Nal nights were a different kind of battlefield.
At Nal Air Force Station, the heat of the day gave way to a deceptive calm. The desert cooled, the winds softened, and silence stretched across the runways like a held breath. But for the Garuda Task Force, nightfall didn’t mean rest—it meant vigilance.
Weeks had passed since their arrival.
Hemant and Dan had settled into a rhythm that felt almost unnatural. Days blurred into routine—perimeter checks, coordination drills, surveillance patterns. To an outsider, they looked like elite soldiers reduced to glorified security guards.
But that illusion didn’t last long. Twice already, the call had come. Once back in Jammu and Kashmir—another Mujahideen stronghold wiped out with surgical precision. And once deep in the northeast, where a Maoist insurgent camp had been dismantled before dawn even touched the jungle canopy. Two missions. Two successes. Zero noise.
They returned each time without celebration, slipping back into their roles at Nal like shadows returning to their corners. Tonight was no different. Hemant stood atop the watchtower, rifle slung across his shoulder, eyes scanning the base under dim floodlights. From this height, everything was visible—the runways stretching endlessly, the hangars resting in disciplined rows, the occasional movement of personnel below. It was quiet. Too quiet for most. Perfect for him.
He leaned slightly against the cold railing, letting the desert wind brush past him. His gaze moved methodically—entry points, blind spots, patrol routes. Every inch of the base was etched into his mind now.
And then—Movement. Not a threat. Something else. Near the far side of the base, a small group of cadets walked toward their quarters, their silhouettes faint against the low lighting. Hemant’s eyes lingered—not out of suspicion, but recognition.
She was there.
Kirthi Raghuvanshi
![[Image: Kirti-Raghuvanshi2.jpg]](https://i.ibb.co/DgW2PdyX/Kirti-Raghuvanshi2.jpg)
Even at a distance, she stood out. There was a certain rhythm to her walk—confident, unhurried, almost detached from everything around her. The other cadets talked among themselves, but she seemed… centered. Focused.
Hemant exhaled slowly. There it was again. That pull. Subtle. Persistent. Uninvited. He didn’t like it. Or maybe… he didn’t trust it. He shifted his gaze away, forcing his attention back to the perimeter. A soldier couldn’t afford distractions. Especially not ones he didn’t fully understand. Footsteps approached from behind.
"Still scanning the same empty fence?" Dan’s voice came, casual as ever.
"Empty places are the ones that get you killed" Hemant didn’t turn.
Dan leaned beside him, following his line of sight. It didn’t take long for him to notice.
"Oh" he smirked.
"That empty space"
"Don’t start" Hemant gave him a look.
"Too late" Dan chuckled.
"You’ve been staring at that direction for the last five minutes"
A pause.
Then, softer—
"What’s really going on?"
That question lingered. Hemant stayed silent for a moment longer than usual. The kind of silence that wasn’t avoidance—but decision. Then he spoke.
"Her name’s Kirthi Raghuvanshi"
"You noticed the name too? This is serious" Dan raised an eyebrow.
Hemant ignored the remark.
"I’m not… interested" he said, though even he didn’t sound convinced.
Dan didn’t push immediately. He just waited. And that was enough. Hemant’s grip tightened slightly on the railing.
"There was someone else" he said finally.
"Yeah?" Dan’s expression shifted.
A long breath.
"Sanjana....Sanju"
The name carried weight.
"We were together before I joined" Hemant continued.
"It was… real. At least, I thought it was"
He stared out into the darkness, but he wasn’t seeing the base anymore.
"Her parents didn’t approve. Said they didn’t want their daughter tied to a soldier"
A faint, humorless smile appeared.
"Too risky. Too uncertain. One day I’d be gone, and she’d be left alone"
"That’s—" Dan’s jaw tightened.
"They weren’t wrong" Hemant cut in calmly.
That stopped him.
"They were thinking about her future" Hemant went on.
"Stability. Safety. A life partner for life....something my profession cannot guarantee"
He gestured vaguely at the base, the uniform, the unspoken dangers.
