POV: Aritra NaskarDate: September 18, 2012Location: In-Flight from Singapore to Mumbai, en route to KolkataTime: 11:15 PM SGT / 1:45 AM IST (September 19)
The cabin lights dimmed as our Airbus climbed above the emerald waters of the Straits of Malacca. I sat by the window, the cool overhead reading lamp illuminating my tablet screen—still glowing with drone telemetry from Singapore's mission. Beneath the hush of the jet engines, I felt a rare calm: our deployments in Malaysia and Dhubri had succeeded, and Singapore's drones now patrolled their flood-prone corridors. Tomorrow, I would return to Kolkata to prepare for Nova Tech's next legislative review.
Halfway through a final stock-market tick forecast, my tablet vibrated with a high-priority alert: an incoming encrypted message from Priya Menon. I tapped it mid-air turbulence.
PRIORITY ALERT – KASHMIR NODE 2 – MASSIVE SPIKE IN INCOMING FIRE ALARMS – LOCAL AUTHORITIES REPORT TERRORIST ATTACKS ON MULTIPLE CROSSING POINTS
My stomach tightened as I read and re-read the words. "Terrorist attacks on multiple crossing points"? Kashmir—an already fragile region—was ablaze? I glanced anxiously at the darkness beyond the window, imagining those frozen valleys now lit by fire.
I tapped "Reply—Urgent."
ATRITRA: Priya, confirm details. Who under attack? What exactly?
Seconds later, her response arrived:
PRIYA: Reports indicate simultaneous strikes on the Jhelum River bridge near Baramulla and the Srinagar-Leh highway checkpoint. Cross-border militants appear to have infiltrated via Poonch. Multiple casualties, widespread panic. Pakistan-based terror cell "Red Crescent Brigade" has claimed responsibility, citing "India's unchecked ascension" as motive.
My breath caught. I knew the "Red Crescent Brigade" name—an extremist faction that had operated in the shadows for years, but never with this scale or brazenness. Simultaneous attacks implied sophisticated coordination—likely guided by external sponsors. My mind raced: Nova Tech's Kashmir node was meant to ensure transparent fund disbursement for winter relief. Now those very nodes might be disrupted or manipulated. Tower sabotage could cut off villagers from essential supplies—food, medicine, warmth.
I tapped "Read receipts" on Priya's final message, then locked the tablet. Around me, passengers slept or watched movies—oblivious to the conflagration erupting above the Himalayas. My knuckles whitened around the armrest.
I pressed "Flight attendant" on the call button and whispered, "May I have hot water and tea, please?" The attendant nodded, unaware of my urgency. I sank into my seat, mind whirring. Nova Tech's drones—already shipped out to Malacca and Dhubri—were not yet deployed to Kashmir. In the thin air above the Indian subcontinent, our Automated Drone Swarms still rested in Kolkata warehouses.
A flight attendant returned with a hot cup. I clasped it, steam fogging my glasses. My next move: rally resources to Kashmir, get our drones airborne as soon as I land—and do it before nightfall in Srinagar. I would need permission from local authorities, coordinate with the army, and ensure our transparency systems stayed intact. If the militants severed Node 2's uplink, people would be cut off from essential winter allowances—supplies that could mean life or death.
Sipping the tea, I accessed Nova Tech's secure communication app. I typed a quick note to Arnav Basu:
"Arnav—launch emergency Kashmir protocol. Mobilize drones and satellite relays. Contact Lieutenant General Mehra at Army HQ for flight clearances. Priya will handle node forensics. I'm diverting to Mumbai; will be in Kolkata by dawn."
Within minutes, Priya acknowledged:
"Understood. Initiating."
I exhaled, setting the cup down. Now there was nothing to do but ride the hours until Mumbai, where I would descend like a storm onto Salt Lake Sector-V.
Location: Mumbai Chhatrapati Shivaji International Airport – Arrival GateTime: 3:30 AM IST (September 19, 2012)**
The jet-slumber in my bones turned to adrenaline as we landed under inky skies. I disembarked swiftly, suitcase in hand, weaving past late-night travelers and uniformed security. The airport's neon-lit corridors felt surreal—like walking through a dreamscape after emerging from the darkness above the clouds.
On my phone: helicopters ready, a team of drone engineers prepped, and a secure flight path from Mumbai to Srinagar cleared by the Indian Air Force. A midnight train felt too slow; a chartered flight could get me there within three hours. I headed to a waiting airport SUV, greeted by Lieutenant General Mehra, who offered a curt nod.
"Colonel Varma informs me Nova Tech's drones are on standby at the Srinagar base," he said quietly as we sped onto the Western Express Highway. "I need your confirmation to launch. Rules of engagement: reconnaissance only—no strikes. Civilians must be protected."
