The Light Blue Jumper Page 8

Me: “I am a prisoner.” This was an easy one, I thought with relief, as I pulled on a beret.

  Commander: “Do not play games with me. Why are you here?”

  Me: “I simply answered your question. Why would I indulge in frivolity at this juncture? Hold my beard for a second.”

  Commander: “Do not try and deflect the question. Why are you on this ship?”

  Me: “I came to do my work.”

  Commander: “Aha. What work?”

  Me: “That is highly confidential and cannot be discussed. Could I have the beard back?”

  Commander: “Would you rather answer my questions before or after I torture you?”

  Me: “Before; I doubt I’ll be in any state to answer coherently after you torture me, assuming of course, that you’re any good at it.”

  The Commander signalled for a break. “Do not antagonise them. You are practically asking him to torture you in the worst possible way,” he said, shaking his head. “And why are you toying with facial hair? Zaaronians don’t have hair, everyone knows that.”

  “Which is precisely why it is part of my disguise.”

  “As you wish Zaaro. You are light blue though, a bit of a give away, if you ask me,” he mumbled.

  “Revert to role play.” I had to reinforce who was teaching whom.

  Commander: “I can vouch for the fact that we at the IPF are exceptionally skilled in the art of torture and equally fond of practicing it.”

  Me: “I do not doubt your credentials. Why don’t I just take your word for it? Surely you have no reason to torture me if I’ve already answered your questions.”

  Commander: “That depends entirely on how well you answer.”

  Me: “I’m all ears.”

  Commander: “I ask again, what is your purpose on board this ship?”

  Me: “To carry out my mission.”

  Commander: “What is your mission?”

  Me: “It is classified.” I thought I saw a hint of a smile.

  Commander: “Who sent you?”

  “Commander, please note carefully how I answer this one,” I said as an aside.

  Me: “Mission Control.”

  Commander: “Elaborate.”

  Me, smugly: “Surely you know what that means. It’s standard usage. It is the team that controls the mission.”

  Commander: “I need specifics.” He was relentless.

  Me: “For instance?”

  Commander: “Who is on this team?”

  Me: “I would love to help but I am afraid that too is classified.” Being polite and helpful at all times was the key to a good interrogation technique.

  Commander: “Right, torture it is then!”

  Me: “I completely disagree. I have answered all your questions with focus and deliberation.”

  “See how I voice my objections in a logical and conciliatory manner, Commander?”

  “You won’t get a say in it Zaaro, no matter how polite you are,” the Commander said.

  “I am the voice of reason, Commander. I can hardly be ignored,” I told him confidently.

  “For the sake of argument, what if you were ignored and worse still, tortured?” The Commander had a point.

  “I wouldn’t know. I’ve only ever had a brush with that sort of thing on board this ship.”

  “The Lieutenant?” The Commander was quite astute.

  I nodded sadly.

  “He can be a bit heavy-handed at times, but his heart is in the right place. It’s his head that’s more of a concern for me,” he laughed. “I heard he tried to stab you.”

  “Oh that; forgiven. I’ve forgiven him for the other thing as well, but the memory still sends a shiver right through me.”

  The Commander looked confused. “Please don’t repeat this to anyone. I don’t want people to think ill of the Lieutenant, but the awful truth is, he raised his voice,” I said quietly as I folded my beard and beret back into the box. I decided to keep the moustache and glasses handy. They reminded me of my friend, The Good Doctor.

  30. Commander Lethalwulf

  If he got caught, Zaaro was going to get tortured by the IPF; there were no two ways about it. I had spent a short span of time with him and even I wouldn’t have minded torturing him. I could totally empathise with Salaar on this subject.

  Well, at least he would torture his interrogator equally; we could find some solace in that. The question was, would he compromise the mission under duress? If someone shouted at him would he tell them everything?

  There was only one way to find out.

  31. Zaaro Nian

  Out of nowhere, the Commander started shouting at me. Our role play exercises were going so well. I don’t know what got into him. His voice was even bigger than the Lieutenant’s.

