Infinite Rahi

======

They scavenged the margins of the island for the first few days, gathering the remnants of their wrecked ship. The Ga and Raga attempted to swim out to the reef, but found that the ocean was still too heated to endure. The horizon was a mass of steam, and the ash fell steadily, coating both land and sea in gray.

Three masks washed ashore--those of the two Ta and the Po. The Fe examined them and found them to be undamaged.

"It is likely," the Ko said, "that the bodies have gone unto Mata already. They have no need of these anymore."

The masks were stored in the makeshift Suva that the Onu had piled up--they were precious. A hut of driftwood was soon erected nearby, and the Matoran rested there in shifts, out of the wind and the falling ash.

One evening, they drew out the Amaja once more and assembled around it:

"The next task is for you," said the Elder, pointing to the Vo. "We have made shelter, and the Suva is finished for now. What remains is…the Vuata."

"I…I have not studied the formation of Vuata, Elder," the Vo said. "Only tended to it and its power-flow."

"You are Vo, are you not?"

"I am."

"And we are without Bo-Matoran here, who might be capable of the cultivation by proxy. So, the Duty falls to you."

"I see, yes. But…it is…I am--"

"--I have studied this knowledge, Elder," the other Ga said, putting her stone into the Amaja, alongside the Vo's quartz. "I have also studied much of the knowledge of flora. Perhaps I can--"

The Elder raised a hand, shaking her head.

"No, according to the Rule in Absence, each Matoran shall perform the Duty of their building and design. No other."

The Ga nodded slowly, removing her stone from the circle.

"You shall begin tomorrow."

The Vo stared off at the murky horizon.

"I will."

In the morning, the Vo, Ga, and Fe went down to the shoreline. The Fe carried a special vessel he had shaped from scrap metal. The upper portion of the vessel was filled with a layer of protodermic ash, and below that was a small opening covered in fine mesh.

They filled the vessel with seawater, letting the liquid protodermis filter through the ash into the lower container. After repeating the process many times over, the Ga judged that the water was sufficiently purified. She turned to the Vo, who sat a short distance away, meditating.

"It's ready," the Ga said. "Have you meditated on the process?"

"I…I have," said the Vo, opening her eyes. "I believe I am centered."

"Good, you most only remember: sharp and deep is the action. Once should be enough."

"And it will…will it…hurt?"

"I don't know. I'm sorry."

"I've heard that the mechanisms are quite complex, and, um, fascinating," the Fe said, fidgeting.

He offered the vessel, to which he had affixed a spigot.

"Thank you."

"It is time," said the Ga. "We will be right here with you."

The Vo took the vessel and exhaled slowly. Then, she raised it to the aperture of her mask, and inhaled.

Sharp and deep, she inhaled the purified liquid protodermis--did not swallow it, but aspirated it sharply into her Vo-Matoran lungs, which were made differently from other Matoran.

It hurt. She dropped the vessel, doubled over. The Ga moved to steady her. The pain burned deep in her chest, but she held on, did not exhale. It was her Duty. She focused, as the Ga had told her, and the burning centered itself down, down into her core. Her heartlight beat rapidly, more rapidly each minute. At last, she looked up. The Ga and Fe helped her to stand, and they made their way back to the encampment.

The Onu had cleared a space, turning up the rocky ground and plowing gray ash into it. The Elder came out of the hut, followed by the Ko, as the three Matoran approached. The Vo stepped forward, arms spread. Her heartlight glowed bright in her chest, and the Elder nodded approvingly.

"Come. Here is the place."

The Vo stepped forward into the empty space, and the Onu patted the tilled ground. She knelt in the earth.

A whining, whirring noise began to rise on the air--a mechanical sound, like that of an engine powering up. It hurt.

The Vo looked back over her shoulder, eyes wandering, until they fell on the Ga.

"I-I..." she stammered, jaw clenched, "I am...afraid."

"It is almost done," said the Elder.

The whining noise increased.

"We will be here with you," said the Ga, quietly.

"You will not be alone."

The noise reached a crescendo. The Vo doubled over once more, and heaved. A bright spark of something issued from her mouth and went down, down into the ground.

Her eyes and heartlight winked out. The body fell heavily to the earth.

