Garfield regarded the small yellow mech with something approaching tenderness. Poor little thing.
Well, Garfield thought, when has accuracy ever stopped me before?
He cleared his throat or rather, made a sound that suggested clearing a throat, since his actual respiratory system remained somewhat ambiguous.
"B-127. The King is... slightly injured at present, which makes future-sensing somewhat imprecise." He waved a paw vaguely.
"However, I can perceive two primary timelines."
B-127 leaned forward. Even Orion Pax, despite himself, found his attention sharpening.
"The first timeline, you will receive a name instead of a number. A proper name. You will become important to the entire Cybertronian race." Garfield paused dramatically.
"Unfortunately, this timeline ends with a Civil war."
The Autobots and Decepticons tear each other apart until nothing remains.
B-127's spark flickered with alarm. "That's... that's terrible!"
"It is," Garfield agreed solemnly. "But! There is a second timeline."
"In this timeline, a little carbon-based creature gives you a name. A good name. A name that will stick with you across eons and across stars." Garfield nodded sagely.
"As for the specific name... I'm afraid I cannot say. The future grows foggy when too much is revealed."
"Bad for the space-time continuum."
B-127's processor spun with possibilities. A real name, not just a designation. And from an organic creature!
His fascination with Garfield's fur suddenly made more sense, perhaps he was always meant to bond with carbon-based life.
"What could it be?" he murmured, already slipping into pleasant daydreams. "Something heroic, probably."
"Something that strikes fear into evil-doers..."
Orion Pax watched the exchange with carefully neutral optics. Fate? Prophecy?
These concepts existed in Cybertronian mythology, certainly, but as a mech of records and data, he preferred evidence to divination.
Still, the creature had known B-127's designation without being told. That warranted consideration.
While Garfield occupied B-127 with vague pronouncements, Megatron stood quietly, processing the diagnostic data Orion Pax had provided.
The improvements were extraordinary.
If I can transform once, he thought, I can transform again.
Silicon-based life possessed this miraculous capacity, the ability to reconfigure oneself in moments, provided one had the knowledge and the will.
Megatron closed his optics and pushed, channeling energy from his spark outward through his frame.
The transformation was agonizing.
His arms thickened, his stance widened, his very structure reorienting toward combat efficiency.
When he opened his optics again, he stood taller. A military frame, evolved from a miner's body through sheer determination.
The cost, his spark pulsed weakly, drained by the rapid reconfiguration. He would need time to recover.
But the result spoke for itself.
He touched his chest plate, where Garfield had rested.
That strange organic creature, buried in ore for who knew how long, waiting to be discovered. Waiting for me.
The thought warmed something in Megatron's spark.
And Orion Pax, this kind archivist who called strangers brothers had given him the tools to transform without even knowing what he was offering.
These two.
Megatron looked at them both, the orange prophet and the blue administrator and felt something he had never felt before in the mines.
Garfield, having thoroughly muddled B-127's understanding of future events, floated toward Megatron and Orion Pax.
"You two." He pointed at each in turn. "Your views on Cybertron's current situation align more than you realize."
"You should talk. Properly. Figure out how to stop this metal world from sliding further into decay."
Megatron nodded slowly. "The Senate. The functionist system. The mines."
"Exactly." Garfield's whiskers twitched. "The oppressive compatriots you mentioned? The ones still suffering?"
"That's not accident or mismanagement. The Elders know exactly what happens in those mines, they assigned the guards who make it happen."
Orion Pax's optics narrowed. "The Elders I've encountered have seemed... honorable. Concerned with Cybertron's welfare."
"The Elders you've encountered." Garfield fixed him with a look that somehow conveyed centuries of weary experience.
"The ones who visit the Hall of Records, who present themselves to the public. You think they show everyone that face?"
Orion Pax had no response to this.
"Investigation," Garfield continued. " Proper investigation before any action."
"Without investigation, you have no right to speak and more importantly, no basis for effective action." He gestured toward B-127, who had stopped daydreaming and was now listening intently.
"B-127 here can help with that. He's small, unassuming, and eager to prove himself. Perfect for gathering information."
B-127 straightened proudly at this endorsement.
"As for you two." Garfield floated between Megatron and Orion Pax. "I want to hear your ideas."
"Your specific thoughts on what's wrong and how to fix it. Challenge each other. Don't look at me like that~" This to Orion Pax, who was indeed looking at him skeptically.
"I was a king of multiple kingdoms, actually. You don't govern successfully without understanding how to evaluate competing arguments."