========================================================================= DISCLAIMER: This is one part of a multi-part story. It has been modified as a .txt document for the Tenchi Muyo! Fan Fiction Archive (www.tmffa.com) and can be viewed with its original bold/italics at FanFiction.Net (www.fanfiction.net). "Tenchi Muyo!", Washu, and all related images and properties are (c) Pioneer and AIC Animation. This is a work of fan-fiction. The author has received no monterary compensation. Any attempt to profit from this document in any way is punishable by law. To leave feedback, send fan-art, or make arrangements to host this fic on your website, please contact me at takisjoh@msu.edu ========================================================================= WASHU'S LULLABY A "Tenchi Muyo!" Novel by John Takis ========================================================================= - PART I - THE FOUNDLING ========================================================================= From the sky, and from the sea Upon a breeze you came to me ... The storm had passed, but it had left a refugee, and the Reverend Mother stared in amazement at the spectacle, almost unaware of the muddy vestiges of rain that pooled between her toes. She had been roused from her bed by the quick jerks and urgent whispers of her young attendants, who had followed her out into the wake of the storm, heedless of the mud that now spotted their white habits, seemingly immune to the wind that slapped at their veils. They formed an irregular semicircle in front of the Monastery's main hall, staring in awed silence towards the sky. The clouds had begun to part, and a broad shaft of yellow sunlight now illuminated the tiny figure that was hovering, quiescent, twelve feet above the ground. It was a child, perhaps no more than a few years old, swathed in purple robes, its shoulders encircled by an ornate golden collar, with a delicate tiara adorning a fantastically lush head of spiky, pinkish hair. Strangest of all was a triad of brilliant red gems, which seemed to be hovering in front of the infant's chest. The Reverend Mother was ancient -- so ancient that her name had long ago fallen into disuse, so that no one living remembered. It was said she had been a part of the original Jurai expansion, that she been at the monastery during its founding. That half of the gardens and agricultural zones the monastery maintained had been built from the ground up by this singular figure. And yet, for all her years, she had never seen anything so remarkable as the vision that now floated before her. An intricate network of fine lines and wrinkles deepened around her thin eyes. Leathery lips twitched. The Reverend Mother knew a miracle when she saw one. Even so, when miracles became real, they had to be dealt with. Intuitively, the Reverend Mother moved directly beneath the child and raised her arms. As if in unspoken communication with the heavens above, the sleeping child floated gently down into the old woman's tender embrace. The gems fell from their suspension, and the Reverend Mother caught them in one hand while she cradled the infant in the other. She pocketed the stones and examined the small figure at length. "It's a girl child," she said at last. "Alive, apparently healthy." There was a flutter of activity as the novices moved in to get a closer look. One of the girls stroked the babe's cheek. Another ran a hand through the feathery hair. "Like the great eagle's plumage," the novice whispered. "What's to be done with her?" another asked. The Reverend Mother's forehead wrinkled in concern. "Did anyone approach the sanctuary during the storm?" There was a chorus of negatives. The old woman pursed her lips thoughtfully. "I will care for the child for the time being," she announced. "Sanya," she said, motioning to one of the novices. The girl stepped up eagerly. "Go into Kanemitsu. See if anyone is missing or has recently seen a child of this description. Get records of every pregnancy or birth in the last five years. If this child has parents, I want them found." She gazed sadly at the sleeping child. "This little one cannot be more than three years of age. We may have another candidate for the orphanage." Sanya bowed. "Yes, Reverend Mother," she whispered. She departed instantly, and the Reverend Mother knew she would carry out her instructions to the letter. When the child woke, it made no sound, merely staring up at her benefactors with wide and somber eyes that were an exquisite, vibrant jade. She was carried inside, fed and bathed, and living space was prepared. Several days passed while Sanya searched the town. A week later, a report