"So you just walked away?” Dan asked.
"I ended it" Hemant nodded once.
Silence settled between them.
"Doesn’t mean it didn’t cost anything" Hemant added quietly.
For the first time, there was something raw beneath his composed exterior. Dan looked at him, a mix of frustration and understanding crossing his face.
"Still doesn’t make it right"
"No" Hemant admitted.
"It doesn’t"
Another pause. The desert wind picked up slightly, brushing past them like a reminder that time never stood still.
"So what now?" Dan asked.
Hemant leaned back, eyes returning to the present.
"Now?" he said.
"Nothing"
He shook his head lightly.
"I’m not looking for anything. Not anymore"
His voice was steady again. Controlled.
"I’ve got this life now. The missions. The unpredictability. The… clarity"
A faint smirk returned.
"It’s enough"
Dan studied him for a moment. Then he nudged his shoulder.
"Good" he said.
"Because you’re stuck with me in that ‘adventurous life"
Hemant let out a small chuckle.
"Could be worse"
"Damn right it could" Dan grinned.
He straightened up, stretching slightly before adding—
"You won’t be alone, you know. Not out there"
A beat.
"Or in here"
Hemant glanced at him. There was no joke in Dan’s expression this time. Just certainty. For a moment, the weight felt lighter.
"Yeah" Hemant said quietly.
"I know"
Below them, the base remained calm. The cadets had disappeared into their quarters. The runways stood still under the night sky.
June 2nd, 2004 — THE MOUNTAINS OF BOGDANG, LADAKH
The wind howled like a warning no one was listening to. Perched on a rocky watchpoint, a JeM militant scanned the vast plateau below through his binoculars. Nothing moved. Just endless stone, snow, and silence. It was the kind of silence that made men careless.
Another militant approached, exchanging a few quiet words before turning back toward the hidden base carved into the heights above. Routine. Predictable. Safe. Or so they thought. Inside the base, dim lanterns flickered against rough stone walls. A group of heavily armed clerics knelt in prayer, their chants low and rhythmic. Nearby, others checked rifles, loaded magazines, prepared for a war they believed would come from the front. They never considered the shadows behind them. Outside, at the eastern edge, a still lake reflected the pale sky like glass. One militant stood guard near its banks, occasionally glancing back toward the base. Another called out to him from afar.
"All clear?"
The guard raised a hand, signaling affirmation. Everything secure. Everything under control. He turned back toward the lake. And the water moved. A hand burst through the surface—fast, violent, undeniable. Before the militant could react, a blade followed. A combat knife drove straight through his throat, silencing him instantly. No cry. No struggle. Just death. Commander Hemant Kumar emerged from the icy water like something born of it, breath controlled, eyes locked, movements precise. He lowered the lifeless body gently, letting it slip back toward the shore without a sound. His voice came through the comms, low and steady.
"Dan"
A pause.
"Watchpoints. Now"
Elsewhere, Lieutenant Dan Shankar was already in motion. Hidden beneath a grass-covered stealth suit, he moved like part of the terrain itself. Invisible. Patient. Deadly. He closed distance on the first lookout, suppressor raised.
Thwack
One shot. Clean. The body dropped before it even registered fear. Dan shifted instantly, repositioning. Another militant. Another breath.
Thwack
Gone. No alarms. No noise. Just surgical elimination. Within minutes, the outer eyes of the base were blind. Hemant and Dan converged at the main entrance, shadows aligning into purpose. Behind them, the rest of Delta Squad assembled, weapons ready, breathing steady. Hemant glanced once at Dan.
"Shock and awe"
No more needed to be said. Dan moved forward, planting charges along the reinforced entrance. His hands were quick, practiced. He stepped back, giving a sharp nod. The squad stacked behind Hemant. Weapons raised. He counted silently.
Three. Two. One—
The explosion tore through the silence.
