Chapter 9 - Creation is an Act of Destruction
KABEI - UNKNOWN
Kabei, upon arriving at the shore, promptly fell Kanohi-first into the sand and lay there, unconscious from stress and exhaustion, for several hours.
Light forced its way into Kabei's eyes as he slowly blinked awake. Achingly, he rolled over onto his back, and finally stared up into the open sky above. Misty grey clouds covered the sky, and he could feel the wind buffeting him even as he lay on the beach. With a wince of pain, he pushed himself upright, despite the protests his back made.
The sight around Kabei was an unusual one. The beach was covered with so many different beings that it was difficult to see the sand beneath them. Many huddled under blankets, or beneath bits of scrap that they had formed into the vague shape of a shelter. Wherever a medic could be found, dozens of beings lay around them, with splints and bandages applied to their numerous injuries. It was as if a great battle had been fought, and Kabei was seeing the aftermath for the first time.
Kabei spent the better part of an hour walking around the beach. At first, his goal had been to find his superior, Vimira. The Turaga of Plasma would likely already be coordinating efforts to build shelters - or so Kabei thought. But as the Po-Matoran wandered the beach, and the beings he met either stared out at the sea or rudely dismissed him, he began to feel doubts. After so many dead ends, he eventually gave up hope asking for help, and determined that he would find his boss on his own. Failing that, Kabei simply resorted to walking with no destination in mind. The nervous Po-Matoran needed something to do, even if it served no purpose whatsoever - anything to keep moving forward.
It was then that Kabei stumbled across a large column of smoke. With nothing better to do, he pressed towards it through the sea of shell-shocked beings. Moving through the crowd, he finally arrived at the source of the smoke - and stopped short in awe.
A massive pile of bodies sat before him, alight with flame and stacked higher than the standing height of a Lhomanu. Kabei could see hundreds of beings within. A group of Matoran, Gawalai, and Atureas picked through the top of the pile where the flames had yet to reach, every once in a while stopping at a corpse to remove their Kanohi, or a tool belt, or some personal item. A second, smaller pile was forming off to the side, as every few seconds a Kanohi would fall through the air and crash into the rapidly-forming collection.
The grisly sight forced Kabei to stop and simply fall to the ground where he stood. Looking out towards it, he let his gaze pass over the bodies until one in particular caught his eye: a familiar white-and-orange form, wizened and aged, with dented armor. Kabei could not tell what had killed Vimira, but there was no mistaking his superior among the dead.
Kabei continued to wander the shores of the island. He did not keep track of the time, nor where he was. He simply walked, waiting and hoping for a change.
That change would come in the form of a Vo-Matoran, who he nearly bumped into in his stupor. Ordinarily, he wouldn't have said anything to the being - had it not been for the item tucked under the Matoran's arm. As she angrily turned towards Kabei, his glossed-over eyes focused on the large piece of metal - likely a section of a Vahki crawler's hull - that she was carrying.
"Watch it, stone-for-brains!" she growled, as she muscled past Kabei. The Po-Matoran found the words coming to his mouth before he had the opportunity to think about them.
"W- where are you going with that?"
Kabei's voice was hollow, but confident nonetheless. The Vo-Matoran turned, blinking in confusion.
"None of your business?" she replied, confused.
"I just mean, are you using it for shelter?"
The Vo-Matoran jerked a thumb over her shoulder, towards a small gathering of beings. The group was making a large hut-like structure out of assorted fragments of crawler hull. Kabei's eyes shot open.
"No!" he yelled, rushing towards the hut.
"Hey!" shouted the Vo-Matoran, rushing after him. "It's our hut, what do you want?!"
Kabei ignored her as he rushed over to the hastily-built structure. A Barramoi (27) was carefully arraying the plates on top of a rusted metal pole in the center. The blue-armored being glanced over at him, cocking a brow. Kabei ignored the larger being's stature and demeanor, instead focusing on the building before him.
"That's not a load bearing strut you're using, it's a skeletonized beam, and you've got, what, sixty baki (28) of plates piled on top of it - were you planning on getting crushed in your sleep tonight?"
"N-no?" stammered out a confused Ta-Matoran, dropping his section of sheet metal.
