badly designed humans were when they fainted at their desks when being told about the reproductive facts of life, the universe and everything.

Morshower grimaced. Oh dear God, this was going to be bad. Very bad. So bad that he was definitely going to treat himself to a nice brick in the forehead afterwards. Forget the stiff scotch, just go straight for the hangover. Or unconsciousness. Unconsciousness would be brilliant, actually. A big size brick then.

"The JCS is up, General. You're online."

Morshower nodded to his solider and put his 'I'm bracing myself' expression on as the face of President Obama appeared on the screen in front of him. Oh goody, here we go…

Meanwhile, on the beach…

"Magnus, you look ridiculous. I can defend myself – by myself - very well, despite what you think."

Standing on the beach right at the waterline, Ultra Magnus ignored the jibes coming from Optimus Prime and stayed planted in his unforgiving solider-on-duty pose. Chin up. One huge hand clutching his massive laser rifle. An enormous double-bladed sword was also attached to his back struts, ready for action. His shrewd sapphire-blue, rectangular, sunglasses-like optics locked on his mech sparkmate standing in hip deep seawater.

"Your opinion has been noted," Magnus' mouthplates twitched, "and dismissed. Please continue to enjoy your leisure time while your safety is ensured by those capable of doing so."

Prime rolled his optics at his stubbornness, "Magnus…"

Magnus stayed where he was. A giant, towering and dangerous male mass of utter gorgeousness (to Prime's optics at least).

Prime sighed and slumped his shoulders. Damn Ironhide. Damn Ironhide to the pits of whatever hell Primus saw fit to dump him in. If the black mech hadn't made offhand comments to Ultra Magnus last week about what kind of protection the mech was providing to their legendary leader while he was carrying a precious sparkling in his chest, then Magnus would never have gone ballistic about following him around like he was – to use a human expression – the Queen of England, while carrying all the protective firepower the mech could cover his physique with.

Over the past few days, Optimus had been religiously followed wherever he went. In the washracks, around the base, to Ratchet's appointments, to meetings – and yes, even when he'd had to do a waste tank dump. Transformers didn't have to dump waste very often but Prime's systems were producing a lot of waste materials due to the sparkling in his chest churning through his resources, so he was doing it more often than most. Optimus had harboured evil thoughts about never coming out of there just to get some peace.

Now Optimus was reaching the stage where he was about to snatch Magnus' rifle from him and shove it up his aft. He glanced out to sea and wondered how far away he'd get before Magnus latched onto his aft and dragged him back home. So far, his attempt at having some stress-free time wading about in the sea under a hot summer sun wasn't working. Well, at least he guessed he was having a better time than poor old Morshower must have been with the President.

Command hanger…

"So, how did he handle it?"

General Morshower halted on his way out of the massive double doors. He glanced at Major Lennox who was lounging against the exterior wall with a curious expression on his face.

"He wished Prime well and wanted to know if he should send a congratulations gift of blue booties or pink booties."

Lennox blinked and dropped his jaw open. "You're kidding me."

Morshower grinned ruefully, "Yes, for once in my long career, I actually am. I'm entitled to, goddamn it. The President took it fairly well. He took it very well, actually."

Morshower tactfully didn't mention the way one of the President's aides had collapsed sideways in a dead faint. When someone had been standing faithfully behind the Presidents shoulder, and that person suddenly veered sideways out of camera shot, followed by a thump on the floor – yes, it was better to keep a straight face and continue on with his 'Hey, we've got pregnant aliens!' dialogue.

"THAT'S IT! GO AWAY! I never want to see you again! LEAVE ME ALONE! This is insane!"

Both men looked abruptly sideways – and up, way up – at the sight of a dripping wet and sand covered Optimus Prime storming past them at the fastest walk his top heavy shape could muster. The expression on his faceplates was like thunder.

Ultra Magnus was striding resolutely after his pissed-off sparkmate. "I will ensure your safety-"

Prime screeched to a halt, and turned back to face Magnus, one of his fingers jabbing into Magnus' impressive blue, silver and black chest armor, "Blowing up an innocent organic creature because it came within hands reach of me is NOT ensuring my safety!"

