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Chapter Two Hundred and Eighty: Highly Placed Contacts
🕑 Added 2025-07-13 15:28:38 +0000 UTCI was in the Mumbai lab when the intercom buzzed. “Mr. Belessar, this is Sanika from reception. You have, um, some visitors.”
“Who is it?”
“Sir, it’s some police officers. Shall I ask them to wait?”
I blinked. In my experience, American cops didn’t ‘wait’ to meet you - the Indian police seemed oddly polite. “Tell them I’ll be right up, and maybe get them some coffee?”
“Already done, sir.”
It took me two minutes to walk up to my office. Admittedly, teleportation would have been faster, but police tend to have a bad reaction to folks suddenly popping into existence around them; I wasn’t keen on starting my day by being shot. Even if the bullets would probably bounce off my nanofibre weave.
Anne once pointed out that I’d missed a lot of opportunities for trolling. So be it.
The police in question consisted of two gentlemen. The first was grey-haired and in a khaki uniform with an insignia of a star and crossed swords on his shoulders. The second gentleman was genial, balding, and dressed in plain clothes - albeit a fairly well-made suit. Both stood up as I entered the room.
“Mr. Belessar,” the uniformed man said, “I’m Inspector-General Ajay Mhatre. A pleasure to meet you.”
“And I am Shambhunath,” beamed the other man, “with the CID - that’s the Criminal Investigative Department of the state police. We hope we’re not disturbing you.”
“It’s all right,” I said. “I wasn’t expecting anyone, that’s all.”
The Inspector-General, Mr. Mhatre, inclined his head slightly. “We were made aware by our superiors that you are investigating a trafficking ring in our state. If you don’t mind, we’d like to offer our help.”
I blinked. “You… want to help ME …. investigate a crime here? Shouldn’t you be, I dunno, demanding I stay out of your way while you investigate or something?”
Shambhunath chuckled. “Mr. Belessar, when you save the life of the Prime Minister of the country and thousands of innocent people and also reveal the existence of a criminal conspiracy that no-one in our government knew about? The Home Minister was very clear in his brief: we are to support YOU. Whatever resources you require to investigate this trafficking ring, we are here to help.”
“And in that spirit, the officers who tried to ask you for a bribe have been - dealt with,” muttered Mhatre. At my expression, he hastily clarified. “Punishment postings. Not, er, lethal punishments.”
“What exactly is a punishment posting?” I asked.
“Imagine traffic management in Cherrapunji, where it rains every day,” Shambhunath said. “You’re standing in the rain, directing traffic, with an umbrella that flies off every thirty seconds because of the continuous wind, or a raincoat that’s wet every second. Twelve-hour shifts. Cherrapunji holds the record for the most rainfall in the world. It’s not a popular posting.”
“Second worst posting in the country,” added Mhatre. “The only one worse is, well, passport verification in Bastar.”
“What’s bad about that?”
“Passport verification means you have to visit the home of whoever applied for the passport. A lot of tribals apply, and their villages are deep in the jungle. Meaning you have to physically trudge through the hot, snake-infested, insect paradise that is the Bastar jungle and find the actual hut where the applicant stays. No directions, no maps, no roads.”
“Ouch. That certainly sounds like a punishment.”
“Also, there’s tigers. Who are a protected species, so you can’t shoot them if they attack.”
“.... I can see you’ve put some thought into this.”
“You did complain to the PM about being asked for a bribe,” Shambunath grinned. “Action was expected.”
“Mr. Belessar,” Mhatre continued, “we have created a task force that will investigate this trafficking ring, along with some of our finest officers, and they will be sharing everything they find with you on a daily basis. Some of the information may pertain to ultrahuman behaviour, so we might request your support in interpreting it.”
I thought for a moment. “How big is this task force?”
“Twenty-six officers of the Criminal Investigate Department, reporting to me,” Shambhunath said, “and another thirty-six police personnel in various territories for local support.”
…. Sixty-two cops on the investigation? “That sounds like a lot,” I said.
“Mr. Belessar, we had over three hundred volunteers,” Mhatre replied. “You are quite famous. We, er, winnowed it down to the serious officers who have some experience investigating, shall we say, cases with very little evidence.”
“Which, unfortunately, is the reality at the moment,” Shambhunath replied. “Apart from a few scattered reports, we have almost no information to proceed on.”
“What do you know so far?”
“We know that Mr. Prajyot Venkat got into a bus to Pune, and never got off. We, er, also have three hundred and seventy-six other similar missing person cases - teenagers who got onto buses but were reported missing - and no traces of them afterwards.”
“That’s a lot of missing people.”
“We’re a big country, Mr. Belessar. Until yesterday, none of these cases were considered interlinked.”
“And the bus station footage?”
