June 20th, 2036, Neo-Fujian, New Indian Continent, 9:30 A.M.
The port of Neo-Fujian was sparse, yet busy. What had once been mainland China was now a wasteland, devoid of any sign of human civilization. It was not an exaggeration; investigation had revealed no evidence of any kind of human settlement here. No buildings, no cities, no roads or railways. Because of how far up the eastern coast of the New Indian Subcontinent it was, the Indian government had decided to develop the place. Primarily as a naval port from which ships could patrol the greatly expanded coastline, but secondarily as a civilian port to be used to support the recolonization effort.
Granted, this wasn’t the only one. There were several other suitable spots for building ports on the eastern coast – and indeed most were being developed. National Highway Authority of India (NHAI) had managed to, in the one year that had since passed since the teleportation, connect Neo-Fujian and with the rest of the country. A remarkable feat accomplished in such a short time. A mega-project to connect the country’s extensive highway network with the four corners of the new continent, Neo-Fujian had been the first node to be connected and opened. It had been less than four days since the inauguration ceremony. That said, the grand highway was mostly empty. Travelling via road was still challenging.
The problem hadn’t gone unaddressed. Ever since the development project began, NHAI had already been pushing for the development of new towns alongside specific points along the highway. For the sake of ease, the new towns were where sprawling cities had been in the old world. At every few hundred kilometres, there was a town with basic facilities; a hospital, a restaurant, a few hotels, and other essentials. Because of how remote they were, almost all of them also had at least one small airport. Contractors had been tasked with developing the place, and work was in full swing. One could tell they were getting near a town when they started seeing rows upon rows of under construction buildings and heavy construction equipment by the side of the road. The distances between individual stops were still too much, however, and without the frequent stops at every few kilometres that people were used to, there were very few who chose to drive all the way.
The newly-built of Neo-Fujian itself, unlike the small towns along the highway, was bustling. Originally a makeshift harbour built by the Navy engineers, it had quickly blossomed into a full-blown port facility to accommodate civilian traffic as well. There was a regular influx of merchant ships all the time, bringing in equipment, manpower and material needed to develop the place. A small permanent settlement had been established nearby, serving as the new home of those who breathed life into the new vital supply point of the country. The sound of construction equipment had become a part of daily life here, as usual and common as the sound of birds chirping in the morning. It was a golden time for civilian contractors, big and small, alike. There was always something that needed to be built; there was always a contract for someone somewhere in this vast, new world.
Just before Neo-Fujian was the last toll gate of the highway, manned by a skeleton team of workers all too eager to accept work here. It was obvious; there was rarely any traffic, and apart from routine maintenance, there was nothing else. Nothing else but lazing around and devoting oneself to the screen. Today, as the toll booth worker sat in his booth, watching the latest episode of his favourite web series, he heard the sound of car engines approaching. Initially he didn’t pay attention, but then the sound got louder. There was now something shiny speeding towards the toll booth. The worker lazily put down his phone as a red Ferrari 588 came into view, gleaming under the sun. Secretly, he gawked at the car, admiring it as the car deftly pulled up near the automatic toll collection point. The car seemed stylish. Two doors, a nice spoiler. The sensors scanned the FASTAG code on the windshield, and the barrier opened. The worker watched as the car sped away. He didn’t get a glimpse of the driver; the windows were tinted black. He wondered who it could have been. Probably some rich real estate guy or some builder’s kid. Wouldn’t be out of place at all; there were a lot of them here these days. With a shrug, he went back to watching that episode.
It wasn’t long before the port came into sight. The haphazard nature of the way infrastructure was developed was apparent; there was a certain uncanny emptiness around that would feel alien to the average Indian. The forest surrounding the highway felt intimidating. There was nothing but wilderness beyond the barriers. These were unlike the forests back home; nobody truly knew what lay there. There had been speculation about the effects of the transference on the biology of the new regions, but for now it seemed there was nothing out of the ordinary there. The treeline receded slowly as the roofs of buildings and towers began peeking above the trees. The massive hulks of the merchant ships followed, docked in port. More could be seen sailing in the distance, sometimes towards the port, sometimes away.
