Tenchi Muyo! Universe #3
The Devil Within
by Ewen "Ryoga" Cluney

DISCLAIMER: Tenchi Muyo! Ryo-Ohki and the characters, places, 
etc. therein are trademarks of AIC/Pioneer LDC; this work is not 
intended to be a challenge to any such ownership, and may be 
distributed freely, in unmodified form.

     Author's Note: This story concerns Trakal, the Galaxy Police 
special operative from Tenchi Muyo! In Love. It takes place on 
Kazak, the homeworld of the Kizakans and capitol of the Galactic 
Federation, and occurs about a year before Ryoko's resurrection.

     Trakal lay in his quarters, thinking. He had been called 
many things over the course of his career in the Galaxy Police. 
Skilled, fearless, incredible.
     Monstrous.
     They called him the Man Who Would Not Die. He had an intui
tive sense for such things, and if he was going to die, he'd know 
it. Because of that, he didn't fear death. His total lack of fear 
made him all the more effective at what he did, which was impor
tant, since he had one of the most dangerous jobs in the GP. They 
say Special Section is only a rumor, but Trakal was living proof 
that Special Section was quite real; what no one realized was 
that it was a subdivision of the Special Investigation Unit. He 
reported directly to the High Commander and the Grand Marshall, 
and his job was to deal with particularly dangerous criminals, 
and occasionally carry out the sort of missions that the GP 
wasn't supposed to do. As such, his many missions had violated 
countless treaties and laws, and even the Galaxy Accords.
     If he chose to betray his superiors, he could likely bring 
the entire Galaxy Police down.
     But he wouldn't; the first and most important qualification 
for joining Special Section is unswerving loyalty.
     His train of thought was halted by the intercom beeping. The 
indicator, which normally gave the ID code of the caller, was 
blank, meaning he was most likely about to receive orders.
     Trakal stood up. "Onscreen. Access code, 'open sesame.'"
     A holomonitor appeared; on it was the face of the Grand 
Marshall.
     "Sir." Trakal said stiffly.
     "Shadow," said the Marshall, referring to Trakal by his 
codename, "your orders are as follows: Take a patrol shuttle to 
Kazak. The Teardrop Killer is believed to be active in the capi-
tol. Apprehend if possible. Understood?"
     Trakal nodded. "Understood."
     The monitor switched off. Trakal accessed his implanted 
computer, and brought up the file on the Teardrop Killer. Very 
little was known about this homicidal maniac. Age, sex, species, 
origin, all unknown. The Teardrop Killer had murdered over a 
hundred different people, including a few members of the Galactic 
Senate. The only clue, tears mixed with blood at the crime 
scenes.
     The Teardrop Killer had killed on dozens of worlds before, 
though never in the core worlds until now. It seemed improbably 
that such a thing could happen, but evidently not only had it 
happened, but it was enough of a problem for the Special Investi-
gation Unit to be called into action to deal with the situation.
     Trakal gathered his gear together, and departed.

     Kazak was a shimmering blue-green sphere in space. Despite 
having a population of over seven billion, it was one of the 
cleanest worlds in the galaxy.
     Trakal's shuttle glided into the dock of one of the many 
space stations that orbited the planet. As the final docking 
procedures were underway, he prepared his disguise, transforming 
himself into a young Kizakan GP officer.
     Once all of the docking clamps were in place and so on, 
Trakal proceeded into the station. Just as he stepped out of the 
shuttle and into the loading bay, a tech approached.
     "Welcome, detective." said the tech, without looking up from 
his computer pad. "May I see you ID card please?"
     Trakal handed him the false ID card.
     "Thank you." said the tech as he inserted the card. The pad 
made a beeping noise, and he returned the card. "That's that. 
Enjoy your stay."
     Trakal nodded. "Thank you."
     The Draalthi in Kizakan clothing proceeded into the main 
section of the station. The countless people there ignored him. 
Or, failing that, pretended to. Trakal was good at blending in 
with a crowd, a skill that had proved invaluable in his line of 
work.
     He took a transat shuttle downside, and in a matter of 
house, was on the streets of the capitol city of Kura. In this 
city was the Galactic Senate and the Galactic Council, the very 
heart of the single largest political entity ever conceived.
     And it was on these streets that a killer walked.
     Trakal accessed his internal computer as he wandered, and 
established a link with the satellite network. He very quickly 
found what he was looking for -- police reports. Crimes were few 
today, despite the size of the city, and it was easy to find the 
reports he was looking for. The Teardrop Killer had slain three 
people, all in the vicinity of the Senate building.

