Silverstorm checked everything one last time. He had plenty of metal with a good variety, a stock of energon, and the program was ready for when they wanted to select their vehicle forms. It was all in order, and he exhaled heavily.

"Good. Everything is good."

"You've said that three times," Ultra Magnus said.

"Huh?" Silverstorm looked over to see the mech leaning on the door frame. He hadn't even noticed that he was there.

"Are you okay?" Ultra Magnus asked.

"Fine. Just fine."

"So… you're nervous?"

Silverstorm glanced at his telltale wings and his optics flashed pink. "Um, maybe a little."

"You're doing fine, Prime."

"Maybe call me Silverstorm instead?" he asked, his optics flicking away.

"But you're a Prime," Ultra Magnus said. "Why try and hide it?"

"I, ah, don't want it to be weird. It's just they all call Optimus by his title, and we don't want to get the two of us mixed up. That would be awkward."

Ultra Magnus tilted his head. "It's okay, you know. To be nervous about this. I know you think you have a lot to prove."

Silverstorm slumped. There was no reason to hide his thoughts if he was that obvious, so he turned away and spoke. "It's just… I was so different, Magnus. I was angry and bitter and trapped on my home planet, and I didn't understand what was wrong, and they didn't understand what was wrong. And I didn't exactly leave on the best of terms with Optimus."

"What do you mean?"

"I just…" Silverstorm huffed and shook his head.

Ultra Magnus approached and drew two fingers over the edge of Silverstorm's right wing. "Take your time. Tell me what's wrong."

Silverstorm relaxed into the gentle, reassuring touch. "I was angry and my electrical powers connect with my emotions. So I accidentally lost control and attacked Optimus. He had electro-spasms and was in the medbay. I was supposed to be punished. On top of previous punishment for being insubordinate. And attacking a member of my native species."

Ultra Magnus didn't know what to say for a moment. "Well, you're different now. More mature."

"But am I supposed to take a punishment from Optimus for what I did then? Does my new status as Prime give me leeway to say no?"

"In other words, where does his authority end and your authority begin?" Ultra Magnus asked gently.

"Yeah. I guess."

"I can't answer that, Prime. You'll have to work it out between yourselves. But you are a Prime now. And we won't stop calling you that, so don't ask anybody else to do so. It's not fair to them or to you to undermine your authority and give everything into Optimus's hands. Primes are selected by Primus for good reason, and they are to bear the load of leadership together. That's the way it's always been."

Silverstorm turned to look at him, fear making his wings tremble slightly. "But what will they think of me? What do they think of me? Do they think I'm worthy to bear this title? Or do they think I cheated my way into it?"

"If they don't have the common sense to know that you can't cheat your way into being a Prime, they're idiots," Ultra Magnus said flatly. "Everybody knows that Primus chooses the Prime, and we know it's by the Great One's commands. There is no way to cheat the system. Megatron found out the hard way, and it started a war."

Silverstorm studied him. "Is that what happened with Megatron?"

"You should ask Optimus. He knows more about it than I do." Ultra Magnus paused then smiled. "Here they come. You ready, Prime?"

After a brief flash of pink in his optics, Silverstorm intook a deep breath then straightened. "I guess I have no choice."

As the mechs walked into the room, chatting, Optimus looked up and brightened.

"Magnus!" he shouted joyfully, and everybody stopped talking. Optimus hurried over and grasped him firmly. "I wasn't sure if you were still alive, old friend."

Ultra Magnus smiled. "Alive and well, Optimus. Thanks to Silverstorm here. I owe him my life."

"What about the younglings?" Ratchet asked. "Besides this group, of course."

Magnus's smile faltered. "I don't know. Silverstorm relieved me of duty until I'm strong enough to go out again."

Silverstorm stiffened, his optics turning to take in Optimus's response. But Optimus didn't look displeased as he nodded.

"Of course, of course. Makes sense." He looked up at Silverstorm and there was an odd expression on his face. But he spoke pleasantly. "Have you been monitoring them from here then, Silverstorm?"