"Either way, it's too heavy and too gappy to be of any use. You're gonna get leaks if it keeps raining, and the wind will blow in water through the sides. You need insulation."
"Insulation?" replied the Barramoi quickly, laughing at Kabei. "Yeah, there's plenty of that lying around."
Kabei shot the Barramoi a glance.
"Yes. There is. Palm fronds are big enough and thick enough that you can layer them to provide protection."
Looking around, Kabei took stock of the group. The Vo-Matoran, Ta-Matoran, and Barramoi were joined by an Ursare and a Manidi, who were listening intently. Kabei silently counted each on his fingers.
"Okay, that's five of you. Six with me. For a group your size, you need... "
Kabei did a series of quick mental calculations in his head. Although the results were estimates thanks to the lack of any calculatory aids, he nonetheless felt a swell of joy as his math seemed correct.
"...eight bio squared. You can bump that up to nine with minimal additional work, but it'll be more structurally sound, and give you -" Kabei pointed towards the Barramaoi "- enough room to sleep without curling up in a corkscrew, which I assume - what's your name?"
"Axadakin."
"Which I assume Axadakin here would appreciate."
The Barramaoi awkwardly nodded as Kabei continued.
"Now, you guys get palm fronds - the bigger the better - come back, give them to me. I'll get you some proper support structure."
For a moment the group stared at Kabei, confused at his taking charge, before each shrugged, and scattered to collect materials.
Kabei had spent all day rising to the opportunity. With a great deal of success, he turned the first group's hut from a pile of metal into a decently-insulated living space. He had even been able to install a palm leaf curtain on the door so as to protect against the wind. His directions had drawn a small crowd, and so almost as soon as the first hut had been finished, another group approached, asking for help with their makeshift tent too. After that, he saw a group camping out in the skeleton of a Vahki crawler, who he offered to help construct a new home in exchange for the materials left on the vessel. As the demands for assistance grew, so too did the scale of his projects.
As the afternoon grew into evening, Kabei had asked a group of particularly strong individuals who were otherwise-unoccupied to cut down palm trees in order to make lumber. An hour later, the first planks - strong and sturdy, albeit crudely cut - were dropped in front of the Po-Matoran. As he set about organizing his newfound workers to sort the planks by size, he was distracted by a new presence. A Toa, clad in blue and green armor, stood watching him, awkwardly scratching her neck.
"Oh, hello, sister. May I help you?" Kabei asked, before realizing that he was standing in front of a Toa of Plantlife, and next to a pile of dead wood. He awkwardly scooted over to position himself between her and the planks. The Toa spoke after a second of deliberation.
"I…would like to help you."
Kabei blinked in surprise. A Matoran commanding a Toa? It was unheard of. And yet…
"Well… Any way you could make some ironwood thorns? We don't really have any nails or rivets."
The Bo-Toa (29) nodded before extending her arm. Vines grew around it, which rapidly shrivelled and died as their thorns fell out into her waiting palm. Kabei watched, intrigued. He almost never got the opportunity to see a Toa at work, considering how few there were in the Brotherhood. Most either died fighting against it, or were forced to become Turaga. Only the pragmatic, the desperate, or the cruel volunteered to work with the Makuta.
The Toa of Plantlife dropped a set of metallic thorns into Kabei's hands as he smiled at her.
"Thank you…" Kabei waited for a name.
"Ashazi."
The Po-Matoran beamed at the Toa, who was still standing awkwardly in front of him. Her voice was gruff, and uncharacteristically graceless for a Bo-Toa.
"Thank you, Ashazi."
THE MONARCH - UNKNOWN
The Monarch felt the waves crash against the patrol boat as it carried him towards the shore. In the distance, he could see beings constructing shelters. Around him stood his elite guard, and his few loyal Matoran. Smiling, he looked out over the sea. Freedom, he thought. How sweet. Above him, Point Three sailed through the air, hidden within the clouds. The once-mighty dictator's plan had gone perfectly, and he reveled in the fact that he had made a second miraculous escape from the Brotherhood - a mistake they would live to regret.