was filed with the Juraian authorities. They gave the child the surname Hakubi, after the monastery at which she was found, and she was called Washu, which means "eagle feather." * * * Tens of thousands of years before the time of Tenchi Masaki, the Galactic Union did not yet exist. Civilization consisted of small alliances of planetary systems, largely isolated from one another. The technology which would enable interplanetary conflict was still untested and undeveloped, and wars were few. While petty hostility existed between minor powers, this was a time when the great nations turned their sights outward, to the vast, unclaimed reaches of space. It was a time of pioneers. As time passed, countless alliances were founded, developed, and ultimately ruined -- lost to the vagaries of space and time. But the consequence of this expansion was that intelligent life spread throughout the galaxy, and over time, two major powers emerged. One was the Federation of Jurai. The other was the Seniwa Alliance. Each nation possessed sophisticated technology and a formidable capacity for space travel. If united, they could have formed the core of a galaxy-wide federation. Unity, however, existed only as a dim hope in the minds of very few. Cold War mentality prevailed. And while these two were the most dominant powers in the galaxy, they were a long way from dominating it absolutely, especially in the face of the growing wave of piracy that was sweeping the galaxy. Washu was found in such times. The planet of her finding was called Kanemitsu. Located at the fringes of Jurai territory, it was a fertile bastion of agriculture and food- production: an invaluable resource for a growing empire, and a prominent target for space pirates and rogue nations. And so, a third-generation Royal tree was transplanted from planet Jurai as a protective measure. Given the sensitive nature of the planet, it was not surprising that Jurai took a special interest in its latest young citizen and the baffling manner of her appearance. Officials from the Royal Science Academy arrived in numbers to examine the child. In spite of their many tests, they could find no trace of supernatural powers in the ebullient girl, or her gems. Reports were filed, documents were signed, and the delegation departed, officially consigning Washu to the care of the Reverend Mother and the frontier orphanage she and her sisters maintained. "You're a very special child," the Reverend Mother would whisper late at night. "A gift from the gods." And then she would sing a gentle lullaby in front of a smoldering fire, rocking little Washu to sleep. And if little Washu did not mingle well with the other children, if she spent most of the time quiet and isolated, and preferred the company of adults, it was never viewed as a cause for great concern. The girl had been abandoned, after all. It was only natural that there should be some slight abnormalities of behavior. It was a happy, if uneventful, childhood. Several years passed in this fashion before the first irregularities began to manifest. * * * It began on a cold Autumn day. A clammy wind blew from the west, carrying with it the subtle scent of the nearby sea. The harvest season had only recently ended. The monastery's earthen dormitories stood surrounded by desolate fields, barren and waiting for the cold touch of snow. Likewise, the trees around the abbey and adjoining places of meditation seemed to hang upwards, like gnarled, many-jointed hands raised in grim supplication. In anticipation of winter, most of the harvesters had been brought in. They were large machines, about three meters high; squat, hill-shaped constructs with a saddle-like depression on the top for manual operation. A few remained in the fields to recondition the soil for the coming frosts. It was to one such machine in one such field that the Reverend Mother came that day. Honora -- one of the senior sisters, a heavy-set woman with jet-black hair -- had approached her a few minutes earlier, very flustered, and babbling urgently about a broken harvester. "Send a message to the town mechanic," the Reverend Mother had grunted. "Thufeer, isn't it?" "I'm afraid he'll need to do more than a quick repair," Honora had replied. "It's Little Washu." The Reverend Mother had set down her prayer book and looked up sharply. "Is she harmed?" Honora shook her head, but her bewilderment had remained. "She's ... well, how do I put this ... She wandered away from the other children and ... disassembled it." The Reverend Mother stumped up to the field, there to be stunned by the sight that awaited her. Washu was sitting in the dirt, her back to the