Kranti To Kaalasya
We have been sailing for the past week aboard the pride of Bharat’s naval fleet, the aircraft carrier SBF Kranti. It cuts through the ocean like a titan, a symbol of our nation's strength and unity. But now, the mission requires a change in phase.
The carrier will not proceed any further toward our destination. Officially, the reasoning is tied to the "security of the federation." Unofficially, I suspect the decision stems from the uncertainty surrounding this mission. The higher-ups are cautious, unwilling to risk the carrier and its invaluable personnel for a task veiled in so much mystery. The reality of the situation hangs heavily in the air.
Instead, our forward fleet consists of five battleships and two submarines. The rest of the naval assets, including the carrier, remain behind, a safe distance away from the action. The aircraft aboard the Kranti are primed and ready but will only be deployed once we signal their need.
The sea is restless, mirroring the unease that has settled over the fleet. Waves roll like dark mountains, crashing against the hull of the Kranti with relentless force. The winds are unyielding, carrying with them the sharp scent of salt and the bitter chill of the south. Heavy clouds loom overhead, their gray expanse broken only by fleeting glimpses of the pale sun. The air, thick with moisture, has a damp coldness that cuts straight through to the bone. The temperature has dropped significantly over the past two days, the cold seeping into every corner of the vessel, no matter how advanced its insulation. There is no escape from the ever-encroaching chill.
Our destination is still two days away: Antarctica. Or, as the world now refers to it, Kaalasya—a name derived from the ancient tongue, meaning "the realm of timeless shadow." A fitting name, given the recent developments. It has been years since any major operations have taken place in Antarctica, a continent governed by strict international treaties and regarded as the last untouched wilderness of the Earth. But all that has changed in the span of a single day, when a black cloud appeared over its icy expanse.
A pitch-black cloud has appeared over the continent, an ominous presence that defies all known meteorological explanations. Its scale is humongous, stretching far beyond the limits of the human eye. What began as a suspected weather phenomenon quickly turned into something far more sinister.
The day the cloud emerged, communication with every research station across the continent was severed. Efforts to re-establish contact have failed completely. Even more troubling is the failure of satellites and probes to capture clear images of the region. All visual feeds are obscured, as if the very light around Kaalasya is being consumed by the shadow. The news is a blow to the global scientific community, who have relied on those research stations to monitor the delicate ecosystem of the frozen continent.
Several rescue operations have been launched in the early days of the crisis, teams dispatched to locate and extract the researchers stationed on the icy continent. But even their whereabouts have been lost, leaving behind nothing but unanswered questions and growing fears.
Now, intelligence agencies speculate that an underground organization might have taken control of Antarctica. They suggest the black cloud could be the result of one of their experiments—a weapon or technology powerful enough to disrupt the natural order. On the surface, the theory holds some weight. An isolated continent, far from the oversight of global powers, would make an ideal stronghold for a group seeking to operate in secrecy.
But I doubt it. Any underground organization willing to take such extreme measures would have to possess resources and resolve unlike anything we've encountered before. Even then, it feels like grasping at straws. It doesn’t quite add up. The question lingers in my mind, gnawing at the edges of my focus: What has really happened out there?
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Regardless, we don’t have a choice, do we? The government cannot afford to abandon Antarctica—not after the immense effort and investment poured into preserving its pristine state. Billions of dollars, decades of negotiations, treaties, and pacts signed by global leadership to ensure that this untouched land remains a symbol of international cooperation and respect for nature. The ice-covered continent is vital not only for its resources but for its environmental significance.
Antarctica has been a beacon of neutrality, an untouchable sanctuary, even during the Great Conflict—a war so devastating that its influence extended beyond our planet, shaping the future of humanity on other worlds. And yet, not a single battle has tarnished its icy expanse. That alone speaks to its value. Now, the possibility of a rogue group threatening the region’s sanctity cannot be ignored.
We must do anything to reclaim it.
We must crush any organization that dares to spread its roots on the sacred ice of Kaalasya.
Standing on the bridge of the Kranti, I can feel the weight of responsibility pressing down on me like the storm clouds above. Every officer, every sailor aboard the forward fleet relies on me to guide them through what can only be described as the unknown. My command is not just about strategy or tactics; it is about leadership in the face of something intangible, something that none of us can predict.
It is time.
I step out onto the deck, the sharp wind biting into my skin even through the layers of my uniform. The soldiers are assembled below, a sea of disciplined faces staring up at me. These are no ordinary men and women—they are elite, handpicked for missions where failure isn’t an option. No matter the storm, no matter the enemy, I know these soldiers will stand their ground.
I grip the railing, letting my gaze sweep over them. The rain has begun to fall in earnest, each drop cold and heavy, yet not a single soldier flinches or falters. They stand at attention, unwavering. The ship creaks beneath our feet as it pushes through the relentless waves, but their resolve is unshaken.
“Brothers and sisters,” I begin, my voice cutting through the wind like a blade.
“You know why we’re here. You know the stakes. I don’t need to tell you how capable you are—I’ve seen it with my own eyes. Time and again, you’ve proven that there’s no obstacle you can’t overcome. No challenge too great, no enemy too fierce.”
The sea roars below us as if in agreement. The sounds of the storm mirror the intensity of my words.
“We sail toward the unknown,” I continue. “Toward a threat we don’t yet understand. But let me tell you this—fear has no place among us. Doubt has no place among us. Because we are not just soldiers. We are the shield of Bharat, the vanguard of our people. When the world looks for hope, they look to us.”
A murmur of agreement ripples through the crowd, barely audible over the storm. But the look in their eyes, sharp and unwavering, tells me everything I need to know.
“Our mission is not an easy one. But when has it ever been? We’ve trained for this. We’ve prepared for this. And now, we march forward together. For our nation. For our families. For the future of humanity itself.”
I pause, letting the weight of my words settle over them. The rain hammers down, pooling on the deck, but no one moves.
“Sa No Varuna!” I shout, raising my fist high.
“Sa No Varuna!” they roar back in unison, their voices echoing across the ocean.
The war cry of the navy, invoking the ancient guardian of the seas, fills the air with a palpable energy. It is a moment of unity, of purpose, that no storm can diminish.
As the soldiers begin to move toward their respective posts, I turn to Lieutenant Aarohi, who has been waiting patiently at my side.
“Any new information from Intelligence?” I ask.
She hesitates for a moment, then shakes her head. “No solid or reliable updates, Commander. The situation remains as unclear as before.”
“Expected,” I mutter, more to myself than to her. “We’ve got no choice but to follow orders and adapt as we go.”
She nods, her expression steady but tinged with concern. She, like the rest of us, is aware of the uncertainties that surround this mission. The lack of information is a challenge in itself, but it is something we will have to overcome.
We make our way toward the forward battleships, the icy rain now turning into sleet. The fleet is preparing to break away from the Kranti, engines roaring to life as the battleships and submarines ready themselves for the next leg of the journey.