  Commander: “TELL ME WHY YOU ARE HERE!”

  Me, mumbling: “It’s classified.”

  Commander: “TELL MY WHY IT IS CLASSIFIED!”

  Me: “Because it is a secret. That is what they told me in any case.”

  Commander: “WHO TOLD YOU?”

  Me: “Madam, the Lieutenant and the Commander; The Good Doctor as well.”

  At that, he stopped shouting. “Thank goodness I’m not the one who has to embark on secret missions and be subjected to such barbarism,” I told him. “I don’t know how you stand being an IPF undercover agent, Commander. Better you than me! I would tell them everything just to stop the awful noise in my ears. Have I mentioned how glad I am to be helping you in your training?” I asked.

  32. Commander Lethalwulf

  There it was. An IPF investigator simply had to ask him the right questions at the right volume and he would invite them for tea to the Mission Control Room, if he remembered where it was. Why the references to my being an IPF agent? He even mentioned double agent at one point. Did he know more than he was letting on or had he assumed we were IPF spies?

  It seemed he thought he was helping in my training. I wondered if that was the case with Salaar as well. We would have to build on this charade until the very last minute. Even when he was sent out on a mission, we would have to keep him in the dark. Given his track record, there was already a high probability of that, even without any help from us. The only way to make him unbreakable was to tell him nothing of our true mission, let him continue thinking he was helping the IPF.

  33. Madam X

  Finally, it was my turn to tutor Zaaro. I met him at the library, which was a feature installed in the ship by The Good Doctor. It was a replica of a picture from his Antiquities Magazine. The walls were lined with shelves full of faux-leather-bound books he had collected from various antique markets in the outer rims, most of which were probably contraband and fire hazards. Nobody ever came there, so it was ideal for my session with Zaaro. We needed peace and quiet to focus on our mind strengthening exercises and I wanted to test jumping triggers.

  “Zaaro, why don’t we begin with a simple task? I would like you to imagine you are in mortal danger. Close your eyes and focus. A hail of bullets is coming towards you,” I said. “Wait! Come back please. You can’t run. It defeats the purpose of the whole exercise. Let’s try again,” I urged his retreating form.

  “It sounded very real. You’re very convincing,” he said sheepishly as he sat down again.

  “Close your eyes. Imagine there is a heat-seeking missile coming at you.” I leaned in to get a closer look at his handsome face. “Why are your eyes open?”

  “It’s not believable. I’m sorry. Let’s go back to the bullets,” he said apologetically.

  “Ok. There is a spray of bullets aimed at you,” I reverted to my original scenario.

  “What type of gun? Just adding some details to the scenario,” he said by way of explanation.

  “An Annihilator 77.”

  “All right, I’m picturing the whole scene. Sorry, sorry, it’s still not working. I need to know who’s holding the gun.”

  “Zaaro, please stay focused.” I was a trifle impatient now. I had pictured our one-to-one coachi
ng session proceeding very differently.

  “I’m trying. My eyes are closed. Just tell me one more thing. Am I being targeted for my political beliefs or is this a crime scene? I just need to identify the feeling I’m supposed to feel.”

  “How about we stick with fear?” I suggested.

  “Very good! Excellent idea, Madam.” He obviously hadn’t picked up on my tone.

  “I think so too. Now can we get to work?”

  “Yes, of course. A quick question; is it bile-rising-to-my-throat kind of horror or grief-stricken-sense-of-loss type of fear?”

  “If you keep this going Zaaro, I may be the one firing a hail of bullets at you. Just picture that.” By this time we should have been completing each other’s sentences, I thought with disappointment.

  He closed his eyes, twitching nervously. Nothing happened. He was just not good at imagining things. Maybe I would have to call in Salaar for his play-acting skills or maybe Zaaro could remember the feeling of fear.

  “Zaaro, why don’t you think of the bombing that destroyed your home?” I asked, my tone softening. The poor dear had been through a lot lately.

