Perspectives and Perceptions

[king of cochin]

"What are your targets? Where all did you keep the bombs? Answer me?"

The harsh questions of the police officer were accompanied by excruciating pulses of Taser to his right arm.

"You may torture me, you may kill me, but I wont tell you anything." He laughed maniacally.

"We will get it out of you, one way or another." He heard the police interrogator telling him.

He spat bloodened spit at the man's face and only saw the baton approaching like a flash from his right. Then darkness.


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Through groggy darkness of his consciousness he heard a few indistinct words and some instinct made him aware that the subject is of importance to him.

"No, Major. We cannot use sensory deprivation of electrocution interrogation methods on him. He has a cardiac condition which would make such a thing very fatal."

"So Doctor, the only recourse is hallucinogens?"

"Yes, major. But be careful and prevent him from going into hyperventilation. Use only ..............."

Then the consciousness faded out for him taking him back to the dreamless oblivion


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"You animal, you filthy animal, you placed the bomb in a school? Why the hell did you do that? What did my son ever do to you to deserve to be killed. Leave me alone, let me kill him. I want to hear his head off."

With elation he saw the other police officers restraining the Captain. The woman was reasonably kind to him during the interrogation, but he knew it was all a ploy. Perhaps these capitalists pigs thought they could elicit some gratitude from him, but he knew better - Gratitude was a disease of the pigs. True revolutionaries did not care for gratitude. So while he accepted the favors, he saw this capitalist swine as nothing special.

Now it seems her son was killed in the explosion at the Florence Nightingale Primary School. Yes, that was a valuable target - middle of the city, teaching the children of several government officials. He remembered scouting the school in the disguise of a prospective parent and he remembered each of the bombs he had placed when he came next disguised as maintenance worker for the water filter company. He remembered with fondness camaraderie and the fun of his comrades at the work shop where they assembled the bombs. He remembered the unfiltered cigarettes and copious amounts of tea consumed during every party political meet. He remembered with pride the day Arun Chand appointed him Chief Operational Officer of Communist Party Marxist's People's War Group, Kolkata Command. He also remembered stripping down and cleaning his AK47 rifle when his apartment was raided by RCPF. He remembered the police officer whom he stabbed in the neck with a knife before being Tasered into unconsciousness. He also remembered seeing through a reddish haze the bodies of his comrades laid in a line at the City Prison.

This too would be a moment to remember. Even though he had failed for now, the revolution shall not fail as long as capitalists pigs like this wailing banshee of a police woman would keep on losing her offspring. Yes it would be a moment worth remembering.

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"Hello Pramod, are you comfortable?"

"Yesssssss."

"Can you hear me properly?"

"Yeaaaa."

"Did you go to school recently?"

"Yes. I like to go to schoooooooooooool."

"Why do you go to school, Pramod?"

"To give them a gift. A niiiiiiiice special gift."

"What gift did you give them, Pramod?""


"Boom Boom Boooooooom. Booooooom Booooooom Boooom, Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Haaaa."

"Which all schools did you go to?"

"Florence Nightingale, St. George's, Amritha, Al Mahdi Madrassa, Ashrama."

"Did you give gifts to anybody else, Pramod?"

"Oh Yeaaaaaaaah!! I gave gifts to Alipur Mental Asylum and to Children's Specialty Hospital, Kolkata."

"Are they also Boom Boom gifts?"

"Oh yeah, Boom Boom, Boom Boom. Boooooom Boooooom Boooooooooooooooooooooom."

"Thanks Pramod, now why dont you sleep a little more."

Fading he heard, " Thank you Doctor, we may yet be able to save some lives. There has been no attacks yet at St.George's, Ashrama High School, Alipur Asylum and CSH, Kolkata. Thanks a lot, Doctor."


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"Mr. Pramod Karat, you have been charged with 40 counts of murder, 103 counts of attempted murder, 2 counts of conspiracy to commit murder and one count of conspiracy against state. Specifically you are being tried in connection with the bomb explosions which took place at Florence Nightingale Primary School, Amritha Vidyalaya, Al Mahdi Madrassa and Children's Speciality Hospital, Kolkata. How do you plead to these charges?"

