Silverstorm was so happy that Ironhide had figured out who he was and announced it. After botching his return to Earth so very badly by not revealing who he was, he was relieved to not have that option. Ironhide slapped his back.

"How have you been, Silverstreak?"

Before the Prime could answer, Sunstreaker made an irritated growl. "It's Silverstorm, actually."

Ironhide turned to peer at him. "What?"

Silverstorm laughed awkwardly. "Ah, Primus changed my name when he, you know… appointed me. I'm Silverstorm now."

"Silverstorm Prime!" Mirage said proudly.

Silverstorm's optics turned pink. "Heh, yeah…"

"Well defrag me," Kup said, stepping forward and grasping his chin. He studied his face. "You look good, kid. Bet it was quite a shock."

"A very different experience than being human," Silverstorm agreed.

"And you're a flier," Kup continued, reaching over to grab his right wing.

Silverstorm yelped when he was grasped too hard. "Gentle!" he cried.

Kup jumped and loosened his grip. "Sorry, kid. Forgot about wings being sensitive."

Mirage came up and traced a star on his wing. "Do you know wing language?" he asked Kup shyly.

"Wing… language?"

"Yeah," Red Alert said. "How to read wing body language. It's quite the intricate language. So many emotions are subtly shown through wings. I'm still piecing it together, but I've got quite a lot of it mapped out."

"Really?" Perceptor asked, leaning forward. "I would be interested in seeing that. I've never studied wing language. It's not commonly practiced amongst groundpounders. Especially the Autobots. Most fliers went to the Cons, so there was no reason to learn."

Red Alert nodded, looking thrilled to be asked about his pet project. "Sure."

"We'll have to take a crash course," Kup said.

"Just talk to Silverbolt," Sideswipe said. "They're teaching Silverstorm and all of us, too."

"Speaking of Silverbolt, here they come," Mirage said, pointing up.

The Aerialbots landed and strode over. "They're gone," Silverbolt said.

"Excellent," Silverstorm said. "That means we can head to the city and get the mechs their alt forms."

"Sounds good, Prime."

Again, Silverstorm's optics turned pink and he laughed awkwardly. "Anyway, we'll head back and get things ready."

"Make sure to have plenty of metal," First Aid said with a smile. "We need to replenish. And a cube of midgrade would not be amiss."

Silverstorm smiled then turned to Mirage. "Well, I'll fly back with the Aerialbots, and you lead them to our haven, okay?"

Mirage's optics flashed white, but Sunstreaker spoke. "Sure thing, Prime."

Another pink flash then the Aerialbots launched into the air. All except for Fireflight, who was looking around vaguely at the residue from the slick. Silverstorm walked over and grasped his hand. Fireflight turned to shutter his optics at him and suddenly he focused.

"Yes, Silverstorm?"

"We're heading back now," he said, gesturing up at the other Aerialbots.

"Oh. Okay. Let's go then."

Fireflight activated his thrusters and found his place with his gestalt mates. Silverstorm waved casually at the mechs.

"See you in an hour or so. I'll get things ready. Blurr, stay vigilant, Red, keep things in line. Wheeljack, don't blow anything up."

The younglings frowned in confusion, but one of the mechs from Earth laughed. "Yeah, yeah," Wheeljack said. "I'm not working on an experiment."

Silverstorm snorted. "I seem to recall instances where experiments were not factors but explosions were."

Wheeljack's optics turned pink. "True," he said, grinning. "I'll try to resist."

Silverstorm laughed and launched himself into the air. Within a minute, they were out of sight. Optimus stared after them, almost numb with shock, then he turned to Mirage.

"When did he become a Prime?"

"Oh, about three days after he came here," Blurr said when Mirage stayed mute. "He was called into the temple and there was this huge pretty spark and he was pulled up in it and he came down looking like a Cybertronian, although he didn't have the wings at first, that happened later after a surgery, and—"

"Blurr, we need to leave this century," Pipes said, amused.

"The Cons could come back," Hound agreed. "So let's get going.

Blurr's optics turned pink and he shrugged. "Fine, sure, whatever. I'll scout ahead."

And he transformed and raced off. Ratchet watched him go curiously, a memory tickling his mind, but he couldn't place it. As Mirage mutely gestured for them to begin to walk back, there formed two clear groups. The younglings walked out front, muttering to themselves as they tried to covertly look at the mechs. The mechs, on the other hand, were eager to talk about how they'd found Silverstreak as soon as they'd gotten home.

