The team moved with purpose, sorting through their assigned gear. The weight limit for the second event was strict. 20 kilograms per person which meant that every choice mattered.

Chris tightened the straps on his pack, eyeing the others. "Alright, listen up. Round two is where things get serious," he said, adjusting a ration pack before tossing it into his bag. "This is where those with real money and power get involved."

Jania paused from securing the plates of her armor. "Money, what does that have to do with us?"

Chris smirked. "You think this is just about training future soldiers? The rich bet on us like we're game pieces. Every year, they throw credits around, trying to predict which teams will make it through. The whole thing gets broadcasted across the system through the QEC."

Null, who had been checking the sights on his training rifle, tapped his communicator. "Wouldn’t that let those closer win the bets?"

Chris nodded. "It would if they streamed it live. But they don’t. Each region gets a delayed broadcast, all synced to Kuiper Belt time. That way, no one can get an advantage by knowing future outcomes. But here’s the thing—those who bet big don’t just do it for the thrill. The winners of this competition get scouted. Military contracts, corporate sponsorships, and access to elite training programs. If you stand out, people notice and they will pay."

He glanced over at Zeph, who was busy securing extra batteries for her communication equipment. "I plan on winning this thing, and that means staying ahead of the competition. That’s where you come in. We need unbreakable communication, but nothing that draws attention. The judges monitor everything, so no hacks, no encrypted channels—just clean, reliable comms that give us an edge."

Zeph adjusted the settings on her multi-vision glasses, giving him a confident nod. "I’ve got us covered. I’ll keep the signals clear and make sure we don’t get jammed out there."

Max, however, had a different approach. He sat cross-legged on the floor, a toolkit open beside him, carefully calibrating a small recon drone. "I’ll bring these and some spare parts," he muttered. "No point in lugging around extra weight when I can scout ahead remotely."

Chris frowned. "What about defensive equipment?"

Max shrugged. "Didn’t see the need."

Jania scoffed, shaking her head. "Yeah, that won’t bite us in the ass later."

Chris let out a sigh and turned back to the packing. "Null, Jania you two focus on combat and endurance. Armor, weapons, water. I’ll handle navigation with maps, food, anything to keep us going. Zeph, you’re in charge of communications. And Max, you better pray those drones don’t break mid-mission."

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A chime echoed through the room, signalling lights out in five minutes.

Chris zipped his bag shut. "Get some sleep while you can. They’re waking us up early."

They were jolted awake before dawn, pulled from their bunks without warning. No explanations, no breakfast just blindfolds and a firm shove toward waiting transport vehicles.

Jania tensed as she was guided forward. "This normal?"

"Standard procedure," Chris’s voice came somewhere to her left. "They don’t want us knowing where we’re being dropped."

The ride was long and silent. Null sat perfectly still, his breathing steady, but Chris knew better he had been watching him over the last two days. He knew Null was processing everything.

The drop-off points were carefully calculated, ensuring that every team had the same estimated travel time back to base.

Infy had already memorised their location and the optimal route home but chose not to share it with Null, not yet at least. It was a contingency plan, meant to be used only if something went wrong.

When the vehicle finally came to a stop, the blindfolds were removed.

The red Martian desert stretched endlessly in every direction. Flat terrain, broken up only by scattered rock formations and dry riverbeds. The sun hung low in the sky, its light casting long, twisting shadows across the sand.

Chris took a deep breath of his suit’s filtered air supply, then turned to the team. "Alright. No maps, no guidance. We find our way back. Base camp is out there somewhere and we just have to survive long enough to get there."

Null adjusted the straps on his pack. "Should be fun."

Jania smirked, cracking her knuckles. "Let’s hope it doesn’t get boring."

Chris knew the first step identify key landmarks and triangulate their location. But there was a problem.

There were no landmarks.

That wasn’t possible. Every known region of Mars had at least some distinctive features either craters, ridges or a dried riverbed. Yet, as he turned in a slow circle, all he saw was a flat, featureless expanse of red dust.

His gut told him something was wrong.

His fingers moved quickly, linking his visual feed into Zeph’s. If there was camouflage tech at play, no single lens would catch it but by overlapping different spectrums of vision, he could piece together the inconsistencies and hopefully location of some landmarks.

And there it was.

The distortion was subtle a shimmer in the horizon, a flicker in thermal imaging where there should have been nothing. Active camouflage.

Chris exhaled to calm himself down. He focused on identifying the local landmarks.

He quickly mapped the uncovered terrain and pinpointed their true location. The result made his stomach drop.

They were way too far out. The nearest approved drop-off zones weren’t even close to where they stood. Worse, there was no direct route back to the home base. There was only rough, dangerous terrain that would take days to cross on foot.

This wasn’t a standard trial. Someone had deliberately placed them here and he didn’t even know how.

Chris pinged the team’s comms, sharing his findings.

“We’ve got a problem,” he said, his voice tight. “This isn’t an official drop zone.”

Null’s synthetic voice was the first to respond.

“I know,” he said simply.

Chris frowned. “You knew?”

Null’s tone remained flat, but there was something almost amused behind it. “They drove our transport on a hover barge. I felt the shift when they transferred us. That’s how they moved us so far without us noticing.”

Chris clenched his jaw. That made sense, a hover barge could have easily carried them an extreme distance without the usual jolts and bumps that would have given it away.

“And that’s not all,” Null continued. “I can detect at least two ambushes on our route back.”

The team fell silent.