"I do not recognize this court. The basic premise of this case is false. I did not commit conspiracy against the state. For that first I need to recognize Kingdom of Cochin as a state. I, a communist, shall never recognize the power of any capitalist state and a puppet judiciary of such a false system to try me.So to hell with you and your courts. Viva revolution"


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"Mr. Pramod Karat, you are hereby sentenced to consecutive life sentence for the rest of your life in a Strict Category, Maximum Security Prison with no chance of parole or probation. You have been deemed as unreformable and thence unworthy of rehabilitation efforts by the state. Do you have any statements, Mr. Karat?"

"You may lock me up, but you would not destroy the revolution."

"We already did, you fool, didn't you hear we destroyed every last one of the communists. Even the Communist Party of India is now destroyed after their foolish attempt to kill the King. Now rot away, you child killing creep," the Police Constable whispered in Pramod's ears as he was taken away from Calcutta HIgh Court.

Pramod Karat was now being sent to Bengal Central Prison, Balurghat.

[king of cochin]

“So, Captain, how is prisoner BC156879 doing? Any problems with him?”
“Major, the guy has been involved in several fights already with the other prisoners. He is not too popular amongst the rank and file of prison population for murdering children but he has his own cult following among the communist prisoners of whom we have quite a number forming in his gang.”
“Any specific incidents of violence yet?”
“Well, Karat did stab another inmate with an improvised wooden stake during mess time last week, the person is still hospitalized. He had also attempted to stab one of the patrol guards with a 6 inch long metal rod.”
“So what do we do with this rat?”
“Solitary is one option. But it seems to have no psychological effect on him.”
“Yes solitary confinement has negligible effects on such an organized psychopathic sociopath. Keeping here among regular criminals would only be disruptive on prison tranquility. Something must be done with him.”
“Sir do I have your permission to crack down on the communist gang?”
“Yes, Captain. You can use force to break them down.”

A few hours later after lockdown that night, several cells are opened in the Bengal Central Prison, Balurghat and a total of 23 prisoners have been brought over into interrogation room. After physically beating them all up into exhaustion all 23 have been put into individual solitary confinement cells. The group have been sentenced for between 7 to 21 days of confinement. The example made out of the communist gang have been instrumental in other potential gangs from forming up in the prison.


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From :
Department of Prisons and Rehabilitation,
Royal Cochin Police Force

To:
Prison Commandant,
Bengal Central Prison,
Balurghat

Taking into consideration repeated misdemeanors and incidents involving Prisoner Number BC156879 Pramod Karat, is now ordered to be transferred to Maximum Security Prison Facility at Fort Kuono, Andaman-Nicobar Province.

Sd,

Col. Eappen John,
Prisoners Transfer Office.


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“Time to leave, sweetie! Enjoy your extended pleasure stay at His majesty’s expense at Fort Kuono! There you wont have things so easy.” The Sergeant said while clubbing Karat at his ribs on encountering resistance while he was being secure. Pramod is being rigged into a straitjacket, with a black hood and finally secured with chains. The prisoner is then led towards the prison helipad where an RCPF Blackhawk is waiting to take this priority prisoner to the airport. Along with 7 other similarly secured prisoners Karat is secured to rungs on the floor of the helicopter. To immobilize them further during the flight the prison doctor administers a tranquilizer injection to each and every one of them.

The police helicopter flew on towards the Calcutta International Airport where the ATC forwarded it towards a secure aerodrome where an RCAF Metac is waiting. The seven prisoners were carried in their semi conscious state to the Metac where they were put in individual cage type bunks and secured with chains.

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Karat’s first memory after the doctor administering the shot was that of salty sea breeze coming through the hood. He could hear the roar of seas amidst the deafening roar of aircraft engines idling. He remembered being pushed and shoved around by some strong pairs of hands until he landed back down on a hard tarmac. The surface was hot, so it is a tropical area and the oppressing heat already made him sweaty and uncomfortable inside the hood.