The entrance blasted inward in a storm of debris and fire. Before the dust even settled, Hemant surged forward, rifle blazing. Delta Squad followed. The confined space erupted into chaos. Gunfire cracked through stone corridors, each shot deliberate, controlled. Militants scrambled, disoriented, their prayers turning into panic. But there was no time to recover. Hemant cleared corners with ruthless efficiency. Dan covered angles, dropping targets before they could even aim. One militant lunged from behind cover—Down. Another raised his weapon blindly—Down. Seven left. Then five. Then three. Then none. Within minutes, the base fell silent again. Only the echo of gunfire remained.
"Clear" Hemant lowered his weapon slightly, scanning.
"Clear" Dan nodded.
But something felt… off.
"Basement" Hemant said.
They moved down cautiously, boots echoing against the narrow steps. The air grew heavier. Stale. Suffocating. At the bottom, they found no armed resistance. Instead—Sacks. Dozens of them. Moving.
"What the hell…" Dan frowned.
Hemant stepped forward, tension rising. He knelt and tore one open. And froze. Underneath the rough fabric was a girl. Young. Terrified. Bound. Alive.
"Dan—" His voice changed.
Urgency. Shock. They moved faster now, ripping open sack after sack. More girls. Dozens. Some barely teenagers. Some even younger. All restrained. All silent in fear. Dan’s hands shook slightly as he helped untie one.
"My god...."
Hemant’s jaw tightened as he scanned them. Then he saw it. Marks. On their arms. Each one bore the same symbol—etched in blue ink. A grotesque design. Twisted. Almost ritualistic.
"What is that?" Dan pointed at it.
Hemant stared at it longer.
"It’s a temporary mark!" he said quietly.
He looked closer. The shape. The pattern. Something sinister.
"Looks like…" Dan hesitated.
Hemant finished it.
"Satan"
The word hung heavy in the air. But that wasn’t the worst part. Hemant looked around again, sharper now.
"These aren’t all locals"
Dan followed his gaze. He was right. Different faces. Different features. Some clearly Indian. Others—East Asian. African. Even European. A cold realization settled in.
"This isn’t just a terror cell" Dan muttered.
Hemant stood slowly, his mind racing.
"No" he said.
"This is bigger"
Much bigger. He activated comms immediately.
"This is Delta Actual. We have multiple female hostages—repeat, multiple hostages. Require immediate medical extraction. Send ambulances, full support. Location secure"
Acknowledgment came through. But Hemant barely registered it. He turned and walked out of the base, stepping back into the open air. The mountains felt different now. Not silent. Watching. Dan followed him, catching up quickly.
"What the hell is going on here, Hemant?"
Hemant didn’t answer immediately. His eyes scanned the horizon, as if searching for something beyond what was visible. Then he spoke. Low. Certain.
"I don’t know yet"
A pause.
"But this—"
He glanced back toward the base.
"—this isn’t the end of anything"
Another beat.
"It’s the beginning"
Dan studied him. Hemant’s expression had changed. Not just focused. Resolved.
"Something’s moving behind the scenes, something far more sinister!" Hemant continued.
The wind picked up again, carrying a chill that had nothing to do with altitude. Hemant’s voice dropped further.
"And we just stepped right into it"
SOME TIME LATER
The convoy cut through the stark, wind-carved terrain of Ladakh, engines growling against the thin mountain air. Inside the transport vehicles, silence sat heavier than the cold. The rescued girls were wrapped in blankets, guarded carefully, attended by medics who worked with quiet urgency. Fear still lingered in their eyes—but now, there was something else too. Safety. Behind them, another vehicle carried the men of Delta Squad. No one spoke much. This victory didn’t feel complete. At the Army Base Camp, everything moved quickly. Medical teams rushed the girls into secured facilities for examination and care. Officers coordinated logistics, intelligence units sealed off recovered materials, and soldiers stood guard with renewed alertness.
But for Hemant and Dan—The mission wasn’t over. Not yet. Inside a temporary operations tent, Delta Squad spread out everything they had recovered from the JeM base. Crates. Documents. Weapons. Maps. Every piece mattered now. Dan sifted through ammunition logs while another soldier cataloged weapons. Hemant focused on the paperwork. His eyes moved fast, scanning, connecting. Then—He stopped.