The port authorities were surprised, as one would expect, to have someone drive all the way from the mainland. Usually it was large convoys of trucks travelling in groups, not a solitary vehicle. The journey was considered gruelling, even for the most experienced of drivers. Yet, no one raised too many questions. They had been expecting him. The car’s registration number had been already transmitted from the mainland. Newly installed sensors and cameras scanned the number plate. The computer ran a check and compared the number first from the RTO database directly, then with the received data to verify, followed by a simple ID check. Finally, with its engines purring, the red Ferrari gracefully came to a stop in the designated parking area.
As the door swung open, a man walked up to the driver’s side of the vehicle. He was dressed in a cheap coat and a pair of black trousers, and the open collar and missing tie spoke volumes about a man too busy to worry about appearances. As the driver stepped out, he waved at him.
“Really, Rajdoot? You could have taken the flight like a sane man, you know.”
The person in question, Rajdoot, simply smiled as he greeted him with a quick namaste. His shades matched his car’s windows; tinted black, shining under the sun. Like the man, he too was dressed formally, albeit missing a coat. His sleeves were rolled up. The edges looked grimy, a testament of the gruelling journey. Overall, the medium-height man looked like just another fashionable Indian young man one would find anywhere in the country.
“I wouldn’t be here if I was sane, Natarajan sir. Besides, what’s the fun in that? Actually, how do people manage to do that anyway? I’d die sitting on my ass doing nothing for too long.”
Natarajan simply rolled his eyes. “You wanted an excuse to flex your car, isn’t it?”
Rajdoot laughed. “Can’t a man have a little fun? You know, have people turn and look at him even once? And look, the opportunity was just so good. You know how little I get to drive this thing back there? And here you have a brand-new highway, completely empty, no obstructions, no nothing. I think they should declare this highway as a recreational zone, you know. I would kill to be able to drive here again.”
“How’d you get the car anyway? I’m pretty sure the official paycheck isn’t enough. You wouldn’t happen to be involved in some shady business, would you?”
Rajdoot simply shrugged. “I just saved up.”
“What?”
“Yeah, I just saved up some money. Like the aunties that stash their cash in their – I don’t know, bras, maybe? Or in their pallus? Actually, do they even do that anymore? Isn’t the trope like, way too overused and cliched?”
Natarajan gave him an exasperated look. Obviously, he knew the man in front of him was clean. And besides, even if he had dabbed into illegal business, it was all pointless now anyway. With a sigh, he motioned him to follow him.
“Well, despite your trip, you’re just in time, so I’ll let it pass. Are you up to date with the details of the operation, or do you need a briefing again?”
“Unless there have been any new developments in the last twenty hours, I’m fine.”
“Good. And I hope you’re good with ships, because you are going to be in deep waters for this one.”
“I’ve been in deep water plenty enough. In fact, I’ve been on ships so long I feel like I smell like salt now.”
“I’m pretty sure it was just six days, wasn’t it?”
“Six days is a lot when all you do is stare out into the sea and watch other ships. The dead dinosaurs were cool though, I’ll admit that.”
The two conversed casually as they walked. Overhead, an air force Mi17 passed by, the whine of its Klimov turboshaft engines and the beating of its rotors drowning out all sounds. Its grey, aged metal skin still shone brightly in the sunlight, covered in oil stains and dirt. Rajdoot could see something slung underneath the aircraft as it passed by.
“I don’t remember hearing about any wildfires.”
“Coverage isn’t good here. A wildfire in the middle of nowhere doesn’t smell like profits or clout to a reporter, does it?”
“I have to disagree. Think of all the environmentalists out there. The nature enthusiasts, the Greta Thunbergs. Make it sound like the end of the world, and they’re gonna hit the streets immediately. Don’t even get me started about the profits you can make out of that. Do you know how hot the topic would become just in Delhi alone?”
“Yeah, I know. I’ve had enough of of that already now.” Natarajan replied. Despite the fact that he was senior, the conversation between them was casual.
