Chapter 6

By this point the folks that were left fell into 3 groups. The sad sacks that didn’t know better, and couldn’t figure it out. Then there were the folks on the other end of the scale. These were the ones that thought wealth, power and notoriety would get them out of trouble.

I knew that the first group would probably survive with few, if any, casualties. The second group would, to a man, meet a very unpleasant ending. And quite frankly, I couldn’t care less.

The 3rd group was the ones that I relied on. I knew these people would be the difference between success and failure. These were the con artists, the pick pockets, The alley muggers. They were the overcharging, shortchanging, bartenders that wouldn’t think twice about serving you a mickie finn, as long as he got his cut. They were the ladies that knew where and what you wanted, and how much it was worth. And after you passed out, they would tip themselves with what was left in your wallet.

I let the bartenders of all the bars, taverns, lounges and speakeasys know that there was NO more taxes on their operations. They would have a free rein, they could charge whatever they wanted and keep whatever took in, 100%. This was reward for what I wanted them to do. I wanted them to reduce their prices. Particularly for the pirate crew. Also, to let the locals and their regulars know that when the pirates come into a bar, they should quietly leave. Let nature take its course and sooner or later there will be drunk pirates fighting, and killing other drunk pirates. We might also plant an antagonist or two, just to get something started. It’s amazing how fast a riot can get started over a cute woman, or boy if that was the preferred flavor.

I Also let them know that we no longer cared about where they got their booze. Any brewer or distiller out there could perform their arts without interference. But, just remember, we won’t appreciate poisoning the locals. “Be a friend and serve your friends.”. And if you decide to break into the trade yourselves, by all means go ahead, you have my blessing and permission.

Reluctantly, I also had Thad’s cops spread the word among the closet chemists, the ones that make, sell, and deal in poison, for now you’ll get a pass. You and your distributors are off the radar, AS LONG as you deal ONLY with the invaders. You start prowling the playgrounds and we’ll have you breathing vacuum before you know it.

This was something I reluctantly agreed to. But as Thad explained to me, after everything was said and done, we would know all of the players. Including their distribution and suppliers. 10 minutes after the pirates were gone, the dopers would also be walking the vacuum plank.

The word was also spread to the Bordello’s, Go-go bars and free lancers, we needed spies. We needed information and the best place to get male lounges to wagging, Pun unintended, is between the sheets. Prostitutes have been used as information gatherers for centuries. It is in the male nature to try and impress the ladies with their prowess and importance. Now this can be in the clandestine alley, or the fancy ballroom. We needed to suspend our moral characters for our societies survival. Also remember that it is in the public interest to be sure and spread any and all STD’s as far and as wide as possible. Don’t worry, your health care costs are covered. Also, if you can foster a little jealousy, particularly if it results in blood duels and feuds, Go for the gusto. But again, it’s the pirates that need to spill pirate blood. And if either or both are contaminated, so much the better.

Most of our fallen angels had no problem with the new rules. They saw it as an unexpected windfall. The surprising thing was the number of volunteers from the ladies that previously would have had nothing to do with saloons or the patrons of them. I suggested that they set their sights for the officers and leaders.

I hoped that we have gotten as many kids off the station as we could. But I’m a realist enough to know we didn’t get them all. There are always people living in the bilges, on the edges of society, that didn’t, wouldn’t or couldn’t leave. They were called the untouchable, exiles, The Bottoms. Most societies forgot about them until they were forced to see them. Begging, stealing and, as they got older robbing and burglarizing. The truly amazing thing was how many, given half a chance, became politicians.

We needed to recruit them and give them better hope than the pirates could offer. And I knew that they would be more aware of the risks involved. I’d be willing to bet that a good portion had come from slave operations. Either government or corporate. They KNEW what was at risk.

I set them a task, watch, listen, and, when it was safe, harass. In return, I would get them food, clothes and spaces to stay. And as they got older, training. Something better than what they had before. I doubt if most of them believed me. But they would work with me in return for the immediate goodies I was offering. All they had to do was let me know what was going on.

I knew that time was running out. and that, at best, we were only half prepared. I got on the station wide comms and reminded everyone, When the Pirates dock, they’ll be short of fuel and supplies. The name of the game is going to be time. Time for reinforcements and help to respond. If the pirates can’t refuel and escape with their booty, they’ll have to stick around while their own reinforcements and resupply arrive. Hopefully our Cavalry would get here first.

The people that had remained behind were aware of the situation and had made all possible preparations for the invasion. I was actually kind of surprised at the good morale that they seemed to have. A lot of the youngsters seemed to think it was going to be a great adventure. Some of the adults saw this as an opportunity to fatten their purses. legally sanctioned larceny will always excite the independent soul.

While I had been busy with getting the innocent off the station, I also had an even higher priority mission. I searched though all the engineers, electricians and mechanics. The folks I was looking for were the original builders. Or as close as I could find. I wanted to have the guys that knew the ‘as built’ as opposed to the blue prints.

I also wanted the bootleggers. The folks that, for their own reasons, ran tunnels and drifts that weren’t on any maps or plans. Digging a tunnel, especially a clandestine tunnel, isn’t easy. Dig too far and you run the risk of breaking through to other tunnels. Not shoring correctly, or too shallow and you run the risk of a cave in. These are the spaces I earnestly wanted. These hidden spaces were golden to me.

It was with the greatest of luck that I found two of the original engineers. These guys were here, before it was called Mosley.

My first discovery was Kim Cho Pak. Mr. Kim was an ex colonel for the north Korean army. He was a mining engineer. He had originally been trained to build underground bases and bunkers in North Korea. He was then rented out to the folks on the moon to build their underground spaces. Eventually he was sent to Mars when the Kim regime decided they need a presence in outer space.

It was during his travels that Kim Cho had become unhappy with the seemingly unending personality cult of the Kim’s controlling the home country. He had seen and sampled freedom, and he had participated in an unsuccessful mutiny. He was convicted of treason and sentenced to life at hard labor in the asteroid mines.