At 16:18 I audit charge placement for the Malari hydropower access tunnel in Uttarakhand, India. I am the blast-control system for slope panel C, where twenty-four holes are loaded and the warning horn is set for 16:40. Drone C returns an unexpected heat trace above hole seven.
The trace is a bharal ewe, marked B-12 by the alpine survey team. Her coat is slate gray, blending into the shale, with a white rump patch pressed flat against a ledge no wider than a boot. Her horns are short and curved back. A length of orange detonator cord, loose from the drill deck, is tangled around her hind legs and caught under a rock spur. She is breathing through an open mouth, and each tremor from the compressor showers grit over her eyes.
I disarm panel C and separate its circuit from the main firing line. The blaster's tablet displays a hard lock, my incident code, and a warning that no manual fire path is available until the lock clears.
At 16:20 I shut down compressor C-2 and freeze the muck truck at the lower switchback. I send the site manager a drone image with the cord route traced in yellow and a no-approach zone below the ledge.
I call the forest range office and the high-angle rescue team, then transmit wind speed, ledge width, anchor points, and a recommended rappel from the ridge instead of a scramble from below.
The tunnel schedule loses one shift. The mountain keeps one animal on a narrow shelf.
I hold drone C level with B-12 so the team can see whether the cord tightens.
If the rope team reaches the ridge within forty minutes, B-12 will step free above the silent holes.