Up above, Mata Nui had felt a strange tickle from within—it was the Mask of Life. He knew it had a mind of its own, and now he watched it transform Tahu on the ground. Six pieces of Golden Armor materialized around him, and he suddenly recalled this particular contingency plan.
The Golden Armor was designed by the Great Beings and programmed into the Kanohi Ignika, to be created if it ever needed to be used by one of the Toa Mata. From inside the Matoran Universe, someone with knowledge of the robot's workings sent a message from the Core Processor to the Ignika on Bara Magna, which included information about the Golden Armor and the need to devolve Tahu back into a Toa Mata, since at the time of the Armor's conception it had not been compatible with a Toa Nuva.
The Golden Armor was designed to destroy all solid Antidermis within the area. The Makuta species was originally composed of solid Antidermis, but eventually evolved into a gaseous state, rendering them immune to the potential effects of the Golden Armor. The Kraata and Rahkshi they created, however, were still made of solid Antidermis and therefore highly vulnerable to the Armor's use.
It's a brilliant strategy, thought Mata Nui. And I hope Tahu will be able to make it work.
X X X
Hundreds of yards away from Tahu, Gresh had used a controlled cyclone to send a half dozen Rahkshi flying. A short time ago, the Jungle Glatorian had tried to attack Takanuva and Tahu. Quickly realizing they were friends, not new foes, he went to join the battle. He was about to go to Ackar's aid when something struck the ground just in front of him. He whirled about, thinking it was another attack, but no enemy was near. Glancing down, he saw the missile had been a piece of glittering golden armor, now half-buried in the sand at his feet. Gresh reached down and picked it up.
What is this? Where did it come from? There wasn't time to puzzle it out. A Skakdi warrior with a twin-bladed axe was charging toward him.
Gresh tucked the shoulder plate of armor in his pack. "Well, I guess I'll answer that question after I finish fighting for my life," he muttered. There would be spare moments to worry about it when this battle was over.
X X X
Nektann smiled as his Glatorian foe fell. These desert dwellers were good fighters, it was true, but no match for a Skakdi warlord. He was already considering which portion of this pile of sand he would ask to rule when the war was won. It did not look like a very appealing place, though it was not much worse than his native island of Zakaz. Still, he hoped there was some other region, perhaps to the north, with a few more obvious resources. Conquest was great fun, but conquest with no water for miles was not.
Not far away, a Rahkshi was losing a fight with a warrior and two villagers. Nektann's first instinct was to let the armored creature die. More than a few Skakdi had perished over the years at the hands of Rahkshi. Then he reminded himself that he had agreed to an alliance with the loathsome things. It wouldn't be acceptable to anger Makuta by not honoring his agreements.
Batting aside an Agori who tried to stop him, Nektann started for the embattled Rahkshi. He was halfway there when he stumbled over something. Looking down, he saw it was a piece of golden armor, a chest plate of a very sturdy material, no doubt all that remained of one of the fools opposing Makuta's army. Nektann scooped it up—it would be of no further use to its former owner, after all, and perhaps it would be worth something. This battle was going to be too short for his taste, it seemed, so he might as well get some loot to make the whole thing worthwhile.
X X X
Sahmad's Tale:
My name is Sahmad. It may be a name you've heard around the home fires of the Agori or whispered by Glatorian as they stand watch. It's a name spoken with respect, and with fear, and that is how it should be. History will tell you that I am a monster, a slaver, someone who made a living capturing my fellow Agori and selling them to the Skrall. I'd be a fool to lie and pretend I did not do those things; of course I did. But there is more to the story than just that, and there is one thing you need to always remember about history: the winners write all the books.
I am a member of the Iron Tribe, not that you could tell by the color of my armor, that's intentional. Advertising that you were part of that tribe was probably, or still is, an invitation to be ostracized, mobbed, even stoned. We're not welcome in the nice little villages of the other Agori, good enough to share their food and drink, or clean enough to trade with. We're creatures for late night tales told to new guards: "Better stay sharp or some Iron Agori will get you."