Reverend Mother. The four-year old girl was encircled by a radius of metal plates, screws, gears and other skeletal harvester parts. "How did she do this?" the Reverend Mother asked. "How did she get out here? How could she possibly ..." "I don't know," Honora replied. "I'd left the harvester here overnight. When I arrived this morning, it wouldn't start. So I walked back to the garage and called Thufeer. He gave me some instructions, and I walked back here. It was like this when I arrived. She ... she hasn't moved. She wouldn't speak to me. I thought ..." The Reverend Mother walked forward slowly. Washu continued to face away, bent and huddled forward, her arms wrapped around her waist. The Reverend Mother leaned over the girl. "What's the matter, child?" she asked softly. Washu did not respond. Looking closer, the Reverend Mother saw that the girl's arms were not empty. She had folded herself around something small and pale. "What do you have there? What have you found?" She reached out and placed a hand on Washu's shoulder. The touch seemed to stir something in the child, and she turned her wide, innocent face up towards the Reverend mother. Then she offered up the bundle she had been cradling. It was a small animal with light tan fur and thin ears. It had obviously been dead for some time: it's spine was twisted and bent unnaturally, and it's tiny body bore oily imprints where gears had crushed and pinched. "Did you find that in the harvester?" the Reverend Mother whispered. "I was thinking," Washu said. Her voice was calm and measured, startlingly so for a girl her age. "What is wrong with it?" The Reverend Mother squatted low, placing one hand on the child's shoulder and gently taking the unfortunate creature in the other. "It is dead, child." The girl's tiny mouth bent itself into a frown. "What is dead?" The Reverend Mother sat quiet for a long time before speaking. "No one knows what 'dead' means, daughter. The body just ... stops working, sending the soul on its unknown journey." "Oh," Washu said. The Reverend Mother examined Washu, stroking the child's cheek with one callused finger. The small face betrayed no emotion. "You can cry, you know," she said. "It's all right. I'm here." "It is dead," Washu repeated simply. And then the little girl rose, turned, and began walking back towards the abbey. There were no tears, and that evening the Reverend Mother reflected that their had never been tears with Washu. She took the dead creature to an old tree in her private garden and buried it there. That night it snowed; wet, fat drops that covered the ground in a killing frost. * * * "Do you notice," Sanya remarked that Spring, gathering up the day's linen, "that Washu does not cry?" "Of course I have noticed," the Reverend Mother chided from her stool. "Do you know how many children I've observed over the years?" Sanya did not. They were sitting in the rectory kitchen. The evening sun bled in through the wide spaces which had been cut out of the earthen wall. "It occurred to Honora today that this might be a serious problem ... that it's possible that the child is unable to feel pain, and might do herself some injury." The old woman shook her head. "Only yesterday, the little darling burned herself on the hot stove. She knew it was hurting her. She even cried out from the pain. But there were no tears. She just sat there, sucking her fist while I prepared a salve." There was a soft scrape of cushioned feet on stone from just outside the kitchen door, and the Reverend Mother turned her head sharply. "Washu?" There was silence. Sanya wrinkled her brow. "Shouldn't she be in the dormitory?" This elicited a definite giggle from the darkened doorway. The Reverend Mother made her face a mask of disapproval, and struggled to push herself off of the stool. "Little Washu ..." she began in a stern voice. But it was too late. In a blur of tiny legs, the five-year old girl tore through the kitchen and into the sitting room, the two women hurrying after. The girl was tugging at the handle to the outside door. "What do you think you're doing?" the Reverend Mother asked firmly. A pair of perfectly innocent eyes turned back towards the adults. The girl made a choppy motion with one hand. "Out." The Reverend Mother shook her head. "No. This is not the time for little girls to be running about outside. This is a time for little girls to go to bed. What a bad example you're setting for the others!" Washu made a small, dismissive noise and returned to tugging at the door, stumbling over her booted pajama bottoms. The old woman sighed and wiped at her forehead. "She's been just impossible lately," she murmured to