The docks were now in full view. Fully-loaded cargo ships now imposed themselves upon their eyes, their massive hulls sitting stoically in the calm waters in the docks. Large containers, like a child’s building blocks, sat on them. The frigates and corvettes moored next to them looked like dwarves in contrast; dull-grey, small, like a stunted child. Workers and dock personnel milled around, while security guards with carbines or modified INSAS rifles patrolled the areas.
“So, Natarajan sir,” Rajdoot began. Calling him ‘sir’ was not a conscious move, but rather a force of habit that he was too occupied to mull over or remedy. “what’s on our schedule today? I feel a bit spent, I think a good lunch and a good girl can fix that.”
“Nothing much, thankfully. Just a brush-up lesson and some greetings, then you can retire for the night. Anything that needed to be prepared and trained for has already been done before the team arrived, so this should be quick. After that,” he glanced at Rajdoot. “I know a restaurant here that serves good South Indian stuff. Wanna tag along? Fifty-fifty, of course.”
“Does it have cute ladies?”
“Unfortunately no.” Natarajan laughed.
“Aww, sad. May as well just visit a good dhaba. I got no appetite for idli-dosas now.” Rajdoot groaned in mock frustration.
The port was large, spread over a large area of the coast. A drydock was in construction here, meant to be used by the navy. More port facilities were being built, and bright yellow construction vehicles could be seen carefully working alongside construction workers. Most of the port was open, but the north-eastern section was surrounded by a ten-metre-tall wall topped with barbed wire. Large warehouse-shaped structures could be seen from the outside, tempting one’s curiosity.
At the security checkpoint, more stringent checks and frisking followed. The security here was tighter, and the traffic lower. Merely stepping on to the other side of the barrier was enough to make one feel the tension in the air. It wasn’t overtly stated or expressed, yet it was there. The lack of people walking around freely, armed patrols walking around with kitted-out INSAS rifles and guard dogs was enough to enforce this feeling subconsciously. Yet both the men walked in casually, as if it was just another day at office. Because it was.
The large warehouse-shaped building was built over the docks themselves. The side facing land was completely covered, painted in grey just like the rest of the buildings. There was yet another security checkpoint, albeit smaller than the one at the gate. One last check, and the door was pushed open.
“Damn, quite a fine piece, isn’t she?” Rajdoot remarked. The inside of the building was a massive construction area, alive with noises of machinery and people working. In the middle was a large dry dock. With the noise and the sound of machinery, the environment was a complete opposite of what was outside. Nowhere as oppressive as before.
Sitting in the dry dock, was a ship. A large ship. Its painted metal hull gleamed under the bright lights. The upper part of the hull was painted in a myriad of orange and gold patterns, while the lower was plain black. Three masts rose from its deck, and the extensive net of ropes and the unfurled sails left little doubt as to what kind of ship it was, only helped by the open portholes on either side of the hull.
Rajdoot stepped forward as he inspected the ship with great interest. The hull had a tumblehome design, which angled up into a pointed prow. Sitting at the root of the ship’s stem was the ship’s figurehead: a large, golden eagle with its large, golden wings spread out in a regal fashion. The attention to detail was pleasing to the eyes; there was no shortage of curved lines, curling vines with floral patterns, and other artistic features engraved onto the hull. On the port side, the words “Kohinoor” were engraved in gold, flanked on both sides by the pious Swastik carved into golden lotus flowers. As far as the artistic part was considered, Rajdoot thought, whoever had designed the ship certainly deserved an award.
Rajdoot turned to his senior. “I suppose we didn’t just have one of these lying around conveniently just before the transfer? Because I’m pretty sure you can’t build something like this in like, a moment’s notice.”
“There were already plans for this all the way back since when they were discovered.”
“Since the what were discovered?”
“The natives.” Natarajan spoke as he motioned him. “They thought modern tech might scare them. Yeah, I know- conspiracy theory material. Gunboat diplomacy was on top of the list right from the start, as you can see.” He pointed a finger to ship’s closed portholes. “See that? That’s a hundred-and-eighty-millimetre gun. All those portholes from amidships all the way to the stern are two-hundred-three-millimetres. This thing has a lot of firepower.”