I nodded. "No offensive moves—only surveillance, supply-drops, communications relays. We have infrared and thermal sensors to locate stranded families, then alert army units for evacuation. No drone will carry weapons."
He met my gaze, assessing. "Understood. We'll coordinate airspace with your team."
My gaze fixed on the city lights, streaking past like liquid stars. "Thank you, sir."
Location: Srinagar Airport – Tarmac & Control HubTime: 7:10 AM IST
We landed to a haze of dust and tension. Military trucks and ambulances lined the runway; soldiers patrolled with rifles slung. The mountains around the valley carved silhouettes against the pale dawn. Inside the heated briefing room, Priya Menon waited alongside Dr. Rhea Mukherjee, Syed Kamal, and a cadre of drone technicians. The large screen behind them displayed a live schematic of the Srinagar Relay Station: Node 2's uplink was flickering—amber warnings.
Colonel Varma peered at the screen. "Your drones will launch from this pad. We've cleared altitude to 5,000 feet. Rugged terrain, temperature 2°C. Expect turbulence."
I turned to the Nova Tech team. "Status?"
Priya tapped her tablet. "All eight drones—codenamed Everest Alpha through Everest Hotel—are fueled, sensors calibrated, and in thermal-optic standby. Their encrypted uplinks interface with the Kashmiri broadband towers and fallback to Iridium satellites."
Syed added, "Battery efficiency is at 85% within the thin air. Each drone can remain aloft for ninety minutes before returning to base. We've preloaded coordinate points for known vulnerable villages—Pahalgam, Gulmarg, Kupwara—areas hit first by militants blocking highways."
I nodded. "Deploy Everest Alpha to survey the Pahalgam corridor—confirm roadblock status, identify potential displaced families. Everest Bravo head to Kupwara—infrared sweep for movement. Everest Charlie to Gulmarg for potential tourist zones who might be stranded. All data feeds to go live on my console."
Rhea tapped an icon: "All drones launching in T-minus two minutes."
Outside on the pad, the rotors of Everest Alpha whirred to life, escalating to a high-pitched hum that echoed through the valley. One by one, each drone lifted, cutting vertical trails through the crisp air. A drone's heat signature flickered on the near-infrared monitors—each a glowing dot ascending into the dim sky.
The room held a collective breath until all eight were airborne. Then the screens filled with real-time feeds: Pahalgam's winding mughal road, empty save for a broken checkpoint; Kupwara's orchards, where the trees' canopies flickered in thermal green patches—some indicating hidden bodies; Gulmarg's ski slope, silent now, save for a lone tractor left idling near a cable car station.
"Data is flowing," Syed said, eyes glued to his screen.
Priya turned to me. "Initial readings show Highway NH-1 is blocked at two points by toppled trees and rockslides—likely orchestrated by militants to delay reinforcement. We can drone-drop emergency rations and portable routers to those villages."
I exhaled, knowing that ration drops could sustain families for days until roads reopened. "Deploy Everest Delta with supply payload—transfer two hundred kilos of rations to Pahalgam's center."
Rhea initiated the drop: a small hatch opened beneath Everest Delta, and a self-guided parachute landed a supply pack marked "Emergency Rations—Nova Tech Relief." A thermal readout confirmed the payload's soft landing near a stone house at the valley's fringe.
Moments later, a flicker of heat moved toward the package—a villager emerging from a collapsed porch, scooping it up gratefully. The camera zoomed, capturing his tear-streaked face. I felt a lump—a stark reminder of why technology had to serve people first.
Colonel Varma exhaled. "Those rations will save lives. Keep drones on station; we need continuous coverage."
I tapped my console. "Everest Echo and Foxtrot to join Bravo's thermal sweep in Kupwara. If we detect any armed movement, alert troops immediately."
The infrared feed showed a cluster of three heat signatures moving along a ridge—likely militants. Foxtrot streaked toward them, capturing clear images of camouflaged figures. The console flagged them in red, overlaid with GPS coordinates.
Priya announced, "Coordinates sent to Indian Army Quick Reaction Force—ETA five minutes."
I closed my eyes for a moment—relief tinged with guilt. The drones had revealed the militants' hideout; an imminent neutralization could prevent further attacks. Yet I reminded myself: this was still a humanitarian mission, not a strike force. Our drones were sensors, not shooters.
"Keep all drones in surveillance mode only," I said, voice firm. "Army forces will handle engagement."
Varma nodded. "Understood. Let's hope they get there in time."
Location: Srinagar Airport – Control HubTime: 9:45 AM IST
Hundreds of miles above, the eight drones scanned the valley floor. Their battery meters ticked down: 65%, 58%, 50%… each drone's status glowed green, then cautious amber as the cold air drained power. Rhea monitored their telemetry, Syed queued the relief routes, and Priya ran ledger audits to ensure relief funds weren't diverted.
