Inside the Hall of Records, B-127 quietly browsed through official data, nothing classified, of course.
Orion Pax wasn't about to risk his position for anyone.
Just publicly accessible archives, the kind any Transformer could theoretically access if they knew where to look.
At the entrance, Garfield and Megatron hovered uncertainly.
"Come in," Garfield urged. "This is it."
Megatron hesitated. "Is this... appropriate?"
Appropriate. Garfield almost laughed. Instead, he fixed Megatron with a steady gaze.
"Think about your dreams. Think about your brothers still suffering in those mines."
"This may seem like a small step to you, but for your entire race? This moment will be recorded in Cybertronian history."
Megatron's spark pulsed warmer.
"You speak like an elder," he murmured. "Very wise."
"Flattery later, action now."
Encouraged, Megatron stepped through the doorway.
On his monitor, Orion Pax watched the newcomer enter with quiet satisfaction. Finally a visitor.
He quickly straightened his workspace, pushing scattered datapads into something resembling order and adopted his most welcoming demeanor.
"Welcome to the Iacon Hall of Records!" His voice carried genuine warmth. "I'm Orion Pax, the administrator."
"How may I help you?"
Megatron forced himself forward, every step an effort against a lifetime of being ignored. "I'm Megatron. I... I just completed my first evolution."
Freshly evolved. Orion Pax's interest sharpened. A young brother, finding his way. "Congratulations!"
"Would you like me to run some diagnostics? New evolutions can leave systems misaligned. I'd be happy to help optimize your configuration."
The genuine enthusiasm caught Megatron off guard.
He'd expected dismissal, the usual treatment for someone who'd recently been a lowly miner.
Beside them, B-127 paused his browsing to stare at the towering mech with undisguised envy.
Someday I'll be that big, he thought. Someday I'll evolve too.
Megatron's processors spun, he didn't know how to respond to kindness.
Garfield's whisper came through their private link. "Orion Pax is known for his warmth."
"Look at the little yellow mech, he's here to learn too. Accept the help."
"I... would appreciate that. Thank you." Megatron nodded slowly.
Orion Pax beamed. "No need for thanks. We're brothers, after all."
Brothers.
The word hit Megatron like an energon charge to the spark.
No orthodox Transformer had ever called a low-level mech brother. Such language simply didn't exist in their stratified society.
Yet here stood an administrator, a respected position offering kinship freely.
"Brothers," Megatron repeated, the word feeling foreign and precious on his glossa.
"Yes." Orion Pax extended a diagnostic probe from his wrist as he spoke. "We all come from the Allspark. We're all connected."
"I don't believe in calling non-transforming mechs 'low-level' or 'tools.' We should help each other like a family. That's how our race will truly advance."
While he spoke, the probe gently connected with Megatron's systems. Data flowed.
And inevitably, the scan detected something unexpected in Megatron's chest cavity.
A small hollow.
With snacks inside.
And one very orange occupant.
Orion Pax's optics flickered once… but he said nothing.
Instead, he continued his analysis, cataloging Megatron's structural inefficiencies, identifying components that could be optimized, calculating better configurations.
When the scan completed, he compiled everything into a comprehensive data package and transmitted it to Megatron.
"Here. This should help."
Megatron absorbed the information, running internal simulations.
The improvements Orion Pax had suggested weren't good… they were revolutionary.
Combat effectiveness increased by an estimated thirty percent. Energy efficiency improved ans structural integrity reinforced.
This single act of kindness had transformed his capabilities.
And throughout the process, Orion Pax's words had echoed Megatron's own emerging beliefs with uncanny accuracy.
That orange creature...
Megatron touched his chest plate, where Garfield rested in his hidden alcove.
A prophet?
He made a decision.
With deliberate care, Megatron opened the compartment and gently lifted Garfield out, presenting him to Orion Pax's astonished optics.
When Garfield emerged from Megatron's chest, Orion Pax accepted the revelation with remarkable composure.
A small organic creature living in a mech's spark chamber? Unusual, certainly, but after eons of existence, few things truly surprised him.
B-127, however, was fascinated.
Oh. My. Spark.
A carbon-based life-form. On Cybertron, the homeworld of metal based beings. Where had Megatron found such a creature?
And that fur.
B-127's servos twitched with an inexplicable urge. He wanted to touch it. Just to know what it felt like.
Garfield hadn't expected Megatron to reveal him so soon.
But the miner's instincts were sound, he clearly wanted Orion Pax's counsel, and trust required transparency.
These two, Garfield thought, observing the young mechs before him. Destined to become brothers. Destined to become enemies.
Destined to tear each other apart across a billion years of war.
Fate was, as always, a cruel comedian.
He floated into the air, taking in the scene… Orion Pax, young and idealistic, not yet burdened with the Matrix of Leadership.
And beside him, a little yellow mech who would one day be called Bumblebee.
Well. This is something.
"Hello, young Orion Pax." Garfield turned. "And hello, young B-127."
Orion Pax's optics narrowed. Knowing his name was unremarkable, he was, after all, the database administrator.
But he hadn't introduced B-127. How could this creature possibly~
A quick scan confirmed his suspicions.
The organic's biology was strange. Damaged internal organs, unusual structural composition, and a complete lack of the metal based architecture that defined Cybertronian life.
Yet despite apparent injuries, the being moved and spoke as if nothing were wrong.
Fascinating. Orion Pax's processor itched with the desire to study this creature, to document and analyze and understand.
Beside him, B-127 bounced slightly with excitement. "Hi! I'm B-127!"
Garfield inclined his head graciously.
Orion Pax composed himself. "Hello. I am Orion Pax. Might I ask your species and name?"
Garfield floated a bit higher, assuming what he hoped was a dignified posture.
"Well. My species is... complicated. Orange cat. Metamorphosis beast. Take your pick."
"As for my name?" He paused dramatically. "It's quite long. You may call me Garfield Pando Godzilla Pendragon the First, His Majesty the King. Or Garfield Odinson, though I dislike that title."
"Or simply 'Prophet.' Some even call me a soul mentor, though that feels a bit presumptuous."
Prophet.
Orion Pax seized on the word. "You see the future?"
"Among other things."
"Then how did you come to Cybertron? And what should we actually call you?"
Garfield sighed, launching into his now-familiar tale of temporal tunnels, unexpected collisions, and being extracted from a rock by a curious miner.
"Call me Garfield," he concluded. "Just Garfield."
"Fate is strange, isn't it? I certainly never expected to end up embedded in a rock, waiting to be excavated."
Orion Pax absorbed this information, his processor running constant analysis.
Before he could formulate a response, B-127 blurted out.
"What's my future?"