"He's got a nice form," First Aid said thoughtfully.

"Nice paint job, too," Hot Rod said. "Doesn't he, Bee?"

"That's not Sam," Bumblebee said acidly.

"I'd say not. That's Silverstorm Prime now!" Ironhide exclaimed. "Our boy's a Prime! Can you believe it?"

Kup grinned. "I can. That kid is something else, let me tell you. A little spitfire, sure, but he's got the biggest spark I've ever known. Except for you, Optimus."

Optimus glanced at him and said nothing. He didn't trust himself to speak, not when he didn't really know how to feel about the news that Silverstreak was now a Prime. Silverstreak had been chosen by Primus just like he had. But why? Silverstreak was an unruly youngling with a temper, somebody volatile and unfit for leadership. How could Primus have chosen him? Yes, Silverstreak had many good qualities, but he was far from being the co-leader that Optimus had secretly prayed for. He'd wanted somebody strong and dependable, not wild and unstable. So was it any surprise that Optimus felt disappointed?

'You're overreacting,' Optimus thought to himself. 'There's got to be a good reason. The Great One always has a purpose, even if I can't see it. Help me to trust, O Great One.'

The prayer didn't make Optimus feel any better. Bitterness and confusion and anger and inadequacy swirled inside of him, and he hated that he felt that way. But he did. Looking up as they entered the city, Optimus saw the younglings peeking back at them. The one called Mirage caught his gaze, looked afraid, and popped out of sight. A dark green youngling laughed and slung an arm around him, and Mirage appeared again. So he was shy. But Silverstreak trusted him. So Optimus would give him a chance.

Lengthening his stride, Optimus caught up with the younglings and made his way to Mirage. "You're Mirage?"

Mirage squeaked and disappeared again. The green youngling laughed. "I'm Hound," he said, his voice loud and clear. "And that is definitely Mirage." He slapped his invisible friend on the back, and Mirage whispered a greeting. "You are Optimus Prime, aren't you?"

Optimus nodded. "Yes. I am Optimus Prime."

The younglings were suddenly all staring at him, some with wariness, others with hostility, but all with curiosity. The loud yellow youngling was one of the hostile ones.

"I'm Sunstreaker. Call me Sunny. This is my twin, Sideswipe." He gestured to a red youngling, who grinned.

"I'm Pipes," the dark blue youngling said. "I'm kind of the docbot of the team. At least, that's what Silverstorm calls me."

Optimus chuckled and called back to his team. "Hey, Ratchet! Aid! We've got another medic!"

They brightened with interest and burst forward. First Aid reached them first. "Who is it?" Optimus pointed at Pipes.

"Excellent! What do you know?" Ratchet asked.

"Um…?" Pipes looked unsure.

"What skills do you have?" First Aid asked. "Any specialties?"

Pipes didn't know what to say. "I don't…"

"What kinds of things do you work on?" Optimus asked. "Basic medical aid?"

"Oh, well I'm good at welding," Pipes said. He glanced up at the star-strewn skies. "Basic medical aid is mostly what I do. Oh! And I've done six spark valve repair surgeries."

The three mechs stopped dead in their tracks, and Pipes paused a moment later, turning with the other younglings to see shock on the mechs' faces.

"I'm sorry," Ratchet said slowly. "I must have misheard that last one."

"Oh, well, I said that I've done six spark valve surgeries," Pipes explained. "See, when Magnus saved Sunny, he was stabbed through two of the three bottom spark valves, and I've been doing a series of repairs on his spark. One more and he'll be all set, I think. That's what Primus says, at least."

"Primus?" Ratchet repeated slowly as the two groups started walking again.

"Mmhm. He's shown me how to do the surgeries. He really supervises while I do it. I've said he should do it himself because he'll do it better, but he insists I learn. I've gotten better."

"Primus… is supervising you… doing vital, life-saving surgeries…"

"Yep."

"And you just… talk to him?" Ratchet asked.

"Oh, yeah," Pipes said, waving his hand carelessly as all the mechs stood and listened to the admittance with astonishment.

"He spends a lot of time with us. He says it's too quiet with no bustling cities anymore," Sideswipe said.

