Within a cycle, every youngling knew about what Ultra Magnus had said to their Prime. That they were shocked at the news was an understatement. Ultra Magnus had been the only fully grown mech in their lives, and they had all still maintained some degree of expectation that he held all the answers to their problems. It was overdue for that bubble to be popped, but perhaps because it had persisted for so long, it was the most painful revelation they had ever experienced. Red Alert, who had held Ultra Magnus up very high, took the news especially badly.
Silverstorm stayed and spoke with Ultra Magnus for a few hours, getting passcodes for the schematics and other necessary information while Primus dissolved his form to rest himself. Pipes was scouring datapads to familiarize himself with the inner workings of the delicate spark chamber. The next surgery would be in the next few cycles, and he was frantic. When Ultra Magnus began to struggle to stay online, Silverstorm bade him to rest then pulled out the unique datapad that the mech had thrust at him when he'd thought he was dying.
It was sleek but obviously well-used. Silverstorm rubbed his fingers over the top then typed in the code he'd gotten from Ultra Magnus. The home screen was divvied into several sections. Silverstorm perused several of them then selected the emergency broadcast system that was in place. Ultra Magnus had never used it, but he had insisted it was the best way to talk to all of the youngling groups at once. Silverstorm kicked back then pressed the button, curious and slightly nervous.
At once, a flash of light shone from outside. Pipes jumped and looked up from his datapad. Sunstreaker, who had returned to rest in the medbay at Pipes's orders after telling everybody else what had been said, sat up. Mirage was the first one to answer, and he gazed in bewilderment at Silverstorm's form. Before he could talk, another screen popped up, showcasing a group of eleven younglings who were filthy beyond belief. They gazed at the stranger, but more screens began to activate before they could do more than gape.
The groups were all different. Some were clean, some dirty, some small, some large, but all of them besides Mirage stared in disbelief at Silverstorm. Silverstorm smiled when the full number had been activated, and he waved.
"Everybody accounted for?" he asked pleasantly.
"Who the frag are you?" a short purple youngling demanded from the third group.
"Maybe he killed Ultra Magnus?" a tall orange youngling laughed from the tenth.
"I didn't, but he's gravely injured," Silverstorm said.
"Good," several said disdainfully.
"That's rude, and I ask that you not take pleasure in his injuries. No matter how much of a glitch you think he is, he deserves your respect and gratitude," Silverstorm said.
"Says who?" a pink and purple youngling demanded.
"Says Silverstorm Prime," Mirage said sternly. He appraised Silverstorm. "Prime, what exactly are you doing? This line is for emergencies."
"Checking in with the other groups," Silverstorm replied as the stares intensified. They began muttering amongst themselves, taking in the title that Mirage had used for the youngling in front of them. "I'd say it's an emergency, seeing as how Magnus almost died. They need to know he won't be traveling around for a while."
"I suppose that's true," Mirage said. The others from his group began to trickle in to see what was going on.
"You're a Prime?" the purple mech asked, tilting his head and studying Silverstorm.
"Newest one," Silverstorm said, shrugging.
"I thought you'd be… older."
"That's Optimus. He's on Earth right now. Should be home soon, though."
"What's… er, that word you said?" a blue and pink mech asked. "It doesn't sound right."
Silverstorm smiled. "That's a planet. It's my home planet, actually. I'm not a native Cybertronian."
That certainly got their interest. They perked and gazed eagerly at Silverstorm.
"Really?"
"You've been off-planet?"
"He wasn't even Cybertronian when he came to our planet," Mirage said in a lull, grinning. "You should have seen what he was before he was chosen."
"Show us!" they all chorused, their optics bright.
Silverstorm hesitated. Could he show them his other form? It had never come up, but he offlined his optics and focused on his inner workings to try and project himself. A buzzing sensation filled him, and his sensors were filled with an old, familiar sensation. He opened his eyes to find himself split between two bodies, but the smaller one was his old metal human form. There was silence as everybody stared in shock at the strange holoform. He brushed his long, silver hair behind his ears and grinned at the camera.
"Sweet starlight!" a red youngling yelped.
They began to chatter and point, and Silverstorm shifted uncomfortably. After a moment, he clicked the holoform off. He settled back into his real form and smiled.
"Well, anyway," he said, trying to get things back on track. "As I stated, Ultra Magnus is injured, so he will not be traveling between groups for a while."
"Wait, you were serious?" a small green youngling asked. "He's injured?"
Silverstorm angled the camera over to show Ultra Magnus's recharging form. The scarred metal on his chest that revealed delicate circuitry and the edge of his spark-casing made them all go silent. He turned it back and grimaced.
"What happened to him?" the small green youngling asked faintly.
Sunstreaker stood up and limped over. He leaned over Silverstorm's shoulder.
"He saved my life," he said. He showed off his welded wound. "I was stupid and didn't come back. The Cons nearly killed me. Almost killed him, too." Sunstreaker straightened and looked down. "I was an aft to him, and he still saved my life. He's given us all he has."
"Except upgrades," a squat, black mech said.
"No," Sunstreaker said grimly. "He has given us everything. He has nothing else. There's no upgrades, no supplies, no other mechs behind the scenes. He has nothing, and he's had nothing for orns. He has nobody. He's alone."
Silence. There was disbelief in almost two hundred faces.