Sanya. "Impossible to control. Like she's growing out of her skin. I don't know what to do with her." "I'll get her, Mother," Sanya said. She reached out for the little girl, but was forced to quickly withdraw her hand from ferociously snapping teeth. "Washu!" Sanya cried, scandalized. Washu broke down into a frenzy of giggling. The Reverend Mother advanced on the girl, glowering angrily. "Young lady! This is not a thing to laugh about! How dare you disrespect your elders!" Far from remorseful, Washu only giggled louder, and now a sly look appeared in her eyes. Exasperated, the Reverend Mother reached down and seized the little girl by one arm. She was shocked when there was a loud ripping sound and the arm shot upwards faster than she could pull ... along with the rest of the little girl, who had suddenly gotten much too big for her pajamas. Sanya screamed in terror. The Reverend Mother, normally unflappable, stumbled backwards, jaw agape, hand clutching at her chest. A young woman in her twenties (unclothed) stood triumphantly in the door- way, a tiny pair of torn blue pajamas at her feet. The woman stared in fascination and delight at her new body for several seconds, then once more broke down into peals of childish laughter. Then she was out the door. Sanya and the Reverend Mother were able to track the fleeing woman's progress by following the shocked screams and outbreaks of loud laughter. At the end of the trail was a naked little girl, rolling hysterically on a mound of hay inside the western barn. * * * The man did not look happy to be sitting in the monastery's Great Hall. In fact, he looked exceedingly skeptical. His eyebrows sloped low beneath a tall forehead that was fringed by dullish purple hair. He adjusted his ornate green and gold tunic -- which bore the emblem of someone in the service of Jurai royalty -- and scrunched his eyes tightly, peering through the pair of tiny circular glasses that perched on the bridge of his nose. Across from him sat Washu, barely big enough to see over the top of the table. Sanya sat at the girl's right, the Reverend Mother at her left, like bookends. Together, the pair of adults faced the Tester with a courteous solemnity. "You say she can do this thing at will?" the man repeated. "Yes, noble sir," Sanya said. "May I see?" The Reverend Mother bent over to the wide-eyed girl next to her. "Now, Washu, darling," she whispered. "Show the nice gentlemen what we practiced." "Don't forget to concentrate on your clothing," Sanya said with a nervous smile. Her idea had been to pre-dress the child in adult clothes, but the Reverend Mother had insisted that Washu be allowed to demonstrate the full extent of her powers as they had revealed themselves over the weeks. The girl nodded. She squeezed her eyes shut, and for a moment nothing happened. Then there was a tiny shift, and Sanya caught her breath as there was a queer shifting of air and vision. The man's eyes widened in surprise as he found himself sitting directly opposite what could only be described as a fairy-tale come to life. It was a full-grown woman of exquisite beauty. She wore a long red dress, trimmed with gold after the fashion of Jurai royalty. A green clasp rested on each shoulder, and a sparkling tiara adorned a crown of bountiful deep red hair. The woman wore a broad, self-satisfied smile as she examined the outfit. he thought in wonderment. He realized he'd been holding his breath. He let it out with a low whistle through his teeth. "Very impressive. And she can shift back at will also?" The Reverend Mother nodded. "Turn back for the gentleman, Washu." The woman's maturely proportioned face contorted into a childish pout, and the older woman raised a warning finger. "You're not too big to spank." There was a frustrated sigh and another , and the blinking man once more found himself looking at a small child. "Amazing," he said. "Have you noticed any other irregularities?" "She's immensely intelligent," the Reverend Mother said. "She's not very talkative now, but her grasp of languages is astounding considering her age. She's also taken a special interest in technology. We don't have much out here -- we do most of the work by hand and with the help of local beasts of burden -- but there's some farming equipment. And, of course, our communications center." "What about the other children?" "Nothing out of the ordinary. It appears to be an isolated phenomenon." The man rubbed his chin thoughtfully, then made a motion at the wooden sphere that floated over his left shoulder. The Juraian device obediently moved forward, producing a small glowing screen that appeared to hover in the air. He reached