ShAK-12, assualt rifle

The next morning, Surya woke up early.

He could hear the soft murmurs of people gathering for Uncle Verma's funeral rites, but he had something else on his mind—introducing his gun design to Uncle Rajan and the leaders of the Bharat Swatantra Sangh. He'd show the others later once the gun was fully ready.

After quickly washing up and dressing, Surya grabbed the folded paper from his pocket and headed to the meeting spot where the leaders were gathering.

As he arrived at the simple mud-and-brick structure it was used as their base under the huge Banyan tree, he saw Uncle Rajan and a few senior members discussing funeral preparations, their faces heavy with sorrow.

Surya walked up, slowly but respectful. "Uncle Rajan," he called softly, not wanting to intrude but knowing what he had to say was urgent.

Uncle Rajan looked up, his eyes showing the weight of loss. "Surya, is everything alright?"

Surya gently pulled him aside, away from the others.

"I have something to show you, and it's very important," Surya said, pulling out the folded paper from his pocket and handing it over.

Uncle Rajan opened the paper, curious, and examined the sketch.

"It's a new rifle design," Surya explained. "It's semi-automatic, much faster and more efficient than the bolt-action rifles we're using now. It's simple enough to make with the tools we have, but powerful enough to give us a real edge."

Ranjan asked with a skeptical look, "How do we know this will work?"

Surya met his gaze. "It will work. Unlike a bolt-action rifle, where you have to reload after each shot, this semi-automatic can fire three bullets in quick succession, with a larger magazine capacity depending on its size."

Uncle Rajan stayed silent, still studying the design. Then he looked at Surya with a glimmer of hope. "If this is as good as you say, it could change everything. But we need to move fast."

Surya nodded. "I'll oversee the production myself. We can have the blacksmith start on the prototype right away. And only those who have worked earlier for uncle and father."

Uncle Rajan agreed, but with a word of caution. "Alright, but we must be careful. We can't let this information spread too soon. If the British catch wind of it, they'll try to stop us."

"I understand. I'll keep this between us," Surya promised.

Surya headed to the blacksmith's shop, ready to put the plan into action.

When he arrived, he was greeted by the steady clang of metal. The blacksmith, a stout man named Hari, was hard at work. His shop was small but well-equipped, with tools hanging on the walls and a glowing forge in the corner.

Surya approached him. "Hari Bhaiya, I need your help with something."

Hari wiped his brow and looked up. "Surya? What brings you here? Shouldn't you be helping with the funeral?"

Surya shook his head. "There's something more urgent that we need to handle."

Intrigued, Hari put down his hammer. "What is it?"

Surya didn't hold back. Hari had made guns for them before, and he was connected to other blacksmiths. Surya handed him the folded paper. "This is a design for a new rifle. It could give us the upper hand in our fight. I need you to help make it."

Hari unfolded the paper and studied it, eyebrows furrowed. "This... I've never seen anything like it. Where did you get this?"

Surya smiled, knowing the explanation would be hard to believe. "I've been working on this idea for a while. It's possible, and with your tools, we can build it."

Hari thought for a moment. "It's complicated, but not impossible. I'll need time to gather the materials, and even then, we'll have to test it."

Surya nodded. "Time is something we don't have much of. Can you start right away?"

Hari nodded slowly. "I'll start. Give me a few days for the first prototype."

"Thank you, Hari Bhaiya." Surya left the shop, hopeful. If they could get these rifles made, it could turn the tide in their favor.

As Surya walked away, he thought about the design. The gun was based on a modern rifle from his previous life, the ShAK-12, similar to the Oden from CODM. It was short, had a magazine capacity of over 30 rounds, and fired 12.7mm bullets.

The next few days passed quickly. The people were busy preparing for the funeral, but Surya remained focused on the rifle. He visited Hari every day, watching the prototype come together—a better barrel here, an improved firing mechanism there. Slowly, the weapon took shape.

On the fourth day, Hari finally called him to the shop.

Surya arrived, excited. Hari stood by the forge, holding the finished prototype. It was rough, but unmistakably the rifle Surya had designed.

"This is it," Hari said, handing it over. "It's not perfect, but it should work."

Surya felt the weight of the rifle in his hands. It was heavier than he expected, but solid. Hari had done an incredible job with what little they had.

"Let's test it," Surya suggested.

They headed out to a quiet spot far from the village, where Surya checked the rifle one last time and loaded a few rounds. His heart pounded as he raised the rifle and aimed at a makeshift target.

He squeezed the trigger.

The gun fired with a loud crack, the recoil strong but manageable. The bullet hit dead center. Surya grinned—it worked.

He fired a few more rounds, each one hitting its mark. Hari stood by, impressed. "I can't believe it. This is incredible."

Surya lowered the rifle, his mind racing with ideas. This was just the beginning. With these rifles, they could change the course of the war.

"We did it," he said quietly, more to himself than to Hari. "This is the start is much bigger."

Hari clapped him on the shoulder. "It's amazing. If you'd made this earlier, maybe Verma could have been saved." He sighed, looking up at the sky.

Surya nodded. "Tomorrow, we'll show Uncle Rajan and the others."

Hmm....Hari nodded on his words.

The next morning, Surya stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the collar of his simple kurta.