Shedding his veil, Pridak cast a glance at the beads which had hung over his visage for over a year now. Prison bars of bonemetal and ceramic which had never left his view, and never let him forget the shame of the defeat he endured at the hands of the Brotherhood. With a smile, he lifted his veil to the air and threw it over his shoulder. Landing in the water, it floated for a brief second and then sank into the murky depths, joining much of the detritus of the Brotherhood, never to be seen again.
ANTROZ - UNKNOWN
Antroz swooped through the air, before landing with a spray of sand on the beach. Shortly afterwards, Krika landed beside him. Already the battleships had been given the order to hold fire while the ground forces stormed Target Main, but the order had been doubly reinforced as long as the Makuta were on the field. Storming across the beach, Antroz mentally blocked the sound of terrified screams from the locals as he searched for a Turcopelier, or at least a Brother Greater. He found one in the form of a tremendously confused Skakdi. The Ko-Skakdi, noticing two Makuta approaching, rushed over as quickly as possible, afraid to disappoint.
"Sir - Sirs!" the Skakdi barked, snapping to attention with a salute.
"What's the issue?" replied Antroz, uninterested in spending time on formalities. If there was an issue affecting his troops, he needed to know now.
"Sir, it's the enemy. They're…not something we've seen before," the Skakdi said, taking time searching for the right words. Antroz waited for him to continue. "Maybe you should see for yourself," he followed, before rushing towards a small shack on the beach. It was made of stone and had a corrugated metal roof, as well as a large window on one side - likely a shop of some kind.
Leading the Makuta around the side of the building, the Skakdi opened the door, and leaned down to pass under it. The Makuta did similarly, as Antroz waited expectantly.
What in Karzahni… thought Antroz, as a strange sight met him. The being, splayed on the floor with a wound to the head, was not of a species he had ever seen before. It was dark, with a shade not unlike a Po-Matoran, and wore fabric across most of its body. However, what disturbed Antroz so greatly was that the being was composed seemingly entirely of flesh, without a single piece of armor or visible mechanics. Antroz knelt down, extending a clawed finger, and touched the creature. He could feel his talon sink into its body, with little rigidity to counter it - it was like touching a section of an Oropi's musculature. He immediately withdrew his hand, wiping it clean of an invisible and wholly-imagined ill. Standing, Antroz turned rapidly towards the Ko-Skakdi.
"Are they all like this?" Krika asked, stunned. The Ko-Skakdi nodded rapidly.
"Yes, sir. With minor variations, but they're all…meat. They're made of meat."
"Variations?" asked Antroz.
"Color and size. Some appear to have fur in some spots around the head."
Antroz narrowed his eyes and rushed out of the shop with Krika in tow. The Ko-Skakdi followed as quickly as he could.
"As you can imagine, the troops are nervous, sirs. Does this change anything?"
"What?" Antroz asked, confused. "Why would this change anything?"
"Mission parameters, sir."
"They're not wearing armor. The only thing that changes is that they're easier to kill," replied Antroz, hiding his concern. Deep down, the red-armored Makuta was nervous. The beings of this island were unlike any from the universe he knew, or even the other universes he and his brethren had traveled to. It discomforted him to be in such a position - one where he did not know everything. He was an experienced fighter, and had studied the works of great warriors throughout his lifetime. Each of them had, at some point, echoed a familiar statement: knowledge is more powerful than protosteel, or the hand that wields it.
Antroz, however, was also a pragmatic leader. He needed to take control of his fighters before they panicked. He took a sharp breath and addressed the Ko-Skakdi.
"Continue operations as planned. Make it known that we're accepting no surrender, as these beings are not Oropi, and are therefore subject to no rights or privileges. Go."
The Ko-Skakdi nodded, and saluted before rushing across the beach toward other units. At the same time, Antroz turned to Krika.
"This is unnerving, brother," said the white Makuta. Antroz nodded sagely.
"Indeed. It's difficult not to feel repulsed at the sight of the creatures."
Antroz thought for a moment, then continued.
"I worry more for its implication, though. These beings are not of our universe. It seems as though there are no domes here… It makes me wonder what else is different about this place?"
Krika looked out towards the streets, which the Brotherhood's forces were swarming through. Antroz felt a twinge of stress in his chest, though he was careful not to let it show itself.
