Sorry I didn't post last week. I was sick with a cold.
'Silverstorm?' the youngling thought blankly. Then his vents stuttered close as the second word hit him.
"I'm not a Prime!" he said, a frantic note in his voice.
Primus chuckled softly, a low, static buzz, then he gently reached down and took both of Silverstorm's hands in his and tugged him to his feet. Primus clicked thoughtfully as he released Silverstorm and began to stroll around him, looking delighted with himself. He stopped in front of the new Prime and smiled.
"Of course you're a Prime," Primus replied, his golden optics glittering with pleasure. "I just pronounced you to be a Prime. That means, Silverstorm, you are the newest Prime."
The first thought that hit Silverstorm was that he was nothing like Optimus. He shuffled his feet and glanced back at the younglings, who were murmuring to each other, their optics bright with interest and excitement. Nervousness fluttered through Silverstorm's spark, and he turned back to Primus, who was standing there, staring at him expectantly.
"I'm not a Prime," Silverstorm reiterated.
"You are now," Primus said, and there was no room for argument in his tone.
"Why?"
Primus shrugged one shoulder. "I have watched you for a very long time, Silverstorm. You might not be natively Cybertronian, but you are most assuredly worthy to bear the title of Prime. You've grown much in the years since the Primes begged me to save your life, and after seeing your efforts to help the younglings even before you came to speak with me, I believe that you are ready to take the next step in your life. So, my little Prime, welcome to your new life."
The endearment made a sharp sensation flit up to his optics, and the pink light reflected on the silver armor that Primus wore let him know that he was blushing. He shifted and shook his head, unable to comprehend the situation.
"I don't want to be a Prime," he said quietly, fear making his voice small.
"Why not?" Primus asked.
"I'm not good enough," Silverstorm thought bitterly, but he made no audible answer.
Primus smiled and tilted his chin up. "That's exactly what Optimus thought when I picked him all those years ago."
Silverstorm let out a hiccup in surprise and tried to step back, but he was awkward in his new body and stumbled over his feet. He crashed to the ground with a yelp of shock, and pain stuttered up his arm. Hands were upon him within seconds, and he looked up to see that out of all of the younglings, Mirage alone had approached to help. He looped his arm around Silverstorm's shoulders and heaved him to his feet.
"Are you okay?" Mirage asked gently.
"I-I don't know," Silverstorm muttered, glancing over at Primus, who had resumed a relaxed stance with his hands behind his back and a casual smile on his face.
"I suggest you take him back to recharge. The transformation was exhausting, Mirage. Silverstorm, come back in a few days. I will be here to discuss things with you. Come by any time."
The door behind the younglings opened as Primus waved a hand, then he dissolved before their eyes, the shimmering particles spiraling up into the amazing spark. Now that Primus was gone, at least his physical body, the younglings surged forward. Pipes got on the other side of Silverstorm and pulled his other arm over his shoulders. Silverstorm wanted to protest, but as he took a step forward, everything in him told him that he needed the support. His new body was so different from his old one. Instead of muscles and sinews, there were different moving parts that worked with each other. It was the most bizarre sensation that Silverstorm had ever known.
He staggered between Mirage and Pipes back to the barrier, the others trailing and talking wildly about everything that had just happened. When they got to the barrier, they paused and made a nervous buzzing noise. Silence fell.
"How are we supposed to get back in?" Red Alert asked Mirage.
"Hound is usually on the other side to trigger the fritzing," Mirage mumbled.
Silverstorm wanted nothing more than to lie down, so he unhooked one arm and flung a burst of electricity out of his hand. It hit the barrier, which rippled like water. Without hesitation, Mirage lunged forward, dragging Silverstorm and Pipes with him. The cool, tingling wave made Silverstorm dizzy, and Pipes was so surprised by the movement that he fell hard. Silverstorm ended up on the ground, gasping in pain as Mirage's fingers dug into sensitive circuitry to try and hold him up. Mirage released him and turned to see the others, but they were all still on the other side of the shield.
Mirage laughed then gestured to Hound, who nodded, and then the noblemech knelt down and fritzed the shield. Hound leaped through next. Another fritz and Red Alert passed through. One by one, they came back into their protective sphere, and once they were all through, Mirage stood and went to help Pipes heave the unsteady Prime back onto his feet. Silverstorm was so tired, so overwhelmed by everything, that it was with great pleasure that he slumped onto his berth and curled up. Mirage and the others left him and headed back outside to discuss everything.
Hound slapped him on the back, his face alight with pleasure. "You did it, Raj! You did it!"
Everybody else looked at the noblemech in surprise. "He did what?" Red Alert asked, crossing his arms.
Mirage tried to speak, but Hound spoke over his protest. "Mirage has been going out to pray in front of the temple that Primus would send us a Prime."
There was a long silence, and then every optic turned on Mirage. His golden optics were purple in embarrassment. Without conscious thought, his power activated, and he turned invisible. Hound laughed and groped the air until he hit Mirage's shoulder.
"Don't be like that, Raj! Your prayers worked! I'll admit, I never really believed that he was still there, that he would listen, but you kept going and kept going and now we have our very own Prime!"
"So you kept disobeying Magnus to go and pray to Primus?" Red Alert asked. When Mirage grunted the affirmative, he asked, "Why?" Instead of a sharp bite, as he would normally have done, the tone was curious and a bit soft.
