BIONICLE Legends: Invasion

Chapter 7

Written by Jeff Douglas

Mahri Nui

Not far from the holy sanctuary of Mahri Nui, the eyes of a lone Ko-Matoran scanned an airfield for signs of life. Most of the Matoran had retreated — or otherwise been ordered — back to the more defensible of Mahri Nui’s dome-like bubbles. But a report had come to his attention that a missing Matoran airherder and his best friend, Reysa, had been spotted near the edge of the airfield. Hoping that the report was true, he had dared to check.

Unfortunately, his search had yielded no fruit so far, and if he wasn’t careful, it was only a matter of time before he became a missing persons case himself. There were a great many Matoran that had turned up missing in the chaos that had consumed the ocean — Reysa was not the only. But Barek pressed on, eyes darting at every sign of movement, hoping that one would yield his old friend.

Something stirred to his right, and he whirled in its direction. He exhaled his relief. A single Razorfish was patrolling along the lines of thornplants and scareRahi that guarded the city from unwanted marine life… for what it was worth. Barek didn’t see much good in them. The Razorfish were hardly much bigger than the Matoran themselves, and they were docile enough to be tamed in the first place. But ever since their world had come crashing down and joining with the stalagmite-like structure that reached up from the ocean floor, Matoran tended to take whatever would help them sleep at night.

In other words, Barek didn’t expect to be surprised if any of the sea creatures found a way inside the Matoran regions of Mahri Nui.

And yet, when the Ko-Matoran turned to resume his search, he somehow screamed anyway.

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The hulking brown figure gnashed his teeth at the Ko-Matoran, sending him running in terror. Although it would normally be an easy catch, the Barraki had forbidden the other prisoners of the Pit from fishing and killing Matoran until the Mask of Life was found. Needless to say, the mighty prisoners hadn’t taken kindly to that, but as the Barraki were the apex creatures beneath the seas, they were in charge.

The brown creature looked back at its silver and red companion. “Easy pickings. Easy pickings going to waste.”

“They’ll be here for us later,” his partner returned. “Once the Barraki claim the Mask and return us to our original forms like they promised, we’ll have all the time we need to extract our revenge on the Matoran.” The last word he spat with no small degree of contempt.

“Like Rahi bones they will,” The large brown figure returned. “Once they have it, they’ll return to glory and forget about the rest of us.”

The crimson monster pondered this for a moment.

“We’ll deal with that when they have the mask,” he said finally. “In the meantime… I’m hungry, and all the best sources of food are off-limits. Let’s prey upon whatever Rahi are inhabiting the Cord these days.”

The brown monster smiled. “Shall we tell the others?”

“And share the food?”

“More like ensuring the Zyglak have something to keep them preoccupied while we hunt.”

The red one nodded slowly. “Very well. Let us go.”

Swimming past the thornplants and scareRahi, the two monsters descended into the depths of the black waters. The trek was a long one, but it was one they were accustomed to making. Although they had been careful to avoid the areas protected by the more predatorial inhabitants, they were surprised to notice twin blurs of yellow and white flashed by them, speeding for the ocean floor.

“What are they up to?” the brown one asked.

“Nothing good. Why are you interested?”

“Anyone doing anything except hunting for food down here is doing something interesting. Go on and tell the others. I want to see this.”

In the years following the Great Cataclysm, the ranks of Pit prisoners had been drastically thinned. Between those unable to survive the destruction of the Pit, the sinking of Mahri Nui, ocean predators, and murder by fellow inmates, the life expectancy in this waterhole was rather low. So those who had somehow survived usually deserved a certain degree of respect for making it this far.

The five coming into view did not. They had survived because nobody was interested enough in them to eat or kill them.

They were five of the most hideous creatures any of them had ever laid eyes on — more hideous even than their fellow former inmates. If they ever had a contest to see who the most hideous creatures in the Pit were, these five would win the contest hands down. Perhaps that’s why they had banded together over the years. Their names had long since been lost to time and nobody, perhaps not even they, remembered why they were here.

“Pridak and the Barraki descend upon some mask of legends like vultures upon a carrion,” he growled as he floated down to their level. “Other prisoners are taking the opportunity to defy their orders. They pick off Matoran along the edges and tighten the safe regions. The waters above have been stirred, and everyone is on the move. All the action is up there, there is nothing down here. Which leads me to wonder…” he growled. “What are you five doing?”

The leader raised his head and observed him for a moment as if determining if he were worth sharing the information with.

“We’re examining the whirlpool at the bottom of the Black Waters.”

“The whirlpool?” He knew the site well. The torrent was universally avoided by everyone, sea creatures and Pit prisoners alike, since nothing that was caught up in it and sucked in ever returned.

“Yes. We think there could be another world down there. If there is, we could sell the information and escape.”

“The only escape you’ll find is Karzahni,” he replied. “Which I guarantee is the world you’re seeing now. Maybe Artakha if you’re good enough. Were you a naughty or nice Pit Prisoner, my friend?”

Without waiting for an answer, he began swimming away. The other stared down to the ocean floor and said nothing.

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By the time he caught up to his crimson friend, he had arrived in a small cave decorated by scattered pieces of equipment they had collected over the years. Most prominent among them were seven breathing tanks for surfacing above the waters, only six of which were functional. The crimson one was already putting one on, as were four others much like them. The brown one likewise began equipping himself.

Few knew who they really were, although they themselves would never forget. The most anyone knew, they were six small creatures that had built themselves into thoroughly armor-plated monstrosities. By the time they had been mutated by the Pit, they became one with the armor they wore.

In truth, they were doomed to forever remain mockeries of the Matoran. Leaving their past behind them, they had left behind their names in favor of the simple monickers. These were the Barakoa.

“None have examined the Cord since the Zyglak took over,” Onukoa said. “How do you know if there are any Rahi to hunt?”

“Rahi inhabit every corner of this blasted universe,” the Porakoa responded. “If Mahri Nui is off-limits, that will be the best location to find them. Besides,” he added with a dry smile. “I could use the fresh air.”

“Let’s not take too long, shall we?” asked the Garakoa, securing her water tank. “I don’t want to miss any more action down here than we must.”

“Porakoa is right,” said the white-armored one among them. The other five hushed as he spoke. “We’ll ride War Tortoises and be back within a matter of hours.”

Korakoa crossed his arms. “The Barraki will abandon us over my dead body.”