The Tycoon's Odyssey

While all those things were happening around, everything was kept a close eye on by the group sitting in Dilli.

The war command room in Dilli, fortified and secure, bore the weight of the nation's grief and anger.

Within its walls, the Prime Minister, Rajesh Patel stood surrounded by some of Indra's most important officials the Defense Minister, Air Marshal Arvind, Army Chief General Nair, and Admiral Kapoor of the Navy who were overseeing the entire fight.

The sprawling command room was equipped with high-tech monitors, glowing maps, and live feeds from every corner of the battlefield. Yet, despite the cutting-edge technology, the air was thick with horror and helplessness.

The atmosphere was thick with tension and disbelief as footage of the Sukhoi crash replayed on the giant screens before them.

Rajesh's hands trembled slightly as he watched the scene again, the Sukhoi spiraling out of control before erupting into flames. His face darkened, and the anguish in his eyes reflected the turmoil within. The crash was more than just the loss of an aircraft; it symbolized the fragility of Indra's defense forces in the face of an inexplicable threat.

Breaking the silence, Rajesh turned sharply to the Defense Minister. "How many squadrons and aircraft do we have operational right now?" His voice carried the weight of restrained fury.

The Defense Minister, a seasoned politician who had navigated countless crises, hesitated before responding. "Sir, we currently have 700 operational aircraft across all forces. Among them, four squadrons of MiG-29s and three of Falcons are active."

Indra, a nation with a proud but aging air force, had only a meager fleet of 700 aircraft, most of which were outdated relics of a bygone era. Years of delays in acquiring new-generation jets and an inability to develop sixth-generation fighters had left them vulnerable. Patel's thoughts raced this wasn't just a loss; it was humiliation.

The Prime Minister's eyebrows furrowed in frustration. "And the rest? Why are our numbers so low?"

Marshal Arvind cleared his throat, stepping in to provide clarity. "Sir, attrition, and delays in procuring new jets have reduced our numbers. Many of our fleets are outdated, and some are barely operational."

Rajesh's lips pressed into a thin line, but he forged ahead. "Tell me this, then what generation do the MiG-29s and Falcons belong to?"

The room grew tense as one of the officials reluctantly answered. "Sir, the MiG-29s are classified as 4th-generation jets, and the Falcons are between 4th and 4.5 generations, depending on the variant but all of them are outdated with single engines."

Rajesh's glare intensified, and he slammed a hand on the table. "So, what you're telling me is that these outdated pieces of trash, relics of the past, managed to take down a Sukhoi? A 4.5-generation jet piloted by one of our best?! Is that even possible?!"

The officials in the room exchanged uneasy glances, unable to meet his gaze. Finally, Marshal Arvind spoke again, his voice subdued. "No, sir. Under normal circumstances, it shouldn't be possible. The Sukhoi outclasses those jets in every aspect—speed, firepower, agility. But..."

"But what?" Rajesh demanded.

"Sir, what we're witnessing isn't normal," Marshal Arvind admitted. "From the footage, their aircraft displayed capabilities far beyond anything we've ever seen. It's like they're operating with technology that's decades ahead of ours."

The statement hung in the air like a heavy weight. The Army Chief, General Nair, shook his head in disbelief, his usually stoic expression betraying a hint of despair. "This is no longer just a threat to our air force. This Evan... he's using technology that makes him more dangerous than a hostile nation." Find your next read at empire

The footage shifted on the screen, showing the moment the Sukhoi exploded after being outmaneuvered. Gasps rippled through the room. Admiral Kapoor, his arms crossed tightly, muttered, "It's almost like we're fighting ghosts. Nothing about this makes sense."

Rajesh narrowed his eyes at the screen, his frustration bubbling over. "It's not just ghosts, Admiral. It's a nightmare. We are fighting a single man who has made fools of us all."

He turned to the Defense Minister. "Tell me, is it even possible for us to counter this? Can we match their jets with what we have?"

The Defense Minister hesitated, then shook his head grimly. "No, sir. Our current fleet doesn't stand a chance. We'd need fifth-generation fighters, or something even more advanced, to close the gap."

The Prime Minister's fists clenched. The loss was not just humiliating; it was catastrophic. It was an assault on their national pride, and their sovereignty. Worse still, it was against a single individual, not even a nation.

Rajesh's voice dropped, cold and sharp. "We can't afford to let this continue. Raise the threat scale to its maximum level. Evan is no longer an individual. He's an entity capable of threatening our entire nation. Send the message—use everything in our arsenal to wipe him out."

The room fell silent as his words sank in. The Defense Minister, visibly uneasy, ventured to speak. "Sir, deploying full-scale firepower in the Andaman and Nicobar region will have catastrophic consequences. The habitat, the tribal communities—"

Rajesh raised a hand to silence him. "Don't start with the tribals. We've tried for years to communicate with them, and they've done nothing but attack us. And yet, this man coexists with them without issue. Even if the entire Andaman sinks, we will rebuild. But we cannot allow this vermin to live another day. Finish him. At all costs."

The room erupted into activity, officers and analysts scrambling to execute the Prime Minister's orders. Despite the flurry of movement, a palpable unease lingered. Deep down, each of them understood the gravity of the situation. Rajesh's decision was necessary, but it came at a cost none of them could fully fathom.

In the corner of the room, the Air Marshal stared at the screens, replaying the battle footage. A quiet voice in the back of his mind whispered that this was not just a war of technology now, but a war of survival