Morshower and Lennox looked at each other with horrified expressions. What the? Did Ultra Magnus just kill someone?!

Ultra Magnus slowly looked down at the angry finger being jabbed into his chestplates and then equally slowly met the optics of his angry mate. He had to deal with this.

"You did not permit me to accompany you on the mission you made to this unknown planet."

Magnus gently placed his large hand around Prime's still-jabbing angry one.

"…You did not permit me to ensure your safety when you went up against Megatron."

Magnus brought up his other hand to cradle Prime's.

"….You did not permit me to step in and save you when Megatron offlined you."

Magnus used his strength and strong grip to gently pull Prime's protesting mass against his own.

"….So please permit me to care for your safety, and the safety of our little one, NOW."

With that, the taller mech melded his physique to Prime's (awkward swollen upper body not withstanding), pressed his mouthplates to his and kissed him senseless.

Argument over.

"Whoah," Lennox whistled. "So that's what you do to win an argument. I must try that on Sarah."

"Yep," Morshower chimed in, scratching at his neck nervously. "I'm sure I have to be somewhere else right now. Very sure."

"Hey dude! What the eff?! There's bits of shark blown all around the goddam beach!" Sargent Epps huffed and swore, marching his way across the tarmac with a surfboard jammed under one arm, his wet beach shorts glistening in the sun. "Tell me, how am I supposed to surf around shark sushi!"

Will coughed, "Um…"

"Oh that's fine then, as long as those bits didn't come from a human, I am so absolutely fine with that," Morshower put his hands in his pockets and walked off whistling. His day was done.

Later that night…

Ultra Magnus eased his mass slowly and quietly off of the large berth of his and Prime's quarters. After halting and surveying the happily recharging body of his beloved mech mate, he slipped out of their quarters and slid the door of the hangar closed softly behind him. He figured Optimus would be safe enough while he took a few quiet moments to think a few things over.

It was a beautiful night. The moon was full, the base was quiet and bathed in such bright moonlight that it appeared magical.

Magnus' optics went up to the moon hanging in the sky. He remembered passing it on his way in. A dust-covered, lifeless ball, that orbited this planet like a dead sentinel. Cybertron had moons as well. Quite a few of them. Moons that had at first offered a safe place from attack by the 'Cons. Then, later, Magnus had ordered the destruction of some of them when Megatron had utilised them to rain firepower down on the cities of Cybertron below.

Magnus wiped one of his hands over his faceplates wearily. The situation here on this planet was a welcome one. Quiet, relatively safe. A good place to bring up a sparkling. His spark was so used to war, and destruction, and death. The other Autobots left on Cybertron had relied upon him to lead them, guide them, protect them. Something he had done, and done well, while mourning the possible loss forever of his sparkmate on a suicide mission. Here, on Earth, he had to catch himself from tripping over automatically into military mode. He was so used to always being 'on', being ready, thinking ahead – but it wasn't necessary so much on this planet.

Until Ironhide had brought up the subject of protecting Prime.

Magnus had thought that just merely being with Optimus was enough, but then, after Ironhide's observation, his programming had surged, and he had turned into some kind of militant possessive bodyguard, just like he had been on Cybertron, except, this time, the stakes were even higher.

He reached over his shoulder and removed his heavy rifle from its position between his backstruts. He turned it over in his hands, observing it. He would not hesitate to use it upon any being that posed a threat to Optimus' safety. There had been many times on Cybertron when the weapon had run hot from such fast and heavy firing that he feared it may break. But it never had. 'Bots feared Optimus Prime and his rifle. Magnus liked to think that his own prowess and firepower was just as fearsome, if not as legendary.

Processing his thoughts, Ultra Magnus failed to glance up one last time at the night sky before he turned and went back into his quarters. If he had, by chance, he may have caught the shadowed trajectory of a ship surging its way past the moon… and heading their way.