Chapter Text
Perceptor had no shortage of human colleagues. While some Cybertronians might have scorned the idea of working with their short-lived and rather simple organic hosts, Perceptor rather enjoyed his time with the humans. In his experience, they were innovative creatures and very eager learners. The speeds at which they adapted to new technology and ideas was enviable—though perhaps their spark-breakingly short lifespans had something to do with that.
But when they came to him asking if Perceptor had an explanation for the large celestial object rapidly bearing down on Earth, he was surprised. Surely if something significant was approaching from space, Teletraan-1 would have picked it up. But the object, whatever it was, was still far out of the supercomputer’s reach, mostly due to the fact that the majority of the Ark’s sensors were still buried in a mountainside.
So Perceptor visited several different astronomical observatories, and listened patiently while the humans showed him all the data they had gathered on the Unidentified Astronomical Object, or UAO. The humans had been able to pick it up on their own primitive telescopes due to its sheer size, and it was causing quite a stir in the mainstream media.
Privately, Perceptor hypothesized that their computers were glitching (and who would be surprised?) because the UAO was ridiculously large, classifiable as a planetary-mass object. Yes, nomad planets existed—Cybertron herself was one, floating through space unbound to any star. But Cybertron was not barreling through an inhabited solar system at a ridiculously high speed. And Cybertron was not on a statistically impossible collision course with Earth.
The UAO, however, was.
Despite this troubling information, Perceptor had not been too concerned—a simple computer glitch remained the most likely explanation. He had smiled and reassured the humans that there was no need for panic because the Autobot scientists would begin an investigation immediately.
And they had. Cosmos was sent out into space to gather data, and Perceptor invited a few prominent human scientists to the Ark to be present for the live feed that the minibot would be sending back.
A few days later, an assortment of human scientists from all over the globe stood on Teletraan-1’s keyboard so they didn’t accidentally get squished undepede by any of the other Autobot scientists. Outside the Ark, members of the press had gathered to await an official announcement—Red Alert refused to let any journalists inside as a matter of policy.
The atmosphere in the room was rather tense, and Perceptor supposed he could not blame the humans. They held their primitive technology in such high esteem, even when it was so obviously malfunctioning. If Perceptor believed for a moment that the humans’ calculations were actually correct, he would have been nervous as well.
[Um, I’m starting the feed,] said Cosmos at last. [Uh. Primus…]
“Is there a problem, Cosmos?” asked Perceptor.
[Uh…] The usually-jovial minibot sounded distinctly uncomfortable. [Just…just standby for transmission.]
Perceptor did not allow his concern to show on his faceplates—it would only worry the humans, and worried humans could be very dangerous. Fortunately, none of them were fluent in Iaconian, and so they had no way of knowing anything was amiss.
Teletraan-1’s screens flickered, and the first live images of the celestial trespasser reached Earth.
The majority of the UAO was the sickening orange-brown color of rust, while the rest of it was silver. It was difficult to tell, but it appeared that the surface was made of countless panels, not unlike Cybertron itself. A delicate ring surrounded the sphere, but it did not appear to be made of collected debris and ice crystals. Instead, it was perfectly symmetrical all the way around, like a carefully measured pipe.
“Cosmos!” Perceptor snapped at last, hating himself for the way his vocalizer quavered. “This is—this is not amusing in the slightest! Now relay the true footage, or I will report you to Prowl!”
[This isn’t a prank. You’re seeing exactly what I’m seeing,] said Cosmos grimly. [Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to withdraw before he notices me. Over and out.]
“Is something wrong?” asked one of the scientists in English. Perceptor didn’t reply because he didn’t trust himself to speak. The last frame of the very short transmission was still onscreen, looking like something out of a sparkling’s tale.
“We need to tell Prime,” said Wheeljack in a low voice.
“Tell him what?” snapped Perceptor, forgetting that even if the humans could not understand his words, they would certainly understand his tone.
“Tell him—this!” Wheeljack gestured to the screen helplessly.
“So, what, nobody’s going to say it?” asked Hoist.
“Is everything alright?” asked another human, tapping at Perceptor’s wrist insistently, only to be ignored. “What’s going on?”
“Yes, I am sure that will go over splendidly,” retorted Perceptor. “‘I am very sorry, Prime, but it appears the mechs of the science department have finally lost all semblance of rationality.’”
“You don’t have to get sarcastic,” protested Wheeljack. “I’m only—”
“If no one’s going to say it, I will,” threatened Hoist.
“Skyfire, you agree with me, don’t you?” asked Perceptor, turning around. Skyfire was in his customary place at the back of the room, as not to block anyone’s view of the screen.
“Cosmos has been known to play pranks,” said Skyfire slowly. “Especially on humans.”
“But Cosmos didn’t sound like he was joking,” objected Grapple. Naturally, he was on Hoist’s side. “He sounded frightened.”
“I do think we should notify Prime,” said Skyfire. “Even if it’s not…what it appears to be…”
“Who it appears to be, you mean,” muttered Hoist.
“—that doesn’t change the fact that there is a massive unidentified object hurtling towards Earth, and if Cosmos’ projections are correct, it will be here in less than a month.”
Perceptor had to admit Skyfire had a point there.
“HEY!” bellowed one of the human scientists. He had climbed to the very top of the keyboard, and was now waving his arms in the air frantically. “What. Is. HAPPENING!?”
And for the first time in a very long time, Perceptor had absolutely no idea what to say.