"Dan" he said quietly.
"What?" Dan looked up.
"I found some transport records" Hemant held up a document.
"What about them?" Dan walked over, leaning in.
"The girls and the shipments....they've come from Karachi port"
Hemant’s jaw tightened slightly.
"That’s not surprising. Cross-border supply routes has always been part of a Terror Network's activities—"
Dan frowned.
"Wait" Hemant cut in.
He flipped to another sheet.
"They were being prep for transport"
Dan’s expression shifted as he read.
"To the Nepal border…" he muttered.
"This wasn’t meant to stay here" Hemant nodded slowly.
A chill crept into the room.
"So India was just… a passage?" Dan crossed his arms.
Hemant didn’t answer immediately. He picked up another manifest. His eyes narrowed.
"No"
"What now?" Dan leaned closer.
Hemant turned the paper toward him.
"The Final destination of these girls and the shipment was...."
A pause.
"Shanghai"
The words landed like a blow.
"You’re telling me… all those girls…" Dan blinked.
"Were never meant to stay in India. Kashmir was just a pit stop!" Hemant finished.
Silence. Heavy. Unsettling.
"This is trafficking. Global Trafficking" Dan ran a hand through his hair.
"Not just trafficking" Hemant’s gaze hardened.
He thought of the markings. The blue symbol. Burned into skin. Identical. Deliberate.
"Something organized, something that doesn’t stop at borders" he said.
"Then this is definitely a nexus" Dan exhaled slowly.
Hemant didn’t respond. Because one question kept echoing in his mind—Who marks people like that… and why? Later that evening, Hemant stood outside the command cabin. A soldier stepped out.
"General will see you now"
Hemant nodded once and entered. Inside, General Bakshi stood by a table, reviewing files. His presence, as always, filled the room without effort. He looked up briefly.
"At ease, Commander"
Hemant complied, but his posture remained firm.
"Sir, I need to discuss something regarding the Bogdang operation"
"Go ahead" Bakshi gestured.
Hemant stepped forward, placing the documents on the table.
"These aren’t isolated findings" he began.
"The supplies, the hostages—this operation connects multiple locations in multiple countries. Karachi, Nepal border, Shanghai. This isn’t just a terror module"
Bakshi listened. Silent. Measured. Hemant continued, his voice gaining intensity.
"Sir, this points to a larger syndicate. Organized. Structured. Possibly operating across continents. And the markings—"
He paused briefly.
"They’re not random. They mean something"
A beat.
"We should pursue this lead"
Silence filled the room. Then—Bakshi closed the file. Calmly.
"I understand your concern, Commander"
Hemant waited. But something in the tone already felt… off.
"However, your job here is done"
Bakshi concluded. The words were simple. Final.
"Sir—" Hemant frowned slightly.
"All recovered materials will be handed over to Intelligence. They will carry out whatever process is forward"
Bakshi went on, A pause.
"You and your unit have performed exceptionally. Once again"
Recognition. But not permission.
"Sir, with due respect—this could be bigger than—"
Hemant didn’t move. Bakshi’s gaze sharpened. And just like that, the air changed.
"I know that you have… a tendency to push beyond your orders"
He said, voice firmer now, A beat.
"But remember who you are"
Hemant held his ground.
"You are a Garud Commando"
Each word landed with weight.
"Your duty is to protect Indian assets. Not chase shadows across borders. Not investigate syndicates. That is not your mandate"
Silence. Tight. Controlled. Bakshi stepped closer.
"Good soldier follow orders"
The message was clear. Conversation over.
"Return to Nal Air Force Station, resume your protection detail of our Air Base" Bakshi added.
Hemant’s jaw clenched slightly. But he saluted.