“Here you go Major, keep these dogs safely chained at the Fort. Now I need to go and get some crew rest. Advantages of being in Air Force.” He heard laughter sounding off. Fort? What Fort? Before he could think more about it Pramod Karat felt himself being towed to erect posture and pushed to walk on the sound of seas getting nearer and the sounds of jet engines receding. Finally he felt his footing change from solid earth to some undulating surface. What is going on? Where am I?

Pramod felt himself being pushed into yet another metallic cage, then he felt the hood being taken out.

“We do take care of our guests at Fort, you know? Besides the Major thought it would be alright for you fellows to have one last sight of freedom before entering the Fort. Besides if we gagged you, you may suffocate in your own vomit, now that is not a death we have in store for you, you freak. So enjoy your last sight of freedom.” As the Constable moved away Pramod Karat could feel the boat starting to move and found himself in a small cage on the deck of a hovercraft. He could see a palm studded island being swathed in white swirling waves. It was a picture perfect beautiful moment, marred only by the sight of the flag of the Kingdom of Cochin fluttering on a stanchion. As he let the view sink in to him he could feel the boat changing orientation until he saw another landform growing larger in size.

It was indeed a Fort. Not one in the medieval sense but in the modern sense, a steel and concrete castle that rose 10 stories up into the sky. The towering walls enclosed 5 layers of variously graded regimens of strictness, with the laxest at the top. Though Pramod Karat could not see it, there were 3 helipads in secure locations and two secured docks with RCPF gun boats and Coast Guard patrol boats. The roaring seas around the island made sure that any escape would be impossible and to even the most foolhardy and adventurous of swimmers the shark population in these waters would be a definite deterrent.

“Enjoying your view boys? Good, cause this is your last outside view. You gents would never see sunlight again.”

[king of cochin]

"Are we there yet?"
"No Stephen, we are not there yet. Only a few more minutes."

The Gulfstream V was racing across the barren sands of Taklamakan Desert and the six year old toddler is looking out of the windows of the olive green painted business jet at a landscape that is both beautiful and terrifying at the same time. As the little boy is craning his neck to pick out various features from the desert the woman in the seat across him is reading an official file.

Sixty was a frontier she had crossed an year back, however Lt. Gen. Mary Williams was still athletic, if not quite as sprightly as she was in her twenties when she used to race the T72 Main Battle Tanks across these very same deserts. Mary had been a tanker for all her life, from the first sight she had of a venerable T62 outside the Chauhan Hall in the National Defense College on her first day as cadet, to the first T72 she had touched with a reverence in her second year when she unhesitatingly chose Armored Corps as her career route. The years she spent in the greasy cabins of the T72s which she had commanded in her youth, to the smooth gyrations of the T90s as it raced over the rough terrain of Karagandy plains, then the ranks and legions of T100s which had been hers to command as a brigade commander of the 2nd Armored Cavalry Regiment and finally the massive power and responsibility as the Commander of the Cochin's Armor, the Third Shock Army Division, the elite armored forces of Royal Cochin Army which she had commanded for the past 3 years, all these sights passed through Lt. Gen. Williams' eyes as she let the dossier go out of focus.

It was indeed an eventual life, as one of the first women to serve in Cochin's armor forces and then to excel in it and thus attain her present rank. However the current predicament was a bit anticlimactic.

"Come on Stephen, put on your seat belt. We will be landing in a minute," Mary told his grand son who wanted to see his grandma's tanks once more.
The sleek business jet landed smartly at the Miran Domestic Airport where her flag sedan was waiting to pick her up. Flanked by an escort jeep flying her colors and stars the Officer went to observe her command.

The Regimental Headquarters of the 3rd Shock Army Division is about 30 km West of Miran town. It is only around 150 km from here to the Cochin's frontiers with People's Republic of China and during the times of tensions with that nation Cochin's Armor HQ was always a hive of activity. However now the base is in almost a sleepy state. The line of barracks were all shuttered and the massive drill grounds which always resonated with the sounds of marching boots were silent. As she drove by she noted that the huge work shops that lined the assembly ground were still open however the feverish activity of hundreds of tanks and APCs being serviced was absent.

