by Allen Stroud
Elite: Lave Revolution
by
Allen Stroud
Published by HWS Press
Cover design by Bruce Myers, Lisa Trott and Allen Stroud
ISBN: 978-1-910987-00-1
Based on the space trading game Elite: Dangerous by Frontier Developments.
Elite: Dangerous © 2014 Frontier Developments plc.
All rights reserved.
© 2015 HWS Press
The right of Allen Stroud to be identified as the author of this
book has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and
Patents Act 1998.
All rights reserved.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the publisher or unless such copying is done under a current Copyright Licensing Agency license. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
‘Elite’, the Elite logo, the Elite: Dangerous logo, ‘Frontier’ and the Frontier logo are registered trademarks of Frontier Developments plc. All rights reserved. All other trademarks and copyright are acknowledged as the property of their respective owners.
Foreword
October 2012. The last thing I had on my mind was resurrecting an old friend from my childhood. I had two books to complete by the end of the year and was immersed in my teaching.
Then, one fateful evening, I browsed the internet and took a look at Kickstarter and somehow I found Elite: Dangerous. I discovered it because I’d been discussing crowd source funding with my students in class and was looking for some case studies to build a lesson around.
I’d played Elite as a child. It was one of the formative games of my life, alongside Laser Squad and Lords of Chaos, or Melbourne House’s War in Middle Earth. Aside from the flying through space and trading goods across the eight galaxies, I had been hooked by the accompanying material. Robert Holdstock’s The Dark Wheel and the small hints in the game manual of the things I might find in the game.
Later, Elite became a world to escape to after a rubbish day at school. I'm really grateful to David Braben and Ian Bell for all the work they did making such a wonderfully detailed game. During those difficult teenage years, going somewhere else, to an imaginary world in your mind is a good antidote to the vagaries of your peers. Like many people my age, I’d play for hours and wonder if the other ships had pilots just like me. I dreamed of generation ships, Thargoids and space pirates.
For the next few weeks I kept tabs on the funding pitch. In the first few heady days, the money poured in, but then the torrent slowed to a trickle and it looked unlikely the game would succeed.
October to December is usually my busiest teaching period. I didn’t get much time to look at the Kickstarter, so the next time I started paying regular attention was in early December, around the time of my birthday.
When we broke up for the Christmas holiday, I read and worried along with the people on the discussion page. Several times I nearly pledged, but really couldn’t fathom out how Kickstarter worked.
Then the numbers started to turn, the main goal passed and I cheered at my laptop. My partner Karen asked me what I was doing. I told her all about it and we agreed I’d pledge, which I did.
Only after that did I see the writer’s pack, dangling temptingly at the £4,500 reward tier.
That pledge point kept staring back at me every time I visited the site. I was in the middle of the publication of my first two Wisimir novels, the culmination of two years of writing. I had another three books planned for the coming year and plenty of University work to keep me busy, but the writer’s pack wouldn’t go away. I wanted to be involved, so I tried to think of ways I could help; then I saw other people had launched Kickstarters to fund their writer’s packs.
I decided to contact some of these writers. I offered to edit and help with their work. The responses I got back were incredibly positive. I then thought I could make an active contribution to the development of the game, so I contacted Frontier in the shape of Michael Brookes. No harm in asking is there? With the work I have done in live role-play, building fantasy worlds and my academic research, I thought I might be able to help them in a small way to sketch out some information for the writers so they could create fiction that would be consistent with the game environment.
On the evening the Kickstarter was finishing, I found myself staying up to watch the total and share the final moments on the comments thread with other fans. It was a special time and the camaraderie we all felt in the way we’d helped bring back something from our childhood was incredible. With a few minutes to go, I even quoted Churchill. Then, David Braben’s final Kickstarter thank you video came out using the same quote! I’d stolen his thunder. Apologies David if you’re reading this!
Very graciously, Frontier Developments in the shape of David Braben, Michael Brookes, Andrew Gillett and John Laws accepted my offer of assistance.
Suddenly I’m writing campaign history of the sequel to the game that fired my imagination for all things science fiction and fantasy all those years ago. Then, I get a chance to launch a Kickstarter and with the help of some amazing backers raise enough money to write an official Elite: Dangerous novel.
My part in Elite: Dangerous has been an industrious one. At the beginning, I collated linked and added to the body of writing already amassed for this fiction.
Lave always held a special place in my heart. The place we all started when the game loaded. The planet I saw when I launched my ship from Lave Station was no more than a coloured circle against a black background, but in my mind, it was more than that. It was a world where people lived and this is my chance to bring those lives to people who elect to read my book.
I wouldn’t have this chance if people hadn’t put their faith in me. From all the people at Frontier to the pledgers to the enthusiastic posters on the Frontier Forums and the listeners on Lave Radio.
