Chapter 10 — Smoke in the Silence

The morning was a gentle shade of gray above the transport yard at Varshan Port, the humid air mingling with salt and sweat. Containers were being loaded, their heavy thuds echoing across the harbor like distant artillery. Inside a reinforced vehicle stationed near Dock-4, Field Commander Arham of Trinetra Command's Transport Unit reviewed the manifest on his tablet, tapping in routine confirmations.

This convoy was no ordinary shipment. The containers bore uranium-laced ore from Sarakvan Ridge, destined for covert refinement at Abyon Research Site, cloaked deep in the forested outskirts of Berava Cliffs. Only select units had clearance for such missions, and Arham had led over a dozen of them without a single loss. The terrain ahead was familiar, the patterns of patrol predictable.

What he did not expect was silence so sharp it seemed to cut into reality itself.

The first explosion came without warning. Not from the front or rear, but from the middle of the line, splitting the convoy in half. A blinding pulse of fire engulfed two of the six armored vehicles. The shockwave shattered windshields, shredded tarps, and sent fragments of metal zipping through the air like angry wasps.

Arham's vehicle swerved violently, his driver slumping over the steering wheel, blood already darkening his shirt. Arham kicked open the door, rolling into the dust just as another blast tore through the rear escort truck.

Then came the gunfire—surgical, precise, and terrifyingly quiet. Whoever was attacking wasn't in a frenzy. They were cold, clinical, and fast.

Flashes from the treeline near Vanarva Forest's edge caught his eye. Arham crawled to cover behind a smoldering wheel well, clutching his sidearm and activating his emergency comm. Static. Jammed.

Two soldiers from his unit took positions behind a flipped cargo loader, firing bursts into the treeline. No response came—no returning fire, no sounds, no visible enemy.

"Phantom units," Arham whispered, a chill running through his spine. These weren't local pirates or rival factions. These were professionals. Ghosts. And they had planned this perfectly.

One of the soldiers screamed as he was pulled from behind by an unseen figure. A flash of a blade. Then silence again.

Within nine minutes, the attack was over.

The convoy was in ruins—three dead, two missing, and the uranium containers… aflame. Fire suppression systems struggled to contain the secondary chemical reactions. Thankfully, the radioactive payloads were not yet refined—stable, but still a monumental loss.

By noon, the report had reached Sentinel Bastion, Trinetra Command's military nerve center overlooking the dense plains of Kaalved Valley. High towers pierced the overcast skies, bristling with antennas and turrets. Inside the Agnikaya Wing, the alert triggered a war-room convergence.

Aadesh stood by the command table, still wearing his dark tactical jacket from that morning's training drill. He read the field report once, then again, his face stone-like.

"No insignia. No comm traces. No satellites captured the strike team. This wasn't a known force," said Prime Controller Netrakaal, whose surveillance division had scoured all drone footage available. "They moved with professional rhythm. Left no footprints. Burned everything that could talk."

Agniveesh walked in moments later, his face unreadable, but eyes sharper than blades.

"The transport was rerouted only 36 hours ago," Aadesh said. "Which means someone has access to movement intel from inside."

"It was a precision hit," added Agniveesh, folding his arms. "They knew what we were carrying, where we were taking it, and what time. But they weren't here to steal. They were here to signal."

A heavy silence took over the room.

Aadesh leaned in. "They could've taken the ore. They didn't. They burned it."

Netrakaal glanced at the holographic terrain map above the table. "But who would do that? We control all external routes. Every operative we surveil knows the price of playing games with Trinetra."

"We may not be dealing with someone we know," Agniveesh replied. "This could be… outside the radar. Beyond our usual threats."

No one said what they were all beginning to suspect.

An independent, unknown force had just struck Trinetra Command's armored convoy at the border of Vanarva Forest, executed the attack with total silence, and disappeared without a whisper. Even within the intelligence matrix of Trinetra Command, there was no precedent for this level of spectral warfare.

Later that evening, on a private terrace of the Triad Complex, overlooking the neon-lit sprawl of Helgarh City, Aadesh and Agniveesh sat under the dying light.

"They'll hit again," Aadesh said.

"Only if we let them," Agniveesh replied, swirling his glass of water. "But we won't. They exposed themselves. Whoever did this… left patterns. We just haven't seen them yet."

"Should we alert Veer?"

Agniveesh looked out across the horizon, the islands in the distance dark and still.

"Not yet. Veer's overseeing the Sub-surface Extraction Drills in Karnveda Basin. Let him finish that. We'll handle the ghosts."

There was silence. Not the kind left by violence—but the kind that comes before the storm.