Author's Note:
Thank You for Your Patience! Hi everyone, thank you so much for waiting these past few days. I really appreciate your continued support and for sticking with the story! To make up for the delay, I am uploading two new chapters today.
**********
November 15, 1971
Orion Electronics Lab, Penang (Malaysia).
The air in the small laboratory smelled of ozone and solder. Kenji Sato held up a small, black plastic brick. It wasn't elegant. It was blocky, with a thick rubber antenna and a single rotary dial.
But to Vikram Malhotra, it looked like a diamond.
"Try it, Vikram-san," Sato said, his eyes gleaming behind thick glasses. "Go to the parking lot."
Vikram walked out into the tropical heat, three floors down. He pressed the Talk button.
"Eagle to Base. Do you read?"
"Loud and clear, Eagle," Sato's voice crackled back instantly, crisp and devoid of the usual static hiss. "I am using the new high-gain transistor circuit. It cuts through the interference. Range is 5 kilometers in city, 15 in open terrain. And..."
Sato paused. "Drop it."
"What?"
"Drop it on the concrete."
Vikram hesitated, then let the prototype fall. It clattered onto the pavement. He picked it up. No cracks.
"Eagle to Base?"
"Still reading you," Sato laughed. "Waterproof. Shockproof. Idiot-proof. Cost to manufacture: $8. Competitor price: $50."
Vikram ran back upstairs. "How many do we have?"
"Fifty units. Pilot batch."
"Pack them," Vikram ordered. "Mark them as 'Automotive Spare Parts'. They are going to India tonight."
The Smuggler's Route , Dum Dum Airport, Calcutta.
The cargo hold of the private charter plane opened. Rudra stood on the tarmac, the humid Bengal air sticking to his shirt. The airport was a frenzy of military transports—Antonovs and Dakotas ferrying troops to the border.
Balwant unloaded the crates marked 'Vajra Spares'.
Rudra opened one. He pulled out an Orion Radio. No branding yet. Just a serial number.
"This is the future, Balwant," Rudra said, handing him one. "The Army uses radios that weigh 10 kilos and break if you look at them wrong. These weigh 500 grams."
"Are we selling them to the Army, Malik?"
"Not yet," Rudra clipped the radio to his belt. "First, we use them. Every convoy leader gets one. I want to know if they survive the mud and the mortars. If they work here, they will sell anywhere."
The Eastern Front , November 20, 1971. Near Boyra (Indo-East Pakistan Border).
The war hadn't officially started, but the border was burning. The Battle of Garibpur was raging—a fierce engagement where Indian PT-76 tanks were engaging Pakistani Chaffees.
The roads were a nightmare. Refugee columns clogged the mud tracks, while Army convoys tried to push forward.
Rudra's jeep was stuck behind a stalled column of Army trucks. A young Captain was screaming into a bulky radio set strapped to a sepoy's back.
"Alpha to CP! We are stuck! The bridge is... static... I repeat... static!"
The Captain threw the headset down in frustration. "Useless junk! The valves overheat in five minutes!"
Rudra stepped out of his jeep. He walked up to the Captain.
"Captain," Rudra said calmly. "Need a line?"
He unclipped the Orion Radio. He tossed it to the officer.
"Press the side button. Channel 4 is open."
The Captain looked at the small black device skeptically. He pressed the button.
"Alpha to CP. Status update."
"Reading you five-by-five, Alpha," the Command Post replied instantly, clear as a bell. "What is your location?"
The Captain's eyes went wide. He relayed the coordinates. Within two minutes, orders came through to divert to a pontoon bridge Rudra's team had identified earlier.
"What is this?" the Captain asked, looking at the device. "Is this CIA tech? KGB?"
"It's Orion," Rudra said, taking it back. "And it's not for sale. Yet."
Forward Command Post, 4 Corps.
An hour later, Rudra's jeep was flagged down by Military Police.
"Mr. Pratap?" the MP asked. "The Chief wants to see you."
Rudra was led into a large tent. Maps covered the tables. A group of senior officers stood around, but the center of gravity was a man with a distinct Parsi nose, a flamboyant mustache, and a Field Marshal's baton (though he was still a General then).
General Sam Manekshaw.
The room went quiet as Manekshaw turned. He looked at Rudra—a civilian in a crisp shirt amidst the olive green.
"So," Manekshaw drawled, his voice sharp and charismatic. "You are the 'Ghost' who runs trucks through cyclones and finds bridges where there are none."
"I just deliver packages, General," Rudra replied respectfully.
"Don't be modest. It bores me," Manekshaw walked over. He pointed to the radio on Rudra's belt. "My Captain tells me you have a toy that works better than my signals equipment. May I?"
Rudra handed him the Orion Radio.
Manekshaw turned it over in his hands. He felt the weight. He noted the rugged plastic.
"Where is this from? It says 'Made in Malaysia'."
"It's from our technical partners in Malaysia, General. We have an exclusive import license for field testing (It's from a subsidiary of my holding company), General," Rudra said carefully. "We convinced them to let us field-test their prototypes. If they break, we don't pay.."
Manekshaw looked at him, his eyes twinkling with intelligence. He knew exactly what Rudra was doing. He was using the war as an R&D lab.
"You are a capitalist shark, aren't you, son?" Manekshaw smiled.
"War is expensive, General. Efficiency is cheap."
Manekshaw laughed—a loud, hearty sound that broke the tension in the room.
"I like you. You don't whine like the bureaucrats in Delhi."
He handed the radio back.
"Keep your radios. But keep your trucks moving. I am planning a little party in Dhaka next month, and I need 50,000 tons of supplies to get there. Can you do it?"
"If the road exists, we will drive it," Rudra promised. "If it doesn't, we will build it."
"Good man." Manekshaw turned back to his map. "Now get out of here before a shell hits you. I can't afford to lose my best grocer."
The Field Test
As Rudra walked back to his jeep, the System chimed.
[Tech Verified: Orion Field Radio (Mark I)]
[Performance: Exceeds Military Spec]
[Influential Witness: General Sam Manekshaw]
[Future Opportunity: Defense Procurement Contract]
Rudra clipped the radio back on. The test was a success. The moment the war ended, he wouldn't just be selling canvas. He would be the man who modernized the Indian Army's communication grid.
The sound of artillery boomed in the distance. The war was officially beginning. And Rudra was ready.
*******
Author's Note: If you're enjoying this novel and want to support my writing journey, please consider buying me a coffee! Your support helps me dedicate more time to these characters.
☕ Support me on Ko-fi: [ko-fi.com/inkstory]