Shambhunath’s eyes gleamed with curiosity. “What bus station footage?”
“.... Let me show you.”
I played the video from the Tendulkars’ petrol pump for them. The two police officers watched intently as Prajyot Venkat disembarked from the bus and made a beeline for the car - the very expensive car - along with the mysterious woman.
Shambhunath was the first to speak up. “The license plate is fake, of course. We can start looking for the woman.”
“Are you sure he didn’t go willingly?” asked Mhatre.
Before I could speak up, Shambhunath interrupted. “Not a chance. See his posture, his mannerisms? If he knew the woman - actually knew her - he would talk to her, at least once. That kind of glassy-eyed stare and silent obedience means only one thing - she’s a Master.”
“That was my assessment, too,” I agreed. “I have no idea who she is, though. Or why a Master is corralling a college student.”
“Did this Prajyot have any ultrahuman powers?” asked Shambhunath.
“Not that I know of. Or, well, anyone knew of.”
“There are only three reasons a Master would compel a person like that. Kidnapping for ransom - from Mr. Venkat’s family history, that seems unlikely. Organ harvesting - possible but still unlikely. Or, Prajyot Venkat had an ultrahuman power of use to the Master, and she compelled him to join.”
“But how does that link to the other three hundred and seventy-six cases?” asked Mhatre.
“You’ll have to give me time,” replied Shambhunath, “but if this is the pattern, we can check how many of them had some sort of undocumented ultrahuman power. Perhaps that is the common factor. Belessar, can you tell if they were ultrahumans?”
I shook my head. “Not unless I meet them.”
“Then we shall tackle this the old-fashioned way, with sixty-two policemen going through lots of surveillance camera recordings. Also, we will look for this woman and cars with fake license plates anywhere near where these kids were taken.”
“And trace the journey of this car afterwards,” added Mhatre. “If they took the roads, they would show up on traffic cameras. We’ll pull every camera feed we can find.”
“Give us a few days, Belessar,” Shambhunath continued. “And thank you for this video - it will help us get started. Meanwhile, if you have any ideas you’d like to share…..” He slid over a card. “My direct number. Anytime, day or night.”
—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The second visitor of the day was a more familiar face.
Droneacharya’s suit was impeccable, as always. The reclusive inventor’s armour shone with the gleam of fresh polish, the glow of regular maintenance, and the perfectness of a lack of actual combat.
In fairness, if a drone specialist gets mixed up in direct combat, they’re doing it wrong.
<Nanocloud>: I heard that.
<Belessar>: You know I’m right. Shouldn’t you be in school?
<Nanocloud>: I’m multitasking. Your meetings are more interesting than binomial expansions, anyway.
Droneacharya cleared his throat. “Belessar. I hope things are well with you?”
“Yes. And I haven’t forgotten our discussion at the conference. You needed lasers for your drones, right?”
“And power supplies. Lasers themselves are easy enough to fabricate, it’s getting the power they need that becomes the issue.”
“What type of batteries do you currently use?”
“Commercial-grade ones, I’m afraid. Inventech batteries are hellishly expensive, at the scale I’m looking at.”
“I can get you batteries, but it depends on what type of power you expect your drones to pack. The capacity of the battery has to be scaled to the power of the laser.”
“I’m not sure I follow, Belessar.”
“Put simply, Droneacharya, what kind of targets do your drones plan to kill? Do you want to target individual enemy soldiers? That’s a task for a high-power rifle. Lynxian Stealth Rovers? You’ll need a bit more juice and a larger laser. Grizzeloid Stealth Tanks? Much heavier batteries, and much larger drones and lasers - or, several drones working as a team on each tank. Carnotaurs? Also powerful lasers, but proper timing to get through their shields as well, and you’ll need teams of drones to take down a single one. What’s your preferred target?”
“Ah, that makes sense. I suppose I’m going for a mixed force - some units capable of taking down individual soldiers, some meant to deal with the Rovers - I understand those are the equivalent of light tanks?”
“More like jeeps. A tank - even a human tank - is much, much tougher than those Rovers. For context, a Rover has what I call about 8,000 points of armour; one of our tanks has about a quarter million. A Grizzeloid stealth tank has fourteen million.”
Droneacharya nodded. “Interested. What type of unit of measurement is it you use?”
“Complicated and hard to explain?”
The inventor chuckled. “If you say so. How would you rate, say, a human truck or car?”
“Trucks - unarmoured ones - about 20,000 points, and a car about 4,000. Depends on a number of factors. Armour really helps, though. Where would you rate your drones?”
“Somewhere between a car and a truck, generally, although it’s hard to measure.”
“Which brings us back to the original question. How many drones do you want as soldier-killers, how many are intended to fight Rovers, and how many to fight the Grizzeloid Stealth Tanks?”
