“I will find him, I promise.”
“You’ve done enough,” I said bitterly, popping another pill from The Good Doctor into my mouth and forcing myself to turn and walk away before I gave in to the madness, “I will find him myself.”
112. Madam X
While the others continued looking for Zaaro, somebody had to take charge. As planned, I had thrown all the top-tier staff we found unconscious at Headquarters into prison when the rebels took over. We had identified each bureaucrat and office holder and seemed to have a full house, except for the president of the IPF, who was missing. I decided to interrogate the gnome-like creature we had discovered comatose in the president’s office, for information.
He bowed obsequiously when I revived him, in private, seating myself in the president’s plush fur chair as he staggered to his feet on the other side of the desk.
“Your designation?” I asked.
“I am undersecretary to the presidents of the IPF.”
“Surely you mean to the president? Where is he?”
“I have been undersecretary to every president since Blane the Heroic defeated the Puranas one thousand years ago at the Battle of Bephron. I am one of the immortals,” he said proudly.
He would know absolutely everything about the history of the Puranas, their defeat and the establishment of the IPF; I wanted to jump up and down for a bit.
“I would like to know everything from the beginning,” I said instead, and gestured for him to sit down on the footstool adjacent to my seat.
“I have seen the Puranas die for their misdeeds at the hands of my master, Blane the Heroic. He led the mad army and overthrew their wretched system of governance, which was based on sowing the seeds of conflict on a planet and allowing the natives to destroy each other. Then they would takeover the planet in the name of peace and reconstruction.”
“That is not as legend proclaims it!” I said, trying to absorb the fact that Blane the Heroic was the leader of the mad army. “Didn’t the mad army belong to the Puranas?”
“Initially, yes, which is why they knew the extent of the depravity of the Puranas and stood bravely against them.”
“If they were all that brave and principled, why were they eradicated afterwards?” I asked.
“Blane the Heroic set up the IPF with the help of all the other charted planets and their peoples. He wrote the manifesto, which is followed until today,” he said, his voice faltering. “It begins Liberty, Equality, and Freedom for all, and then it lays down the operational guidelines.”
I noticed he hadn’t answered my question. I would get back to it soon. “Where is this manifesto?” I asked.
He pointed to a drawer in the desk. I opened it to find a crumpled and lined yellowed paper lying inside. I was about to pick it up when he shouted, “Don’t touch that! It will crumble!”
“Oh, sorry I didn’t realise,” I said. “Why hasn’t it been stored digitally?”
“It’s top secret, only for the president’s eyes.”
“So if they can’t touch it, how exactly do they read it?” I asked, confused.
“Somehow, they just do. Nobody has ever complained about it in the last thousand years, so I presume it is not a problem,” he said, haughtily.
“Where is the current president?”
“He died five years into his term.”
“How long was his term for?”
“One hundred years, only one year to go now.”
“What? You haven’t had anyone in office for the last ninety-four years?” I asked, reeling from shock.
“Yes, it was quite unfortunate, but that’s what happens when outer rims insist on leadership roles, I’m afraid,” he said, radiating disapproval.
“Why didn’t you get a replacement?”
“We did send out a memo informing the Council, but I believe it has probably been misfiled as we haven’t received a response as yet.”
“How did you manage for all this time?”
“Quite easily, actually,” he lowered his voice conspiratorially. “The president doesn’t do much other than give speeches; I handled everything else.”
“Tell me about the mad army of the Puranas, did you witness their destruction?” I asked with bated breath.
“Blane did not destroy them.”
“What? They are still in existence? Was Blane mad too? Where are they?” I was nearly incoherent at the possibilities.
“Of course he was mad. They were all mad. When they turned on us and attacked IPF bases, I signed the presidential order myself to have them exterminated. But they ran and hid, the cowards that they are,” he spat out. “Who do you think the IPF stockpiles weapons to fight? You rebels? We have finally located their hideouts. They are currently…” he paused to gesture towards his left, “if you could just look at the…” and he began to cough and sputter. “That seems to be the rattle of death.”
“But you’re an immortal!” I protested.
“Most days that’s true, I must be allergic to the stinking gas. Now it will be for you to hunt them down…hunt them down before they hunt you,” he said as he breathed his last.
Epilogue - Commander Lethalwulf
I missed him terribly; my lord and master. But I knew when to give up; unlike Salaar, who had made it his mission in life to find him. After months of searching, we held a small memorial service and bestowed the Noble Peace Price on Zaaro in absentia. He was marked at 100 million currency units, the highest amount anyone had ever been granted in recorded history. If he was ever found, he would be extremely rich.
Acknowledgements
I would like to thank everyone who helped me get this book out of my head and onto paper:
My editor, Shandana Minhas, and the Mongrel Books team, for believing in my story, whipping it into shape and sharing it with the world; Musharraf Ali Farooqi, for his insight and pointing me towards Mongrel; Laila Malik and Andrew Maclure, for beta reading the draft and helping me pull it all together; Tasneem Zehra for pushing me to just start writing; My husband, Zulqarnain Afzal, for being as invested in this story as I was; My siblings, Bashir, Mariam, Zainab and Abeer Sheikh, for cheering me on;
And Mrs. Reza, for telling me I could.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Sidra F. Sheikh has two kids, a BSc from the London School of Economics, a spot on the Board of Governors of the Gulab Devi Trust Hospital, and a license to practice law in the High Courts of England and Pakistan. None of which helped her write a humorous sci-fi novel.