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“That’s a lot of heat we’re packing for what’s supposedly a peaceful diplomatic mission.”
“That’s the thing, a peaceful mission. With all the fighting and pillaging these pointy-ears do, you know their definition of peace is going to be different. You should know, you’ve talked with them a lot, haven’t you?”
Rajdoot shrugged. “I haven’t conversed with them as much as I’d like to. Only thing I can tell you for sure is that they’re a bunch of unsociable folks. That, and they love slavery a lot for some reason. Especially female slaves.”
Natarajan whistled quietly. “I still think it’s a shame the NCW didn’t cash on this opportunity. Could have earned enough clout to save face and appear relevant in public, and who knows, maybe even make a comeback from the disgrace.”
“You’re asking the same women to take high IQ decisions like this, who cannot differentiate between real life and soap operas and have trouble deciding between victim-blaming and getting justice for the victim.”
“Aren’t you rather philosophical today?”
“I think I’m perfectly fine,” Rajdoot calmly assured him. “It’s just that the sight of a giant ship like this invokes a lot of feelings in a man. Get what I’m saying? Think of it, what would the Marathas have done if they had such a magnificent beauty in their fleets? Maybe we wouldn’t be colonized? Maybe the Brits and the Portuguese would have been scrambling to curry favour with them, maybe the Mughals would have given up? Think about it. Maybe we would be fighting the Allies in the Second World War, maybe we would be the ones eating the nuke instead of Japan?”
Natarajan rolled his eyes. “You haven’t even drunk yet. Or have you? Were you drunk-driving through the entire journey?”
“I will keep that in mind. And no, I am not that insane. I am a perfectly civilized Bharatvaasi, I don’t think about perverse things such as alcohol or money.” Rajdoot grinned as another man approached him. He did a quick namaste as he approached the two. His face was a mixture of youth and experience; his clean, wrinkle-less face spoke of a man riding the peaks of youth, yet the neatly-combed greyed hair on top added a touch of experience and caution. He was taller than the two, towering above them as he approached them with a smile.
“Captain.” Natarajan greeted him. “Rajdoot, this is Captain Chaudhary. The one in charge of driving this absolute work of art. Captain, this is Rajdoot. He’s going to be the one handling all of the talking. And don’t worry, he’s damn good at everything he does.”
The captain eyed the short man. He had been a navy skipper before, behind the wheels of a frigate, and had joined the Merchant Navy after retirement. Now, once again, he was to sail into danger, beyond the bounds of comfort and safety that was the Merchant Navy. He didn’t need to think twice about what both of the men were from; of course it was RAW. It was always RAW.
“Quite the name you have, sir. And welcome to the Kohinoor, even though it’s still not ready to go.” He remarked. Rajdoot simply laughed.
“Charming, isn’t it? Simple enough, yet also has a touch of class and culture. And what’s with the salutation? Aren’t you supposed to be senior to me?”
“Isn’t this how things worked back in the day? You’re the diplomat now,” the captain placed emphasis on the word, “so now you command the ship. You say, we sail, we fight.”
Rajdoot whistled. “Whoo, that’s a lot of responsibility you’re putting on me, captain. You sure about that?”
“Of course. I’d been told you’ve experience with such kinds of things.”
Rajdoot laughed. “They actually said that? I don’t think we had medieval Europeans trying to cope with guided missile destroyers, captain.”
“We did have arrogant assholes who have a knack for biting more than they can chew, and a public that would spare none even if the perpetrators were literal toddlers.”
Rajdoot turned to face the captain. “What do you think of the pointy-ears, captain?”
“Hmm?” The captain raised his eyebrows, surprised by the unexpected question. Yet the smile he had on his face never faded. “The pointy-ears? I don’t think about them.”
“Really?”
“Have you seen the pointy-ears? Seen them talk?”
“No, not much. Not much at all.” Rajdoot lied. It was an open lie, yet the captain continued.