“I’d say about 10,000 soldier-killers, as you call them, another 2,000 Rover-hunters, and maybe five hundred for anti-tank duty.”
I blinked. “That’s … a lot more than I thought you’d have.”
“I’ve been working on scaling production up - although I would prefer that we kept the numbers to ourselves. What I’m hoping for is a decent quantity of batteries that I can use to equip these drones - as well as, well, spares.”
“How many spares.”
“One primary and two spares, if possible.”
I did a mental calculation.
To be effective in combat, a soldier-killer drone would need to carry a decent load of ammunition. A Small Power Pack could power a maximum of a hundred shots; a Medium could support four thousand. That made Medium Power Packs the power source of choice for the soldier-killer drones.
Of course, that wouldn’t help with the Rover-hunters. Each shot from a Rover-hunter drone would need to be the equivalent of a tank shell. A Medium Pack could power a maximum of three such shots.
Which meant that the Rover-hunters would have to carry Heavy Power Packs. And for the anti-tank drones - the ones meant to kill Grizzeloid Stealth Tanks - I would need Mega Power Packs.
Each Medium Pack would cost me 1500 MP, a quarter-kilo of fullersteel, and thirty square metres of nanofibre weave. The Heavy Packs needed two kilos of fullersteel, a half-kilo of plasmium, and 2000 MP each. As for the Mega Packs….
MEGA POWER PACK
CAPACITY: 18,000 MJ
COST: 3 KG FULLERSTEEL + 2 GRAVITONIC CONTROL ARRAYS + 3 KG PLASMIUM + 200 SQ. M. NANOFIBRE WEAVE + 50 M. NANOFIBRE CORD + 2750 MP.
Equipping his drones would mean - eight thousand kilos of fullersteel. Two thousand five hundred kilos of plasmium. Four hundred thousand square metres of nanofibre weave. Twenty point three seven five million MP.
Twenty days of fullersteel production from Farnborough, five days of my time for plasmium spheres, and ten hours of MP to assemble the batteries. That was just for one set, no spares.
But - twelve-and-a-half thousand drones. Combat capable.
“Spares won’t be possible,” I said. “Even getting adequate supplies for most of the drones will be a problem.”
Droneacharya crossed his arms. “I understood from your conversation that you would extend all necessary support.”
“It’s not a question of intent, Droneacharya, merely of resources. To get you the power packs you need, I would need to commit an entire month’s fullersteel production from BAE-Dragonfly, as well as nearly ten hours of my personal time, just to make the power packs for all your drones. In the same amount of time - and with the same amount of material - BAE-Dragonfly could build and equip two hundred Boar Armours and six hundred sets of nanofibre weave. That’s eight hundred men.”
“I am offering you nearly twelve thousand drones - all they need is a decent weapon system.”
“I understand. But your drones are still - unproven. We don’t know if they will be able to perform at the same level as a single human combatant. Or if a hundred of them are required to match a single soldier.”
“What do you suggest?”
“I can equip a percentage of your forces with power packs. Say, two hundred of the infantry-level models, forty of the Rover-hunters, and ten of the larger units.”
“Two per cent.” Droneacharya’s voice was flat. “You are offering to fit out exactly two per cent of my available units.”
“Droneacharya, it’s not that I doubt your intentions. There are many other projects that have demands for power packs - I can’t simply commit a month’s production on the basis of instinct. We need to first see how your units do in a combat action - and if they are everything we hope for, I’ll get you power packs for all your units. But first, I need proof of capability.”
“I have produced drones for Reconnect, Belessar. I can get you references from Skyguard itself.”
“I don’t need references, Droneacharya, I need evidence.”
“I see,” Droneacharya said mildly. “Would it be possible to share the technology for production of the power packs? I can try to manufacture them on my own.”
I shrugged. “Be my guest. I’ll share the blueprints with you - no charge. If you can make them without requiring fullersteel or nanofibre weave, or if you can make the fullersteel yourself, I’ll be happy to help you.”
“My apologies, Belessar, but I’d prefer to buy the blueprints. In good faith, and with the understanding that they will work for me.”
“Droneacharya, if anyone but me could produce the power packs, they wouldn’t be inventech, they’d be normal technology. I’d be happy if you could figure out a way to make them normally, without using my powers - but it’s unlikely. That’s why I can’t, in good faith, charge you for this technology.”
“Because you don’t have a technology - you have a superpower that masquerades as technology.”
I shrugged. “Isn’t that what inventech is?”
“Very well, Belessar. It seems I have no choice but to accept your offer. Two per cent of my drones will be made available for the next alien defence, provided we can get the power packs for them.”
“Thank you for your understanding, Droneacharya.”
