Mosley Station
Copyright© 2020 by Mark Randall
Chapter 3
Just seeing the Sergeant Major brought back a flood of memories. Good, Bad and terrifying. We had traveled the same hell paths several times and I still had the occasional nightmares.
“Sergeant Major, how are you doing old soldier? What are you doing on this god forsaken wide spot in space?”
“Colonel Sir, it’s good to see you again. And in command of your very own garbage scow. Switching from Fleet Marine to Navy, oh how the mighty have fallen.”
We grabbed each other and hugged like only old comrades in arms can. Sitting down, I asked “So Sergeant Major, what’s with the interrogation scare? You know who I am.”
“Well, Sir, first if we could tone down the Sergeant Major stuff. The folks around here don’t know a lot about my history. And to tell the truth, I’d like to keep it that way. Saves me a lot of trouble this way.”
“OK, Sheriff, I can see your point. There are a number of places dirtside that I’m not exactly welcome. What should I call you?”
“The folks here know me as Thaddeus Chambers, Sheriff Thaddeus Chambers.”
You got it Sheriff.” I then turned to Jerry, “Kid, let me introduce you to ‘Sheriff Thaddeus Chambers’. If I hear you call him anything other than that, I’ll knock the stupid out of you. Just before I space your carcass.”
The kid starred at me, wide eyed. “Yes Sir, Colonel Sir.” A hint of a smile starting to show.
“You little smartass. Forget the Colonel part too. Your life depends on it just as much as mine, Or the Sheriffs. You would be guilty by association as much as action.”
“Damn, The rookie’s got you there sir.” Turning to Jerry, The Sheriff continued, “Don’t treat this as a joke boy. You ain’t got enough hair on your butt to take on the CAPTAIN here. And even if you could, I’d be waiting right behind him. And just to give you something to think about, there’s about 5000 other folks out there in the belt who would march through the gates of hell if this man led them.”
NOW Jerry wasn’t smiling. “Sheriff Chambers, I do believe you have just about scared the water out of this young man. Jerry, you listen to this man, He’s lean, He’s mean and He’s as loyal as a hound dog. He’ll chase you the ends of the belt if you piss him off. And then give you the last gasp from his O2 tank.”
Turning back to the Sheriff, “OK, Thad, now that the pleasantries are over, what in the hell is going on? Why am I locked up?”
“You’re not locked up Sir. But I needed to make sure you weren’t seen on the station. Not yet at least. Sir, I’ve got a pirate problem.”
“Really Thad? what leads you to that idea. I mean, the mining ships are the obvious targets. They’ve got the product, the people and the equipment. You guys? You got what, Wine, women and song? I can see them coming in for a birthday party, not a boarding party.”
“I agree Sir. It doesn’t make any sense. But we’ve been getting hints that something major was up. We first had suspicious when one of our smarter kids started a school project. He’s into the SETI search and had gotten his hands on a surplus Spotted Rose.”
“Surplus? Those were state of the art surveillance gear not that long ago.”
The spotted rose was a system of radio sensors. They were deployed in a 3-dimensional grid. Usually 27 pickups in a 3 by 3 by 3 grid. From those sensors a directional fix could be made from a radio signal based on the signal strength. When they were first deployed, the area covered could be phenomenal. The only limitation was the time it took for data from the individual sensors could get to the central processor. The further out the reception points, the longer the analysis. This is one of the reasons why the system had limited use. Larger systems were planned, but if they were used, well, it was outside my clearance level.
“I know, it scared the hell out of me when I first heard about it. But sure enough he got it from a legitimate surplus dealer. He had a nearly new 27-point system that he had set up in the stations orbit. He had also jury rigged in a spectrum analyzer that scanned the available freqs. The kid about peed his rompers when he got a hit. It was a directional microburst transmission and he just happened to be watching the frequency when it was transmitted, Right into his rose web.”
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