The Light Blue Jumper Page 3

  Quite fortunately, Lieutenant Salaar had the presence of mind to safeguard my extremities when things got muddled up during the jump. For some strange reason, I had jumped in different directions, at the same time. My arms and legs had gone off to the right, while the rest of me had jumped left. Could it have been the result of a poor sense of direction? I wondered.

  I was reassembled in the medical bay by a team of doctors. Other than a slight limp and a lazy arm, I was relatively unscathed. They were all wondering what had happened. “We will be running some tests on you, Zaaro. We haven’t seen this kind of reaction to a jump before. We’ve had instances of people landing in the wrong place, or at the wrong time, or even as the wrong person, but never this,” the leader of the team said, shaking his head. At my look of disbelief, he elaborated, “Madam emerged as Lieutenant Salaar once and we had to jump back and revert to our original coordinates to remedy the situation, or at least try to,” he mumbled. As I tried to process the information, he carried on, “Most likely that it worked. But you can never say one hundred per cent. Jumping isn’t what it’s made out to be. Nobody ever reads the fine print. I am The Good Doctor by the way,” he concluded, holding out his hand. I examined it politely and complimented him on it, not sure what else to do. Then I tweaked his rather long nose in greeting. He smiled in response; small, dark, beady eyes crinkling behind his thick, black framed glasses. I twirled his majestic silver handlebar moustache next and patted his bald, white head, cementing our friendship. He was a little too tall to be called handsome but he was a fine-looking gentleman by all other accounts.

  6. Lieutenant Salaar

  We had successfully made the jump and saved ourselves from the IPF missiles. If we had lingered a few more minutes, we would have been fried. It was Zaaro’s timely warning that had saved us. Speaking of Zaaro, his reaction to the jump was something I had never seen before. It almost seemed like his body was making a jump independently of the ship. But that wasn’t possible. It was a lot more likely that he had been seated at the vortex of the jump and the pressure was too much for his body to bear. It was fortunate for him that in the ensuing confusion, I had managed to secure his limbs as they sailed towards me. I said a silent prayer of gratitude that he was from Zaaron; otherwise it would have been a grisly end for the poor fellow. Natives of Zaaron are full of hot air the way most other races carry liquid inside.

  I decide to check in on Zaaro after I finished my security rounds of the ship to see whether he knew more about what had just happened to him.

  7. The Good Doctor

  The Zaaronian patient was unique. His tests showed that he had a real aversion to danger. If he sensed danger, he went off in the opposite direction immediately. He had a heightened sense of self-preservation, if you will. Most evolved species share that instinct, most of the time. If I saw someone coming at me with an axe, I too would hotfoot it in the opposite direction. However, Mr Nian’s case was different.

  As soon as his body sensed mortal danger it saw to delivering him to a safer place, without any conscious decision on his part. It was as natural to it as breathing. His sensory perception was a million times what other species had and his body had the ability to transport itself across any amount of space to save him. He was a trans-space-hopping escape artist. In short, what was colloquially known as a Jumper.

  I called a meeting with Lieutenant Salaar and Madam in order to discuss my findings. As they walked in to my office, I motioned for them to take a seat at my genuine rosewood desk, polished lovingly to a soft sheen. Despite Madam’s opposition, I had modelled my office after a picture I had seen in the Inter-Galactic Monthly Antiquities magazine. It had cost a small fortune but my research grants were generous enough to cover the creation of a conducive atmosphere for ground-breaking research, which I did on an almost daily basis. “What I am about to tell you is astounding, to say the least, and must not leave this room,” I warned. They assured me of their cooperation and agreement, so I began my detailed explanation.

  “The Zaaronian is a Jumper,” I paused for effect, but when I realised that the reaction was somewhat muted amongst the audience, I hastened to explain, “and I do not mean of the knitted variety.” Madam was the first to speak, “Jumpers are extinct.” Lieutenant Salaar interrupted, “If they ever existed in the first place.”

