Meanwhile, back in FF-verse -- a ship is acquired

The trouble with needing to move quickly in acquiring a comparatively serviceable ship is that prices skyrocket, even without the appearance of desperation.

There are several avenues to address that issue, among them thievery, black market auctions, and leverage.

Galadan, who is greatly fond of expedience at the least desperate of times, opts for leverage. Fortunately he has a sizable network of contacts, some of whom owe him favors. One of these conducts his business on Paquin, a low-level hub for information, spare parts, and items of dubious legality, including weaponry.

"Gideon," his contact says, pulling himself up from behind a desk and setting down a datapad before approaching the Wolflord. "You should've waved to say you were coming. To what do I owe this honor?"

There's sweat on his brow and upper lip, which is odd because the weather is not all that warm for this time of year.

Galadan smiles, flashing sharp white teeth.

"You're going to sell me a ship, Cole."

The man brightens.

"A ship? Of course. I've got a line on a lovely little -- "

Galadan's smile does not waver as he looks at Cole. The man clears his throat but remains silent.

"Something currently in stock, rather. I've some pressing matters to attend to."

Cole swallows. "Pressing matters? I'll need at least a week to -- "

"You have today." Galadan's tone is calm, cool. Friendly, even. In its way. Though the faint line between his eyebrows may be sending a somewhat mixed message.

"Ah." Cole gasps, reaching up with one hand to press at his left temple. "Damn this sunlight. I -- mmph." He winces, keeping his eyes shut for a few long moments, as if that will make it better.

Galadan's expression remains composed. The air grows heavy.

"Unless I'm much mistaken, you've a few refurbished vessels taking up space in several docking facilities. One of them is not a cargo ship."

This time his smile is nothing but predatory.

"Make me a reasonable offer."

Cole is white-faced now. Several blood-vessels have broken in his eyes.

"I - I."

He'll stop protesting eventually. Galadan is good at acting as if he has all the time in the world.

Though later he will find cause to be grateful for the autopilot. It is exceedingly difficult to perform even rudimentary navigation with a splitting headache.

Such are the costs of telepathic contact with one who is eminently unsuited for it.

Galadan has, in the past, done far worse.

When the man in black comes around . . .

Long years of complex machinations in Fionavar have left Galadan with a certain subset of skills related to information-gathering, and given the relative competence of the autopilot's programming and River Tam's company, he has managed to send out a remarkable number of waves in a comparatively short period of time.

The resultant information and cross-referencing with River has left him with a significantly shorter list of potential 'interviewees' to be going on with, several of which prefer to congregate in the back lot of a rundown auction house. Some of the goods, including a series of 'ancient' paintings, books, and gewgaws, will be going up for sale in the morning.

That means most of the movers and shakers are at the auction house in the meantime, looking the goods over and, of course, negotiating other deals on the side.

The Wolflord moves unobtrusively through the room, just another mid-level peon taking notes on the merchandise for his boss. That is, of course, until he bumps into a slightly more dapper man wearing a waistcoat and carrying a pocketwatch.

"Ah. Excuse me. Wu Wei, is it not? I believe you've been waiting for a face-to-face meeting, have you not?"

Wei, a short man with a pock-marked face, furrows his brow, looking like he is about to sidle sideways.

Toward the door.

Galadan merely smiles, slipping his hand into one pocket and pulling out a datapad -- and not his usual 'pad, either. He passes it to the other man, who soon loses all expression on his face.

"Ah. I see. Yes. I'm sorry, I was under the impression that we would be meeting in my office later this week. If you'll excuse me . . . "

Galadan shakes his head, mouth quirking into a slightly sharper smile.

"I don't think that will be necessary. There are a few others here I need to speak with as well, and it would be much more convenient to discuss said business in a group. A . . . round-table, if you will. I think the storeroom will do nicely."

Something sparks in his eyes, the light catching them at just the right angle to make it seem, for a moment, as if they are glowing red.

Wei clears his throat.

"I -- if you think it best, Mr. Gideon. Of course."

The nod he passes to several other men and women as he passes by the door does not go unnoticed, at least by those looking for it. The set of watchers includes several rather bulky men stationed in various shadowy corners, the kind that come equipped with weapons. However, being mortal, they are very easily dealt with by such as Galadan -- particularly once he moves into a more secluded area of the auction house. A back hallway, for instance. Or a side office. And if another of his intended contacts should happen to catch sight of it --

Well. At least this one is actually prepared to start offering up the requisite information.

The rest will catch up.

The Wolflord is excellent at incentivizing. A man simply needs to know where to push.

And less than three hours later Galadan has a much longer list of entirely different names, plus some coordinates.

Now to see what River has come up with. Perhaps between the two of them they'll be able to see Mary hale and safe before another two days pass.