Silverstorm studied the datapad, tracing out the tubing that made up Primus's true body. Red Alert was tinkering with a large machine that they had found deep inside the temple. It had been built for the purpose of clearing out the crusted and impacted energon in Primus's tubes after extended periods of stasis. The description of what they would have to do made the younglings nervous, but Primus assured them that he could take the pain that would follow the pressurized evacuation of the energon. Though he was reassuring and kind, Silverstorm could see a reluctance to confide in them in his bearing. He knew from Primus's strained smiles that the process was excruciating. But it had to be done.
"Prime?" Mirage asked softly. "Where do we need to put it?"
The new Prime looked up and measured the distance carefully, which was so much easier with numbers unconsciously pulsing through his mind from his Cybertronian senses. Primus had shown him how to activate that particular feature of his new body, and it was exciting if not a bit disconcerting; he now knew how the Cybertronians on Earth could read pheromones, distance, and temperature without the need for external equipment. He took several steps then pointed at a spot on the ground.
"Here. Drill down four lengths and you'll find the tubing. Then we set up the machine."
The younglings hesitated as they placed the drilling tools down and marked the spot with a form of metallic chalk that was dyed bright pink. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe picked up the tools and placed the drill against the smooth metal. The others stood back, having been warned of minor eruptions of boiling energon that often occurred with the drilling, and the twins began to drill. Silverstorm measured one length. Then two. Three. When they reached four, there was a grating noise and they removed the drill.
Instantly the twins jumped back as a small spurt of hot energon bubbled out of the hole. Silverstorm grabbed the machine and heaved it up with Mirage, Red Alert, and Pipes. Blurr stood bouncing on his feet, his optics dashing around nervously. He recalled vividly getting his own inner tubing pressure cleaned when he was younger, and he alone knew how painful it was. He didn't want any part of the pressurization, though he would help with the cleanup.
When the machine was in place, they all stood back as Silverstorm glanced at the datapad and calibrated the machine to the correct pressure for the type of tubing then he stood back with the holographic control panel in his hands. Glancing once at the temple, he saw Primus staring out at him from a low window in the room adjacent to his spark. He knew that Primus was bracing himself, so he turned back to the machine and took a deep breath.
"Ready?" he asked.
"Ready," they all replied, trepidation in their voices.
Silverstorm checked the data to make sure the machine was calibrated right, then he activated it. There was a whir as the machine powered up, a soft pop as the tip fit into the tubing, then there was a long pause. A sudden bang surprised them as a concussive wave of pressure was shot through the tubing. Their audio receptors rang from the shock wave, and then the machine pulled up the tip. A wave of boiling energon exploded upward, and the planet shook beneath their feet. A loud, echoing shriek came from the temple, and Silverstorm spun to see that Primus was no longer looking out at them. Fear made his spark clench and he shoved the control panel and the datapad at Mirage.
"Start the clean-up when you can," he said quickly. "I'm going to go check on Primus."
Mutely, Mirage and the other younglings nodded, their optics white with shock. Silverstorm ran through the searing energon, ignoring the pain in his feet as he ran as fast as he could toward the temple. He wished that he had an alt-mode so that he could go even faster. But none of the younglings had an alt-mode. Ultra Magnus had never given them the upgrades for it. When he got to the temple, his feet ached from the molten heat, but he pressed forward, passing through the door and running down the hallway toward Primus's spark chamber. He burst through the door and yelled at the sight that met his optics.
Primus's spark was no longer prismatic; instead, it was a dark red, indicating irritation and pain beyond anything that Silverstorm had known. The Prime stepped forward, his optics searching the room. Then he recalled that Primus had been in the adjoining room, and he hurried to the next room. He found Primus slumped over underneath the window, cradling his left side as short gasps came from his intake system. Silverstorm limped in and went to his knees beside Primus, reaching out to cradle the trembling form.
"Primus?" he asked, fear making his spark quake. "Are you okay?"
Primus moaned, reaching out one of his hands, which was stained with energon. The normally golden optics were ghostly white, pain radiating from his entire form. Silverstorm took the hand and pulled Primus close to his side, ignoring the slick energon. He didn't know what to do, what to say to ease the god's pain. Primus curled against him, shuddering from head to foot as he gulped in air. Time passed slowly, and Primus kept one hand clutched to his side, trying to stem the blood that flowed from a split in his side. Pressure to the wound did nothing to ease the bleeding.
"What do I do?" Silverstorm asked, his voice higher than normal. "Primus, tell me what to do!"
Primus gasped. "S-seal the wound," he groaned.
"How?"
The god pointed at the window. And Silverstorm understood. He pressed his com-link. "Mirage, seal it! He'll keep bleeding until you do!"
"It's too hot!" Mirage exclaimed.
"Cooling… On machine," Primus ground out. "Blue button."
Silverstorm relayed the information. A few moments later, the bleeding slowed considerably, and frost appeared on Primus's side beneath his fingertips. The Prime breathed out in relief. "What next?" he asked.
Primus was still stiff. "Use the torches," he groaned. "Seal it, cauterize it."