A sudden beep drew our attention: Everest Hotel's feed from Baramulla—a village near the riverbank. Its camera captured five heat signatures congregating around a water pump. The ledger showed Baramulla's winter-welfare disbursement hadn't arrived—no funds had cleared. Our ledger's recent entries indicated a red flag: "No disbursement—evidence of external tampering." The timestamp matched the militant strike at Jhelum's bridge.
Suddenly, the video feed froze: Everest Hotel's signal dropped. The screen blinked red—jamming detected. Someone was blocking its uplink—mid-flight—directly above Baramulla. My heart pounded: if the militants were smart enough to jam our drone, they could also tamper with our nodes on the ground.
I turned to Rhea, voice taut. "Can we switch Everest Hotel to backup Iridium sat link?"
She nodded, fingers dancing across the touchscreen: "Switching now. Should be online in three…two…one…" The feed flickered back, but the image was grainy, delayed. Baramulla's villagers emerged from huts, clutching blankets. A young woman approached the stranded drone—its rotors stalled—then a second later, the screen went black again. Everest Hotel is down.
A hush fell. Colonel Varma's jaw clenched. "They shot it down."
I stared at the loss—eight drones deployed, one crippled. Blood drained from my face. "Prepare Everest Seven to replace—launch immediately."
Rhea jumped up: "But we only have one more flight cycle before battery exhaustion."
I nodded—no hesitations. "We do it."
Location: Srinagar Airport – TarmacTime: 10:30 AM IST
I found Everest Seven on the pad—battered from earlier rains but flight-ready. The rotors spun to life as Rhea and Syed loaded emergency rations, high-gain antennas, and a portable node uplink. Colonel Varma's troops formed a perimeter, rifles at the ready. The crowd that had gathered—families displaced by the bridge attack—watched anxiously.
Everest Seven surged upward, slicing through the thin, cold air. Its infrared scope flickered as it ascended above the valley. Back in the control hub, the feed appeared: a shaky, grainy image of Baramulla's Pump House. The same villagers—pale figures in threadbare shawls—crouched near the river's edge.
Rhea's voice came, tense: "They've set up a makeshift barricade—sandbags and stones—directly beside the relay tower. Thermal imaging shows three figures scanning east."
I exhaled sharply: the militants had evidently moved south, hoping to intercept any relief. If I could use Everest Seven's additional uplink to send a digital disinformation beacon—fake GPS signal showing relief convoy approaching from another direction—they might flee.
"Rhea," I said, "engage beacon mode. Broadcast a false convoy signature to the east ridge—simulate armored vehicles and army troop movements."
On her command, Everest Seven's signal generator flicked on—a high-frequency burst mimicking armored vehicle telemetry. The militants froze, then turned north—evident in the thermal overlay. Within seconds, they scrambled down the ridge, jumping into a forested ravine. Everest Seven's camera follow-tracked them until they vanished.
A cry of relief rose from the villagers. I watched them rush toward the still-hovering drone, collecting crates of supplies as it gently lowered them. A small boy lifted a loaf of bread triumphantly, eyes lighting up.
Colonel Varma exhaled. "You saved them."
I nodded, heart pounding. "We did."
Location: Srinagar Airport – Control HubTime: 11:30 AM IST
Back at the console, I checked our ledger: the delayed winter-relief disbursement for Baramulla had now synced—funds matching the relief packages delivered. Node 2's uplink rose back to emerald, data integrity restored. Priya's audit log flagged no further tampering.
I exhaled, exhaustion creeping into my bones. "Status check, everyone?"
Priya tapped her tablet. "No further anomalies. The convoy for Kupwara has broken through. Everest Bravo and Foxtrot will return to base after ensuring perimeter security."
Syed added, "Battery reserves for Everest Delta and Echo are at 40%—enough to land safely. Everest Seven still has 60% for another sortie if needed."
I sank into a folding chair, summoning a bitter cup of lamplit coffee from a thermos. My mind rehashed every detail: the missiles targeting the bridge, the burning highway, the orphaned ledger entries, the drone's strobe of heat and relief.
Colonel Varma placed a hand on my shoulder. "You've done more than just deploy technology—today, you saved lives."
I nodded, swallowing. "This is what we built Nova Tech for: a world where a ledger's block can trigger food and warmth, and where a drone's hum drowns out the sound of danger."
He studied me, eyes shadowed. "But remember, Aritra, these drones carry your name—and this technology you wield will always draw shadows. Be ready when they strike next."
I met his gaze, resolve hardening. "We'll be ready."