The Light Blue Jumper Page 4

  Just then my twice would-be attacker, Lieutenant Salaar, walked into the control room. As a matter of abundant caution, I took the opportunity to move to relative safety behind Madam’s ample girth, lest he remained committed to his earlier course of action. I was glad to note the absence of murderous intent though, as I peered at the Lieutenant from my safe haven.

  “Madam we have something important to discuss.” Oh no, he was there to report his failure to eliminate me.

  “Well go on then. I’m listening,” said Madam; meaning thereby that she was the mastermind behind this twisted plan. But no, she couldn’t be, she knew I was there. Or was it that she thought so little of my presence that she didn’t care whether I was witness to their evil plot?

  “In private, if you please,” Salaar signalled. Aha! So a contingency plan was now in the works between the dastardly collaborators.

  “It’s all right, go ahead, I was just heading back to my room,” I said as I made to step out from behind Madam, abandoning the dim hope of safety. I had to leave quickly before they figured out the extent of my understanding of their nefarious plans.

  “Wait, Zaaro, you came to see me for something?” Madam asked.

  “Oh no, nothing at all, I just thought it would be nice to see a friendly face,” I improvised.

  Madam, evil temptress that she was, smiled exquisitely at the feigned compliment and motioned for me to leave.

  I heaved a sigh of relief as soon as I walked out of the control room, which was an open-plan affair, with four combat stations facing outwards in a diamond of sorts. I had to think through and figure out what was behind the alarming events of late. I sat down in the corridor, not quite sure how to get back to my room, and pondered the situation for a while. Clearly, Lieutenant Salaar had attacked me not once, but twice, in exactly the same manner. And the second time I had been transported over some distance to the control room, at which turn of events he did not seem at all surprised. What was I, Zaaro Nian, to make of all this?

  Every thought that I had led me to the same conclusion; it was the unthinkable, but alas, there was no other conceivable explanation.

  Lieutenant Salaar could manipulate space and time. He was a Jumper! We had believed for thousands of years that Jumpers were extinct, but perhaps there were simply no more Zaaronian Jumpers and the talent was alive and well elsewhere in the Universe. I would never have thought outer rim species could handle it but maybe that’s why I was here. I now understood why The Good Doctor had given all the books to me. That was also why the Lieutenant was asking me so many probing questions about jumping and specifying repeatedly that his interest lay only in the literal sense. I had been kept here on this ship to help the Lieutenant understand his powers and to use them wisely (my attempted murder being in the considerably unwise category). That was his secret mission! I was to be the teacher, the guide, the guru, the visionary, the Jump Master of Old. I would lead him to all that he could accomplish, all that was within his grasp.

  I chose not to be deterred by the sinking realisation that I was presently ignorant of exactly what was within his grasp. The knife attack was simply an audition of his talents, I concluded, I didn’t quite understand why he chose violence to showcase himself, but that’s where I could be of help. But first, to The Good Doctor!

  I was quite confident I knew how to get to the Doctor’s office but my confidence began to wane somewhat after I wandered aimlessly down zigzagging corridors for an eternity. Eventually, a member of the security patrol, who had been staring at me for some time from the overhead bridge, signalled for me to stop.

  “Are you lost?” he asked without preamble.

  “No, I was just out for my daily exercise. After I’m done, I was thinking of going to see The Good Doctor, would you be so kind as to point me in the right direction?” I asked smugly, my pride intact.

  He shrugged and said, “All right, go straight, take the second left, the third right, double back, and second left again.”

  I made sure I wandered around for a while after he left, trying to catch his eye, before I started out as he directed. Unfortunately, I had taken a little too long to convince him of the truth of my earlier assertion and had quite forgotten what he said after taking the second left. I saw him staring down at me again as I paced up and down trying to decide whether it was the second or the third right. I would try both, I resolved, as someone tapped me on the shoulder.

  “Now, are you lost?” It was the same patrol officer.

  “No, no, not at all, just going to see the Doctor, as you know.”

  “Well, you’re headed to the cargo bay right now, but wait, are you still trying to get in some exercise?” he asked, smirking.

  “Yes I thought it would be a good idea to walk this way first,” I said as I resolutely took the second right and hit a dead end.

  “Suit yourself,” he tossed over his shoulder at me as he started back towards his post.

  I waited until he had gone and turned back, marching down the third right, “Now double back and take the second left!” a disembodied voice called out amidst chuckles from the overhead bridge. Apparently they were all manned and interconnected with complete visibility.

  13. The Good Doctor

  “Come in!” I said to the knock on the wall. But the pounding continued. Exasperated, I opened my door to reveal a slightly animated Mr Nian.

  “I understand absolutely everything,” he said as he walked in.

  “Wonderful!” I responded and waited for him to elaborate. When no explanation seemed forthcoming, I continued, “About what exactly?”

  “It is all clear to me!” he said, showing mild excitement.

  He was obviously having an epiphany of sorts, but what about? I hoped it was not about our master plan, otherwise he was a security risk and I would have to eliminate him, or worse, send him back to the IPF as a double agent, where he would most likely be tortured and broken. My eyes misted over at the thought of poor innocent Zaaro Nian being thrust into that pit of snakes.

