The Ghadarite leaders sat in stunned silence, their bravado deflating under the weight of Adav's precise, cold prognosis of their doom. He hadn't appealed to their emotions; he had appealed to their logic of survival and effectiveness. Their fiery zeal, he made them understand, was a weapon that needed direction.
"You wish to fight the British," Adav stated, his voice calm, yet resonating with an authority that belied his fifteen years. "I offer you a better war. Not on the battlefield, where their guns will mow you down, but from within. A war of information, of sabotage, of infiltration."
He leaned forward. "Join their army. Join their industrial services. Learn their systems, their weaknesses, their supply lines. Become their eyes and ears. Map their military infrastructure, their communication hubs, their troop movements. Identify loyal Indian officers who can be swayed, and disgruntled ones who can be recruited. Steal their technical manuals, their blueprints, their codes."
He outlined his proposal: He would provide the funds, create new identities, and set up safe houses and communication channels. He would ensure their families were cared for. They would be trained, not as soldiers for a lost cause, but as intelligence operatives for a future India. Their mission: to become the foundation of a new, national army and a sophisticated intelligence network, ready for the day when economic power translated into political might.
The Ghadarites looked at each other, their initial defiance slowly replaced by a grim understanding. This was not the glorious rebellion they had envisioned, but it was a path to actual power, a way to truly hurt the British where it mattered. It was a long game, a patient infiltration, but Adav's conviction was absolute. After a tense silence, their leader, a man named Kartar Singh, slowly nodded. "We will be your shadows, Architect. For Bharat." Adav had transformed a doomed rebellion into a potent, unseen weapon, turning the Raj's own machinery against itself