"Because Magnus doesn't give a frag about us," Mirage snapped, his form reappearing. "All these years, he's done nothing good for us. Everything around us is falling apart, and what does he tell us to do? He wants us to stay in our little bubble, supposedly safe from the world. But if I can get out, and Silverstorm can so easily get us in, it's not so safe. I've asked him for weapon upgrades, and he laughed in my face and said that somebody so young could never hope to protect himself. We are in more trouble than any of you have thought of. The barrier is not infallible, and none of us have any idea about how to fight or protect ourselves. If the Decepticons break in, we are all going to be offlined in a spark-pulse!"
The younglings stared at him, their expressions darker than before. They had never considered any of what Mirage had just said. They had lived for so long in this bubble, big enough to contain a whole block of the Cybertronian city of Iacon. Not once had they thought about somebody being able to break in and get them. They had never spent a moment of their dingy lives preparing for any sort of attack. And at that moment, as they stared at Mirage's bright optics and angry face, they knew that they had been extremely foolish.
Blurr was shifting restlessly from foot to foot. "I don't like that," he said in a rush.
"We're helpless," Sunstreaker snarled, his optics flaring.
Pipes held himself, his expression troubled. "I don't like being helpless," he whispered.
Even Seaspray had nothing positive to say. He glowered at the ground, disturbed by the thought that he and everybody else could be destroyed so easily.
Beachcomber groaned. "What do we do, Raj?"
Mirage shrugged. "Silverstorm will know what to do," he said confidently. "He's our Prime."
"Are you sure?" Hound asked, frowning. "He didn't seem to want to be a Prime."
"He'll adjust," Mirage replied. "I mean, it's not every day that you become a Prime. He's got to be overwhelmed."
"I guess," Hound murmured, glancing up at the high, filthy window that looked in on the room where Silverstorm was recharging.
But Silverstorm was not recharging. He was pacing the room, his spark zapping violently as he tried to process what had just happened. His gait was staggering, and he frequently tripped over his own feet or stumbled over something lying on the floor. He was trying to rationalize what had happened. There was no way he, Silverstreak, was a Prime. He was only a youngling, and a very irresponsible youngling at that. Primus had made a mistake, or else he was joking. But the look on Primus's face hadn't been jesting at all. And his declaration that Silverstorm was now a Prime had been serious.
What was he supposed to think of this change of circumstances? He could hardly take care of himself, let alone nine younglings who were even less responsible than he had been on Earth. There were no fully grown Cybertronians to guide him, to tell him what to do, and that thought was both exciting and terrifying. If anything happened to the younglings, it would be his fault. The way they had looked at him, with reverence and eagerness, scared him. He didn't deserve reverence. He was only Silverstreak, the youngling that could do nothing right, and who Optimus didn't like or trust with anything.
With a groan, Silverstorm sank onto the berth again, placing his face in his hands. The angles of his new face startled him, and he began to whine, soft sobs welling in his throat. But his optics didn't burn with wetness anymore. No tears leaked from human-like optics to streak down his cheeks. He could no longer cry like a human and having that shred of humanity taken from him made him wail softly. Everything was wrong, nothing was right, and there was no hope for him to go back to what he was.
A soft noise in the doorway made him glance over to see Mirage. The youngling was alone, and Silverstorm knew that he needed to pull himself together—what kind of Prime would Mirage think he was when he caught him whining and panicking—but he didn't have the strength or willpower to stop. Mirage looked startled, and he took a hesitant step inside.
"Prime?" he asked gently.
Silverstorm groaned low in his vocalizer and he slumped forward. Mirage approached and sat beside him.
"You okay?" Mirage asked, unsure.
"No!" Silverstorm cried. "I'm not a Prime! I'm not good enough to be a Prime, Mirage! How am I supposed to lead you and the others when I can't even take care of myself!"
Mirage stared at the floor, uncomfortable by how emotional Silverstorm was. He had never been so good with feelings. But, he thought to himself, he had to try. If he expected Silverstorm to understand him and Hound and the rest of the younglings, he needed to show the same compassion. After intaking a large breath, he wrapped his arm around Silverstorm's shoulder.
"So you're not just overwhelmed," Mirage said evenly. "You don't want to be a Prime."
Silverstorm shivered, leaning close. "I'm not good enough to be a Prime," he repeated.
"Well, Primus thinks you are," Mirage pointed out. "You've been a Prime for only a few clicks. Shouldn't you give yourself a chance to see how you'll do?"
The reluctant Prime shrugged, his spark strangely soothed by Mirage's reassurance. "Are you all willing to help me? I don't know the first thing about being in charge. I've been a follower for years."
"I'm willing to help you," Mirage said firmly. "If you're willing to give yourself a chance."
Silverstorm turned to look at the noblemech, studying his features. Mirage was relaxed and smiling, his golden optics gleaming with kindness. The fact that somebody believed in him bolstered him more than he would have thought possible. After a few moments, he sat up, his spark-pulse back to normal, and he reached over and patted Mirage's shoulder.
"If you're with me, Raj, then I'll give it a try," Silverstorm said.
"I suggest you recharge," Mirage said. "Then we'll go from there."
The youngling stood and headed for the door. Silverstorm cleared his vocalizer.
"Raj?" He turned around, and the Prime smiled. "Thanks."
Mirage nodded then left his new leader to rest. Silverstorm fell back and offlined his optics, his body relaxing into the incredibly soft metal of the berth. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he heard cheers and applause, and he knew that Mirage wasn't the only one on his side. The Primes were now celebrating the addition of a new member of their exclusive group. Silverstorm laughed softly then fell into recharge. He was still afraid, but it was more bearable now. He couldn't change his status now, so he would deal with what came next when he came back online.