  “I too thought that Jumpers were the stuff of myth and legend and it is a fact that it has never been conclusively proven that such a power exists within any race, let alone the natives of Zaaron, until today,” I said with confidence. “But my tests do not lie. He is what he is. He jumped at precisely the same time as the ship, thus causing the unfortunate self-dismemberment. The interesting thing is that he does not even know it himself, and for the sake of his own safety, I would like to keep it that way.”

  “I agree with you there, Doctor, if it is as you say. Though my motivation would be different for keeping this matter under wraps. I would do so for the sake of our own safety.” Lieutenant Salaar made a good point. If Zaaro Nian realised he was more or less immortal, there was no saying what he would be capable of.

  “So it is decided, we speak of this matter only in code when we do speak of it at all, and that too if it is of the utmost urgency.” With that I concluded the meeting, thanking both of them for their time. As the head of the scientists on board the ship, I outranked both Madam and Lieutenant Salaar.

  When they left, I sat for some time, toying with different code names for Zaaro; I managed to narrow it down to a list of three, out of which I just could not choose any particular one. I resigned myself to the fact that it would have to be a spur of the moment decision.

  8. Lieutenant Salaar

  Later that day, as I finished my rounds of the ship with the key members of my security team, making sure all our exits, especially the cargo bay, were secure, I chanced upon The Good Doctor wandering around. “You’re far from the lab, Doctor,” I informed him politely.

  “Indeed, I was just enjoying my evening stroll, taking in the fresh air, so to speak.”

  And then he stood there, staring at me for a while. “All right Doctor, perhaps I should escort you back to the Lab Wing,” I offered.

  “No, no, I can make my way back,” he said, continuing to peer at me. My men were beginning to look decidedly uncomfortable. “Is there a problem, Doctor? Are you feeling all right?” I asked.

  “Yes, yes, I am fine. I was just wondering,” he said, eyes boring into mine, “have you come across the CARDIGAN on your rounds?”

  “I think you are unwell, Doctor. Let us get you back to your quarters.” What an absurd question! My men were smirking at each other.

  “I meant the SWEATER,” he said slowly, emphasizing each syllable. He was obviously delirious. “Come along, Doctor,” I said firmly.

  Sighing with disappointment and frustration, he allowed me to lead him in the opposite direction. En route, we bumped into Madam and The Good Doctor’s spirits seemed visibly lifted. He immediately addressed her with an absurd question as well. “Madam, how are you finding the quality of KNITWEAR on board?” he asked.

  “Couldn’t be better,” she replied with a conspiratorial smile. The Good Doctor was also smiling as I escorted him back. Maybe the dotty old bats had more in common than I knew. I wouldn’t put it past Madam to have enrolled in secret knitting classes to curry favour with him. All Ulroneese nobility were well schooled in the politics of power. Madam, being a scion of one of the oldest aristocratic families on Ulron, had received special training in the ruling arts. It had all come to naught though when she had been sidelined for promotion in the IPF military. To Madam’s great disappointment, The Good Doctor had been given the rank of Captain on her ship, while she had been named a mere First Officer. The irony of the situation did not escape Madam, as she was the one who flew the ship, while The Good Doctor, talented as he was in the lab, had no idea what to do in the control room.

  In true Ulroneese fashion, Madam had not forgiven the slight and at the f
irst opportunity, had flown the First Light right out of the IPF armada, with The Good Doctor on board. She set up a secret base at a small abandoned docking station, styled herself as Madam - X was her first name - and began recruitment. She gave him the choice of being a prisoner or joining the Rebel Movement; he chose the latter and helped her secure funds, collecting research grants from various breakaway regimes, to develop antidotes to IPF biological weaponry. The IPF looked for her for a couple of months, in an effort to retrieve the ship, but gave up when the insurance claim came in. The ship and Madam were both written off and a diplomatic disaster with Ulron was deftly avoided. Had Ulron not been rich in mineral ore, perhaps Madam’s fate would have been decided very differently. Within two years of setting up shop, Madam was recruiting rebels straight out of military school; luckily, I was one of the chosen ones. Rumour has it, though, that the IPF have eyes trained on the secret base at all times, which is why we never dock there for long; the rebel ship is always in flight.