=====

It was a red evening, as the stars burned into night over the sea. The fog and smoke on the horizon had cleared in recent months--enough now to glimpse the husk of the volcanic island which had been the cause of their shipwreck, a low smudge against the sky.

They could not reach it, of course. The waves broke sharply against submerged reefs all around, and the ocean still boiled angrily in some places. Somewhere out there was the wreck of the Fe's skiff, and the Fe along with it. Only his mask had returned to them, as with the others. That was how they had decided that long-term survival was their only option--even the Ko had agreed.

The Ga had descended to ground-level less than an hour ago, as was her habit before the night set in. She passed the Onu on her way down to the ladder; he was always more comfortable closer to the earth.

She made a brief search of the shoreline. Sometimes debris still washed in, although collecting driftwood was much less vital to them now. She checked for erosion on the eastern point of the shore, and made a note to tell the Onu that it had progressed a small amount. He probably already knew.

After that, she waded into the surf and hauled in one of the cage-traps, retrieving its catch of small Rahi crabs, endemic to the area and useful for their shells and sharp claws. She hung the catch upon a rack further up the rocky shore, noting also that the trap would needed to be mended. Good practice for the Ko, maybe, now that the stars had become visible consistently and he had calmed himself. She verified the tideline again, judging that the tide was near its lowest point by now, and replaced the marker stones. The tidal range was of the variable kind in this region of the world, and had to be monitored carefully. So many things to monitor, to keep track of. But they all did their part: it was a matter of survival.

Next, she turned her attention to the Tree.

The Tree rose from the center of the island, straight as a pillar. Its roots covered much of the ground now, burrowing deep into the earth, and its canopy now shaded nearly the entirety of the island's landmass. It had grown quickly in its early days, and its roots were mature enough now even to drink the unpurified seawater.

She made her way along the narrow pathway that ringed the Tree's base. The path was a natural formation, allowing access to the various apertures and ports that issued from the trunk. There were even natural handholds in the metalwood of the tree's surface where the roots emerged and one was obliged to climb over. This was the nature of Vuata. Like many other forms of plantlife across the world, it was made to serve a particular purpose. The Tree was their livelihood--the producer of all the things needed for the continuing of their labors.

At last, the Ga stood before the great aperture which led down into the Tree's Karda, the core which produced energy for the Tree's growth, and which provided vital sustenance to the Matoran, when needed, as well as power for whatever mechanisms they built.

The Karda was the heart of their island now. It glowed blue-green, pulsing gently. She made sure to keep the area free of debris, clean and orderly, as much as she could.

It was not technically her Duty, but it was right.

They had buried the body of the Vo there, in the same earth, after...afterward. The body would not go unto Mata, the Raga had said, for there was no fatal malfunction, only a...transferal. A change in life-functions. That was what the Raga had called it. Even so, she liked to come to this place when she could. She had made a promise, after all, that the Vo would not be alone.

Night had fallen. The Ga returned to the sturdy rope ladder which hung down the trunk of the Tree. Her tasks were done, and they would all be turning in the for the night soon. All except the Ko, who usually rested during the daylight so that he could star-gaze at night...

The great ripple that moved through the world almost didn't register to her senses as she climbed, except for a subtle pause in the movement of the waves below. It was accompanied by a noise: a slow distant rushing.

The Onu--sensitive to the slightest of world-movements--was already calling out a loud warning from the branches of the Tree above by the time she realized what was happening, and that the dull roar that had sprung up in her ears was not wind, but water.

The tsunami struck the island and washed over it with fury. Liquid fire sprouted along the horizon as the distant volcanic island was ripped apart by a second eruption. Flaming rock hissed into the sea, and the stars were once again blotted out by smoke.

Somehow, her grip on the rope-ladder did not fail. She twisted and whipped round in the surging water, and the heat made her cry out involuntarily. Then she struck hard and felt the yielding wood of the Tree against her body.

She heaved upward with a wrenched arm and grabbed another handhold on the ladder, then realized that she was moving upward. Her eyes cleared for a moment, and she saw the other Matoran hauling frantically on the ladder, dragging her up out of the raging maelstrom. The Tree swayed, and the Ko nearly fell from his perch. She was out of the water.

She looked down, and with a shock she realized that the island was gone, completely submerged.