Silverstorm was a bit mystified as he answered. "Yes. I've been using the emergency channel to get in regular contact with the groups. Red Alert and Skydive instruct them on how to do various repairs and if they're at a loss, I give them instructions or help them figure it out. So far, no casualties and progress is being made, though that varies by the group."

Optimus nodded. "Good, good. You can show me what you do and catch me up on the progress of each group. I'm interested to see what's been going on while I've been off-planet."

"Sure."

"I'm glad you're okay, Magnus," Optimus said. "The medic mentioned a surgery?"

"One more," Ultra Magnus said. "I'm glad it's almost done. I'm tired of the medbay."

"I can imagine," Ratchet said. "How are things? The medic said some interesting things."

"His name is Pipes," Silverstorm interrupted, rather irritated by the way Ratchet and Optimus spoke of his teammate.

"So sorry, Silverstreak," Ratchet began.

"Silverstorm," Ultra Magnus said.

Ratchet's optics flashed pink and he looked irritated. "Yes. I am sorry, Silverstorm. I wasn't trying to be rude. I didn't know his designation."

Silverstorm relaxed a little. "Ah. I should introduce you to the team. But first, refuel. You've had a long journey, even by Cybertronian standards."

Ironhide nodded. "Sounds good. Energon or metal first?"

"Energon," Ratchet said decisively. "Midgrade?"

"Yep. And a few cubes of low in case some of you can't handle the mid."

"Mm. I've taught you well," Ratchet said happily.

"Aid helped, don't you forget that," Silverstorm said, shaking his finger like Ratchet often did when scolding patients.

The whole team burst out laughing. All except for one mech. Silverstorm saw Bumblebee glaring at him with crossed arms. Had he done something wrong?

"Bee? What's up?"

The room quieted quickly as the whole team waited to see how the new Bumblebee reacted to his old charge. Bumblebee's glare only intensified, and he crossed his arms and looked away. Silverstorm shuttered his optics. Was Bumblebee that angry at how they parted? Silverstorm had been afraid of this. But he was also eager to get it out in the open. So he decided to tackle the hardest problem first.

"Optimus?"

"Yes, Silverstorm?" Optimus asked.

"I… I need to say something to you. I'm… I'm really sorry for what happened before I came back here. I was just so angry, and there was a lot behind that. You've got to believe that I didn't want to hurt you or the humans or anybody. It was just so hard to control my powers. I think what I needed was space away from all the stuff I was buried in. I haven't had any big temper problems since I got here. I can breathe now. And… I'm really, really sorry."

The mechs stood there and gazed in bewilderment and shock at the youngling they had seen such a short time ago by their standards. He was apologizing to Optimus. Not only that, he was doing it in front of all of them. He looked so sincere, so sorrowful for his immature behavior, and they all relaxed. Kup beamed proudly at him, glad to see such growth in the youngling before him.

Optimus was stunned by the apology. His spark was warm with pleasure at the sincere words, and he knew in his spark that Silverstorm meant them. It was at times like this that being a Prime filled him with awe and joy. It felt so nice, and several doubts he had vanished into the wind. Silverstorm had really come into his own, and Optimus reached out to grasp his forearm, a proud smile on his face.

"You're forgiven, Silverstorm."

"I can still help Ratchet in the medbay if I have to."

Silverstorm worded the question carefully and waited with a zapping spark for the answer. Optimus smiled and patted him on the back. "Don't worry about that."

Silverstorm relaxed and his whole body suddenly radiated that he was happy. Optimus was rather surprised, and he stared at Silverstorm as he beamed. He could see that Silverstorm was happy, and his processor tried to figure out what in the world made him so sure.

"Prime?" a voice asked.

"Yes?" Optimus and Silverstorm both asked at the same time.

Air Raid shuttered his optics. "Ah, I meant Silverstorm. Sorry. Not used to two of you."

"Yeah, Raid?" Silverstorm asked.

"Silverbolt needs to talk to you. It's about Flight."

