Since announcing the involvement of both Allen Stroud and Michael Brookes in the writing team of the new upcoming Elite Dangerous Role Playing Game, we have been releasing instalments of this short story over on the EDRPG Developers Blog.
We will be publishing the same instalments here, on a weekly basis. Keep checking back every Wednesday for the latest update.
THE UNEXPECTED GUEST - PART 1
Quator Station unloading, sixteen hundred hours, standard time.
We’re in the hangar deck, in one of the huge A-rated berths. The ship’s an Imperial Clipper, the engines still warm from her landing. That’s a welcome feeling. Some of these pilots sit around a long time before making a trade and giving orders to unload. When that happens, we’re sent out to unload them in sub-zero temperatures.
Hydraulic pistons hiss and whirr as I walk. The exo-stomper is fully charged and warmed up. I duck under a low beam and approach the open hatch. Maglocks engage to secure me to the station deck and I reach into the ship. Metal pincers grab onto crate handles and the first container slides out on the runner. I lift it, and turn to the waiting truck.
The intercom crackles, “Wait! What’s that?”
I pause and glance back. There’s something else in the door of the cargo bay, it’s been dislodged by my work.
A body.
PART 2
A dead body.
The man’s hands dangle from the back of the ship. His head hangs lifeless, face away from me. He has dark hair, with hints of grey.
“Saul, I need you to stay where you are. A medical team is en-route. They’ll be with you in seventy-five seconds. Whatever you do, don’t touch him. You can’t help.”
“Can I least put the crate down?” I ask.
“If you do, the transport may activate and head to dispatch. We need all the evidence in one place. Saul, please, just stay exactly where you are. “
“Okay.” There’s nothing to do but wait and stare at the dead guy.
Who is he?
Who was he?
I’ve been a station dock worker for thirty years. You hear on the stories about things being found in freight. Most of them aren’t true, but everyone has a tale. This is the first time I’ve found a dead body.
The medical drone scuttles into view, an Achilles design, with four spider-like legs and two extendable arms. Someone back at Control will be piloting it. There’s a hopper on the back, with some sort of Remlok suspension system attached. It grabs the body and bundles it over its shoulder. The Remlok envelopes him, stretching to fit over his whole body. The computer inside will be analysing the body for life signs and triggering a laboratory of stimulants to get a response.
Good luck with that.
“Okay Saul, the medi-drone is clear. Can you put the cargo container back where you found it please then make your way back here for debrief.”
“Sure, understood. On my way.”
PART 3
“He was a Jameson, a Peter Jameson by all accounts.”
The name gets my attention. Everyone knows the Jameson dynasty. Two centuries ago, a two-bit trader bought a Cobra Mark III from Lave for all the cash he had in his pocket and set out into the darkness. When he came back, he was still in the same ship, but he’d made a fortune.
His name was Peter Jameson too.
Roberts is standing over a terminal in the exo-stomper garage. I’m sat on a bench. The decontamination team has finished with me and I’m dressed in fresh overalls. My skin feels raw, like it’s been steam blasted.
“Can’t be the same Jameson,” I say.
Roberts turns to me and shrugs. “Could be a clone?” he says.
“Why would a rich corporation clone be found dead in an Imperial Clipper’s cargo hold?” I ask.
“Don’t know,” Roberts says. “I’m only telling you what I heard from the investigators.”
“Investigators?”
“Yeah, station security appointed some contractors.” Roberts rubs a hand over his stubbled face. He came on shift after I went out. We’ve known each other for three years, since he started here. He’s a slob at the best of times, but today he looks worse, as if he hasn’t slept for a while. “New people. Never seen them before.”
I stand up and walk over the terminal. “What did you find out about him?”
“Just an old story.”
“Okay, let’s hear it.”
PART 4
Roberts reads slowly from the screen.
“In 3125, the first Peter Jameson left Lave Station at the start of his great expedition which brought him fame and fortune. After him came Naomi Jameson, his daughter the explorer, who in 3163, crashed into a planet in the Zearla system while chasing a comet and bankrupting the family in the process. In 3200, Peter Jameson II, grandson of the famous pioneer followed the same crazy dream as his grandfather and this time, the money stuck. The Jameson family spread out across the stars, adventuring their way into legend.”
“All very exciting,” I say. “But that doesn’t explain how more than a hundred years later, a Jameson body got into that cargo hold.”
Roberts sighs. “I don’t think we’ll get an answer to that until they’ve finished and it gets to GalNet.”
“Seems a bit unfortunate,” I say. “We’re right here. We can find out.”
Roberts glares at me. He touches the pips on chest of his overall. “Shouldn’t need to tell you Saul, I outrank you. Best you leave it. All this is way above our pay grades.”
I hold his gaze, but he’s not backing down. I’m the one who looks away. “You’re probably right.,” I mutter.
“Yeah, you know I am. Leave it to them investigators, that’s what they’re paid for.”