"We almost have you!" the Raga said, heaving on the rope.

She bounced off the trunk again, and heard the Tree groan with the strain of the waters. Then hands were on her, dragging her up and into the safety of the lowest branches, which grew in the shape of a platform.

"Are you injured?" asked the Ko, "I see...Your shoulder is damaged. I shall endeavor to--"

"It is not finished!" said the Raga, pointing into the distance.

"Hold fast," said the Onu, gripping them both with his large hands.

Another vast wave bulged up from the horizon and smashed against the Tree. They all heard it, felt the pain of it. The world was all red and black now, as the volcano flared up.

The Ga struggled to her feet with an effort and looked downward toward the base of the Tree. The Karda. Through the rising steam she could see it: the core was still submerged. Its light flickered beneath the waves. The Karda shall drown, she thought.

If it died, so would they, soon enough, and it would all be for nothing.

"The Vuata!" the Ga cried, pointing. "It is in danger!"

The Tree shuddered again.

"Its roots are deep," said the Onu. "But I am unsure."

"I did not foresee this," said the Ko miserably. His precious stars had been wiped away once more.

The Raga stared for a moment, down at the heart of the Tree, which she had commanded to be planted.

"I shall do it," she said slowly. "It falls to me. The Rule in Absence states that--"

The Ga had already dived from the branches, straight down into the crashing waves, where the Karda glowed blue-green and beat, beat like a heartlight, down into the place where vast energies pulsed against the onslaught of the elements, down amongst the roots of the Tree, where the Vo had been buried with her mask. The Ga fell into that place, and swam strongly, despite her injury, and pushed through...

And in those final moments, before her own core reinforced the Karda of the Tree with new energy, there was a little fear, but not much.

===

A Nui-Kahu flew through the high atmosphere, wheeling above the ocean. Below, a mess of islands spread across the surface of the silver sea, and the Toa of Earth that clung nauseously to the bird's back noted that they were clearly the result of past volcanic activity.

At the center of the ragged archipelago, a low cone was still visible above the waves. According to the Toa's briefing, this volcano had been disrupting the marginal sea-routes for many years, but only now had the Lord of the Continent seen fit to dispatch someone. Unfortunately, that someone was him.

The Rahi bird descended mercifully to the blackened shoreline, and the Toa slid off with relief. He stamped his feet a few times in the dirt to reassure himself and calm his motion-sickness. The Kahu squawked and looked at him disdainfully, flicking mud from its wings.

"Stay put, please," he clicked in the bird's language. "This shouldn't take too long."

The crater itself was only a short hike and a scramble up the irregular slope, but even before he had reached the scorched rim and looked down, he'd begun to suspect that his intel was a bit outdated. Although it had clearly been a very lively firespout in the past, the volcano was now quite dead. Not even a wisp of smoke rose from the blasted core below. The wind was dry and ashy in his mouth. He scratched his mask. Had this trip been for nothing, after all?

Reaching out with his elemental powers, he scried downwards into the depths, feeling out the placement of the earth, its layers stacked one atop the other, sensing out the places where it was cold and hard...and where it was hot, made pliable by the magmatic flows that crisscrossed the underside of the world.

There was nothing here. No heat. No pressure. Strange.

He shrugged and turned to go back down the slope. It would be a short mission report for his superiors in Metru Prynak after all...

Something caught his eye, off to the right, where the distant shoreline curved into a small bay. A shape stood out against the gray stone. In his Matoran days, the Toa had been a historian of sorts, although nothing so grand as the Archivists of the City of Legends. It wasn't really on his list of directives, but surely it wouldn't hurt to investigate this place thoroughly...

Another short hike brought him to the remains of a camp, likely Matoran in origin based on its size. The firepit and remains of a small shelter were all covered in a healthy layer of ashen dust, just like everything else on the island. More notable, however, was the standing stone that had been erected just up the slope from the encampment. This is what he had seen from above.

It was a rounded pillar carved from the volcanic rock of the island itself, clearly having been shaped with some skill--probably by a Po- or Onu-Matoran. On the surface of the pillar, many words were carved. He stooped and gently blew away the accumulated ash from the surface, then began to read:

"Omokulo the Earth-Tiller carved the words on this stone. Tykto divined by the stars that it would be read in this place, one day, and Raga Peyra commissioned its writing to complete the cycle."