  “It’s kind of you to ask that Madam, it’s mainly because I find it pointless to dwell on the past,” he responded earnestly.

  “I meant right now, for the mind exercises,” I tried not to let my fast-returning exasperation show.

  He closed his eyes obligingly, but nothing happened. “I have another idea. Think back to the shuttle collision. Just breathe deeply and focus, keep your eyes closed,” I told him. I leaned towards him again; at least I could enjoy the view.

  I decided to give him some time to delve deep in his memory. I came to realise that perhaps I had given him too much time when I heard gentle snores emanating from him. It was evident he only reacted to actual danger and at this moment there was still no way to figure out where or when he would end up jumping.

  “I see the session is going well,” The Good Doctor said as he stuck his head in round the door. I had forgotten that no one ever came to the library, other than the Doctor, who was a frequent visitor.

  “Yes. This is a mind-strengthening exercise,” I responded tartly. At this point Zaaro chose to slowly slip off the chair and curl up on the floor, still snoozing.

  “I can see where you are going with this. Brilliant plan. He could sleep through any interrogation attempts. Do you mind if I make a sketch for my notes?” The Good Doctor asked, pencil poised in mid-air. He beat a hasty retreat though, when a faux-leather-bound volume went flying at him. “I’m only trying to help! I even sent him a bag of disguises. Maybe you should try meditation, I’ve heard it calms the mind,” I heard his disembodied voice floating back at me through the corridor as he sprinted away.

  34. Zaaro Nian

  I woke to the sound of alarms blaring. I rushed out of bed so I could find Lieutenant Salaar and figure out what was going on. I didn’t have to go very far. As I was looking for my slippers, the Lieutenant burst into my room.

  “Zaaro, we are being attacked by the IPF, if we don’t go into hyperdrive immediately, we will not survive this!”

  “A clever ruse, Lieutenant, I see you have involved the ship’s Central Command as well,” I smiled indulgently at his attempt to rile me.

  “No! This is not a joke! We have to carry out our secret mission immediately, otherwise years of hard work will come to nothing!” his voice rose.

  “So, the choice is clear. Even though in my personal opinion we are not quite ready yet, we must do whatever is necessary,” I said reassuringly, even though I couldn’t recall what the secret mission was. Had anyone told me? I wondered.

  “I’m glad we are on the same page,” he said with relief.

  “Wonderful,” I said as I started to get back into bed. It seemed everything was under control, though it was odd that the Lieutenant wanted to talk about our mutual interest in reading at this particular juncture.

  “Ahem. Zaaro…” The Lieutenant did not seem to be in any hurry to leave for his mysterious mission.

  “Anything else?” I asked as I tucked myself in.

  “Get dressed so we can leave. I’ll explain everything on the way,” he said abruptly.

  “Oh you want me to come with you? On the mission? I mean I would love to help, but are you sure that is wise?” I was touched by his enthusiasm for my company, but I was hardly rested. Lack of sleep could affect my health in the long run.

  “We cannot go without you,” the Lieutenant insisted.

  Well he certainly did set great store by my advice and guidance. I didn’t mind going, it was just that it was such an odd hour. I functioned at far less than full capacity if my sleep was disturbed. “All right. Do you think we could possibly set off in the morning? A break in routine really interferes with my digestive system,” I informed him.

  “Zaaro! We need to leave NOW. Otherwise we will all be too dead to worry about being uncomfortable!” He did have a tendency to overstate things, I thought.

  “Say no more. I’ll just be about half an hour, I’ll iron something, take a quick shower and change. Should I meet you somewhere?” I sensed that there was some urgency to his request.

  The alarms suddenly rose to a crescendo. Without a word, Lieutenant Salaar grabbed my arm and ran out of the room, pulling me along behind him.

  “I guess I’ll just stay on the shuttle then and give you advice from there. I’m hardly dressed for company.” I was thinking aloud.

