After thinking through his options, Castle decisively settled on his plan: divert the threat elsewhere by handing off his cloaking technology to a major player like Lockheed Martin or Northrop Grumman. This strategy was his best bet to shield himself from the relentless greed of India's defense industry and their proxies.
But for this plan to succeed, Castle had to act fast. Who knew what rash decisions the Indian defense establishment might make next? These were the same people who turned their military parades into circus acts. If they attempted to forcibly seize the technology before Lockheed Martin or Northrop Grumman could formally bring him under their protection, it would create unnecessary headaches—not only for Castle but also for Beckett.
While Castle wasn't afraid of their threats, he likened it to a toad hopping on his foot: it didn't bite, but it was certainly disgusting.
After the White House attack, the U.S. President had only reached out to Castle once via phone, and that was to express general gratitude. Thanks to Mozzie's position as the President's advisor, both Castle and the President were aware of each other's activities. But Castle knew better than to abuse his privileged position as a major campaign contributor.
No one likes someone who constantly stirs up trouble, not even the President's most trusted benefactor.
Castle understood that the only feasible way to shake off India's greedy gaze was to complete his project and pass it on to an industrial giant. These companies, once they had a taste of the profit potential, would protect their golden goose with every resource at their disposal. The self-interest of capitalists would shield Castle better than any personal connections.
Castle wasn't aware that Lockheed Martin had already begun protecting his interests, even though they hadn't yet acquired his technology.
Having resolved to put his plan into action, Castle sighed and returned to his lab. With a resigned look, he re-entered the workspace he'd left only moments ago. Calling Beckett to let her know he'd be working late, Castle was oblivious to the surprise his sudden industriousness would bring his long-legged fiancée, who knew all too well his preference for a laid-back lifestyle.
Meanwhile, in Bangalore, India, a heated debate raged among the executives of Stan Aviation over Castle's cloaking technology.
India's recent technological ambitions had been bolstered by the rise of Indian CEOs in major U.S. tech companies. The country's hubris had grown unchecked, fueled by dreams of becoming a global powerhouse. However, their technical capabilities often fell far short of their aspirations—evidenced by their recent debacle with Russia, where they effectively overpaid for a second-hand aircraft carrier while thinking they were getting a bargain.
But these issues weren't the concern of Stan Aviation's executives.
Their focus was on acquiring Castle's groundbreaking cloaking technology, which they believed could revolutionize their indigenous LCA Tejas fighter jets. If they could integrate visual stealth capabilities into their aircraft, they might finally surpass China's J-20 fighter jet, which was rumored to rival even the F-22 Raptor.
This tantalizing prospect had the executives in a frenzy. However, their attempts to collaborate with Dassault had been met with lukewarm responses, leading them to close the boardroom doors and discuss the feasibility of going it alone.
While the global community often ridiculed India's erratic decision-making, it would be a mistake to assume that these executives were fools. They controlled vast resources and wielded significant influence. Their current debate revolved around two options:
Collaborate with Dassault: Pool resources and technical expertise to secure the technology, then share the spoils.
Go solo: Take on the risks and rewards alone, potentially becoming the world's third aerospace company (after Lockheed Martin and Northrop Grumman) to possess visual cloaking technology.
The room was sharply divided.
One faction argued that Dassault's reluctance to commit was unacceptable. India was a major client for the French aerospace giant, and their hesitance to cooperate felt like a betrayal. Why rely on a partner who might ultimately undermine them?
The opposing faction warned against hubris. They pointed out India's technical shortcomings—highlighting Dassault's refusal to grant production licenses for the Rafale fighter jet as evidence of India's lack of industrial maturity. Even if they acquired Castle's technology, would they be able to manufacture it at scale?
The debate grew heated.
Proponents of going solo dismissed the criticism, asserting that Stan Aviation was India's largest aerospace company. Sure, their planes occasionally fell out of the sky for no apparent reason, but that wasn't their fault—it was the will of the gods!
The opposing side nearly fainted at this absurd reasoning. The group was well aware of Stan Aviation's limitations. Even if they managed to secure the technology, converting it into a viable product would require flexible production lines—something only the U.S. and China currently possessed.
Lost in their internal squabbles, neither side considered whether they could realistically obtain the technology at all. They simply assumed that Castle, as an individual, wouldn't stand a chance against their national resources.
This overconfidence was their Achilles' heel.
Castle, as a private individual, indeed couldn't resist a nation-state's might. But they hadn't accounted for Lockheed Martin and Northrop Grumman. Both companies were anything but benevolent and had a vested interest in Castle's work. These corporate giants wouldn't sit idly by while India tried to steal their golden goose.
For now, Stan Aviation's plans remained theoretical, and Castle's nonchalant attitude kept Lockheed and Northrop from taking preemptive action. But both companies were paying close attention.
Northrop Grumman, in particular, was already laying the groundwork to repair their strained relationship with Castle. Despite recent disagreements, Castle's contributions to their B-2 bomber program and advanced drone contracts for the U.S. military had proven invaluable. The company wasn't about to let a minor spat jeopardize a lucrative partnership.
The only reason Northrop hadn't approached Castle yet was that they knew his work wasn't complete. Once the technology was ready, they would undoubtedly move quickly to secure it.
As for Stan Aviation's ambitions? Neither Lockheed nor Northrop gave them a second thought.
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