“They make monkeys look like Einstein. Know what, I think we should send monkeys wherever they’re being kept and fed. I think they can learn some manners and good habits from them.”
Natarajan gave an exasperated look. “I don’t think anybody is ready for magical monkeys right now.”
The three men shared a laugh. Rajdoot quietly inspected the ship. “So, captain,” he began. “tell me about this ship. What are the fighting capabilities of this lady? Do those giant cannons actually work?”
“Sure, sure,” the captain spoke as he motioned them to follow him. “follow me. I’ll tell you all there is to the Lady Kohinoor.” Rajdoot peered at the portholes, noting the dark muzzles of the guns; dark holes peeking out of a beautiful painting of bright gold and orange. There was little inside that was visible apart from the guns themselves.
“On the surface, we have the guns that your senior here has mentioned. Massive guns, very good. These were recently cast here in a separate facility, and by a very talented and dedicated group of engineers if I were to be honest. At first glance, these guns look the same as any that the natives might have seen. However, there are differences. A lot of differences, in fact.”
The group began ascending a set of stairs as the captain led them to the ship’s main deck. A raised platform had been erected to service the ship, and engineers and workers could be seen scurrying around quickly as the last of checks were performed. As the group finally stepped on the topmost level, Rajdoot whistled.
“Oh my, you really weren’t joking about the firepower part at all, were you?” he spoke as the group watched an overhead crane carefully load a long, tube-shaped object in a large, square shaped protrusion on the deck just aft of the forward-most mast. Two workers were on site, carefully guiding the crane as it lowered the object, paying special attention to the small fins at the bottom of the object.
The captain nodded. “For safety, you know. Just in case.”
“Just in case, exactly.” Rajdoot appeared to contemplate a bit. “Where’s the radar, though? And since we’re mounting missiles, I suppose there’s going to be a fire control system, right? How do you provide power for that? I don’t suppose a vintage steam engine can provide enough power to reliably run all that sophisticated stuff.”
The captain motioned upwards. “There’s a scaled-down radar mounted inside the masts themselves, which is why they look so thick. They extend upwards when in use. The masts look like wood, but they’re not. It’s hardened steel alloy, made to resist the kind of solid shot and explosive shot that ships of this kind used to fire. The masts were actually one of the most expensive-to-build parts of the ship for this reason. Don’t worry, the radars are completely safe inside it.”
“Hmmmm, I see, I see.” Rajdoot nodded as the VSHORAD missile was finally loaded all the way into the concealed launch silo. The silos were small. Much smaller than what he had seen on conventional warships. Just big enough to accommodate one missile. No option for quad-packing missiles either. That meant space for just sixteen missiles on this small ship. They’d have to be extra-cautious with what targets they choose and how they eliminate it, if it ever came to it.
As the three stepped on to the deck, Rajdoot took in the view. It was majestic, to say the least. Lavish, beautiful, laced with art and culture, an excellent eyewitness of a civilization blessed with prosperity and wealth. Rajdoot smiled. An excellent façade.
The ship’s size was deceptive. From the inside, the one-hundred-and-forty-metres long ship felt much smaller. Compartments looked smaller, bulkheads and the decks felt suspiciously thicker. The ornamental design was even more pronounced here; not a single wall or panel looked bland. Everything had been tailored to look and feel lavish to the touch, down to the floors and the ceilings of the compartments themselves. Not a single panel was spared. The captain’s cabin felt like a stylish luxury hotel room, but the quarters for the rest of the crew were equally well furnished and lavish as well. Artificial lights illuminated the compartments, hidden inside fancy lamps made to appear as if they were handcrafted magic lamps of mysterious make and origin. The air felt fresh and cool despite the clear lack of windows and portholes in most of the compartments, thanks to a central air-conditioning system. The wires and pipes were concealed well. Rajdoot didn’t need to guess how or where.
As they descended into the gun decks, the captain spoke up. “This where the guns are. As you can see, very large. Very powerful. But that isn’t all. I think you’ve noticed something already.”