Silverstorm repeated the instructions. Primus's face twisted as the frost melted from his side and the metal turned red hot. He was breathing in short, sharp gasps, gripping Silverstorm's hand with such strength that the armor on his fingers and hand began to dent from the force. Silverstorm didn't complain. He sat there, rocking Primus back and forth and singing a soft song in English as he tried to soothe the god. Primus sucked in hard and held his breath for a moment then let out a high-pitched whine as frost blossomed on his side again. The reddish hot spot cooled quickly to silver. And then it was over. Primus whined and sobbed, shaking like a leaf in a gale as he clutched at Silverstorm.
After ten minutes, there was a soft knock, and Mirage peeked in, the younglings behind him looking frightened and fatigued. When they saw Primus in a heap with energon staining his entire left side below his arm, they gasped in horror and began to tremble.
"Did we do that?" Mirage asked, his voice small.
Before Silverstorm could reply, Primus reached out and gestured them in. Still, he gasped and trembled, but the whines began to trail off. When the younglings had gathered around, staring in dismay at their god. Mirage knelt down and drew Primus's hand to rest on his spark, his optics flashing with sympathy.
"We're sorry," Mirage murmured. "We're so, so sorry."
Primus shivered and sat up. He smiled shakily at Mirage then swept his gaze over the younglings. "I'll be okay," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "It's the same every time. Except for you. Nobody ever comes to check on me afterward. They've always considered it a process with no thought that it might hurt me."
The younglings smiled back, unable to help themselves. It pleased them that Primus was pleased. They sat down around him and watched as he tiredly leaned back against Silverstorm. Silverstorm drew his feet closer then flinched, a groan leaving his vocalizer. Primus glanced over then looked down at Silverstorm's feet. Compassion flashed over his face. He reached out and drew his fingers over the scorched metal. The metal that had been distorted from the heat began to heal rapidly, and Silverstorm yelped at the odd sensation. When his feet were healed, Primus grasped the hand that he'd dented and smoothed his fingers over the metal until it was back to normal. Not a scratch or a divet was out of place. It was as good as new. The younglings watched, fascinated, as Primus healed their Prime. Silverstorm flexed his fingers then rubbed his feet.
"Thank you," he said, surprise plain in his voice. "Can't you do that for yourself?"
Primus smiled sadly. "This form is not my body. I can channel my power through it, but it's simply not the same. If I tried to heal this form, it wouldn't work because it is a holographic, physical form. Like the forms that Ratchet and First Aid and Wheeljack formed for the Cybertronians on Earth."
"So you can't?" Mirage asked.
"I am not all-powerful," Primus replied. "I am not the Great One. I am only Primus."
Silverstorm paused and glanced at the other younglings, wondering if this was a part of Cybertronian culture that he hadn't come across. They looked just as confused as he felt, though. Who was this Great One that Primus spoke of?
"The Great One?" Silverstorm asked after a lengthy pause.
Primus smiled, tracing his fingers over Silverstorm's healed hand. "Let's just say that I'm not the most powerful Being in the universe. I am a creation that He made, but I am not Him. I possess many powers and abilities that He has granted me, but that is all. I'm an example of His love and kindness, but I am not perfect, as He is. I am just as flawed as any other creature. I have just had a long, long time to work on my flaws."
"Do you mean God?" Silverstorm asked, slipping into English for the last word. His optics widened as Primus smiled mysteriously and shrugged.
"What?" Mirage asked, looking from his Prime to Primus.
Silverstorm didn't know how to get into that topic. Primus saved him the trouble by pushing himself up. He staggered to his feet, grimacing as he gripped his side. His optics, which had turned back to gold during the conversation, flashed bright white as he nearly fell. Silverstorm surged up and caught him before he fell. Primus leaned heavily against the Prime.
"Mirage," Silverstorm gasped, staggering under Primus's weight.
Mirage leaped up and grabbed Primus on the other side. With the other younglings following, they guided the god back to his spark chamber. Primus's spark was still a little red around the edges, but the various colors were swirling through the spark again. Silverstorm sighed in relief then looked at Primus.
"Set me below my spark," Primus instructed weakly.
They walked him over then eased him to the ground. Mirage retreated to stand with the others, and Silverstorm stood up, watching Primus relax. The god still favored his side, but he smiled up at the Prime.
"I'll be okay," Primus said. "I just need to rest for a couple of sleep cycles. In a few cycles, we can do another."
"Did it work, at least?" Silverstorm asked.
Primus nodded. "I feel stronger already. I think I can get to a few more rooms in the temple. Now, if you don't mind, could you clean up the energon? It's starting to dry and it itches."
Silverstorm nodded, glancing back at the younglings. "We can handle that."
Mirage smiled. "We're getting pretty good at cleaning," he said wryly.
Primus chuckled, then he sighed and waved before his body dissolved into a golden cloud and reunited with his spark. The younglings stood still for a moment, then they turned and headed out. Silverstorm stayed where he was, staring at the spark until Mirage grabbed his hand. He gestured at the hallway.
"Let's go and clean up."
Silverstorm glanced back at the spark, then he turned and followed Mirage back to the sealed wound to clean up the mess that they had made.