Returning to the Star Wars galaxy required careful navigation.
Garfield decided to pinpoint the exact moment he had left, the instant before the time vortex had swept him away.
Under the watchful optics of Optimus Prime, Megatron, and the assembled Transformers, Garfield reached into his pocket dimension and retrieved his anchors.
The power of the Time and Space Gems erupted from his small frame, flooding the area with raw cosmic energy.
Using their combined might, he locked onto the dimensional coordinates of his original timeline.
Then, without hesitation, he dove in.
The sheer force of his departure stunned the gathered Transformers. Space itself seemed to ripple and tear.
"The teacher... was always this powerful?" Optimus Prime's voice emerged hollow with awe.
Megatron's optics tracked the fading energy signature. "That force could have torn Cybertron apart entirely."
"Teacher... I wonder how many cycles will pass before we meet again."
Beside Megatron, Starscream's optics flickered with calculation. The teacher is gone now.
With sufficient effort, surely I can eventually supplant Megatron and claim leadership for myself.
In that same moment, as Garfield's power erupted, Hot Rod's spark pulsed with an unusual resonance.
His internal systems registered the capture of temporal energy traces and began analysis.
Bumblebee pressed a hand to his chest plate, where the talisman rested.
I'll protect Optimus Prime. I'll guard everything you built, Teacher. I swear it.
Soundwave and Skyfire stood in silence, their regret palpable. They would receive no more lessons from the teacher.
Elsewhere on Cybertron's networks, a curious development unfolded. T
hose Transformers with an appreciation for music had compiled and archived Garfield's DJ performance from the previous evening.
The recordings spread through the internal networks like wildfire. Some Transformers declared it revolutionary.
In time, some would come to call him the Father of Cybertronian DJ Culture.
✦••┈┈••✦••┈┈••✦
Inside the wormhole, Garfield fought to maintain control.
The currents of time and space tugged at him from all directions, but he held firm to his anchors.
He pushed forward, retracing his path.
At the threshold, just as he reached the exit point, he collided with something.
WHUMP
The impact shuddered through him, but the protective energy cocoon absorbed most of it.
Whatever he had hit, he couldn't see it through the temporal glare. He simply tumbled through and emerged...
...in his basement.
Everything was exactly as he had left it.
Kumataro and Kumajiro stood guard, exactly where he'd positioned them.
Garfield shook himself, checking his pockets. Everything intact.
The X-wing fighter sat where it had always sat, a silent reminder of his original mission.
"Has anyone come by?" he asked his two loyal attendants.
Kumataro shook his head. "No, master."
Kumajiro echoed the gesture. "None at all."
Garfield gestured toward the X-wing. "Continue your vigil here. I have matters to attend to."
They nodded in unison. "Yes, master."
Garfield sealed the passage behind him, then re-anchored the dimensional coordinates for the world.
Just in case, then he stepped through again.
The spacetime tunnel deposited him in a new location.
A factory. Massive. Industrial. Countless mechanical arms busily assembled metal components with precision and purpose.
Garfield's enhanced senses swept the facility, no carbon-based lifeforms present.
Only machines.
Interesting.
He observed more carefully.
Cylindrical droids moved through the aisles. Humanoid droids walked among them, conversing in Basic.
Ah. Star Wars. Finally.
Garfield wove through the busy mechanical arms, approaching one of the humanoid droids.
"Hey. What's the current date?"
The droid turned, its optical sensors focusing on the small orange creature before it.
Surprise registered in its tone. "Oh my! A talking... uh... orange cat?"
Garfield's eye twitched. "This king is a Great Devourer, if you don't mind."
The droid's processors whirred. "I apologize, that designation is not in my database. But what are you doing in the Incom Corporation's factory?"
"Are you a new supervisor?"
Garfield considered this. The droid's assumption was convenient. "Yes. Exactly that. Notify your superiors of my presence."
Low-level factory droids lacked the clearance to question authority.
The possibility of infiltration never crossed its programming.