     While most planets maintain their own police forces for 
everyday law enforcement matters, Kazak was the capitol of the 
Galactic Federation, and as such its rare crimes were dealt with 
by a small force of Galaxy Police, most often rookies.
     Trakal, in the guise of a middle-ages civilian Kotami, 
walked up to the scene of the most recent example of the Teardrop 
Killer's handiwork. It was a real mess. A Kizakan child lay on 
the pavement, horribly mutilated. It was as though something had 
torn her torso apart from the front, scattering blood and en-
trails across the sidewalk. The girl's dead eyes looked up at the 
sky in terror.
     He watched the proceedings with grim fascination. The offi-
cers present, including a coroner from Medical Division, went 
about the sad business in silence. He could tell that all con-
cerned were about ready to lose their lunch. The only sound was 

one of sobbing.
     Looking for its source, Trakal saw a Kizakan woman, in 
civilian dress, on her knees crying. As he looked more carefully, 
he saw that the young corpse bore a significant resemblance to 
the woman, who was probably the child's mother or other close 
relative.
     She looked up at him, tears streaming down her face, and 
then flung herself at Trakal, wrapping her arms around him.
     "It was horrible!" she wailed, "She was so young!"
     Although he was far from the most caring person in the 
universe, he patted her on the back. After all, she appeared to 
be the only witness to the murder. "I know." he growled. "Who 
would do such a thing?"
     "I-I don't know." she murmured. "Katami just... just wanted 
to see the capitol! Why!? Why her?"
     They remained in the same pose for a while, until finally 
she looked up at him, and backed away a little.
     "I'm sorry," she managed "I-I don't even know you..."
     He rested his hands on her shoulders. "It's allright. You've 
suffered a great loss." He glanced backwards. "Who was she?"
     The woman force back tears. "Katami," she whispered. "my 
little girl... my daughter." She closed her eyes. "What am I 
going to do?"
     "I don't know," he said slowly, "but I'd like to do whatever 
I can to help."
     She managed a weak smile. "Thank you." The woman's sky-blue 
eyes shimmered. "I'm Kitashi... may I ask your name?"
     "Tenku." he said evenly; it was his cover name for this 
disguise, just as the Kizakan officer was called Iseten. Using 
his internal computer, he took a few audio-visual scans of her 
for later use.

     Kitashi explained that they had come on a short vacation 
here, to see tourist spots and such. She explained that she had a 
hotel room in a hotel of average size (for Kura, at any rate), 
and took Trakal there.
     When he asked her for the particulars of the incident, she 
became agitated. As it turned out, she didn't know; the attack 
had occurred with blinding speed and incredible ferocity.
     "Do you think they'll come after me?" she asked, ears 
twitching nervously every so often.
     "I don't know." he replied. "There's no way to tell with a 
murderer. Some are random, some are calculating fiends."
     "But here, on Kazak?"
     He had to be careful; one wrong move would sent her into 
tears again. "This planet isn't as secure as the government wants 
people to think."
     "Then what can we do?"
     Trakal accessed his internal computer. "I don't know." He 
contacted the satellite network, and brought up her file. "I can 
stay here if it would make you feel more safe."
     She nodded. "Please do."
     As the evening progressed, he sifted through her file. 
Kitashi was born on Taraga VI, daughter of a pair of retired 
spacers. After completing college, she got a job as an environ-
mental systems consultant, a job which required a great deal of 
travel. Somehow, she found the time to have a child (the file 
didn't make any mention of a father).
     The company's database yielded a psychological profile, 
which essentially said that she was stable, but could be pushed 
over the edge all too easily -- he'd have to watch that, espe-
cially under the current circumstances. Furthermore, she was 
overly trusting, something that he'd already experienced first-
hand; he had expected to have to do a lot of investigating, 
persuading, and so on, but instead the key witness had thrown 
herself at him.
     While he did this, he was watching vids with Kitashi. When 
he finished, she was fast asleep next to him. Trakal carefully 
picked her up and lay her down on the bed, spreading the covers 
over her. That done, he went back to his computer.
     The police had already filed the appropriate reports as to 
the results of their investigations. The other two murders today 
were even more mysterious; a Thurnian and a Valturis were simi-
larly mutilated. In both cases there were no witnesses.
     That left Trakal with only one lead for now, who was fast 
asleep. As such, his priority, for now, was to ensure her safety, 
in case her fears about the killer coming after her were justi-
fied.
     He thought back to the little girl, and tried to think of 
what weapon might have been used. It had looked like a mix of 