up with one hand and began manipulating the screen. "I'm upgrading the girl --" "Washu," the Reverend Mother corrected. "Hakubi Washu to a Class C supernatural rating. I'll also schedule yearly aptitude tests. She just might have a future in the Royal Academy." The women beamed. Washu looked curious. "That's not a promise, mind you. Any decisions on that scale would be up to the noble houses. And it would be an incredible honor. But this is an unusual case. That's why I'm making these recommendations, you understand?" "We understand," the Reverend Mother said proudly. "But if you cannot guarantee that my little Washu will meet your requirements, I can. I promise you, there is more to her than you can see. This is only the beginning." * * * The Reverend Mother's faith proved justified. Over the next decade, Washu received instruction from a large host of teachers and friends. The nuns made Washu their special project, banding together to provide a nurturing, loving environment and a stable home. The town, enamoured with the honorable attention being paid their humble colony, placed all its resources at the disposal of the girl-prodigy's education. Years went by, and the tests and official visits continued. In four years, Washu completed a basic program which normally took ten. At the age of ten, her classification was upgraded to "genius." At the age of fifteen, she had waived the Royal Science Academy entrance exam, and was granted a scholarship with a recommendation to the Department of Philosophy -- the Academy's most prestigious division. Word spread far and wide about the girl genius who had fallen from Heaven and into the bosom of Royal Jurai. When it finally came time for Washu to leave the planet which had been her home, she would do so as an interplanetary celebrity. * * * One evening when Washu was only seventeen, the Reverend Mother entered her charge's room to a spectacle such as she had not seen since Washu's finding. The entire room was lit with a soft multiflorous glow, the plain walls and book-filled shelves covered over with dancing, kaleidoscopic patterns. Washu herself knelt at the foot of her bed. She was staring raptly at a bottle resting upright on the bed-sheets. It was from inside this bottle that the lights originated: three pinpoints of color that orbited each other in a lazy dance. "Washu," the Reverend Mother whispered, stepping into the room. "That's beautiful. What are they?" The teenager looked up at her adoptive mother. "They're universes," she said softly. The Reverend mother knelt down next to her daughter. "Universes?" "Yes." Washu's gaze turned back to the bottle. "Well ... sort of. Not in the way you think, exactly. More like new dimensions. But they're real." "How do you know all this?" "I created them," she said matter-of-factly. They stared at the dancing lights in silence for several minutes. At last Washu spoke. "I'm stronger than Class C," she said. "Much stronger." "How much stronger?" the Reverend Mother asked quietly. "I don't know." Something like worry appeared on her young face. "I think I'm afraid to find out." The Reverend Mother reached out in sympathy, gathering the girl into her protective arms. "My sweet Washu," she said in hushed, soothing tones. "There's nothing to be afraid of." The words and the gesture did not nothing to comfort the girl. "Yes there is," she whispered. The intensity of her voice caused something inside the Reverend Mother to go cold. "Something terrible," Washu continued. "Sometimes ... sometimes when I think about it ... this place I know I can go ... I hear a voice." "What does it tell you?" the Reverend Mother whispered. "It tells me that bad things will happen." The Reverend Mother ran a gentle hand through Washu's hair, her voice thick with concern. "Do you know this voice, dear child?" Washu nodded, her face grim. "It's my own voice." The old woman held the girl closer. They sat, together, kneeling at the foot of the bed, holding each other tightly and letting the light play off their features. Washu did not cry -- she never cried -- and after a while the tension and fear began to melt away. Two weeks later, on the eve of Washu's eighteenth birthday, a royal transport came to collect its newest passenger. The next time Washu set foot on Kanemitsu it would be to pay her final respects. * * * Washu knew she would see the planet again. She did not know when. Getting into the Royal Academy was difficult, she had heard. She had also heard it was even more difficult to leave. she thought. But that didn't make the sensation of loss go away. She had no doubt that she was leaving something behind. Home, maybe. Childhood. It