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Baltaar smiles with deceptive generousity, "If I knew-tell of a rumour of an obscure functionary desparate to escape an isolated, dead-end posting, and could substantiate such,"

"You want me to deal in the ruddy Dead-Zone?" the out-fitter snarls, "Then your functionary had better pay bloody-foul well."

Baltaar holds up a hand to stop the out-fitter's rant, "Rumour is unsubstantiated, so I can't name a specific location."

"Aye, Commander, True" the Out-fitter concedes.

Baltaar raises his tone to control the exchange, "And if I were to possess such knowledge, I'd be eligible for the treble-penalty," Baltaar pauses, raises a palm, "Of which I would be most happy to share."

"Aye, Commander," the out-fitter confirms, "You know."

"Yes," Baltaar answers easily, "I do. As to payment, I conjecture that the payment would be most generous, but access can prove most valuble."

"And where there exists one such functionary," Baltaar trails off.

"Commander," the out-fitter inquires, "So how do I dump this stuff?" he asks.

"I am sure an agent from the network will arrive at the convenience-micron," Baltaar answers back.

The out-fitter reflexively flicks his thumb, "Ingrates," he growls from between clenched teeth.

Baltaar smiles generously, "They have always paid well in the past, that I am sure of," he smiles mischeiviously, "Of course if I knew who they were, I could then bypass the network entirely, and pocket the entire commission for myself, or us as it were ."

"You? Us? At this point what difference would that make," the out-fitter remarks.

Baltaar sighs, "But alas, if I were to know such things for certain, it could result in very dire consequences, for me."

The out-fitter grits his jaw, "Can we be sure of these 'customers'?"

Baltaar narrows his left eye as he considers, "There are contacts on the trading networks that have customers."

The out-fitter sets his feet, "Aye Commander," he replies, 'And so where should I move the 'merchandise'? I can't be sitting on a cargo-load of hot tylium for too more many furlongs."

"Many Gratitudes," Baltaar shifts mood seamlessy, "You are a most valuble employee."

Reflexively, the out-fitter juts his jaw and sets his head, "All Right Commander, you'll have your cargo," the out-fitter sneers, "I'll pool everybody and work double-and-a half. But you'll get your cargo."

The out-fitter narrows his eyes, "I am under-manned now, the processing is labor intense."

Baltaar seems to shrug, "I should have placed my hire on mercenaries, my money might have been better spent."

"Perusal? Douse Perusal," Baltaar counters with a sly grin, "I mean enough for a shipment," Baltaar open his hand generously, "A small shipment; any shipment will do."