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"Damn it! Is this Marx good or not? A man in a broad-brimmed hat sat at the bar of the bar and spat out a sentence from the corner of his mouth with a Maho cigarette in his mouth. For Harrison Jones www.biquge.info although 16 was his lucky number, in this month of 16, Lady Luck clearly forgot about him. This did not surprise him - in fact, this wayward girl often forgot about him.

He grew up in an orphanage in Old North Star, and he had no idea who his parents were, and no distant relatives or friends of his parents would come to see him with wrapped gifts on holidays. When he was fourteen years old, a fire broke out of the orphanage, and he slipped out of it and never wanted to go back.

Since he was a child, he had become accustomed to roaming freely in the stars, and "Marilyn" - his Kurumba Hat-type spaceship was his home.

In the past twenty years, he has wandered from one planet to another, from one galaxy to another, knowing the commodity prices and needs of each planet well, buying at a low price and selling at a high price, and occasionally carrying some contraband in the dark cabin that he modified himself, he could have lived comfortably on which planet, without worrying about food and clothing.

But Jones just didn't have money.

Wandering through bars and casinos for a long time left him in a lot of debt, and he had to run around to raise money to pay off his debts.

But now, thanks to the good deeds of that greedy clown, he has lost his ship. Without a ship, he can't ship goods to resell between planets or systems, and he will lose his most stable source of income. If he has no money, he can't repay his debts, so he can only hide outside and hide.

It seems that everything has to be counted on the buyer, Mr. Marx. Maybe we can negotiate with this gentleman when he comes back to pick up the boat and buy it back. But even then, he would have to shell out at least 4500 stads. He now has only 3000 stadts.

Alessandro is a good place to spend money, but you have to use your brains to make money.

There were still four days left before Marx came back to pick up the ship. He'll have to figure it out.

He asked for another martik, a blended spirit. If he hadn't been worrying about his ship, he could have noticed a man leaning across the bar. In fact, if he had been a little more vigilant, he would have found that this man had been with him all morning.

The man was well-dressed, wearing a wide-brimmed top hat and a well-dressed double-breasted gown of the kind that Amy people often wear. He also had a cigarette in his mouth, but not a Maho cigarette, but an Abuku cigar that was only produced on the Abuku asteroid in the Amy system. The man held a glass of fruit wine with a lot of soda in his hand, and he only sipped on the top foam at a time to make himself drink as slowly as possible.

The man kept staring at Jones, and when he finished his martik and was ready to settle the bill, he straightened up and walked over to him.

At this time, a fierce-looking and stout orc sat down beside Jones with a "bang" and said in a rough voice: "Harrison, I will ask for this cup." ”

The man paused, returning to his position, but pulling the brim of his top hat down slightly.

Jones grinned and shrugged, "Okay, thanks, Svida, you have a good time, I'm out of company." He lifted his hat and got up to leave, when the orc reached out and stopped him, "Hey, Harrison, Bemba wants to see you." ”

Jones sighed helplessly: "Sveda, I'll return the money to Bemba, I need to get my spaceship back first, and then take some cargo and run a few times." ”

The orc said sullenly, "You can talk to Bemba about this yourself." Come with me and you'll see him soon. You'd better not play tricks. Otherwise, tomorrow you will be the prey of bounty hunters across the galaxy. ”

Jones burst out laughing: "How much is Bemba willing to pay?" Don't forget that I also have a bounty hunter's license, and I can complete this task more easily than anyone. ”

The orc snorted from his nose, stood up, and shook his head outside the bar, motioning for Jones to follow him. Jones shrugged and followed.

Bemba is in an elongated "Cornier" shuttle outside the bar. He had a vicious appearance, a bare blue scalp, and a finger-thick necklace of pure gold hung from his short, thick neck. Jones estimated that to be worth at least 70,000 stadt. Behind him, stood three large men with broad arms and round waists, each with a large blaster under his arm.

"Hey, Bemba, nice to meet you." Jones looked nonchalant, took off his hat, and sat down in the seat opposite.

Bemba didn't speak, glaring at him viciously.

Jones grinned, "Bemba, don't you have anything to drink here?" ”

Bemba leaned over Jones. His voice was deep and echoed in the cabin: "Jones, extinguish your cigarettes, you know I hate the smell of horse-ho smoke." ”

"Well, it's up to you." Jones knocked the cigarette butt off the hatch.

Bemba grabbed the two armrests of the chair Jones was sitting on, almost touching his face: "Jones, I don't want to ruin the friendship. But if you don't give me back fifteen thousand stads in three days, you'll be worth five thousand stads, you know? ”

Jones grinned, his blue eyes fearlessly meeting Bemba's.

Bemba let go of the armrests and jerked back to his seat. He raised three fingers:

"Remember, Jones, you only have three days, you know where to find me. If you forget, I know where to find you. ”

Jones stood up unhurriedly and opened the hatch. He buttoned up his broad-brimmed hat, slanted it to the side, and magically pulled out a Maho cigarette from the side: "Bemba, damn it! Don't eat curry until you see me next time, you know I hate curry smells. ”