CHAPTER 62: MARKERS IN CAMP

Her mind raced with calculations. How to ration water, how to avoid creatures attracted to the stream, and how to establish a temporary camp that balances safety, accessibility, and concealment. Every decision had consequences, and on Rhino, mistakes were costly.

She picked a flat rock slightly above the stream’s bank, examining it for signs of scuttling creatures or burrows. Finding none, she marked it as her first tentative base, a staging area for the next day’s exploration. She could sleep here if needed, though she still preferred the elevated security of a tree for overnight rest.

I thought this forest would be barren, knowing it’s closest to the frontier. But interestingly, I must have been sent to an area with rich resources.

Ahce paused, taking a deep breath of the misty air. The forest was alive in ways she had never experienced, its ecosystem vibrant, dangerous, and beautiful all at once. The frequent weather shifts, the hidden predators, and the untested streams. They all demanded respect, attention, and constant adaptability. She was learning, inch by inch, how to read this alien world.

Despite the thrill, a flicker of unease remained. She hadn’t encountered any other cadets yet, and she knew Planet Rhino was designed to test not just survival, but strategy, endurance, and ingenuity. The day was young, and the forest held countless unknowns, each waiting silently beneath the shifting light.

Ahce tightened the straps of her pack, adjusted her drone for scouting, and moved forward cautiously along the ridge, every sense alert. Survival was no longer about training simulations. It was about reading the land, respecting the ecosystem, and anticipating threats she couldn’t yet imagine. And in this wild, untamed world, every step mattered.

What Ahce didn’t know, and what most of the students never considered, was that their drones served purposes far beyond simple scouting or emergency rescue.

Every drone had a dual function. It could extract a cadet from imminent danger, yes, but more importantly, it monitored every movement, every decision, and every engagement, broadcasting it live across the galaxy.

The Orion Galaxy was vast, and military officials, families of students, and even rival departments tuned in to see how cadets performed in the joint survival exercises. Ahce adjusted her personal drone, its small blue lights flickering as it hovered above her.

It captured her movements, relaying data in real-time to observers who would evaluate her not only for survival but for strategic thinking, adaptability, and combat skill. She had been warned vaguely by instructors, but she hadn’t realized just how public this exercise could be.

The Academy measured success not only by individual survival but by departmental performance. Departments were ranked based on the longevity of their students in the field, and individual cadets had their own scores.

Survival time, beast kills, rare plant or herb collections, and corpse recovery were all counted. Every action, down to the tiniest detail, was recorded, broadcast, and scored.

Ahce’s eyes caught movement near the stream, a creature she at first assumed was a normal farm animal.

A giant chicken? Chickens exist here! I can live another day!

Finally, I won’t need to rely on the unpalatable nutrient solution!

A chicken, or at least, something chicken-like, but much larger than any Earthly equivalent, easily thirty kilos. Its plumage shimmered with faint traces of elemental energy, sparks of static electricity dancing along its feathers. Elemental attributes like fire, thunder, or acid were common in interstellar wildlife, often used to ward off predators.

Ahce crouched behind a low bush, observing carefully. She needed to determine if it was aggressive, territorial, or capable of attacking with elemental energy. Her instincts sharpened, honed from years of martial arts and interstellar weaponry practice.

The creature pecked at the forest floor lazily, making low clucks. There were no sparks of energy, no sudden tension in its posture, docile. Carefully, she crept closer, keeping her drone hovering above to record everything. She extended her hands slowly, making her movements predictable and non-threatening.

The chicken didn’t flinch. With a deep breath, Ahce crouched, using her trained reflexes to grab the creature in a single, fluid motion. It squawked, surprised, but her grip was firm and precise, minimizing stress on both her and the animal.

As she held it, she could see the viewers on her broadcast slowly rising. From a few dozen curious Academy staffers and cadets, the number swelled past a thousand. Comments and speculations filled the feed.

[What’s she planning?]

[Does she know it’s a ferocious species?]

[Is she crazy?]

Ahce did not know about the chatter in the live broadcast.

But she knew the risks. The chicken had never been used in the food industry, not because it wasn’t edible, but because its feathers contained toxins. Someone, long ago, had tried cooking it with the feathers intact, and the results had been deadly.

The toxin caused rapid cellular degradation if ingested improperly. The elementally charged muscle itself, however, was rich in protein and highly sought after for survival rations, but only if prepared correctly.

Carefully, she carried the creature to a flat rock nearby, settling it down safely. Her mind raced through possibilities. She could keep it alive for a fresh protein source, harvest materials for research points, or attempt to gather samples for the rare herb and plant collection. Each option carried risk, but also potential reward.

Her drone hovered closer, recording her every move for the thousands, or possibly tens of thousands, of viewers now watching her live. Every twitch, every careful adjustment of her grip, every glance at the surrounding forest was analyzed by observers, both human and automated scoring algorithms.

Ahce crouched low, studying the chicken. She knew the subtle movements of predators in the forest. A sudden rustle, a flash of shadow could indicate a threat. This area was not just home to docile creatures. Larger predators patrolled the streams, sensing vibrations in the soil and tracking any scent of potential prey.

She had to act efficiently, decisively, and without drawing unnecessary attention. As the day stretched on, Ahce carefully noted the location of nearby edible flora, the shallow water source she could rely on, and the safest perches for resting. The chicken squawked softly, testing her patience once, but she maintained her composure.

Every move mattered. One misstep could cost her survival points, or worse. Despite the tension, a small thrill ran through her. This was not a simple test of brute strength. It was strategy, observation, and adaptability.

Her experience on Earth with survival, combat, and instinctive calculation gave her an edge many of the other cadets lacked. Here, she was not just fighting for her own survival. She was being measured, evaluated, and broadcast to the galaxy as a symbol of potential, ingenuity, and resilience.

Ahce set the chicken gently on her side, marking it as both resource and shield. The forest around her hummed with life, unaware or unconcerned by the presence of this interstellar cadet, carefully threading her way through the first true trial of Planet Rhino.

Let me eat chicken for dinner...