The signature was a practice of the northern chroniclers and record-keepers, although phrased a bit archaically. He read on:

"This is the bio-chronicle of our cell, isolated from the Great Whole by the wrath of nature. Nevertheless, we have kept to our Duty, and followed the Rule in Absence."

The Rule in Absence...How long ago had this been written? There was only the Rule of Order now, after the Barraki and their Wars of Order. He scuffed his fingers along the stone, tasted the dust. Perhaps a century old, maybe more...

"We were six at first, and by the sixfold lot we chose an Elder, as the Rule in Absence requires. We raised the Suva for safekeeping, and the Vewa for shelter. Then we made provision for continued survival and labor, as the Rule in Absence requires. Therefore, Ka'o the Channeler initiated the making of Vuata."

He paused for a moment, amused at the word. These Matoran must have been from the central environs--or even from Metru Nui itself--to call it that. On the continent, they still preferred the archaic form, Vo-Ata, the Source of Energy...

"In the time that was to come, Vuata grew and became the body of our world, which sheltered and protected us. By Ka'o we offer this memory, and by Idda who went unto the Karda when it was threatened, though it broke the Rule in Absence. We offer this memory unto the Great Spirit. West from this pillar it can be seen. It will be with us always. It shall not be forgotten."

There was so much written here. Interesting to be sure, but too much to sift through. He focused and scanned the stone with his Mask of Memory instead, storing the visuals so that they could be more closely examined back home.

West from this pillar it can be seen. The line stuck in his mind. He turned and squinted toward the horizon. The sky was still bright at midday, and he cursed that he'd forgotten to bring the tinted lenses for his mask. Earth Toa weren't exactly known for their keen eyesight.

He walked back into the encampment. There seemed to be nothing else of interest for him here, and the day was getting on. Putting a finger to his mouth, he let out a shrill whistle and soon after the Nui-Kahu landed by the water nearby. He was preparing to mount up and begin the long, unpleasantly high-altitude journey back, when he stopped again.

Something was nagging at him. Something down there...beneath his feet. Deep in the earth, he could feel it now, or was it just his imagination?

Closing his eyes, he searched deeper. Not here...not there...no. Wait--there! A small source of heat in the bedrock, very deep. He traced it like a thread. Westward, out to sea.

But that wasn't all. There was something else down there too--something not made of earth. He could sense it by the absence it created, coiling around, following along the vein of magmatic pressure. The Kahu gave an unhappy screech as he abruptly waded into the surf to get a better read. Up to his waist, the waves buffeted him as he pushed his seismic senses to their limit. At last, he got a glimpse, saw the bigger picture. Yes, it was familiar.

Clouds covered the brightness of the sky for a moment, and his eyes snapped open. He could see a shape on the horizon. From above, he had thought it was just another island, maybe another volcano. But now he knew he was mistaken.

He returned to his flying mount and coaxed it back into the air. The scattered islands around the area were a wreck, washed clean by the violence of nature more than once...but never again, it would seem.

Vuata grew and became the body of our world

which sheltered and protected us.

Deep beneath the earth he had felt the stirring of roots, tangled in the veins and rivers of underground heat and drawing from their energy.

By Ka'o we offer this memory, and by Idda

who went unto the Karda when it was threatened

though it broke the Rule in Absence.

Mighty roots, choking the errant volcano into extinction and returning peace to the islands and the sea.

We offer this memory unto the Great Spirit.

West from this pillar it can be seen.

On the edge of the horizon it loomed, huge and unshakable. Dark branches lifted upward and outward across the ocean.

It will be with us always.

Scrape-scratch-scrape-scratch came the rapid noise as Shoyka tried to finish up. Scrape-scratch slither slither....

He cleared vents again with a loud pop of his breath. That sometimes seemed to delay the thing. Delay, but not stop. No resources for that. The pipes were too small for a Toa, too vital to be fully shut down. The engines of Metru Vel above could not halt for a moment. So instead, this.

He shouldered his pack, raised himself to a crouch. Listened.

Scrape-scratch slither slither scrape-scratch slither....

Blink-blink. All done!

