Randolph Lalonde - Spinward Fringe Broadcast 08 - Renegades Read Online Free

Frost pissed him off, the more
he revealed to other crewmembers about where he’d been and what
he’d seen while he was whining about his problems. To Minh-Chu, it
was the longest but most effective interrogation he’d ever heard
of, and Kipley had no idea it was happening. The ship idiot would
spend plenty of time venting that evening.
    “Hello, Ronin,
Stephanie,” Agameg said, smiling at them. The Issyrian’s big
green eyes and smooth face made the smile seem comically exaggerated.
Agameg had learned how to fortify his skin against foreign
environments, a skill that took members of his race a long time to
master. The result was a rounder-faced, smoother-skinned Agameg who
seemed more confident on planet-side visits. The cilia that once
lined his facial features were hidden, and humans who weren’t used
to an Issyrian’s native features felt more comfortable around him.
    “Hey, Agameg, you
wouldn’t happen to have an extra mug for Kipley, here?” Minh-Chu
asked.
    “I have several extra
mugs,” Agameg replied, putting a frosted mug in front of Kipley and
filling it with fizzy amber liquid from one of the pitchers. “They
say Munger Draft is the easiest drinking beverage in the Grand
Concourse.”
    “Thanks,” Kipley
said, regarding the mug, which was half filled with liquid and half
with foam. “Too bad you can’t pour worth a damn.”
    Agameg was frozen in
place for a moment, until he blinked one eye at a time and moved on
to pass out the rest of the mugs. He took his seat once one pitcher
had been poured out. “I think Frost and Finn will be here shortly.
The captain is meeting a friend not far from here, so he may be along
if he has time.”
    “Is he still walking
around without a disguise?” Stephanie asked.
    “He said there are
plenty of notable captains in port, so many that he and the Warlord
are minor players,” Agameg said.
    “That’s a yes,”
Stephanie said. “A notable captain is still a noticeable captain,
who cares how many others are around?”
    “I spoke to him about
that,” Agameg replied, nodding. “I believe I could mimic him well
enough to pass, but he told me that he doesn’t need a double, and
the Warlord is more of a failure here than a danger, since we haven’t
taken any prizes by force yet.”
    “He’s right about
that,” Kipley said, refilling his mug in a slow, artful pour that
kept foam to a minimum. “I thought we’d be taking merchant ships
down by now, making real money. I should’ve known better.”
    Kipley’s comment
quieted the table, and Minh-Chu was relieved to hear human music
start drifting across the sea of people. It was artificially created
pop starring a fabricated voice that tapped into the mathematical
formulae for sexy sound and motivational appeal rather than actual
inspiration, but at least he could tap his foot to it.
    “The show’s about
to start,” Stephanie said, pointing to the arched main entrance as
Finn walked in with a small crate under his arm. He strode with so
much self-importance that it was almost comical to Minh-Chu, and he
was only outdone by Seamus Frost, who followed a few paces behind.
    With a practiced
flourish, Finn placed the short crate on the floor and stepped away,
as rigid as a rail. Frost stepped onto the crate, not so much as
glancing at it, his gaze falling over the numerous tables in front of
him. “I bet he pulls five qualified crew in,” Kipley said. “I’ll
put three pips on it.”
    “I bet he’ll sign
four,” Minh-Chu said. It earned him a punch on the leg from
Stephanie. “He pulled three the first time and four the last,”
Minh-Chu explained. “Just playing the odds.”
    “I bet he pulls
seven,” Stephanie said to Minh-Chu with an exaggerated sneer.
    Frost’s silent
theatrics didn’t go unnoticed. The first two rows of tables were
turning to look at the heavyset man with the thick brows. Frost’s
clothing spoke as loudly as his demeanour; he was dressed in heavy
survival armour that