Come back next week for the next gripping instalment
Download the free Elite Dangerous Role Playing Game Playtest at www.edrpg.co.uk
We will be publishing the same instalments here, on a weekly basis. Keep checking back every Wednesday for the latest update.
THE UNEXPECTED GUEST - PART 1
Quator Station unloading, sixteen hundred hours, standard time.
We’re in the hangar deck, in one of the huge A-rated berths. The ship’s an Imperial Clipper, the engines still warm from her landing. That’s a welcome feeling. Some of these pilots sit around a long time before making a trade and giving orders to unload. When that happens, we’re sent out to unload them in sub-zero temperatures.
Hydraulic pistons hiss and whirr as I walk. The exo-stomper is fully charged and warmed up. I duck under a low beam and approach the open hatch. Maglocks engage to secure me to the station deck and I reach into the ship. Metal pincers grab onto crate handles and the first container slides out on the runner. I lift it, and turn to the waiting truck.
The intercom crackles, “Wait! What’s that?”
I pause and glance back. There’s something else in the door of the cargo bay, it’s been dislodged by my work.
A body.
PART 2
A dead body.
The man’s hands dangle from the back of the ship. His head hangs lifeless, face away from me. He has dark hair, with hints of grey.
“Saul, I need you to stay where you are. A medical team is en-route. They’ll be with you in seventy-five seconds. Whatever you do, don’t touch him. You can’t help.”
“Can I least put the crate down?” I ask.
“If you do, the transport may activate and head to dispatch. We need all the evidence in one place. Saul, please, just stay exactly where you are. “
“Okay.” There’s nothing to do but wait and stare at the dead guy.
Who is he?
Who was he?
I’ve been a station dock worker for thirty years. You hear on the stories about things being found in freight. Most of them aren’t true, but everyone has a tale. This is the first time I’ve found a dead body.
The medical drone scuttles into view, an Achilles design, with four spider-like legs and two extendable arms. Someone back at Control will be piloting it. There’s a hopper on the back, with some sort of Remlok suspension system attached. It grabs the body and bundles it over its shoulder. The Remlok envelopes him, stretching to fit over his whole body. The computer inside will be analysing the body for life signs and triggering a laboratory of stimulants to get a response.
Good luck with that.
“Okay Saul, the medi-drone is clear. Can you put the cargo container back where you found it please then make your way back here for debrief.”
“Sure, understood. On my way.”
PART 3
“He was a Jameson, a Peter Jameson by all accounts.”
The name gets my attention. Everyone knows the Jameson dynasty. Two centuries ago, a two-bit trader bought a Cobra Mark III from Lave for all the cash he had in his pocket and set out into the darkness. When he came back, he was still in the same ship, but he’d made a fortune.
His name was Peter Jameson too.
Roberts is standing over a terminal in the exo-stomper garage. I’m sat on a bench. The decontamination team has finished with me and I’m dressed in fresh overalls. My skin feels raw, like it’s been steam blasted.
“Can’t be the same Jameson,” I say.
Roberts turns to me and shrugs. “Could be a clone?” he says.
“Why would a rich corporation clone be found dead in an Imperial Clipper’s cargo hold?” I ask.
“Don’t know,” Roberts says. “I’m only telling you what I heard from the investigators.”
“Investigators?”
“Yeah, station security appointed some contractors.” Roberts rubs a hand over his stubbled face. He came on shift after I went out. We’ve known each other for three years, since he started here. He’s a slob at the best of times, but today he looks worse, as if he hasn’t slept for a while. “New people. Never seen them before.”
I stand up and walk over the terminal. “What did you find out about him?”
“Just an old story.”
“Okay, let’s hear it.”
PART 4
Roberts reads slowly from the screen.
“In 3125, the first Peter Jameson left Lave Station at the start of his great expedition which brought him fame and fortune. After him came Naomi Jameson, his daughter the explorer, who in 3163, crashed into a planet in the Zearla system while chasing a comet and bankrupting the family in the process. In 3200, Peter Jameson II, grandson of the famous pioneer followed the same crazy dream as his grandfather and this time, the money stuck. The Jameson family spread out across the stars, adventuring their way into legend.”
“All very exciting,” I say. “But that doesn’t explain how more than a hundred years later, a Jameson body got into that cargo hold.”
Roberts sighs. “I don’t think we’ll get an answer to that until they’ve finished and it gets to GalNet.”
“Seems a bit unfortunate,” I say. “We’re right here. We can find out.”
Roberts glares at me. He touches the pips on chest of his overall. “Shouldn’t need to tell you Saul, I outrank you. Best you leave it. All this is way above our pay grades.”
I hold his gaze, but he’s not backing down. I’m the one who looks away. “You’re probably right.,” I mutter.
“Yeah, you know I am. Leave it to them investigators, that’s what they’re paid for.”
Come back next week for the next gripping instalment
Download the free Elite Dangerous Role Playing Game Playtest at www.edrpg.co.uk
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