filled her with trembling anticipation. She knew next to nothing about her future, and less about her past. She thought she had felt something like this before ... this sense of leaving her old life behind, rushing towards the future ... the sensation was not altogether unfamiliar. This vaguely disturbed her. But there was nothing to be done. She slipped one hand into her pocket and casually fingered her blood-red gems. They felt warm beneath her skin, and she sank further into the large chair. The lights were dim in her VIP quarters. She had done it intentionally, preferring the starlit void of space to the spacious emptiness of the cabin. The small stack of bags and suitcases huddled in the corner would be with her for a while. But she did not know when she would have such a clear view of the receding star that had been her sun for fifteen years. Some light did bleed into the darkened room from the open doorway, outlining the shadow of her bodyguard. He was Jurai, wearing flowing white robes and carrying a tall staff at attention. Obviously well- trained, he stood as rigid and motionless as an alabaster statue. Even so, it was hard for Washu to ignore the man's presence. "You know, I don't need a bodyguard," she called out. "This is a Jurai ship, right?" The man turned in her direction. "This is wild space," he said gruffly. "The Shank Guild operates in this sector, and a Jurai Courier is an easier target than Kanemitsu's planetary defenses." "Do you really think they'll try anything?" "It is a possibility." "Oh," Washu said. "I'm not that important, am I?" There was no response, and she allowed herself a small grin. "Of course I am," she told herself. "I'm going to be the greatest scientific genius in the universe." She peered out at the shifting starscape, watching Kanemitsu growing ever more distant. Then she frowned. There was something strange about the way the stars were shifting. As they twisted, some of them seemed to wink out for a moment before snapping back into existence. For a moment, it looked like chaos, but her analytical eyes soon began to sense a pattern. It was almost like ... She sat bolt upright in her chair. "There's something --" She was cut off by an explosion that rocked the ship and threw her out of the chair and onto the hard deck. She looked up, gritting her teeth in fear and anger. Bright, ruby-orange lances pierced the darkness of space to impact somewhere above the wall-length window before her. Squinting, she traced the spikes back to their points of origin. Sure enough, the temporary flicker exposed the faint outlines of mid-sized starships. "Pirates!" she cried out. "They've painted their hulls black. Probably been riding our inertial field to mask their signal. Can you --" There was a strangled cry from behind her. She turned to see her bodyguard grappling with another man, this one shorter, wrapped in a dirty brown tunic fortified with black, metallic body armor. The pirate had a long knife, which he had used to force back the Jurai warrior's staff so that it hung in the air above the two men. The bodyguard made a slashing motion, twisting the staff downward so that it forced the knife to one side. His foot leapt up at the intruder. But the intruder was no longer there. He had released his blade and dodged in the opposite direction. Lightning-quick, he lunged forward, raising his right arm and driving his elbow into the Jurai bodyguard's exposed throat. There was a horrible sound of cracking cartilage, and the warrior's eyes rolled up in his head. He fell, slumped against the door- way. In one swift, fluid motion, the pirate had reached into the Juraian's robes, retrieved his pistol, and trained it on Washu. Or rather, where Washu had been. She had not wasted the precious seconds her bodyguard had given her. Diving to the far side of the bed, she had torn open one of her suitcases and was frantically digging through it. "Where are you?" she hissed. Then her fingers closed around a slim vial, and she smiled. She pulled it out, and the vitriolic liquid within bubbled and churned, an unhealthy shade of green. "This stuff worked on night panther optical sensors. Let's see what it does to humans," she whispered. With a loud cry of defiance, she leapt up into view. She instantly fell back in surprise. She hadn't expected the pirate to be so close. It worked to her advantage, however. With a quick swipe, she knocked the blaster muzzle aside. The beam that would have cut her in two bounced against the reflective window behind her and forced her assailant to duck for cover as it ricocheted around the room. Washu had already calculated the precise trajectory