My corner of this galaxy is tiny, its time small and fleeting. What transpired on Lave between AD 3250 and AD 3300 is known only to a few. Now I get to tell you what I thought was happening and some of my work gets to be in this cool game.
Awesome.
Allen Stroud
Foreword to the Second Edition
This version of Lave Revolution has suffered a difficult birth. There is no point detailing the ongoing circumstances around it, but now in 2015, I hope you the reader can finally enjoy it and I can put down my pen. More stories of Lave may happen, but this one at last should be here in its final form.
This edition contains more of the special extra sections written as part of the Kickstarter project and features some of the original artwork commissioned especially for the project.
Allen Stroud
Prologue: Archive Note
To you the researcher,
The documents contained herein are a collection of notes and additional commentary forming our dossier on the period AD 3265. The events described have marginal galactic significance. Whilst we acknowledge Lave no longer holds the position of galactic pre-eminence once attained in the past, the system retains a special place in the hearts of many who make space their home.
AD 3265, saw the removal of Lave’s dictatorship government. The ramifications of this in practical terms occurred in the immediate sector. Star systems around Lave were disrupted economically and politically, but when the new democratic regime began to assert itself, balance and order in the region was restored, bringing us to where we are today, as a progressive member of the Alliance of Independent Systems.
It is worth mentioning that the levels of technology available to spacefarers at the time were different to those available to us now. Most notably, the improvements to in-system drives in the last few years have reduced travel times between locations after hyperspace exit. In 3265, these drives were less advanced and pilots would be forced to travel some distance by manual control under sub light exit velocity. Typical journeys in the system could take hours.
Some of the additional accounts included here are for reference. We hope that they will give you a better picture of the wider context related to the events described. If you believe some material is not relevant to your historical understanding of these circumstances, then please do contact us with your feedback.
Should you wish further information to be included in this archive pack, then information requests are always considered by the historical society. Some of the information you wish added may be under restriction. However, we will attempt to obtain it for you.
For those of us who remember, five words hold a special meaning: ‘Lave, Resistance, Freedom, Help us.’ We resisted and we found freedom when help came to answer our call.
To those commanders through the years who docked at Lave Station and wondered about the planet below, do not feel responsible, you could not have known. Our journey was as it was. We are glad you have chosen to learn of us now.
Chapter 1: The Agent
Two seats taken in a booth room designed for six. On the curved walls, a projected view of space. The spinning Coriolis, the Dodecahedral, the wheel station and others, all rotating serenely with ships docking and launching; an impossible image, designed to make any veteran ship commander feel right at home.
On the circular table, a set of triangular cards and a pile of plastic credit chips. An age old pastime where the rules change, but the contest remains a balance of chance and skill. Over them, two men locked in a stare, light against dark, an uneven battle, punctuated by laughter as both hands are revealed.
‘A Federal Run!’
Pietro glanced at his cards and across at his older opponent. Atticus Finch had played a blinder, luring him in with a sigh and a scowl before laying his hand out with a wide leering smile.
Federation blue and the classic, President’s face.
‘Bastard,’ Pietro said. ‘Wasn’t this supposed to be a friendly game?’
Finch’s smile vanished from his round face. ‘Bills to pay Devander, that fuel scoop I lost ain’t gonna find a way home.’
‘All the same—’
‘All the same he won, you got a problem with that?’
Pietro looked up from the game of Perilihon to the doorway. A bald man, dressed in a long dark coat stood in the gap.
’This is a private room,’ he said. ‘How did you—’
‘Trip the lock?’ The man laughed. His left hand brushed the frame, removed something he dropped into a pocket. ‘In the old days, they used to let me go anywhere in the Darahk system, whenever I wanted.’ He stepped into the room. ‘Which of you owns the Cobra?’
‘I do,’ Pietro said.
‘Good,’ the man’s hands moved in a blur and there was a blinding flash of light. The next thing Pietro saw clearly was Finch’s slack eyes and a gaping hole in his skull.
‘Glad it was you,’ said the man. ‘This way you get your credits back.’ He stepped forward, wiped his finger across Finch’s bloody forehead and went through his pockets, pulling out a small metal disc which he stowed. Somewhere in the bowels of the space station a klaxon sounded. ‘Best hurry up and collect. We’re leaving.’
‘Leaving?’ Pietro stared at Finch’s dead face. ‘You just killed my friend.’
‘Yep.’
‘I don’t even know who you are.’
‘I’m the man holding the gun.’
* * *
Pietro stumbled along the station corridor, clinking with credit chips as he was dragged towards the hangar bay. The man’s coat snapped against his legs as they ran, real leather, not some synth’ed plastic. He held Pietro’s wrist in a crushing grip and brandished a gun in the other hand; a meson carbine pistol; totally illegal. Any firearm in the starport area was illegal, but a meson weapon? You couldn’t buy one anywhere ...