The sedan finally stopped at the door of a massive warehouse and Lt. Gen. Mary Williams alighted followed by Stephen who was now quiet and holding his grandma's left hand.

Another Army Officer walked up to the senior general and saluted,"Maj. Kumaran Swamy, Quarter Master Command, Sir."

"At ease , Major. Everything is alright?"

"Yes, General. The inventory have been checked and have now been processed for reserve storage. We would however need at least a force strength of one Battalion to maintain all the tanks at permanent readiness."

"Very well, I shall assign one of our battalions to be stationed here to serve under your command."

"Grandma, where are the tanks?" Stephen asked in a timid voice.

"Come on, here they are."

And thus Stephen's query was answered as the light of several flashlights glowing from the ceiling revealed ranks and ranks of T150 Main Battle Tanks of the 3rd Shock Army Division stored in the warehouse. Fully 125 Main Battle Tanks and their associated Armored Personnel Carriers, Infantry Carriers, Trucks and Jeeps were stationed in this massive warehouse, equipment for one brigade of heavy armor. 12 such warehouses are spread around in the army base all now being maintained by a company of Quarter Master Command soldiers and a battalion of Royal Cochin Army soldiers.

"Soon, my babies, soon you shall be roaring out of these warehouses to the battlefields where you truly belong. Soon." Lt. Gen. Mary Williams thought to herself. Such a shame that her brilliant career would have to be topped by the sight of her command being relegated to reserve status. However such is the nature of things. She would now return to her plush office job at the General Staff Headquarters in Cochin City, where her paramount worry would be of securing a delivery of staple pins, as the jokes went. If she could not command her soldiers and their tanks what is the point of serving anyway? Perhaps it is indeed time to retire, the General thought as she picked her grandson and walked towards her sedan.

Behind her the QMC staff were turning off the ceiling lights consigning the weaponry into a shroud of darkness.

[king of cochin]

The 45 kg pack is cutting into the weary muscles of his shoulders. The toughened boots are now soggy after hours of marching through the incessant rain. Soon he would have to stop and change socks, he knew, else it was only a matter of time before he would lose his feet.

Lt. Aswin Sethi wiped off the perspiration from his brows and paid a glance at the view around him. Had he not been debilitated by this inhumane exhaustion, the beautiful vision of cloud covered mountains and lush green trees would have enchanted him. But now the mountains were omens of more pains to come, the trees were giants set out to block his path.

'Won't the rain ever stop? Why does it never stop?'

In one area of his conscience Aswin knew the answer to the questions he asked himself, but it was unlikely that that answer would satisfy the conscience that asked it. Wet, cold and hungry, Lt. Aswin Sethi trudged on. In Mawsynram, the rain never stops.

It seemed to Aswin that his entire body was wet, everything around him was wet, the heavy trees and the moss that formed an adornment over their thick trunks, the brown earth which had not been dry since the day it eroded its path out of some long forgotten boulder, the sky which is a continuous torrent of rainbearing clouds, pouring its contents steadily, second after second, minute after minute, hour after hour, in a never ending procession. Even the very air seemed wet, the heavy breath he drew in seemed wet enough to choke him.

His Battle Dress Uniform was long since sogged, the green fatigued jungle boots were drenched to the point of deterioration, the state of his under wear and the contents they were supposed to shield are better not contemplated. The combat pack with the water resistant explosives and detonators, the three boxes of ammunition and his assault rifle were all sogged. The only thing that could not get sogged is the map. The A2 sized topography map was laminated with heavy duty plastic and thus the only thing that was guaranteed from being absolutely drenched in this climate. Using this map and a compass Lt. Aswin Sethi has set out on the combat march to reach Base Camp Whiskey. Trekking alone over such wilderness without a single human contact or any indication of human presence for the past 5 days, Lt. Aswin Sethi is far beyond the pale of normal human sensibilities.If you ask him, he would not even be sure what year it is right now, he would not be surprised if an Allosaurus peeked at him from behind a clump of trees.