tearing and cutting. A living creature capable of doing that, 
especially with that speed, would have to be incredibly strong 
and equally fast for its size. Also, there were very few weapons 
that could've been used. Kinetic pulse blasters were unlikely, 
since they usually were considerably slower than that, and since 
Kitashi could still hear, sonic weaponry was a very remote possi-
bility.
     Which left the one thing he had been hoping he wouldn't have 
to deal with; Strange Powers. In all likelihood, Trakal was 
dealing with something that had some sort of kinetic manipulation 
or similar power. That meant he could easily have one hell of a 
fight on his hands.
     Trakal stood up, and walked over to the window. Outside was 

the vast city. He could see the lights of the tall buildings, the 
aircraft that rose, circled, or landed, and the occasional ground 
vehicle or train.
     The fur on the back of his neck tingled. Spinning around, 
Trakal was slammed into by something. The glass behind him shat-
tered, and an instant later, he was falling towards the ground.
     Fortunately, as was normally the case, Trakal was wearing 
his espionage battlesuit. He spun in the air until he was up-
right, and kicked in the antigravity system.
     He landed neatly on his feet, jumped back, and scanned the 
area in several different optics modes; nothing.
     "Damn." he growled.
     Out of nowhere, something struck him in the side. Trakal 
rolled, and came back up. It was quickly becoming apparent that 
whatever he was dealing with, it was either invisible, or had no 
physical form. "I won't go down that easily." he muttered, taking 
a step back.
     Trakal waited. And waited. But nothing happened.

     Kitashi woke up to see the Kotami sitting there, where he'd 
been the night before. She sat up. "Tenku? Did you stay up all 
night?"
     Trakal nodded. "I had little choice."
     She gasped. "You mean..."
     He stood up. "The Teardrop Killer came here. It came after 
me." he said slowly.
     Her jaw dropped. "Were you hurt?"
     He shook his head. "Tell me something, Kitashi, have you 
ever been to Torant II?"
     She looked confused. "Well, yes, about a year ago, but..."
     Trakal smiled; the last piece of the puzzle.
     "Wha... what...?"
     He looked at Kitashi; she was cowering now. "I know what the 
Teardrop Killer is now."
     She was dumbfounded.
     "I did some checking. You were present in the vicinity of 

every murder the Teardrop Killer has ever committed." he contin-
ued. "Given the nature of the murders and other factors, that 
leaves only one explanation; you are a wild esper, a psychic, and 
the Teardrop Killer lives inside your mind."
     "N-no... i-it can't be..." she stammered.
     "My mission is to apprehend the killer." Trakal pulled off 
the mask, revealing his own features.
     "NO!" she screamed. Every window in the room shattered, and 
all the small objects in the room began to levitate and circle.
     Trakal set his battlesuit's hand blaster to anti-heat, and 
fired, only to have his arm knocked out of the way, probably by 
psychokinesis. A number of blasts struck the walls, peppering the 
white surface with ice crystals. He jumped and weaved, as the 
levitating objects began to whirl faster and faster, and suddenly 
he seemed to slam into a wall that wasn't there.
     Reeling, he felt is body being wrenched in every direction 
at once. This must've been how the other victims died, torn apart 
like so much paper. But Trakal would not die from this.
     Straining every muscle in his body, to say nothing of the 
battlesuit's systems, he raised his hand, and fired. In a matter 
of seconds, Kitashi encased in ice. The forces tearing at him 
stopped, and the floating objects fell from mid-air.
     It was over.

     "Report." said the Marshall stiffly.
     "The Teardrop Killer was actually a manifestation of the 
powers of a very potent wild esper, a Kizakan woman named Kitashi 
Atsuno. I have apprehended her, and she is currently in stasis at 
GP station two."
     The Marshall nodded slowly. "Anything to add?"
     "She is to be considered highly unstable and potentially 
dangerous, especially since her powers killed her own daughter."
     "I see. Any personal observations?"
     Trakal shook his head. "No."
     The Marshall reached for his console. "Are you made of 
stone?"
     Trakal gave a sarcastic smile. "I do my job."

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by Ewen "Ryoga" Cluney (ryoga_hibiki@hotmail.com)
Tenchi Muyo! Universe Home Page:
http://www.geocities.com/Tokyo/6127/tenchi.html

Beware of pandas carrying signs.
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