of the beam and memorized the layout of the room. With what she thought was a fearsome war cry, she leapt onto the bed, narrowly avoiding the rebounding beam. She reached one hand up to the purple headband she wore, yanking it down and pulling it tight across her eyes. Her other hand pressed a small button on top of the vial she clenched. She threw it down to where the pirate was scrambling to recover. Even as the bouncing beam destroyed the muzzle of the blaster, the vial she had thrown shattered, and within seconds a thick, dark gas had all but filled the room. Washu, both blinded and protected by her headband, leapt off of the bed and ran for where she knew the doorway was. Behind her, she could hear horrible shrieking, and she grinned in satisfaction. She cleared the body of her would-be protector in one easy leap, then, still blindfolded, tore off down the corridor to where the clear air was. But before she stopped running, she slammed into someone -- hard. There was a tumble of arms and legs, and she was on her back, staring up. The impact had dislodged her headband, and a moment later, a tall Juraian with blue-black hair was helping her to her feet. He wore the gold-laced tunic and rank insignia of a noble. "Who are you?" Washu demanded. The man bowed slightly. "I am Tatsuki Nishia of Jurai," he said quickly. "We are under attack --" "I can see that we're under attack. Are we losing?" He shook his head. "We were prepared for this contingency." She snorted. "Evidently not prepared enough. My bodyguard is severely injured -- maybe dead! How is that 'prepared' ?" Nishia's frown deepened. "This ship houses two imperial cores. We are capable of generating Light-Hawk Wings. They have been successfully deployed, and will protect us until the reserve fleet arrives." "Light-Hawk Wings, eh? And they've been deployed, you say?" "Yes, my lady." Washu flung her arms wide in frustration. "Then how the blazes did an intruder get into my quarters?" His eyes widened in shock. "An intruder, my lady?" "Of course, you idiot! You don't think I was running from nothing, do you?" >From behind her came an inarticulate shriek of rage. She spun around. Her assailant stood there, eyes red and bloody, his chest heaving in fury. In his hands he clenched the fallen guard's staff. In a flash, Nishia had stepped in front of her and ignited his saber. He sneered grimly at the pirate. To Washu's eyes, they seemed to move faster than should have been possible, lunging at each other like wild dogs. Saber met staff in a flurry of lightning-swift blows. It looked more like a chemical reaction than a duel. Then it was over. Nishia was back in front of Washu, his opponent bleeding and beaten against the wall of the corridor. The pirate screamed and cast aside the staff, reaching towards his chest and tearing open his tunic. Washu's eyes widened in alarm. "Look out!" she screamed. "It's a detonat--" Her warning was lost in an explosion so ferocious she thought it would tear the bulkheads apart. With a cry of fear, she flung up her arms and closed her eyes in a futile instinctive gesture of self-preservation. A shock wave threw her backwards, and she prepared herself for pain. But the pain did not come. For a long moment, she rested against the wall, feeling Nishia's body across her right leg, afraid to move. Then she opened her eyes and gasped. Several meters down the hall, what remained of the pirate had been pounded into the bent and buckling metal that surrounded him. At her feet lay Nishia, alive and also staring in dumb- founded amazement. Between them and the epicenter of the blast hovered three Light-Hawk Wings ... blazing, pulsating shafts of material light. They glowed brilliantly for a moment, and then vanished. "By Tsunami ... the power of the Light-Hawk!" Nishia breathed. "But how ... that shouldn't be possible. It must have been the ship ... somehow, it must have ... it's the only explanation ..." Washu nodded mutely and struggled to her feet. Nishia ran to a nearby communications port. He punched in a code and watched as lines of data scrolled across the panel. "We're on the move again," he told her. "The reserve fleet has arrived. They'll clean up these Shank scum. We'll be at the Academy within hours. Let's get you someplace safe." "Of course," Washu said, still slightly dazed, "Of course," and she followed him quietly down the corridor. She was too distracted to notice the three gems glowing hotly in her pocket. ========================================================================= CONTINUED IN: Washu's Lullaby - Part II: The Student =========================================================================