"You… spend time with Primus?" Ironhide asked.

"Of course. What, you expect him to just recharge all day?" Sunstreaker challenged.

Ironhide slowly smiled and nodded. "Good point. I just don't know where he's been holed up for the last few generations."

"He's Cybertron," Red Alert said, puzzled. "He's always right here." He tapped his foot gently on the ground.

Ironhide laughed and shook his head. "True."

Blurr suddenly raced up and transformed. Mirage popped back into view. "Report?"

"All clear from there to here," Blurr said crisply.

"Excellent. Now how's it look from here to there?" Hound asked jovially.

"I'll tell you in twenty minutes," Blurr quipped back, then he saluted and raced off again.

Ratchet was amused. "Well, he's a quick one. Lots of energy."

"Ah, that's Blurr. He's always been like that," a bubbly youngling said.

"And you are?" Ratchet asked.

"Seaspray."

"And what do you do?"

Seaspray tilted his head. "What do you mean, sir?"

"What's your station?" A curious stare. "Your rank?" Ratchet tried again. Nothing. "Your job?"

"Job? Oh, well we all kind of work together to make things look better. You know, repairing buildings, cleaning, scrubbing, electrical work, lighting. And then sometimes we pressure clear Primus's tubing. We spar and Silverstorm teaches us stuff. He's really smart."

"You don't have something you specialize in?" Optimus asked.

Red Alert suddenly spoke. "We don't have anybody to teach us specialties. We don't have commerce or ways to make income or things to trade."

The mechs went quiet. Their younglinghoods had been full of honing skills and buying and selling and trading.

"What do you do?" Kup asked softly.

Mirage spoke to them for the first time, a sad smile on his face. "We survive. Just like we have since the world went quiet and everybody full-grown went away to kill each other."

Seaspray shivered, and Sunstreaker wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him away from the others as he spoke softly. The younglings saw disbelief and unease cross the faces of the mechs before them.

"Is something wrong?" Beachcomber asked, his bright optics taking in the distress of the mechs.

"We're so sorry you've all lost so much," Optimus finally said.

Mirage shrugged. "It's hard to miss what you barely remember."

"What do you remember?" Ironhide asked.

Mirage's optics lost focus for a moment. "Dancing and laughing and parties. Lots of energon. And then…"

"And then?" Kup encouraged.

"Screaming," Mirage murmured. His smile faded and he eventually shuddered. "I think that was the first bombing I ever lived through."

Before anybody could answer, Blurr raced over again and transformed, doing a perfect handspring to his feet. Mirage smiled again.

"Report?"

"Silverstorm said there's plenty of metal and energon to go around, and the system is set up for them to select their new forms."

"How much farther?" Optimus asked.

Mirage turned and pointed. "See the shield?"

"We shouldn't!" Perceptor gasped. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, that model has a defect," Red Alert said dismissively. "The chip that makes the shield invisible is fried after a month of use."

"So… your hiding spot has been unhidden since you came out of hiding?" Wheeljack asked in horror.

"Pretty much, yeah."

Silence. Mirage finally spoke up. "We'll be there in half an hour."

"I'm bored," Sunstreaker complained. "Hey Blurr, race you!"

"No," Blurr replied. "Silverstorm said to stay vigilant. And I'm not vigilant while racing."

"Eh, you're no fun," Sunstreaker said.

Blurr and Sunstreaker began to playfully snipe at each other. The younglings watched and listened in amusement, but the mechs were horrified by everything they'd heard. Not once, in the midst of their planning, working, and fighting had they considered what the war had been doing to the next generation. They'd been too stressed and distracted by a literal civil war breaking out to notice what the sparklings had gone through. And now they were growing up in a world without jobs, without a purpose, without a single luxury. It was horrifying to think of existing like that.

Not only that, the younglings had been sitting ducks, as the Earth saying went. The shield was meant to protect them, not announce their presence to everybody who came by. So why hadn't the Decepticons wiped them all out? They had no answers. But Optimus still hoped in his spark that Megatron had purposefully chosen to ignore them. He missed his brother so much. But things were different now. And from what the younglings said, Silverstreak did seem to be doing some good. Maybe the Great One did pick him for a reason, and Optimus just didn't know what it was. But he felt a glimmer of excitement in the middle of his trepidation to find out.