They reached an access hatch as it rolled closed. The man cursed and yanked Pietro forwards, pushing him against the door. ‘Move and I shoot you,’ he warned. He let go of Pietro’s arm and pulled out the device from before, a small rectangular box with a screen in the centre. He placed it on the panel and the screen lit up. A second later it beeped and the hatch rolled open.
‘Now you can move,’ he said, nudging Pietro in the chest with his gun. ‘I suggest you do, rapidly.’
Pietro’s mind burned with questions, but the memory of Finch’s dead eyes kept him quiet. He ran onto the berth gantry and down the steps towards the docking garage. The alarms were deafening in here and lights flashed at each intersection. A motley collection of twenty ships or so lay in storage. Nobleport Station was capable of storing dozens alongside the security compliment of Eagle fighters. They could be sent to the departure deck at the touch of a button from the stationmaster. Without his help though—
‘Hurry up!’ the man snarled, pushing Pietro forward along the dock bridge to the entry port of his ship.
The Gallant.
The bark of a rifle and pattering clang of metal on metal; Pietro ducked. Security had caught up. Kinetic rounds, long range and likely to maim, particularly through a space suit, but the fact they were firing meant they were prepared to kill. The gravity lessened as they drew closer to the station’s interior. He crawled to the ship’s hatch and pressed his thumb against the security plate. The panel chirped and the port slid back. Hands grabbed his pilot suit and bundled him inside. A moment later, the man followed and the door slid shut.
And there was silence.
They were in the loading bay. Pietro sat on the floor staring at his captor; six foot or more, bald and of indeterminate age. Everything about him said mercenary.
‘Whoever you are, you won’t get out of here.’
The man smiled again, displaying uneven teeth. ‘Says you? If I’d known you had a thumb key on this bucket, I’d have killed you too and sliced it off.’ He pointed the carbine at Pietro. ‘Nav computer thumb keyed as well?’
‘Iris recognition,’ Pietro replied.
‘Best get and be recognised then.’ The man waved the pistol and nodded towards the cockpit access. Pietro got up, stepped into a pair of magboots and went through, conscious of the gun at his back. He buckled into the pilot seat, his guest settling into the Nav chair, pistol aimed all the while. The scanner flashed registering Pietro’s retina ident. His face appeared on the screen. Brown hair and eyes, small nose, a touch of stubble on the chin, present and accounted for, a friendly face, the sort that helped a neighbour with their shopping. The console in front lit up, the exterior lights too, illuminating the security troops standing outside pointing their rifles at the duraglass view plate.
‘Don’t worry,’ the man said. ‘They know they can’t get us with those.’
‘Only a matter of time before they bring up a cutter.’
‘We’ll be gone by then.’
‘Who are you?’ Pietro tried again.
‘Your passenger,’ the man replied. He was peering intently at the Nav control. Pietro stared as he pulled out his rectangular box, placing it in front of him. ‘Just got to ride your data feed,’ he said.
The patter of bullet impacts on the hull made Pietro flinch. The security troopers were doing their best to scratch a way in. He touched a key on the left and the face of the station controller appeared in a holoscreen.
‘Ship Ident 546 Gallant, power down. Open your access port and prepare to be boarded. I repeat, Ident 546, power down immediately ...’
The man laughed. ‘That face hasn’t changed in years,’ he said and pressed a button on his box. Abruptly, the holoscreen vanished and Pietro heard the loud clump of the lift cage coming down.
‘What did you—’
‘Do?’ The man smiled and tapped the device. ‘Just a matter of sending a message to the right person, with the right amount of credits.’
A second holoscreen popped up next to Pietro’s elbow. He glanced at it. A picture of the man appeared on a datasheet.
Heldaban Kel. Age: unknown. Birthplace: unknown. This individual is wanted for several crimes against the Empire most notably—
Then with a beep, that screen disappeared too. Outside the window, the security troopers backed away as the lift propelled the ship forwards and up onto a launch tray. ‘You’re Heldaban Kel?’
‘What if I am? Name mean something to you?’
Pietro bit his lip. ‘You didn’t need to kill him.’
‘Who?’
‘Finch.’
This time, Kel looked up and scowled. ‘Two people can play that game,’ he said and touched a button on the Nav console. Another datasheet appeared. ‘You’re Pietro Devander, formerly Ensign Devander of the AIN, now occasional salvage, trade and miner in the Arexex and Alioth systems. You inherited money and defaulted a commission, buying your own ship instead.’
A deep rumbling sound echoed from outside and the cockpit shivered. ‘That information isn’t on my datasheet,’ Pietro said. ‘How do you know who I am?’
‘I know because I need to know,’ Kel replied. ‘It’s my job.’ He tapped the carbine against the console. ‘The more questions you ask the harder this’ll be on you.’
The ship jolted as the docking clamps released and the engines came online. Pietro glanced at Kel who nodded at the manoeuvring controls. Pietro tapped the ignition and the Gallant lifted off the tray.