"He's not lying," Silverstorm said gently. "Think about that when you want to insult him. You all have each other. But he has been alone for so many years."
"So what do we do?" the green younglings asked.
"Eventually, I want all of us to group up," Silverstorm said. "But for now, you're to stay put and follow some rules."
Most of the younglings made faces. There were groans and rolling optics and the purple youngling straightened and glared at him defiantly.
"No going out?" he asked, acid in his tone. "No fun? No way to get clean?"
Silverstorm laughed, and they all looked surprised. "I'm not stupid enough to tell you to stay put. You're all smart enough to figure out how to get out and explore. I'd be surprised if even one group hasn't had at least one member to go out and do as he pleases."
"So we can go out of our bubble?" a bright yellow and teal youngling asked excitedly.
"Of course. There's nobody there to stop you." Silverstorm paused and he let them cheer. "But," he continued loudly, and they all fell silent, "I want you to stay in groups. If you even think there's a stranger around, you hightail it back to your bubble or hide. Do not take excessive risks. Do not talk to anybody you don't know. Am I clear?"
There was a pause then the purple youngling from the third group spoke again. His tone was distrustful. "And?"
Silverstorm glanced at all the screens. "Just be careful. Decepticons are not to be trifled with."
"But what do we do, Prime?" the small green youngling asked in a pleasing tone.
Mirage smiled. "I think, Silverstorm, that they need a little direction."
"Showers would be a good place to start," Red Alert said, leaning toward the screen next to Mirage. "That's where you started with us."
"They're broken," every youngling said dully.
"So were ours," Sideswipe said, placing a hand on his hip.
"I think Red and I could help," Silverstorm said. "Up for it, Red?"
Red Alert grinned. "One group at a time would be best."
"Excellent. We'll have you clean in no time," Silverstorm said.
The younglings brightened a little. It seemed like they really needed something to work toward. Red Alert began to list pictures that he'd need to figure out the problems, and he also recommended they figure out a way to get a superhot fire going. Silverstorm left them to it and turned the datapad off. He sighed with relief. He had been terrified that they wouldn't even consider listening to him. But it seemed that they had been inspired by his own little group of younglings. Sunstreaker was still leaning heavily against Silverstorm's chair.
"I've been wondering something for a while," Sunstreaker said, standing up. He winced as his weld stretched.
"And that is?" Silverstorm asked.
"Where did you learn how to do all the stuff you can do?"
"I need a little more to go on than that," Silverstorm chuckled.
Sunstreaker twirled his hand in the air. "You know, making pipes, forging weapons, that sort of thing. Is that common knowledge on your planet?"
Silverstorm smiled and stood up, popping the links in his back. "No. I just got bored a lot. Fewer and fewer Decepticon attacks meant more time in the base. It drove me up a wall. My people are slower than yours. And since I was on a Cybertronian's timeline, I wasn't interested in a lot of what they did to pass the time. I had phases. Over a few weeks, I studied old-fashioned blacksmithing. Then I studied the art and science of making bows and arrows. There is so much I learned. One week, I even learned how to make pipes. All that stuff was interesting and kept me sane."
"Bet you didn't think it would come in handy so much," Sunstreaker teased.
"No. I didn't."
Silverstorm looped an arm around Sunstreaker and helped him limp back over to his berth. He lay down with a groan of relief. Silverstorm stared at nothing for a few moments.
"I never would have believed I could ever be like this," he said thoughtfully.
Sunstreaker looked up and saw a strange, almost-pained look on Silverstorm's face. "Prime?" he asked gently.
"I was so different when I was there," he said, his voice and gaze far away. "Irresponsible, stupid, and so angry, Sunny. I hated being trapped, hated that I had nothing to do and all day to do it. I hated that I couldn't control my temper. I hated that Optimus would never listen. I hated that the humans stared at me and whispered behind my back about the strange metal freak that shared their base."
Sunstreaker reached over and grasped Silverstorm's hand. "I was a lot angrier before you came here," he said. "I can't change any of the bad stuff, but I think you understand my anger and my temper far better than anybody else ever has." He paused. "I think it helps to have things to do, goals to meet, to have somebody with expectations."
Pipes looked up from his datapad. He'd obviously been listening, but Silverstorm didn't mind. The medic studied his Prime, his expression thoughtful.
"I've noticed a definite change in everybody here. Even you," he finally said, placing his elbows on his knees and leaning forward. "I think that when you have all the potential in the world but no way to channel it, no challenges to stretch you and make you better, you stagnate and don't do anything. But you get angry because you're discontent, you know you're far better than what you're stuck as, but you have no knowledge of what to do and thus no desire to actually make the changes you need."
"And?" Silverstorm asked.
"You were the change we needed," Pipes replied simply. "And we were the change you needed."
Silverstorm smiled. "I suppose that's true."
Pipes nodded then tossed his datapad aside. "I think we all need some recharge."
"Good idea," Silverstorm said. "You two recharging in here?"
"Pipes says I have to," Sunstreaker said.
"I will. I have to watch Magnus. He's in a delicate state," Pipes said.
"I'm going to head to the house then," Silverstorm said.
He waved and headed for his room, thinking over everything that had happened over the last two cycles. One thing he was certain of was that his life on Earth had certainly never been this interesting.