He had successfully tested the prototype rifle with Hari, and now it was time to introduce it to the high-ranking members of the Bharat Swatantra Sangh.

As he stepped out of his small room, the morning sun greeted him, casting long shadows over the city.

But for Surya, today held even greater importance. He glanced at the neatly folded paper in his pocket and the gun lying in his bag. He took a deep breath, steadying his nerves.

He walked towards the gathering place, a small mud-and-brick building that served as their base of operations. As he approached, he could see Uncle Rajan and several senior members already seated at a table under the shade of a large banyan tree. The air was thick with the scent of burning incense, a sign that the village was in mourning.

Uncle Rajan spotted him and waved him over. The other leaders also knew Surya wouldn't have called this meeting without reason.

"Surya, come, sit," Rajan said, gesturing to an empty chair beside him. The other leaders, some of whom Surya had known since he was a child, turned their attention towards him. They knew Surya was intelligent, but they hadn't yet seen the full extent of his capabilities.

Surya began, his voice serious, as he spoke about something very important. "I know we are all grieving Uncle Verma's loss, and I don't wish to take up much of your time, but I believe what I'm about to show you is crucial to our fight."

He pulled the blueprint from his pocket and took the gun out from the bag, unfolding the paper and laying it flat on the table for everyone to see. Rajan leaned in, his brows furrowed in concentration, while the others exchanged glances, unsure of what to expect.

"This," Surya said, pointing to the detailed sketch, "is a design for a new type of rifle, and this is the gun in reality. It can help us in our battles against the British."

Rajan's eyes widened slightly, and one of the senior members, an older man named Chandra, leaned forward, squinting at the design. "A new rifle?" he asked, his tone skeptical. "What makes it different from the ones we already have?"

Surya had expected this question. He had prepared for it.

"The rifles we currently use are bolt-action," Surya explained. "They require us to manually reload after each shot, which slows us down and leaves us vulnerable in battle. But this rifle," he pointed to the schematic, "is semi-automatic. It can fire multiple rounds in quick succession without needing to reload after each shot."

The room fell silent as the weight of his words sank in.

"How many rounds can it fire?" another member, a man named Gopal, asked, his voice tinged with both curiosity and caution.

"The magazine can hold up to thirty rounds, depending on the size of the magazine we produce," Surya replied confidently. "It can fire in bursts of three, which means we can maintain accuracy while increasing our firepower. This will give us a significant advantage, especially in situations where we're outnumbered."

Uncle Rajan, who had remained quiet, finally spoke. "You've tested this?"

Surya nodded. "Yes, Uncle. I tested the prototype with Hari at the blacksmith's shop. It works. The recoil is manageable, the accuracy is excellent, and it can be produced with the resources we have."

Chandra, still skeptical, crossed his arms. "And what about production? You said it can be made with the resources we have, but producing a rifle like this in large numbers isn't a small task. We don't have factories like the British do."

Surya had anticipated this concern. "That's true. We don't have large factories. But the blacksmith we have, they can make these guns. The design is simple enough that it can be made in small workshops. It will take time, but we can produce these rifles in batches. And with the connections Hari has with other blacksmiths, we can grewup production across multiple villages around Delhi, to nit be suspicious to the the Britishers."

Rajan leaned back in his chair, deep in thought. The other leaders murmured among themselves.

Surya could see the doubt in their eyes, but he waited for them.

"We've been fighting with outdated weapons for too long," Rajan finally said, his voice measured. "If this rifle is as effective as you say, it could shift the balance of power. But we can't afford any mistakes. If the British get wind of this, they'll come after us with everything they have."

"I understand," Surya replied. "That's why we need to keep this between us for now. I'll personally oversee the production and make sure that only the people we trust are involved. We can't afford to let this leak out before we're ready."

Rajan nodded, his expression serious. "Alright. We'll start by producing a small batch of rifles and testing them in the field. If they prove effective, we'll ramp up production."

Surya felt a surge of relief, but he knew this was only the beginning. "Thank you, Uncle. I'll work with Hari Bhaiya (Big Brother) to get the first batch ready as soon as possible."

Gopal, who had been silent for most of the conversation, finally spoke up. "We need to think about logistics as well. Where will we store the rifles? How will we transport them without drawing the attention of those Britishers?"

Surya had already thought about this. "We'll store the rifles in safe houses spread across different villages around Delhi. As for transportation, we'll use the same methods we've been using to smuggle supplies—carts disguised as farmers transporting goods. The British won't suspect a thing."

Chandra, still skeptical but visibly impressed, sighed. "You've thought this through, Surya. I have to give you credit for that. But remember, this alone can't win us the war."

"I agree," Surya said. "The rifles are just one part of the plan. We'll also need to train our fighters in how to use them effectively. But with these in our hands, we'll be able to stand out more confidently."

Rajan and the other leaders trusted Surya's vision, but they all knew the risks involved. As the group dispersed, Rajan placed a hand on Surya's shoulder.

"You've done well, Surya," he said, his voice soft but filled with pride. "Uncle Verma would have been proud of you."

Surya nodded. "Thank you, Uncle. I just want to make sure his sacrifice wasn't in vain."

After that both of them talked something important and left.