It wasn't always this way, of course. A long, long time ago, well before the Core War or the Shattering, my tribe lived in the mountains of Bota Magna and worked the mines. We sent the iron we dug out of the rock to the Fire Tribe for forging, and in return they provided us with finished tools and weapons. We were rough and coarse, but we were honored for our hard work and treated like any other Agori. Iron Tribe members lived a life full of hard, honest work, and didn't ask for anything more. Outside of some arguments with our neighbors in the mountains, the Skrall, we didn't have any conflicts with anyone.
When the end came, it came swiftly and quietly, like a dagger thrust to the back. A few miners working on the outskirts of our land began to act strangely. They were distracted, quarrelsome, and as days went by they got worse. Asked if they felt sick, they said no. The only odd thing that they could report was that their sleep had been disturbed, for they had stopped dreaming. Most of us laughed. After all, what mattered was the strength of our backs as we carved metal out of the rock and hauled it to the surface. What did it matter if our sleep was just that: sleep, unmarred by illusions and fantasies? And if you can't dream, then you don't have to worry about nightmares, right? Wrong. If you can't dream, your waking life becomes the nightmare.
The affected miners went from irritable to violent in short order, and from violent to mad. Dreams, it seems, are needed to release the bad energies that accumulate in all of us. Without them, the mind tears itself to shreds in time. Worse, what we now saw as a plague was spreading. More and more of my tribe lost the ability to dream. Those whose condition was far enough along would die raving lunatics. Those who were most recently infected were seized by horror and desperation, knowing the fate that awaited them.
Some of us seemed to be immune: myself, Telluris, a handful of others. Naturally our neighbors were curious about why we were still able to dream. None of us knew the answer. That didn't stop others in our tribe from talking of trying to find out, even if their efforts would mean our deaths. We banded together and hid in a cave, ready to defend ourselves against mad Agori who used to be our friends.
As things got worse, our village leader appealed to other tribes for help. The Skrall just laughed. The other tribes wouldn't even allow him to cross the borders into their lands. No one wanted the little bit of iron we still dug up, believing it somehow might carry the disease. All trade came to a stop.
When one of the still-healthy Agori tried to join another tribe, he was driven off into the forest and killed by one of the beasts there. As far as we were concerned, he just as well may have been killed by the Agori who rejected him. Being a member of the Iron Tribe now carried a death sentence. If the plague didn't claim you, your one-time trading partners would.
Telluris came up with the idea of using minerals to change the color of our armor and helmets in the hope of passing as members of some previously unknown tribe and finding sanctuary. It was a stupid idea, but I went along with it. I don't need to tell you how well it worked. Still, we survived. We watched our tribe die off one by one until there were too few left in any condition to threaten us. We made our escape, but there was nowhere to go. Add to that, none of us were sure if one of the others might be a carrier of the plague, and you could see why we chose to go our separate ways.
I headed south, not knowing Telluris was as well. I lived off what I could scrounge or steal. I saw the Core War erupt, and saw Agori killed by weapons made by iron my people had mined, and I laughed. When the Shattering happened, I was in Bara Magna. I had found a wagon and gained the loyalty of a Spikit in the only way possible—I fed it. I didn't know what the future had in store for me, but I had transport and I had hate. I would find a way to marry the two and gain my revenge.
Telluris took a different path. He started robbing the desert in a war machine based on the Skopio, acting like crushing a caravan or two would somehow make a difference.
I made other plans. I would turn the tribes' Agori into commodities. I would sell them to the Skrall and leave them wishing they had died in the plague along with my friends.
Much has changed in recent days. The Skrall have been driven from Roxtus, and two giant men made of metal are battling in the sky for reasons I cannot imagine. I have no doubt the end of the world is upon us, but before that happens, I have a task I want to perform. Somewhere, someone knows about what happened to my people. They know if the plague was accident or attack, error or experiment. Before Bara Magna crumbles to dust, I am going to find those answers. And if someone caused this fate to befall my tribe, then I hope somewhere they are dreaming of me, and waking up screaming.