Slither slither scrape...

Blink. Affirmed.

He shut off his headbeam, turned and braced awkwardly against the curved walls—another thing that was harder without hands. He began the ascent.

Slither slither scrape. There was a scuffling noise back down the pipe behind him. A sound of struggling.

He kept climbing, silently as he could.

Slither scrape slither, creeaaaak, POP.

Vents clearing, but not from a breath. The struggling stopped.

The top of his mask bumped against the handle of the hatchway, and he hooked into it, twisted.

Slither...slither...scrape...slither. Retreating now. A good day's work.

The hatch opened and out he went.

* * * * * *

Daystars were just shining when chimes came out of the Cinis Mai, declaring another start to Matoran Duties in the City of Secrets. He snapped awake and stepped outside his hexagonal Matoran cell. Cool air on his mask, and clear daylight. He missed these too, when he was below. Absurd...absurd. These had no part of his Duty. Why miss what was...useless...otherwise?

He made his way down, down into the crevices of the City, down to the staging area with all the others, where the labyrinth of pipes and drainage tubes and cooling vents began. He lined up to grab a headbeam and a pack, then went through the sanitation spray on the conveyer. The fluid stung his eyes and mouth. He blinked it away as he stepped up to the carving of Duty assignments: Corrosion Maintenance, same as yesterday. The old Turaga pointed him to his station beside the main hatchway, and he waited there for the next chime.

Soon afterward, Shoyka arrived. The Turaga gestured her over and she stood beside him. Her armor was glinting, smooth, mask polished clean. Like new, like a first day worker.... That's how it went. They didn't talk, but he smiled at her.

She nodded, but didn't smile back.

The chime came, and now they made their way down, back down into the pipes. Pipes that led who knows where and fed who knows what, just a tiny fragment of the machine that made up the City, the world.

Down into the systems that were too small for Toa, too vital to be shut down. His mask bumped against the hatch again as the two of them entered the tube, crouched together in the tiny space, tested the headbeams, and got to work. Shoyka took the higher end this time, closer to the hatch, while he took the lower. They switched back and forth like that, usually.

Scrape-scratch-chip. Cio after cio, bio after bio. The corrosion was even worse here. It took twice as long, and once he even chipped one of his scouring tools. It jarred into his nerves. Had to pull it off and replace it with an extra from the pack. More time lost.

Scrape-scratch-chip

Scrape-scratch-chip

Shoyka beamed down at him: Almost done. Will move to assist. He acknowledged.

Scrape-scratch-chip

Another few cio cleaned, move to the next section.

Scrape-scratch-chip

Scrape-scratch...slither—

His shoulders sagged, and he cleared vents in frustration. Time was up. Not a good day. Might be marked for inefficiency if this continued.

Two blinks from Shoyka, then one: You hear?

Affirmed.

Scrape-scratch-scrape-scratch. He attacked the rust, just a bit more, before....

Scrape-scratch slither slither

He stopped, looked up the pipe.

Slither scrape slither

The noise was coming from the higher end, past Shoyka—not from lower down like usual. The thing must've ranged further last night rather than returning to whatever deep hole it normally inhabited.

He sent a two-one: You hear?

Slither scrape slither

No response. Surely she heard.

Another two.

Slither slither slither

Affirmed, the reply came at last. A slow on, off. A slow blink of the headbeam....

Affirmed.

Slither scrape slither

He came upon her in the dark, scuttling himself back up the pipe double-time, and she startled for a moment. He handed her the pack, and his headbeam. No use wasting another. Her beam shone in his eyes as she took them slowly. Stood still for a moment. He squinted, couldn't make out her face.

Slither slither slither

The hatch sealed closed behind her. He stood alone in the pipe now, body and mask, joints and heartlight encrusted with Duty. The job would have to be finished later. After all, the engines of Metru Vel could not halt for a moment.

So instead, this.

Slither slither scrape

Scuffling.

Struggling.

Maybe he'd be back in time to catch the morning...feel the cool air....

And maybe, when he'd see her again...Ah, it was absurd, no part of his Duty...but he found that he had missed something else today.

When they'd met at the staging ground, waiting for the chime...he had smiled, but she hadn't.

He'd missed that.

Slither slither scrape

Creeaaaak