"Yes, sir"
And turned. Outside, the cold air hit differently now. Sharper. He stepped down from the cabin—Just as a military vehicle rolled into the compound. Its engine cut off. The door opened. A man stepped out. Broad-shouldered. Confident. Wearing dark shades despite the fading light. His build was unmistakably military—but not Indian. Hemant slowed. The man glanced at him. Then smiled. Warm. Casual. Like they shared a secret. Hemant frowned slightly, confused—but didn’t stop. He walked past. A few meters ahead, Dan waited. He had seen it too.
"Who the hell was that?" Dan asked.
"No idea" Hemant shook his head.
"Didn’t look like one of ours" Dan glanced back once more.
Hemant didn’t reply. Because something about that smile—Didn’t sit right.
"So? What did Bakshi say?" Dan asked, turning back.
Hemant exhaled.
"He reminded us who we are"
"Let me guess… ‘follow orders, go back’?" Dan groaned.
"We’re returning to Nal" Hemant nodded.
Dan threw his hands up.
"Fantastic. Back to roasting alive in Rajasthan"
That got a faint smirk out of Hemant. But it didn’t last. They walked in silence for a while. Each lost in thought. Because both of them knew—This wasn’t finished. Not even close. Back in their quarters, Delta Squad began preparing for departure. Weapons cleaned. Gear packed. Reports filed. Routine. Normal. Expected. But beneath it—Something lingered. Unanswered questions. Unseen enemies. Unfinished business. Dan lay back on his cot, staring at the ceiling.
"You ever get the feeling we’re walking away from something we shouldn’t?"
Hemant sat quietly, the documents still fresh in his mind. The markings. The routes. The girls. And that man.
"Yeah" he said finally.
A pause.
"Every second"
THE NEXT DAY AT NAL AIR BASE
Nal had a rhythm now.
Back at Nal Air Force Station, the days no longer felt like a forced pause between missions. They had shape. Routine. Faces that were becoming familiar. For men like Hemant and Dan, that was rare—and strangely grounding. Garuda wasn’t just guarding anymore. They were embedded. Integrated. Useful in ways that went beyond pulling triggers. It started with her. Pranali Gupta. Call sign—Rani. And she lived up to it. Rani ran the engineering floor like a monarch in overalls—sharp, efficient, and absolutely uncompromising when it came to aircraft performance. If something flew out of Nal, it flew because she allowed it to.
Hemant respected that instantly.
"Don’t touch anything unless I say so" she had told him on day one, not even looking up.
"That’s fair" He had smirked.
Three days later, she trusted him with a toolkit. That was her version of approval. Hemant slipped into the engineering role naturally. His background made him valuable—understanding systems, retrofits, structural tweaks. He wasn’t just muscle; he was precision. Rani saw that early. Dan, on the other hand, found his place with the armaments. Explosives. Ballistics. Payload systems.
"Basically" Dan had said once, inspecting a missile rack.
"I make sure things go boom… correctly"
"Comforting" Rani had rolled her eyes.
The base slowly revealed its hierarchy. Pilots. Cadets. Ground crew. Stories attached to each one. One evening, as they worked inside a hangar, Rani nodded subtly toward the training barracks.
"See that guy?"
Hemant followed her gaze. A man was mid-workout—pull-ups, controlled, effortless. Lean build. Sharp features. Confidence in every movement.
"That’s Vishal Agnihotri, Call sign—Victor" Rani said.
"Looks like he knows it too" Dan leaned in slightly.
"He is our Top Ace of the base. Best pilot we've got" Rani smirked.
Hemant watched him for a moment. Measured.
"He flies like that too?" he asked.
"Better, and he doesn’t let anyone forget it" Rani replied.
Then she added—
"Second best…"
Hemant didn’t need to ask.
"Kirti Raghuvanshi, Call sign—Kira" Rani said.
That name landed differently. Hemant’s focus sharpened just a bit. Rani noticed.
"Oh, you know her" she teased lightly.
Hemant didn’t deny it.
"She flies a Mikoyan MiG-29, while Victor flies a Sukhoi Su-30"
Rani continued, tightening a bolt as she spoke.
"That’s not a fair fight" Dan raised an eyebrow.