The ordeal had begun for Aswin five days earlier when he had parajumped from a Metac on to his Landing Site. Lt. Sethi is on his graduation trek as part of his training course at Jungle Warfare School, Silent Valley, Nilambur. After the gruelling three month long training at the Special Forces Training Center, the Red Bereted commando was tasked to survive and trek his way to a coordinate marked only by the map. A long shot away from the Equatorial Rainforest conditions of the Silent Valley, the Himalayan Rainforest conditions of Mawsynram is designed to take away the comfort factor of operating in familiar terrain. From his HALO jump from the Metac Lt. Sethi had to figure out where he had landed, plot the way to his objective and make it there. Alone. For food he had 5 kilograms of rations but was otherwise expected to live off the ground. For that purpose he had a combat knife and a machete.

Any hope he had to live off the ground comfortably was lost after his first day of trek here, after which he had to resort to the contingency measures he had been taught at the JWS, measures which were deemed last minute but were the mainstay of his survival in this trek ever since his meagre rations of food were lost on a tree top on his landing.

He still remembered the dirty taste of the first Copperhead Rat Snake he had eaten on the second day of his trek, raw. Latching his combat knife onto a wooden staff and striking the rat snake after tracking it for two hours. Then severing its head, peeling its skin off and eating its unholy meat all the while trying not to vomit by trying to visualize what he is eating as succulent Gulab Jamun. The unfulfilled satisfaction of having at least some sort of nutrition in his stomach and then moving on.

Now after 5 days of trekking Lt. Aswin Sethi started having a little optimism. After that last bend of trees he should be able to see Base Camp Whiskey. He was almost exactly at his designated target coordinates. There would be two camouflaged tents there, along with a Tatra truck. His objective was to activate three dummy explosive devices at the tents and truck to have the mission completed.

Aswin has no idea how to complete the task. At his level of physical exhaustion and mental depravity, he would just as well pleased to go rock and roll with his assault rifle and its tracer rounds. But no, mission has to be completed, going rock and roll would mean mission failed. An RCSF Commando never fails. So drawing on his last reserves of strength and sanity Lt. Sethi crept towards the clearing, his assault rifle at the ready.

As he finally looked over into the clearing, Lt. Aswin Sethi received a massive surprise.

There was nothing in the clearing.

Absoluitely nothing.

No tents.

No trucks.

No soldiers.

No sign of human presence.

He was absolutely devastated. Had he made a mistake in plotting his route. Had he misjudged his landing coordinates? Had he taken a wrong turning somewhere?

No. Not possible.

He brought out his topography map and checked his position with other visible natural features. He was in the correct position.

Had he taken too long? Did his trek take too long causing the camp to go back?

Had they forgotten about me and my training mission?

Am I truly alone?

No. No point in crying about it. I need to get out of here, well there is that alternate destination. I am sure I can hitch a ride in some truck if I reach this road. What is another 25 km in this unholy terrain? Peace of cake for an RCSF Commando.

Having thus decided, Lt. Aswin Sethi stood up and prepared to march along the new route he plotted with his map and compass. As he put on his combat pack again he heard a soft voice whisper behind him.

"Off again? Without even sharing this lovely cake with us?"

Shocked to the core of his existence the bedraggled commando turned around to see a few spectral images emanating from the green undercover.

"Well done, kid. This was a rather special twist set up by the Colonel here and you smarted your way out of this pretty well."

Even more surprising was to hear the voice of Sqd. Sgt. Naresh Yadav, his Squad Instructor coming from the spectral image. The other taller specter then removed the camouflage from his head and talked to him.

"What are you looking at us like that for? Haven't you seen us in Ghillies before, Kid?"

The shock of seeing Col. Takbir Singh, Commanding Officer of the 24th Special Forces Regiment momentarily caused the green Lieutenant to forget to salute.

"Forget about all that BS, kid. Today, is your graduation day. The frills and pomp we would leave for parade ground later, today you have earned your laurels to stand alongside the best of the best of Royal Cochin Special Forces. Congratulations, Kid. Now go and lighten the load of our Sergeant Yadav here, who had been lugging all those bottles of rum for the past few days.