  My next theory was that he had fallen in love, which is an extremely rare occurrence, given the evolutionary pattern that led to the length of Zaaronian lifespans, one thousand years, to be precise. Each one of them was born with an identical lifespan, which could be shortened only by random acts of love or violence; it was yet unclear which of the two they loathed more. Otherwise, if all proceeded according to plan, they were born, they lived for a thousand years and on the appointed day, they died. As a race their collective aim was to live uneventful lives and they were for the most part spectacularly successful. May your days be as boring as they are long, was the salutary greeting heard most often amongst them. They did marry and procreate, but that was meticulously planned based on extensive genetic compatibility analysis. Love was an affliction at best, which Zaaronian scientists had been quite successful in inoculating most of the population against.

  I was about to propagate another theorem when I noticed Zaaro was attempting to explain further. “The books you gave me, they all make sense now,” he said.

  “Aah. Jumping.” That would have indeed been my next thought. “Zaaro, I for one am glad you have found solace at the end of this voyage of self-discovery, that I sent you on. It is imperative that you move forward cautiously and carefully, with confidence that your role in this saga is what you and I make it. Well more I than you, but let us not get caught up in the details.”

  He nodded in agreement. “We will do our best, Doctor.”

  ‘Our hero!’ I inhaled deeply as I twirled my moustache and adjusted my glasses. My eyes threatened to spill a tear as I gazed fondly at our lethal weapon; which in turn, made him quite uncomfortable; he mumbled something about the Lieutenant and shuffled off, towards the inner wall.

  “The door is that way,” I pointed out.

  “I’ve been meaning to ask actually, how do you know?”

  “What precisely are you asking about? Wait, should I guess?” I asked enthusiastically. I was quite sure
he was asking about my vast reserves of scientific knowledge and had simply failed to complete his sentence.

  “Where the door is,” he supplied, exactly as I had guessed.

  “The door to knowledge, I presume,” I said, drawing in a deep breath and placing both hands under my chin to gaze into the distance, while I gathered my thoughts.

  “The door to your room.”

  Well that was disappointing, I thought, as I straightened up and cleared my throat. “The room of my knowledge?” I nudged him gently back on topic.

  Zaaro was continuing, “No. Just your room. I haven’t been able to find the door to anywhere on this ship, it’s all just brilliant white walls as far as I can see,” he confessed sheepishly.

  “Just press the wall and say door. I’m afraid our system is a little archaic, you just have to think of a door on other ships, I hear,” I told him apologetically.

  “No. They are quite clearly marked, emblazoned in gold with the word, on regular IPF ships at least,” he contradicted.

  That seemed to strike a chord. I suddenly had a memory flash of the doors having signs on them in the early days, before Madam ordered a paint job, when we switched over to all-white to distinguish ourselves from the IPF black and gold. It seemed the paint crew had painted over the signs and no one had thought of fixing the error.

  “I suppose it makes sense to have them like this on stealth ships.”

  “Yes. Of course. It is of vital importance,” I agreed. I liked the sound of stealth ship. That is what I would call our rebel ship from this point onwards, I decided, as Zaaro made his way out triumphantly, upon being initiated into the ways of the stealth ship.

  I made another decision as well. I had always dreamed of being the catalyst in our defeat of the IPF. I would be the one to train Zaaro. I would be a Jump Master of Old, a guru, a teacher, a visionary, an opener of eyes and doors, to all rooms, of knowledge and otherwise.

  14. Lieutenant Salaar

  “Madam, I have conclusive proof that Zaaro is a Jumper,” I said as soon as Zaaro left the control room.

  “Is this yet another one of your misunderstandings, Lieutenant?” Madam asked with some irritation.

  “I assure you, it is quite the opposite,” I replied.

  “Really? Then where is this proof that you talk about?”

  “He is the proof. The fact that he is alive is the proof.”

  She rolled her eyes and made to wave me off, “I do not have time for riddles, Lieutenant. You were the first person to oppose the prophecy and declare it a myth, why the sudden change of heart?”

  “I saw him jump!” I shouted. That seemed to get her attention.

  “Explain!”

  “Moments earlier, I barged into Zaaro’s room and lunged at him with a knife.” Even to me, that sounded worse out of my mouth than in my head.

  “What?” Madam’s tone was icy. “You attacked an unarmed hostage lying in his bed? Have you completely lost your mind?” Suddenly her voice softened, “Are you having trouble? Do you need to see The Good Doctor?”

  Again, I was on the verge of being court-martialled. Ship Rules ref. 5.68 stated Any crew member engaging in unprovoked acts of violence will be court-martialled. So I lied a little, “I’m all right now. It was a momentary lapse, it won’t happen again.” The truth was, it was absolutely necessary in order to test our theory and was completely premeditated on my part.

  As soon as she accepted that I was fine, her tone hardened again. “Was Zaaro to have paid for your poor judgment with his life?”

  “He’s Zaaronian, it wouldn’t have killed him, they have a spare brain.”