  Lieutenant Salaar just carried on running until we got to the hold and jumped into the waiting shuttle. I said a quick hello to Madam and the Commander, adding an apology for my state of undress. Nobody was paying attention, other than Madam, who was staring at me with approval every time I looked in her general direction.

  I would have to ask them what this secret mission was, as soon as I caught up on a bit of sleep. I suddenly remembered that the Lieutenant had said the IPF was attacking the ship. Surely there must be some misunderstanding. All they had to do was explain that they were an IPF peaceful undercover enterprise and the IPF would back off. Although there were a lot of weapons and explosives on board the ship for times of peace, so the explanation would require a certain degree of tact and skilfulness. I will offer my services right after my nap, I thought as I settled down on the surprisingly comfortable jump seat in the small five-person shuttle.

  35. Commander Lethalwulf

  I asked Salaar to discuss strategy with me privately. Unfortunately Madam, who was determined not to be left out, sprang to her feet and positioned herself between us. There we were, Salaar, Madam and I, in a huddle, squeezed into the only standing space near the door, while Zaaro was already nodding off in his rather plush seat. The Good Doctor had insisted on upholstering the jump seat for himself in rich mahogany faux-leather, while the rest of the shuttle remained austere with standard black carbon seats and chrome details. These little frivolous indulgences were adequate proof that he squirreled away part of the research grants for his personal use before he declared the funds to the single member Rebel Funds Committee that Madam was currently heading. By currently I meant since the inception of the Rebel Movement twelve years ago.

  I reached around Madam’s girth and motioned towards Zaaro. “Will you take him with you or should I?”

  “I will,” Salaar whispered.

  “We will drop both of you off at the IPF secret storage site. As soon as you have retrieved the data, prior to everything exploding, you need to make Zaaro transport you back to the shuttle,” I told Salaar

  “What if he can’t do it? What if Zaaro can’t take anyone along when he jumps? What if they’re stuck at the site when it self-detonates?” Madam was extremely apprehensive.

  “This mission means everything Madam, I am willing to take the risk,” Salaar tried to sound reassuring.

  “I am not!” Madam was adamant. “We can wait until we have more knowledge and control over Zaaro’s powers to steal IPF secret data.”

  I had to try and h
andle the situation. “Actually, we cannot. If we wait, the information may be relocated and then all my years of spying will have been for nothing. I have it on good authority that this site contains the names of all the IPF covert operatives and deep cover agents. Do you realise what this could mean? Think about it, we would be able to root them out from our midst and destroy them. Best of all, we would have concrete proof to expose them to the whole Universe.”

  We had absolutely no idea whether either of them would be able to make it back in one piece. As far as Zaaro was concerned, there was a slim chance we could put him back together, but Salaar was an outer rim human, far too fragile a being in today’s Universe. I wouldn’t fare much better, personally, but at least I was from the inner rim human colonies; it was my firm belief that we were genetically stronger.

  We were an hour away from our destination. I decided to let Zaaro get as much sleep as he could before we broke the news to him. It would be overwhelming for him, to say the least, finding out that he was the Jumper; the one we were relying on to undertake this mission.

  Perhaps I could lead with a story? No, Salaar had already done that. Then I had a disquieting thought. What if he refused the mission once we explained everything to him? We couldn’t force him to carry out our instructions. In that situation, it would be morally justifiable to lie and trick him into it. Only if the situation demanded of course, in no other circumstance would I stoop to such a level. Unfortunately the situation always demanded that I stoop a little; and by little, I meant a lot. My conscience easily appeased, I sat down next to Zaaro, already concocting a suitable lie.

  36. Madam X

  This mission was doomed. We had no time. No contingency plan. No original plan for that matter. From our well-equipped ship, we had been reduced to a small emergency shuttle, with nothing more than vitamins on board. The shuttle was supposed to be stocked with emergency food rations to last at least one week for five people, but I had had little hesitation in jettisoning the disgusting space mushroom cubes in favour of other more important, highly flammable life-saving supplies. Had the food rations been chicken tikka cubes, it would have been a tough call.