Sahmad, of the Iron Tribe
X X X
Towering above the fight of the Glatorian and Toa, Mata Nui and Makuta were glowing like stars as they expended all their energy in their own personal struggle. Mata Nui had managed to do some additional damage, but the fight was clearly not going his way. Makuta had the advantages of size, strength, greater energy reserves, and sheer brutality. Makuta felt no hesitation in using all the power at his disposal.
Mata Nui on the other hand, was limited in his concern for those on the ground below him as well as any stragglers still inside the robot. He dared not unleash his full power and risk their harm (or another explosion, with his unstable power source). It was only his righteous anger and his knowledge of what would happen if he fell that kept Mata Nui on his feet. His restraint was costing him, however, and Teridax sensed it. He knew he couldn't hold off defeat much longer. Mata Nui pushed hard on Makuta's shoulder, trying to push the giant backward. The move seemed to do as much damage to him as it did to Makuta.
"I don't know what that light show was about," said Makuta coldly, as he forced Mata Nui back. He casually batted Mata Nui's hand away. "Did you hope to light the way for your Toa across the sands? Oh, yes, I saw them pursuing my Rahkshi though this universe, eventually arriving here after my forces. Gali and Pohatu Nuva have already devastated half a legion of Skakdi. I really must do something and make an example of those two."
"You thought you could slaughter the inhabitants of this planet," Mata Nui spat. "But the people of Bara Magna won't ever surrender to you, any more than the Matoran or Toa did." He immediately stumbled backward from a beam shot by Makuta in retaliation.
"And look how well that worked out for them," Makuta said, landing a solid blow and cracking Mata Nui's chest armor.
Mata Nui fired a bolt of pure power at close range, striking the same spot he had before. Makuta growled as he felt circuits fuse. His readouts indicated a molten protodermis pipeline had been severed inside him, causing cascading failures in his systems. He immediately sent help to the affected area, dispatching Visorak to try to contain the damage.
"You rely too much on the bravery and spirit of your followers, brother," Makuta said, his voice heavy with menace. "Even here, on your adopted world, you gathered starry-eyed fools around you who think you can save them."
Despite Mata Nui's own near defeat, he spared enough time to see what Tahu had accomplished. Fortunately, he and his comrades were finishing the act of recovering the Golden Armor and would soon have all the necessary pieces. Every bit of thought and hope I can give are focused on you, Tahu, Mata Nui thought desperately. You must succeed!
Looking back to Makuta, he realized that his distraction could be fatal to everyone. Makuta lowered his right arm, palm pointed toward the site of the battle below. "But if they will not be conquered, they will be destroyed," the dark one stated, charging a new blast of energy.
Mata Nui could see energies gathering around his hand, but not the sort of power he had been hurling up to now. No, this was something worse, something fundamental in nature and terrifying in its potential for destruction.
Gravity, Mata Nui realized. He's going to unleash the power of gravity on Bara Magna.
Makuta's red eyes gleamed with triumph. "You know, don't you? A single blast of gravitic power and this planet will fold in on itself, destroying everything and everyone on it, except perhaps you…and definitely me. I will survive, being able to rocket off in an instant…perhaps you might as well if your prototype shell can withstand the impulse of takeoff…but everyone else will be a memory."
Mata Nui charged forward. "You can't do that! The consequences—"
"I stopped caring about consequences long ago," Makuta answered, batting Mata Nui away yet again. "Those sorts of worries are for the weak, and I am strong, Mata Nui. By right of power, I claimed your universe—and now I claim this one, starting here and now! And now…"
Energy erupted in waves from Makuta's gauntlet, a planet-killing force that could not be stopped…
"Say goodbye to your sandpile."