Encounter

The Three Directives were protocols I implemented long before becoming an explorer—before I even decided to set foot on an uncharted worlds. I had anticipated the inevitable: that the Pilot Organization's AI would eventually attempt to override LANA, stripping me of control.

Z

So, I ensured that wouldn't happen.

These Directives were my failsafe, my safeguard against them. They prioritized my survival above all else, ensuring that no matter the circumstances, I would endure.

Even if I escaped by nothing more than a hair's breadth.

They were absolute.

The Three Directives:

Prevention

The first and foremost directive: safeguarding the ship—safeguarding LANA. This ensured that under no circumstance would my only means of escape be destroyed or compromised. If I were stranded, the ship would remain intact, waiting for my return. This extended beyond just the ship, though.

Every piece of property registered under my name— even every structure, every factory, every automated system I have built on this world—now fell under this directive's protection. LANA would preserve them at all costs.

Command

This was my failsafe against control—against being rendered powerless. No matter what happened, I remained in charge. The chain of command could never be broken. Even in worst-case scenarios, such as a forced AI invasion—like the one from the Pilot Organization earlier—this directive ensured I would never lose authority.

But its function went beyond that. If my ship were ever stolen, I could simply issue an override command. LANA would shut down the life support systems, forcing the thieves to abandon it, then return to me—its rightful pilot.

Sustainment

The most critical of them all.

This was the reason for LANA's resistance earlier. The Sustainment Directive ensured my survival, no matter the cost. My safety, my protection, my very life—it all fell under this protocol. And when danger arose, this directive overruled all others. If this was to be compromised, the Directives would be nullified, triggering a final contingency.

The destruction of the ship.

A last resort, but a terrifying one. LANA was powered by a nuclear fusion reactor—one far beyond conventional weaponry. If deliberately triggered, the resulting detonation would eclipse even the devastation wrought upon Mars during the Third World War. A nuclear inferno of unprecedented scale.

A dead man's switch.

One I had hoped never to use.

***

"Greetings," I stand before the three humanoid beings. With my stance open, declaring non-threatening from whatever they can observe. My hands remained visible, my stance relaxed. To further ease their wariness, I disabled my visor's filter, allowing them to see my face fully.

But, despite my attempt at diplomacy, their expressions remained tense, their bodies coiled with caution. Though, their reactions weren't surprising. To them, I must have appeared as an apparition emerging from an unkown place.

Nonetheless, their attire piqued my interest. They are covered in structured garments that suggested a degree of civilization, to say the least of them, they are well endowed, unlike nomads or any other primitive wanderers. I mean, textiles like these required organized industrial techniques, whether silk, wool, or linen. They seem to have developed an industry. A society.

Yet their wares are primitive enough to consider they had not advance their woving industry, compared to ours. Intriguing, truly.

Not only that, they have quite the hair diversity. Blue, blonde, grey? A cultural trait? Genetic drift? The surrounding darkness should have swallowed them, yet somehow, their hair stood out the most, almost luminescent against the shadows. I forced myself not to dwell too much on speculation.

Their eyes, sharp and assessing, roamed over my figure. From the armored boots below to the hood shielding my helmet from atop, I must have seemed strange to them.

Perhaps even monstrous.

No wonder on that.

Then one of them finally spoke.

"Who are you?"

shit...

Before I could answer, LANA's voice echoed in my headset. "It appears they are capable of English. Likelihood of Lost Colony survivors has increased. Proceed with interaction—I will continue gathering data."

You don't need to tell me...

I cleared my throat, forcing an easygoing smile. "Oh, uh… hi? I'm Zeervin. Zeervin Vinogradov."

At the mention of my name, their brows furrowed deeper, suspicion tightening their expressions. They exchanged glances—silently, assessing the situation. Then, almost in unison, their hands tightened around their weapons.

Right, weapons.

Strange as it is, one held a staff topped with an orb, roughly carved from wood. It looked hastily fashioned, as if put together in a hurry—a DIY construct, it's strange to see such kind of tool. The second wielded a sword, crude and unpolished. The third carried only a knife, but in their grip, it seemed no less dangerous.

"Wait, wait, wait! I mean no harm!"

The three figures didn't relax.

"You say that," the grey-haired one spoke, his voice deep, authoritative, "but you are trespassing within the lawful land of Margrave Satur of the Meres Kingdom—illegally! Not only that, you have brought harm to nature. Ytellia can tell!"

A man.

His grip on his sword was tight, his blue eyes sharp with wariness. His face had an almost perfect symmetry—strong jawline, well-defined features. A look that would be considered desirable among humans today.

But that wasn't the point.

Margrave Satur? Meres Kingdom? And this Ytellia person—they can tell?

He must be referring to the factories and extraction sites. The environmental impact of my operations.

Ridiculous. Yes, I had harvested significant resources from this world, but I had instructed LANA to minimize the carbon footprint as much as possible.

"Ytellia?" I questioned, keeping my voice even. "Look, I swear, I haven't done anything wrong. I'm just trying to survive here. I'll leave as soon as I can."

Best to ease their tension.

But the knight's expression twisted in disgust.

"Scum!" He spat. "You expect us to trust your word? Ytellia, Hanz—detain him! We'll take him to the dungeon for interrogation!"

"Aye!"

The one called Hanz surged forward, eager to comply.

But the third—Ytellia—hesitated. "Captain… this feels wrong. My spirit senses something… someone… watching us."

Thorus' expression darkened. "What!?"

His sharp gaze snapped back to me, full of renewed suspicion. "You! Any attempt to escape or ambush us will lead to your immediate demise! Know that I, Thorus, Head Knight of Margrave Satur, cannot be defeated!"

I blinked.

What?

Did he really just declare his title in the middle of a hostage situation? Is he stupid? Who the hell announces their rank and position when they have the advantage?

"I… I'm confused," I muttered, raising both hands higher to reinforce my non-threatening stance. "What exactly is happening here?"

Unfortunately, LANA misunderstood my intent.

"They are detaining you for interrogation," her voice crackled through my headset, cold and factual. "Pilot Zeervin, this requires immediate intervention. Combat drones will engage at any moment."

I exhaled, frustration mounting. "I know that," I muttered, "but I was asking them."

Thorus bristled. "Who are you talking to!? Hanz, what are you waiting for? Apprehend him!"

Hanz lunged, his blade gleaming in the moonlight.

And then—the forest came alive.

From the shadows, combat drones emerged.

Their towering forms cast long, monstrous silhouettes across the clearing. Each one dwarfed me, standing at twice my height, with wingspans stretching over twenty meters. The sound of their propulsion systems hummed through the air like a mechanical growl.

LANA's voice boomed from the hovering drones, her synthesized tone filled with unshakable authority:

"SUSTAINMENT DIRECTIVE TRIGGERED. CEASE AND DESIST. ANY FURTHER HOSTILE ACTION WILL BE MET WITH LETHAL FORCE."

Silence fell over the clearing.

The knights froze.

I sighed.

Well.

That escalated quickly.