“The guns are far too thick on the breech side of the gun, and I’m seeing too many screws and hinges that are too small for operating anything on the gun itself. They just seem to stick out for some reason.” Rajdoot answered.
“Correct.” The captain walked up to one of the larger guns. A click. Something on the gun unlocked. The whole rear part of the gun swung out to the left. “As you can see, these are masked guns. Hidden inside the shape of a larger gun. Opening this hatch is the only way to operate these guns. Inside they’re all just normal seventy-six-millimetre guns.” He closed the hatch, gently swinging it to the closed position. “You gotta give it to the engineers, absolute madlads. How they managed to cut the guns to the needed size for concealment and still get them working is nothing sort of magic to me.”
“And fire control?” Rajdoot enquired.
“That’s also a work of art in itself. Basically, it is an entirely automated system which fires the guns based on the ship’s movement and the individual guns’ probability of hitting. So no long drawn out battles with nothing but trading volleys of fire. The computer calculates where the target is, how many guns need to hit, how many can hit, then directs the bridge where to sail and how fast. And when the time comes, to shoot.”
“As for the power and the rest of the systems,” the captain continued, “most were salvaged from recently scrapped ships – the engines, generators, most of the electronics and electrical equipment, the wiring, you get the idea. The combat systems were purpose-built by a startup. Come, let me show you the engine room.”
June 22nd, 2036, Neo-Fujian, New Indian Continent, 7:05 A.M.
The first rays of the sun graced the coast, casting the entire port in a golden light. And while there was no shortage of objects that basked under the sun, none shone as brightly as the golden eagle with its wings spread out, in all its beautiful glory. The glare was so bright that even with the tall walls, the glare could be seen from kilometres away from some nearby hilltops.
Gathered in the secluded, cordoned-off port were a large group of people dressed in perhaps the most bizarre of dressing styles anyone had seen outside the set of a naatak or a historical movie. To put it plainly, it looked medieval, or ancient. The brightly-coloured sarees, the spotlessly-white embroidered silk pajamas and dhotis, the brightly-coloured and gold-embroidered chogas and sherwanis, all stood in stark contrast to the shades of dull and drab colours around them.
In the midst of the group of people was a table, on which were maps, papers and whole variety of things. Natarajan stood at the table.
“Alright, people. Today is the big day. Today, everyone gathered here is about to make history, Itihaas. You’re about to embark on a journey Gandhiji would have loved to be a part of – I think. I don’t know Gandhiji, but I know he liked peace or something, and putting a gun at someone’s head for a little…’vichaar-vimarsh’, as we call it, is a lot more peaceful than shooting them up.” The dry joke elicited some laughs from the assembled crowd.
“Now here,” Natarajan turned to the man beside him, “this here is Rajdoot. Yes, that is his name, don’t think about it. We’re going to take it slow and easy with the natives, just so they completely understand. Just think of it as a way to ease understanding between us and them.”
Rajdoot gave a charismatic smile to the crowd. Fitting his ‘name’, the man was the most regally dressed of the group. A brightly-coloured, beautifully-detailed golden sherwani secured tightly at the waist with a golden kamarbandh, also richly embroidered in gold, draping over a churidar pajama. A turban sat on his head, decorated with jewels and gold. More heavy jewellery sat on his neck, and his fingers glistened of gold from all the rings he wore.
Of all the people, his outfit stood out the most. It had been designed specifically to assert his position as the most important man aboard the ship, and his appearance reflected his power even in places where hostile eyes may search for weakness, whether it was the tightly fitting kamarbandh, or the silk cloth draped over his shoulder, to the turban (pagdi) on his head. The embroidery was perhaps the most intricate and most detailed; just about every major art style in the country all the way from the north to the south and from the east and to the west had been woven together in a rather beautiful display of craftsmanship. At this point, it was clear the idea of ‘going overboard’ had not appeared to the planners.
“As you all have been introduced already,” Natarajan continued, “let’s get to the important part. Dr. Sehgal.”