  9. Zaaro Nian

  Lieutenant Salaar came to see me the same evening I had been discharged from the medical bay and reinstalled in my quarters. He seemed watchful and tense as he lowered himself into a seat by my bedside. I had been told to rest for a couple of days by the kind old Doctor, so I was propped up in bed, reading with some interest, the self-help books he had loaned to me.

  “Mind if I take a look?” he asked.

  “No, no, feel free.”

  “The Jumper Within, I Jump Therefore I am, I Can Jump, Can you? How To Quit Jumping In Thirty Days, The Art Of Jumping In Ten Simple Steps, Anyone Can Jump,” he read aloud.

  “The last two are prints off the Internote. Obviously unreliable and unverified,” I provided when he looked up at me. He must have known the Internote was a clandestine information network created by Zaaronian school children, mainly for passing notes to each other during exams thousands of years ago, and still in use for mostly the same purpose.

  He took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Zaaro Nian, I’m just taking a shot in the dark here, but do you find a common thread in all these self-help books The Good Doctor loaned to you? For some inexplicable reason?”

  “Funny you should ask, Lieutenant, I have been pondering the same thought myself. I find, and you may agree with me on this, that perhaps The Good Doctor wants me to introspect and discover my spiritual side after the traumatic incident that just occurred. I believe that jumping is a symbolic reference, a parable for ascension to a higher plane. My wife has a few self-help books, not that they help her, but I am not unfamiliar with the purpose behind them,” I concluded, quite smug in my understanding of The Good Doctor’s motives.

  Lieutenant Salaar was quiet; he seemed to be choosing his words carefully. “Now is as good a time as any to have this conversation. Have you ever heard of jumping before?” he asked.

  “Symbolically or literally?” I responded with a question.

  “Literally,” he confirmed.

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Do you believe it is possible?”

  “Symbolically or literally?”

  “Literally.”

  “Yes. Surely it’s a commonly accepted fact in this day and age,” I told him confidently.

  “How many times have you jumped? Wait, before you ask, every time I refer to jumping it is the literal variety I am alluding to,” he enunciated clearly.

  “I am glad you clarified; a number of times,” I informed him.

  “So, you already know this about yourself.” He seemed refreshingly full of wonder for the mundane.

  “I should think so. I mean I am awake and lucid.”

  “Hmmm, interesting, how does it feel? Do you know beforehand?” he asked, excited.

  “Well, some nausea, a slight headache, the usual.” I really wanted to get back to my books by this point.

  “And you know it is about to happen?” he asked again. “What are the triggers, I wonder,” he mused to himself.

  “Well, yes, same as everyone else does. They always tell us beforehand.”

  “They? Whom do you mean by THEY? Are you being controlled by someone?”

  “Obviously, I couldn’t do it on my own.” My patience was wearing a little thin, but he seemed to be waiting for more. “They tell us at least half a day in advance so we can clear our schedules.”

  He now gazed at me blankly. I was getting tired of stating the obvious, but I guess one must make allowances for subspecies intelligence levels. The Universe knew I had lots of practice at home. “Anything else, Lieutenant?” I asked in a tone that conveyed the conclusion of the conversation.

  Unfortunately, Lieutenant Salaar was not one for subtlety. “Who schedules the jump?” he ploughed on.

  “My employers,” I answered and saw alarm turn into panic.

  “How many of you are there?” he asked, suddenly standing up.

  “12,786; all the employees in weapons development.” I prided myself on having a good head for facts and figures. At that, Lieutenant Salaar rushed out of my quarters, his face ashen.

  10. Madam X

  Lieutenant Salaar rushed into the control room, his face ashen. “Any particular reason for the pallor or just having a bad day?” I asked.

  “Madam, I have just extracted a confession out of Mr Nian of the utmost significance to our future plan.”

  “And what might that be, Lieutenant?” Really, all that melodrama, I didn’t understand what revelation could possibly merit such a response. “Please take a seat, Lieutenant.”