  “Have some respect Lieutenant, I have a spare too, will you be lunging at me shortly?” she asked, exuding indignation.

  “He travelled instantly from his room to the control room, probably the closest place where his body perceived safety. He can actually travel through space to protect himself. I am now certain he is a Jumper Madam, just as The Good Doctor said, and I am inclined to agree that he has no idea of his powers.”

  “Well, that revelation does not come as a surprise to me Lieutenant. Unlike you, I never had any doubts as to the prophecy and on further examination and reading between the lines, it contains clear references to jumping.” She signalled for me to leave. I was glad for the reprieve; it would give me time to formulate a plan. I had to figure out the best way to break the news to Zaaro without causing him to panic. After all, if I was to assume the role of the guide, the teacher, the Jump Master of Old, we had to build between us a strong bond of trust, and I feared attempted murder may have muddied the waters a little.

  15. Madam X

  The prophecy; it was just as it had been foretold. A saviour had come to us in the unlikely garb of Zaaro Nian. Finally we had a chance; a hope, to defeat the evil that had engulfed our Universe for centuries.

  I made exhaustive notes for myself in my lockable pocket diary, the only medium that was truly top secret. From what I had read about the Zaaronians and observed in Zaaro’s confidential IPF Personnel Evaluation File, which Central Command had kindly dug up online for me, he was naïve, cowardly, polite, and retiring; a fussy creature of habit and routine. Yet in his apparent weakness lay his great strength. He was naïve; so he remained uncorrupted. He was cowardly, so above all else, he desired peace. He was polite; so he took into account other people’s feelings. He was retiring; so he was without artifice and guile. He was a fussy creature of habit and routine, so he was devoid of ambition for power and greed for wealth, for he desired a quiet life. His joys were in the little things, so he was content. All this means, essentially, that he will need much motivation to fight for our cause, I wrote in bold letters and signed off as Madam X with a flourish and a heart on top. I shunned all digital storage devices as they were overseen by Central Command and could potentially be hacked into by the IPF. Even if that didn’t happen, I could probably explain the flourish to Central Command, but the heart was another matter altogether.

  I knew beyond any doubt that Zaaro was unaware of his powers. His apparent confusion when he found himself in the control room was evidence enough. His bashful attempt at smoothing the situation over, though amateur and completely transparent, was oddly endearing.

  I would have to look out for this hero of ours. According to my calculations, he was extremely young, probably hadn’t even hit the century mark yet. His training would have to be extensive. We would have to determine whether his power could be controlled to allow him to jump to specified locations, whether it could be triggered by stimuli other than fear, and whether it could extend or transfer to anyone else. I drew an arrow from the heart to a new page and added furiously to my notes.

  There was also the question of who would undertake Zaaro’s training. I ticked through all the options. The Good Doctor may be intellectually sound but he would not be able to impart any stealth and combat training, and his desire to use secret codes would be the death of all of us. The Lieutenant would be able to handle strategic training, but developing strength of mind would be a different matter altogether. He had his own demons to contend with. I had similar problems with all the other officers whom I thumbed through mentally for the task.

  What was to be done? The only person I could suggest with any confidence, as possessed of both military and intellectual capacity was, well, me. A guru, a teacher, a visionary, a Jump Master of Old, it was a heavy mantle, but it seemed don it I must.

  I allowed myself a little smile at the thought of working closely with Zaaro. He was quite the handsome devil, even amongst the Zaaronian population in general, who were a good-looking race by any standard. Short, rotund, bald, and the palest of blue. Need I say more?

  I would have to pay Zaaro a visit fairly soon to discuss mentoring arrangements with him. A tiny giggle escaped me.

  16. Zaaro Nian

  I had never been to Lieutenant Salaar’s quarters before; which was probably why I did not know where they were. Undeterred by my lack of informat
ion, I decided to use my superior sense of reasoning and logic to work out where to go. I had seen him come to my room on several occasions, each time from the left-hand side of the corridor, which meant, of course, that I should proceed towards the right. The Lieutenant was an ingenious dissembler; I had to factor that into my calculations.

  I moved stealthily down the right-hand side of the corridor, continuing onwards until I came to a door marked ‘EXIT’; definitely not the right course. I doubled back and found that I had missed a narrow opening into what seemed like a storage area. I decided to take a look. It was mainly empty except for a couple of boxes marked ‘MISC’ strewn about. I decided to do a quick tidy up and was about to leave when I saw the dim outline of another door. Perhaps that was the way forward. I opened it and ran into a brick wall. I had an uneasy feeling. I had heard of someone running into a brick wall before. Who had mentioned it? A colleague? No, my wife. Definitely my wife. She used to mention it a lot. It had something to do with conversing with me, but I could not remember what. Had she been on this ship before? How was that even possible?

  I focused on the problem at hand. I had to find Lieutenant Salaar somehow. It was of vital importance that I counselled him before his powers got the best of him and he emerged suddenly from some dark recess, crazed with bloodlust. I looked over my shoulder apprehensively at the thought. Probably best to make my way back to my room and start over, I decided, as I walked purposefully out of the storage area into the well-lit corridor. I turned right and carried on towards my quarters.