"Vamprah will want prisoners. Summon a Pike from the 39th Stasis Legion. Make sure there are Shadow Kraata in it; this is not a task I trust to lesser Rahkshi. A dozen individuals should satisfy our brother's needs."
Krika nodded along.
"Yes, brother."
Antroz, Krika, and Vamprah met quietly within a cargo hold aboard the Change of Heart. The dark, dank interior was poorly lit by a single lamp, and completely empty. The quiet metal room was perfect for the situation, as the noise of the engines masked their conversation to any who might attempt to listen in, and it was not actively patrolled by the crew while combat conditions were active. It left the three Makuta and their agents able to converse in peace. Next to them, a dozen beings - trapped in stasis fields - waited. A Rahkshi stood behind each of them, maintaining the field with careful concentration. The group had agreed to meet in secret, and trusted that Rahkshi would not be able to disobey any orders from a Makuta, and thus would never betray them.
"And they are all…of this nature?" asked Vamprah, whispering in Antroz and Krika's minds.
"Yes, brother. I've publicly commanded execution of every local. These prisoners are strictly between us."
"You were going to execute them all anyway," Krika commented.
"Circumstances may have changed - but my orders have not. Ground forces cannot afford to retreat or concede a battle on account of their fear of the enemy."
"Understandable," whispered Vamprah.
"We will need to tell Icarax. Soon," added Antroz, looking again towards the disturbing flesh-beings in stasis. This was important news.
"Not yet," replied Vamprah, quickly. Antroz cocked an eyebrow; what Vamprah was suggesting could be construed as insubordination. The blue Makuta was lucky they weren't meeting in the open.
"I find that unwise," added Krika.
"Better to wait until we know what these are. Would you rather face Icarax, able to claim these new beings are no threat to us, or tell him that we have no idea what we are fighting?"
Antroz thought for a moment. Vamprah was surely exaggerating Icarax's inevitable displeasure with the matter, but he was still not wrong. The more he could report with confidence, the better.
"What do I tell him until such a point?" Antroz asked, bemused.
"You have received possible intel of nearby settlements on other islands. You'll be investigating these rumors, and taking the ground forces from Target Main with you - all of them. None of them stay behind to spread rumors."
Antroz nodded along in agreement.
"Are there other islands?" probed Krika.
"It does not matter. Only that intelligence suggests it. If there are, all the better - they represent an opportunity to expand our territory, and identify if these…meat-creatures are common in this reality. Perhaps these are the isolated inhabitants of a single island."
"One can only hope," said Antroz, internally plotting his next moves. As he did so, Krika stepped forward, concerned.
"What you're suggesting is dangerous. If Icarax finds out -"
"He will not. I would not be in the position that I am if I were so unsanitary with information."
Krika begrudgingly nodded before retreating. The three looked at each other in silence, until Antroz broke the quiet.
"What will you do with the locals?" he asked Vamprah.
"Handle them. Corpses can be disposed of. Icarax will not have the opportunity to find out about our deception."
"There are many bodies, from what I understand," warned Krika, though Vamprah waved away his concerns.
Antroz felt a frail optimism. As long as Vamprah kept his word - and he was one of the few Makuta who did - the three of them would have no trouble. The next problem he would have to solve was sufficiently supplying his fleet for the next few days as they patrolled the nearby regions. It would be difficult, but possible.
"Very well. It's decided," Antroz said, putting his hand in the center of the group. The other two Makuta placed theirs on top of his. Nodding, they broke the circle. Antroz made his way towards the exit, intent on making his way to the bridge, while Vamprah turned towards the Rahkshi. Krika followed in Antroz's stead.
"I must admit that I feel some reservations about this," murmured Krika.
"Krika…all you have to do is be silent. I will be, Vamprah will be - like always. Just don't say anything to Icarax."
Krika looked nervous as Antroz clapped his shoulder.
"Good. Now excuse me. I have a fleet to command."
Antroz turned, leaving Krika alone in the hallway. He was confident the icy Makuta would remain silent - after all, he had a long history of holding his tongue. He could handle that, while leaving the difficult parts to Antroz, particularly the messy, bloody, and violent ones.