  “Thank you but I prefer to stand when hysterical. Zaaro has confessed that he knows he is a Jumper. He has jumped many times before. Not only that, there are thousands of them; controlled by and in the employ of the IPF!” The Lieutenant’s voice had risen to a most ungainly pitch by the time he concluded his outburst. I distinctly heard the guards stop pacing outside. I looked at him with disbelief and, well, disapproval. If he was going to come undone at the slightest hiccup, we would never succeed.

  I decided to calm him down before he made anyone else panic and we fell foul of Ship Rules ref. 5.67: One meltdown at a time. Two hysterical crew members, if found together, will be court-martialled. “There, there, Lieutenant, let us not get carried away. To me, it sounds like misinformation being spread by the IPF as part of their shock and horror strategy. Zaaro may have been brainwashed into believing it; who knows what lies they feed those in weapons development to keep them in line.” The Lieutenant was rapt, so I continued, “even if it is correct, we now have the edge. We know what they think we don’t know.”

  “So you think that we could somehow strategise against a shipload full of Jumpers?” he asked. Then Lieutenant Salaar stood stock still for a second, and ran out as suddenly as he had come in. I was glad to get back to my work, outer rim species were so prone to deranged behaviour, it had ceased to surprise me. I didn’t have much confidence in The Good Doctor’s test results either, if the messiah was to be a Jumper, surely the prophecy would have said so.

  11. Lieutenant Salaar

  I ran back to Zaaro’s quarters and found that he was still immersed in his reading. “Ahem, Zaaro?” I called out as I strode in, without waiting for a response to my sharp rap on the door.

  He looked up distractedly from his book at the question in my voice. “Yes?”

  “When we were talking about jumping earlier,” I began.

  “Symbolic or literal?”

  I exhaled with exasperation. “Literal. When you said you had jumped before, did you mean in a ship?”

  He looked bemused. “Yes. What else could I possibly have meant?”

  “Bear with me, so when you mentioned the other Jumpers, did you mean the rest of the ship’s passengers?”

  “Yes. All the people who worked with me,” he confirmed, nodding and smiling encouragingly.

  “And when you mentioned being controlled by your employer?” I had to be thorough in my interrogation of Zaaro, a lesson I had learned so many times since I had met
him, mine was now the voice of bad experience.

  “I meant they schedule the jump emergency drills and tell us beforehand so we clear our time tables.” He was talking slowly at the end of it, pronouncing each word carefully and painstakingly, as if I was of subhuman intelligence.

  “Thank you for your time. Enjoy your reading,” I added as I left Zaaro’s quarters, perfectly at ease this time round.

  I thought of sending a quick message to Madam. What was the code again? Something to do with the cold? Snow? Woollies? For the life of me I couldn’t remember The Good Doctor’s silly code, so I just decided to tell Madam in person, later.

  12. Zaaro Nian

  I was still at my reading, engrossed in connecting with the Jumper within, when Lieutenant Salaar burst into my room, again. Unperturbed, I carried on reading. It was his way. He burst into places. However, when he waved a knife at me, I was done being charitable. “What do you think you’re doing Lieutenant?” I asked rather crossly. I was an inch away from being almost angry. He just said, “Haaaaaaa” and lunged at my chest. The wanton display of violence was just too much for me to tolerate. Stabbing through the brain was desperately clichéd and most likely a cry for help, but shouting for no reason was, I’m afraid, unforgivable.

  I rolled out of bed and made straight for the door, which the Lieutenant had luckily left ajar, when a shiver ran through my entire body and I found myself back in my bed reading, again. Suddenly the door burst open and Lieutenant Salaar charged in. This time, I saw the knife in his hand and moved back in anticipation. True to form, he lunged. I simply drew myself up to my full height and fixed him with a baleful stare in order to stop him in his tracks, rather than rolling under the bed, which, in hindsight, would have been a much better move. As the Lieutenant continued undaunted, I closed my eyes in the expectation of pain, but I felt nothing. Attributing my freedom from pain to numbness from shock, I opened my eyes slowly to look upon the carnage; instead my gaze came to rest upon Madam looking at me with some consternation. “Welcome Zaaro. I did not hear you come in,” she said.