"Oh. Okay then. Are you all good in here?" Silverstorm asked, and Optimus knew suddenly that he was worried.

"If we need anything, I'll call you," Ultra Magnus promised.

"Okay. See you then."

Optimus watched him go and could tell he was asking questions. He was bemused by how certain he was of Silverstorm's feelings. Perhaps it was wing language, as that youngling Mirage had mentioned earlier. He'd never studied it, but maybe he understood because he knew Silverstorm.

"I don't see you refueling, Optimus," Ratchet said pointedly.

Optimus rolled his optics then walked over and grabbed a cube. He tried not to show how good the energy felt on his rather depleted systems, but Ratchet gave him a smug look, so he knew he was caught. Still, he tried to react with dignity and ignored the smirk. He sipped on the liquid energy and relished the taste. There had been something about Earth that flavored the energon strangely. They theorized that it was the dust that blew absolutely everywhere on the planet. It was actually a relief to think that he wouldn't have to shower every day to get pesky dirt out of sensitive areas.

Ultra Magnus watched them refuel, sitting and resting in a chair. Though he could move and walk around, he still got tired easily. Optimus sidled over to him and offered him a cube. Ultra Magnus took it and sipped on it.

"Good to see you back home, Prime," Ultra Magnus sighed.

"May I ask you a question?" Optimus asked, keeping his voice low.

"About Silverstorm?" Ultra Magnus guessed, smiling.

"Yes."

"Sure."

"What do you think of him?"

Ultra Magnus tapped his fingers on his thigh plating. "I think," he said slowly. "That he reminds me of you just after you were appointed. Young, full of potential, but insecure about everything."

Optimus considered this. "And do you think he, erm, deserves his title?"

Ultra Magnus frowned at Optimus, who squirmed. "What exactly do you mean by that?"

"Is he settling well into his role? I haven't seen him since before he was appointed, and he was… different then. In many ways. He seems…" Optimus trailed off, unsure of what to say.

"Ah," Ultra Magnus relaxed. "I thought you were questioning his appointment. That would have been foolish." He sat back and massaged his chest over his spark as it twinged. "He's settled pretty well into being a Prime. He has ups and downs, but he's definitely matured since I've met him, not to mention the time before I got injured and couldn't leave here. The younglings adore him and trust him, and he's been very good for them. He's made such a difference, Optimus. They have a future because of him."

Optimus nodded. There was something tight in his spark that he didn't quite understand, but alongside that, there was pride. "He's come a long way. The Silverstreak I knew wouldn't have apologized like that."

"While his past as Silverstreak is a part of him, he's much more than that," Ultra Magnus said. "He is Silverstorm Prime. Just like you aren't Orion Pax anymore, you're Optimus Prime."

Optimus nodded. "Makes sense. But it's quite the change."

"Optimus, come and stock up on your metals. And for the sake of the starry hosts, finish your fragging cube," Ratchet scolded from across the room.

Optimus resisted the urge to perform the human insult of flipping him off. "Better go. Docbot is threatening me."

"We have plenty of time. Especially considering there's a surgery coming up," Ultra Magnus said.

Optimus smiled and walked over to select some metal as he gulped down more of his cube. His mind was swirling with everything he'd seen and heard, and he didn't have time to consider it all. He still had doubts—they hadn't all been swept away by Silverstorm's apology—but they seemed more manageable now. But the tightness was still in his spark as he crunched on a delicious piece of metal that resembled copper on Earth. And then he felt it. A tug on his spark and a single word.

"Come."

Suddenly, Optimus was terrified. After all these years, Primus finally wanted to talk with him. And Optimus found that, despite his ages of pining and wishing to hear from him, he didn't want to. But the tug was still there, pulling him toward the temple. Feeling shy and insecure, he turned away and refused to answer. He'd deal with it later. He had more important things to do. Like figuring out his new co-leader. So he decided to focus on that.

"Come," the voice said again.

"Later," Optimus thought back.

There was no response.