"Yeah, we had been following you from Day One, though we had cheated, we had toblerones and lots of water. We did not want to reduce the Serpentine population of the region. So tonight we eat, drink and sleep. Tomorrow at 0900 Command would send a chopper here."

Thus laughing the three soldiers broke out the food and bottles of rum to spent a rough and fun night as soldiers in the field.

[king of cochin]

[b]Auxiliary Air Base Raipur[/b]

"Raipur ATC, this is HB3729 seeking clearance to take off. Over"

"HB3729, this is Raipur ATC. Hold position for One Five minutes. Priority flight taxiing now. You will get a slot in , I repeat One Five minutes. Over."

"Raipur ATC, this is HB3729. What flight has more priority than an RCAF flight? I hope it is not the King himself! Over."

"Yeah, Yeah. Hold your position, HB3729."


"Cheek of that trash hauler, he is speaking as if he is flying a Jadayu. What is the flight profile, Anand?" The Air Traffic Controller asked his colleague.

"QMC Cargo, delivery to FAB Ile Amsterdam. Most likely extra toilet papers for the engineers in those islands. Nearly 4000 Nautical Miles. I definitely do not enjoy these pilots."

"Yeah, Air Force or no Air Force, flying that behemoth all that way, absolute bore. So is the VIP flight cleared off?"

"Yes, we now have slot for that Halob."

"Okay. HB3729, this is Raipur ATC. You are cleared to take off from runway 1025. Have a safe flight. Over."


[b]---------------------------------------------[/b]

[b]Halob HB3729 , 37th Halob Regiment[/b]

"Raipur ATC, this is HB3729. Acknowledging clearance to take off. Over."

"Starboard engines, check - One, Two, Thee, Four." - Pilot
"Port engines, check - One Two, Three, Four." - Co pilot
"All systems check. Ready for take off, Captin." - Flight Engineer.
"Okay. Captain's aircraft. Throttles 60%, brakes off."

With a jerk, the massive transport plane started taxiing towards the runway. As the plane assumed formation in the assigned runway, the pilot pushed the throttles to max lift off power and the aircraft started racing down the tarmac. The wings of the heavy transport aircraft strained upwards and gradually lifted the entire aircraft with it to the skies.

"Wheels retracted, AOA 60 degrees," the Co-Pilot said.
"Okay, we shall set a cruise altitude of 45,000 feet. That way we can use the jet stream that would now be forming over Hyderabad,"the Pilot said.
"Roger that, Captain. This is going to be a long flight. Switch at Diego?"
"You bet. No way I want to fly the entire stretch. I barely slept yesterday." Capt. Vinod Shukla said rubbing his eyes.
"The baby?" Capt. Joseph Pappan, the copilot asked with a grin.
"Yes. She was crying the whole night, and you know how Shilpa is? Too much into equal duty. Hell, she does not have to fly an aircraft the next day does she?"
"Not too liberated are we? Dont let the load master hear you. She will tear you a new one. Speaking of that, hey Mahesh, any chance for a coffee?"
"I am an engineer, not a microwave oven, k?" Lt. Pavan Rastogi replied with a frown. "But I will see what I can do."
"You know a stewardess or two and this life really has some possibilities." Capt. Pappan said
"In your dreams." Capt. Shukla replied.

[b]------------------------------------------------

Payload Area[/b]

"Now who is the idiot who left this pallet unsecured? Which donkey amongst you want to fly out now? Huh?" Load Master Sqd. Sgt. Bindhya Nayak screamed at her men.
"What's up, Bindhya Ma'am? These guys look as if they are about to be eaten by a lion" Lt. Rastogi asked on coming to the aft loading bay of the aircraft.
"One of these fools left this pallet unsecured to its hold. One turbulence and this could have caused the aircraft to be destabilized."
PFC Shyam Singh came forward,"Ma'am, that pallet was secured by me. If there is a problem , it must have been due to my negligence."
Sqd.Sgt. Nayak glared at the taller but younger man and asked,"Do you know the seriousness of your negligence and what dangers could have happened?"
"Yes, Ma'am. This wont happen again." PFC Singh said, too tense to face the senior NCO.
"Very well. Then secure it now. You have ten minutes."
"Sir, yes Sir." Elated at not being punished for the mistake PFC Singh set about to correct his mistake.
"These green kids. They need some more seasoning from the academy. So , Engineer Sir, how may I help you?"
"Our great over lords up front want some coffee. So off to make some."