The Light Blue Jumper
Book 2
Prologue – Zaaro Nian
I woke with a start, remembering the apparition; a terrible hairy monster with googly eyes, a semi-masked face, bared teeth and groping hands. Thank goodness I was alone, I thought, trying to peer though the darkness. I was really alone. It was so quiet and still, I seemed to be the only person in the whole Universe. I soon realised I was floating in deep space. The apparition must have been real, the stinking gas must have interfered with my jumping abilities. Instead of landing somewhere safe, I had simply exited the space station as I slept. Zaaronians could breathe in a vacuum, so suffocation was not my main concern. How long had it been and where was I were the two most pressing questions. I really hoped I hadn’t travelled back in time, it would be most inconvenient, after what was probably our greatest victory.
I pondered my situation for a very long time as I floated onwards, and then it came to me. I had to endanger myself somehow, in order to jump somewhere else. I didn’t have a weapon, but I had my hands, so I tried to slap myself a couple of times. But every time my hand would reach my cheek it would automatically slow down and the intended slap would turn into a caress.
Defeated, I accepted that I was never going to be in mortal danger again and settled down to a life of solitary contemplation, when a passing meteorite careened towards me at breakneck speed and I found myself on a ship passing by. I saw the familiar white uniforms with the silver fist insignia and felt relief wash over me. I wa
s home at last. I introduced myself to a pleasant-looking officer, and asked for The Good Doctor. He drew his gun in response and pounced on me, announcing into his comms that there was a spy on the ship.
“Who are you?” he asked as he handcuffed me.
“Zaaro Nian, at your service,” I bowed.
“Why are you here?”
“If you could just get me to Madam, she will explain everything,” I said confidently.
He pointed his gun at my head this time, and said, “So Madam sent you, did she? Well, you won’t be seeing her again anytime soon!” he predicted ominously as he marched me through a door marked ‘INTERROGATION ROOM 7’.
“But aren’t you a rebel officer? You’re wearing white and silver!” I said indignantly.
“I am part of the Resistance Movement, the rebels are the ones in power.”
“But where are Lieutenant Salaar, Commander Lethal, and Princess Dinaara? Are they all right?” I asked in utter confusion.
“That is classified until I know whom you’re working for,” he said.
My anti-interrogation lessons with Commander Lethalwulf proved useful. At my insistence, he finally contacted someone and said, “Lieutenant, we caught someone prowling around on the Fifth Light. He says his name is Zaaro.”
The Fifth Light? What had happened to the Third and Fourth? I had lost myself in the possible permutations and combinations of space travel disasters when I was distracted by a stream of invective that made my ears turn a deep purple as the door opened to reveal an ecstatic Salaar. He ran forward and hugged me, lifting me clean off my feet. “I knew we would find you! I never stopped looking, even for one day!” he said.
“How long has it been?” I asked him when he was calmer.
“Five long years Zaaro,” he informed me. “There is no way to make this any easier, so I’m just going to put it bluntly. Madam now rules the Universe. She has adopted all IPF plans, taken over their infrastructure, personnel, and bases, and has simply become a stand in for the General. Major Fred is her right-hand man, handling all torture-related technology, and Colonel Bob is her left-hand man, still her head of security. But he has been threatening to resign recently and we are waiting to see if he goes through with it in order to re-recruit him.”
“The Good Doctor?” I asked in trepidation.
“He’s heading the Ministry of Misinformation at Rebel Headquarters, the old IPF Headquarters. He routinely checks in with us for what he should pass along to Madam. We feed him the exact opposite, so Madam is always on the wrong trail.”
“Lethal?” I asked anxiously.
“He’s still a double agent, he’s on a reconnaissance mission right now as we speak, trying to get security access to the restricted areas of Rebel Headquarters.”
“Dinaara and the kingdoms? Anya?”
“The kingdoms are still struggling, this time to get away from the rebels. There is a permanent base there now so they are slightly worse off than before. Anya is right here with us,” he smiled, “she is the only one who can out-think and outmanoeuvre Madam,” he said proudly. “And you can ask Dinaara how she is yourself.”
She bowled me over as she ran into the room, and there was some self-conscious straightening of uniforms after. “I can’t believe we’ve had to call ourselves the Resistance. It’s so passé,” Dinaara grumbled. “Can you believe Madam even tried to keep the white and silver uniform? She only gave it up when she got a cost estimate for stitching new rebel uniforms for the entire IPF army. The look on her face was priceless!” She grinned wickedly.
“What do they wear now?” I asked, curious.
“The same old black IPF uniforms. They even have their logo on it, but Madam insists that the warship is actually a symbol of peace and IPF on the uniform now stands for Interplanetary Friendship.”
It was supremely ill-mannered to discuss them but I could no longer resist. “What about my family? The people of Zaaron? Are they with you?” I asked hopefully.
“They chose to go with Madam; she made them tall promises of unprecedented year-end bonuses. Then she settled them on Dephron and sent the Warrawns as well, saying they didn’t like the look of Tephron. The latest news is that they are making a new secure settlement for the Zaaronians slightly off planet, to avoid likely assaults by the Warrawns, who have already built fortified homes on most of Dephron,” Salaar told me.
“It was a real loss when the weapons development team switched sides again, but the good news is that Lady stayed on with us. Billy tried to summon him for a spontaneous performance review, but luckily Lady locked himself into the hold of our ship in time,” he informed me cheerily. “Why don’t you rest for a while, Zaaro? There is a lot to be done now that you’re back.”
To be continued…
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