An old man with glasses stepped out in front. From his appearance, he would have been mistaken for a minister in a Hindu king’s royal court in some historical movie or show. With the exception of the pair of glasses and the short grey hair peeking out of his pagdi – nobody was wearing wigs of any sort, including Rajdoot.
“How are you feeling, doctor? Your bones feel used to the gravity yet?”
The good-natured doctor laughed. “Better than ever. Though I still get that slight pain every once in a while.”
“Good, good. Doctor, you remember what your role was, right? You’re to stay with Rajdoot as his personal advisor, and study the pointy-ears.”
“I have good memory, Mr. Natarajan. This body has far more fight and life in it than what meets the eyes.”
“Good, good. Now, an important thing,” Natarajan turned to his right, “we have your security detail here, which I talked about previously. I said we couldn’t release details back then, but now they are here, so let me introduce them.”
The crowd turned their eyes at the group of armoured men standing beside him. While it was true that everyone in the crowd were dressed flamboyantly, none stood out as much as either Rajdoot or these men did. A large, golden kavach with a swastik in the centre of the sun was engraved on their chest plates, signifying the high-birth of their character backgrounds decided upon by the planners. Beneath the kavach was a thick chainmail, a grey coat tucked underneath, topped only by ornamental golden armlets and other jewellery. Their faces were concealed by grey masks concealed underneath golden helmets with chainmail that extended all the way down to their necks. With their physique, their character was complete; high-born kshatriya warriors who had sworn to protect their liege.
“Major Solanki here is a special forces commando, along with his men,” Natarajan spoke as one man stepped up. He was the only one with his face uncovered. “though from what unit or branch, I am not going to tell – not that it is a big no-no secret, of course. Just know that they have ample experience as far as the sea and dangerous lands are concerned.”
Major Solanki did a quick namaste as he put down his spear. Hanging from the kamarbandh on his waist was a traditional sword. With a smile, he pulled out the circular shield on his back that was previously invisible to others. A loud click, and all of a sudden there was a carbine in his hands, kitted out with holographic sights and its buttstock folded. The reaction was understandable; everyone was convinced the security detail was the real deal.
“We have more or less everything we need to deal with whatever the natives throw at us, including monsters or giant armoured lizards.” The major confidently assured.
“Major Solanki has been instructed to maintain extreme vigilance. Under no circumstances is any member of the expedition allowed to go anywhere without at least one armed escort. As of now, we don’t know how safe it is right now for humans at ground zero, so unless the situation is assessed and deemed safe enough, this rule shall apply. Captain Chaudhary?”
The captain stepped forward with a bunch of papers and maps in his hands. The tall man had taken an appearance somewhat similar to a Maratha surkhel – a fitting style. He spread out the maps and papers on the table, neatly covering them with a paperweight. Natarajan peered over the table as he began explaining.
“This right here is the schematics and blueprints of the ship. Now, there are two of these. One of these – this, right here – is for the Kohinoor’s engineers. The other – this one here,” he held up a yellow roll of parchment for everyone to see, “is for any native who’s a bit too curious about the ship and who places it over his life. Remember, there are spaces inside the ship that need to be hidden and justified for because they are an anomaly. Now while we can hide most things, it isn’t going to be perfect. So I want everyone here to go through these documents and diagrams, memorize what the ship’s insides are supposed to be, and revise everything you’ve been taught. The combat guys will handle the weapon systems and the gun systems – please double-check that the guns and radars are concealed, and perform routine checks on them. Typical navy stuff, you know that already. Experts,” Natarajan paused, then continued. “reminder that the guns on the ships are meant to buy you time, not decimate native navies, despite how easy they may seem. They are there so that you can get out and let the Navy’s big boys handle the shitshow. Do not, I repeat, do not try to get into any trouble that could potentially lead to any problem that leads to a shooting war. And one thing, best of luck. Jai hind.”
One hour later, the last of the precious cargo and crew were loaded aboard the Kohinoor. Rajdoot, along with the captain and the Major, was the last to board the ship. As he stepped aboard the ship, he gave a smile no one saw. This was going to be fun.