"Exactly, and yet—she beats him on certain sorties" Rani said.
Hemant’s interest deepened.
"Skill" he murmured.
"Pure skill" Rani nodded.
But there was more.
"Both of them come from… influence" Rani added.
"Of course they do" Dan groaned quietly.
Rani ignored him.
"Vishal’s family has long-standing Air Force ties. Legacy pilot background. It shows"
Then she looked at Hemant.
"But Kirti…"
Something in her tone changed.
"Her father is Viren Raghuvanshi. Retired Colonel"
Hemant listened carefully.
"Her grandfather is a veteran of the Indo-Pakistani War of 1971. Passed away last year"
Rani continued. A lineage of service. Of sacrifice.
"He’s got two older kids. Neither joined the forces. So… Kirti? She’s his pride" Rani said.
Hemant exhaled slowly. That explained something. The discipline. The confidence. The weight she carried without showing it. He respected her more now. Not just for what she did—But where she came from. Rani wiped her hands and leaned against the workbench.
"There’s one more thing" she added casually.
Hemant glanced at her.
"Victor’s been....really interested in her!"
"Of course he has" Dan snorted.
"Their competition seems to bring them closer. Lately they've been bonding outside base in the same friend circle. Its not at all surprising considering they're both from reputed defense families. Other cadets here have already hyped them due to their competetive nature, they’re pairing them up like it’s a done deal"
Rani said. Hemant didn’t react immediately.
Then—
"People love some gossips....maybe its just some exaggerated humor" he said simply.
But something in his voice had shifted. Rani noticed. She didn’t push further. A few days later—Inside the hangar, Hemant worked under the exposed panel of a Mikoyan MiG-29, carefully adjusting components under Rani’s supervision.
"Align that bracket properly, if the rudder response lags even by a fraction—" she said.
"I know...It’ll drag the maneuver" Hemant replied calmly.
Rani gave a small approving nod.
"Good"
Footsteps approached.
"Rani?"
Both of them looked up. Kirti. She walked in with that same composed energy, helmet tucked under her arm.
"Status on my bird?" she asked.
Rani gestured toward the open panel.
"Upgrades are pretty much done Kirti. The rudder lag has been reduced, will have smoother response on turns"
"Good. Last sortie felt was just…..sticky" Kirti nodded.
Then her eyes shifted. To Hemant. A pause. Recognition.
"You two haven’t been formally introduced, have you?" Rani smiled slightly.
She gestured.
"Commander Hemant Kumar. Garuda Task Force"
Then to him—
"Flight Lieutenant Kirti Raghuvanshi"
Kirti tilted her head slightly, a faint smile forming.
"So , these 'bodyguards' been reassigned to… aircraft maintenance now?" she said.
There was a teasing edge in her tone. Before Hemant could reply—Rani cut in.
"They’re not bodyguards, Kirti. They’re support integration. And frankly—better engineers than half my crew"
Kirti raised an eyebrow.
"Is that so?"
She looked back at Hemant, amused.
"Then I hope he doesn’t break my plane"
Dan, watching from a distance, almost laughed. Hemant just met her gaze calmly.
"I won’t" he said.
Simple. Certain. That seemed to satisfy her.
"For your sake" she replied lightly.
![[Image: Kirti1.png]](https://i.ibb.co/ymM1Mtb9/Kirti1.png)
Then she turned and began walking away. Hemant watched her. Not openly. But enough. Halfway to the exit—She looked back. Just once. And smiled. Not teasing this time. Something softer. Real. Then she left. Dan appeared beside him almost instantly.
"Mr.Lover Boy is going to his fantasy world again!!!" Dan teased him.
Hemant didn’t respond. He just looked at the aircraft for a moment. Then back toward where she had walked out. And for the first time in a long time—The chaos of missions, the weight of secrets, the shadows of something larger lurking in the world…All of it felt quieter. Not gone. But distant. Because sometimes—In between war and duty—There are moments. Small ones. Unexpected ones.
That remind you there’s still something worth holding onto.
(TO BE CONTD)
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