CHAPTER 63: ROAST FOR DINNER

The day’s light had begun to fade when Ahce decided it was time to prepare her first proper meal on Planet Rhino. The air smelled faintly of ozone and damp soil, carrying the mingled scents of alien foliage. The large chicken-like creature she had captured earlier clucked nervously in its restraints, unaware of its fate.

Ahce approached it silently, her expression unreadable. Life and death had always been matters of practicality for her. Sentiment was a luxury in survival. She took a deep breath, steadying her grip on the alloy knife attached to her belt.

One swift motion, precise and merciful, ended the creature’s life. The forest fell silent for a moment, as if observing the act in solemn respect. She crouched low, pulling out a portable container to collect the blood. The dark, viscous liquid was faintly iridescent, shimmering faintly under the fading sun.

Ahce frowned.

So, it does contain energy traces.

She made sure to dispose of the blood properly, letting it seep into the soil at a safe distance from her chosen resting area. Blood scents attracted predators, and she didn’t plan to die the first night. Next, she worked with the discipline of someone who had done this a hundred times before.

Using the knife and a thin energy filament, she opened the abdomen neatly and removed the internal organs, separating the edible from the toxic with careful observation. The liver glowed faintly, a bad sign.

Too much elemental energy accumulation.

She buried the viscera deep into the earth and covered it with thick moss. Then came the head. She detached it with efficiency, setting it aside before cleaning the remaining carcass. The feathers, however, were another problem. Each one shimmered faintly with static electricity, making them cling stubbornly to her hands and arms.

She sighed in mild irritation and began plucking, one handful at a time. It took longer than she anticipated, her movements methodical yet brisk. Her drone circled lazily above, its lens capturing every detail for the galaxy to see.

By the time she was done, the ground around her was littered with fluffy white and silver feathers. To make sure no toxins remained, Ahce created a small campfire using dry vines and energy sparks from her survival watch.

She held the carcass carefully above the fire, letting the heat singe away the last remnants of down. The faint crackle of burning feathers filled the air, mingled with the faint, sharp tang of ozone and smoke.

When the process was done, she rinsed the chicken thoroughly in the nearby stream, watching the clear water run pink with residue. The sound of flowing water was oddly soothing after the day’s silence.

She sliced the meat into even portions, small enough to cook quickly and preserve flavor. Her movements were efficient, graceful even, betraying the practiced precision of someone who had once lived by survival instincts alone. It was then that she began her next task, seasoning.

Ahce moved deeper into the brush, recalling her earlier observations. She had seen stalks resembling lemongrass, long, narrow blades with a faint citrus scent when crushed. She gathered several and tied them together with thin strands of vine.

Further along, she spotted a cluster of black pods hanging from a woody plant. They looked suspiciously like peppercorns, and when she crushed one between her fingers, it released a familiar earthy aroma.

Perfect.

Luck seemed to follow her that day. Not far from the pepper plant, she discovered a patch of small red fruits that looked like chili. She tested one cautiously with her energy sense. No poison detected. A grin tugged at the corners of her mouth.

"Spice," she murmured softly. "Finally."

As for salt and sugar, she improvised. A mineral deposit nearby produced translucent crystals that tasted faintly briny. For sweetness, she extracted sap from a thick-barked tree she had earlier marked. It resembled palm sugar in flavor when heated.

Back at her camp, she arranged the ingredients with reverence. The galaxy might see only a woman cooking, but Ahce felt something deeper stir within her. Cooking had always been more than survival. It was a memory. The sound of oil sizzling, the faint aroma of spice, reminded her of home, of Earth, of the kitchen filled with laughter and warmth, of her father who cooks hearty meals.

She mixed the ingredients with care, rubbing them into the chicken meat. Lemongrass for freshness, pepper for warmth, chili for bite, sap for sweetness, and mineral salt for depth. When she was done, she let the meat rest, absorbing the flavors.

Her drone hovered above, recording everything in crystal clarity. Unknown to her, millions of viewers across the Orion Galaxy were now tuned in. What started as curiosity from a thousand spectators had exploded into a phenomenon. The live broadcast’s chat was flooded.

[What is she doing?]

[Is she... cooking that beast?]

[Wait, why does it look edible?]

[Someone archive this, quick!]

But the drone could only show visuals and sounds. It couldn’t convey the words of the galaxy back to Ahce. She gathered dry twigs and smooth rocks to build a proper cooking pit.

The sun had dipped lower, casting long golden streaks across the alien landscape. Her fire crackled to life once again, and she skewered the marinated chicken over the flames. Slowly, the aroma began to fill the air, warm, spicy, inviting.

The viewers watching from across light-years suddenly found themselves assaulted by the unexpected. With the advancement of interstellar technology, sensory projection was standard in live feeds.

Viewers could see, hear, and even smell what was happening in real-time. As Ahce roasted the chicken, the scent of searing meat, lemongrass, and spice spread through the connected sensory network.

On space stations, in colonies, in bustling city plazas, people paused mid-conversation as the scent hit them. Some drooled unconsciously. Others blinked in confusion.

[What is that smell?]

[Why does it smell... good?]

[Impossible! Food doesn’t smell like that!]

Within minutes, Ahce became the top trending subject on StarNet, the mother of all data networks, controlling every social and entertainment hub in the galaxy. Her broadcast feed exploded with activity, her ID tag highlighted as "#EarthCooker" and "#PrimitiveChef."

Unaware of the chaos she had caused, Ahce gently turned the skewers, ensuring each side browned evenly. The fat dripped into the fire, making it hiss and pop. Sparks rose into the twilight like glowing fireflies. Her stomach growled softly.

Finally, when the meat turned a beautiful golden-brown with hints of char, she lifted a piece from the fire. Steam curled upward, carrying with it the fragrance of roasted spice and citrus. She blew on it, then took her first bite.

Flavor burst across her tongue, real flavor. Tangy, spicy, smoky, and tender. Her eyes softened, and a genuine smile crossed her face for the first time since arriving in this world.

"Delicious," she whispered.

She ate slowly, savoring each bite, each sensation. To her, it wasn’t just a meal. It was proof that she could still bring a part of her old world into this one.

As night fell, the fire flickered low, and Ahce leaned back against the tree, satisfied. Her drone hovered above, recording her calm expression, the dying embers, and the alien forest that surrounded her.

Across the Orion Galaxy, billions watched her in silence. No grand speech, no combat, no heroics, just a lone woman cooking and eating under an alien sky. And yet, somehow, it was more moving than any battle.

Ahce didn’t know that in that very moment, she had ignited something far greater than a survival broadcast. She had awakened the galaxy’s forgotten hunger, for real taste, for Earth’s lost art, for something beautifully, achingly human.