[b]-------------------------------------------------------

Some Hours Later[/b]


"Diego Garcia ATC, this is HB3729 with cargo destination FAB Ile Amsterdam. Request permission to land and refuel. Over."
"HB3729, this is Diego Garcia ATC, we have unfavorable flight conditions at FAB Diego Garcia, so permission to land denied. I have assigned a Tanker to meet you at -4.714562 , 77.761592, call sign HB2716. I repeat, refuel from Tanker HB2716 at -4.714562 , 77.761592. Acknowledge, Over."
"Diego Garcia ATC, this is HB3729. We acknowledge you, coordinates -4.714562 , 77.761592 and call sign HB2716. Over and Out."
"Damn, so that landing is out . Some more hours of flight. Want to switch now or after refuelling?" Co-Pilot Capt. Joseph Pappan asked.
"Let us switch now. I dont trust my current weariness to handle the mid air refueling. Any idea who is this HB2716?" Pilot Capt. Vinod Shukla asked.
"Co-Pilot's airplane. No idea, Vinod, though I heard Capt. Fatima Anwar of our batch has been assigned to the 27 Aerial Tanker Regiment. So this could be her."
"Didn't you and her have some history at the Academy?"
"Don't remind me, mate! Old and bitter memories."
Capt. Vinod laughed and relaxed into his seat

[b]----------------------------------------------------------

An hour later
400NM East of Nelson Island, Chagos Archipelago
[/b]
"HB2716, this is HB3729. We see you clearly, and strobe visibility is 5/5."
"Roger that, HB3729. I see you in our rear cameras. By the way your voice is familiar. What is your name, HB3729."
"I am Capt. Joseph Pappan, who is this?"
"Ha ha ha ha! No wonder! Forget my voice so soon? This is Capt. Fatima Anwar. What a coincidence. Okay, I am extending my boom and drogue."
"Extending the probe and receptacle. Capt. Fatima, do you have lighting on your boom?"
"Sure activating it."
After two missed attempts, on the third attempt, the drogue and probe were locked and fuel started flowing from tanker Halob to transport Halob.
"Oooh, you still know how to do it so well. Oooh" Capt. Fatima's luscious voice with the fake orgasm raised peals of laughter from Capt. Vinod Shukla and raised beads of concentration from Capt. Joseph Pappan who was trying hard not to react.
"Capt. Anwar, this is Capt. Vinod Shukla, Co-Pilot. Please mate, don't say things like that, our friend Joseph here could have a heart attack. You should have seen his face when you said that," Capt. Shukl said striving hard to control his laughter.
"Refuelling complete, withdrawing probe and receptacle, HB3729 Over and out. Vinod, you are going to pay for that, you devil."
"Take care, HB3729. This is HB2716, Over and Out."


[b]---------------------------------------------

25 NM North of Ile Amsterdam[/b]

"FAB Amsterdam, this is HB3729, with QMC cargo from Raipur AAB. Requesting clearance to land. Over."
"Yay, the beer is here. Sorry for the joke. This is FAB Amsterdam, you are cleared to land at Runway One. Ground Air Speed 15 knots, bearing 127. Temperature 22 degrees Celcius and humidity 87%. We have a lot of hungry and thirsty soldiers and sailors here, air scouts, now land faster. Over and out."
"Get your red carpets ready and start to lick our feet, Marines. Royal Cochin Air Force saves the day once again."
"Always fun to land at a Marine Air Field. More fun than those puritan Naval guys." Capt. Vinod said.
"Okay guys, brace on. This is rough landing strip and it is going to be rather bumpy, this is for you, loadies." Capt. Pappan said.
"You heard the Captain. Now brace yourself. Also get ready to un load the cargo within 10 minutes of landing. Do you understand? There are hungry sailors and soldiers out there."