Chapter 2 Chapter 1 Interstellar Chamber of Commerce

Shahoran closed his carefully manicured nails and said, "It's quite nerve-wracking. In fact—as far as I can see, it's a sure thing—this time it's another Sheldon crisis." The man across the street fumbled for a cigar in the pocket of his Smyrra jacket: "I'm fine with that, Sha. Every time there's a mayoral election, politicians start shouting 'Sheldon crisis,' without exception." Shahoran smiled slightly. "I'm not campaigning, Marlowe. We're dealing with nuclear force, and we don't know where it came from." Marlowe, the chief merchant from Smaila, quietly took a breath of his cigarette, with an indifferent expression; "Go on. Say what you have to say, don't beat around the bush."

Marlowe never made the common outlander's mistake of being overly respectful of the base guys.He may be a foreigner, but he still has the dignity that a human being should have. Shahoran pointed to the three-dimensional star map on the table, adjusted a few control buttons, and a cluster of about half a dozen galaxies glowed red on the map. "There," he said in a deep voice, "is the Gaorui Republic." The merchant nodded and said, "I've been there. There's one in the Smelly Dog Cave. It's a republic in name, but it's the kind where someone surnamed Gao is elected as the chief commander every time. If you don't like it, you're out of luck."

He pursed his lips and repeated: "I have been." "But when you come back, others may not be so lucky. In the past year, despite the non-aggression agreement, there were still three merchant ships missing in the territory of the Republic. These ships were equipped with ordinary nuclear bombs and force field protection." "What was the last message from those ships before they disappeared?" "Routine report. Nothing else." "What did Gao Rui say?" Sha Huolun's eyes flashed, and he mocked: "You can't even ask. The biggest asset of the base in the border area is its prestige. Do you think we lost three boats, and we can ask them to help find them?"

"All right. Now tell me what you want me to do?" Shaquron never wastes time losing his temper.As the mayor's secretary, dealing with opposition MPs, activists, so-called reformers, and geeks who claim to have found a complete path to the future history of the Shelton Project; The constant kung fu of form and form. He articulated: "Wait a minute. Look, the loss of three ships in the same area in one year cannot be accidental; and nuclear force can only be defeated by more powerful nuclear weapons. Now the question arises: if Gory has nuclear weapons, From there?" "Where are you coming from?"

"There are two possibilities. If Gorry hadn't built it himself—" "Just wait another eight lifetimes!" "That's right! But another possibility is that we are about to be devoured by traitors." "You think so?" Marlowe said coldly. The secretary smiled quietly: "This possibility is not inconceivable. Since the four kingdoms merged into the base agreement, we have to deal with a large number of opposition groups in each kingdom. Every past kingdom has abdicated grandsons and last nobles. People don't pretend to love bases for long. Maybe some are starting to move."

Marlowe blushed darkly: "I understand. Do you have something to say to me? I am from Smaila." "I know. You're a Smailan—born in Smaila, one of the first four kingdoms. Educated at the Base to be a Baseman, but at heart you're an outlander—a foreigner. No doubt your grandfather was in Ontario. Nan was made a baronet during the war with Norris, and your fiefdom was confiscated during the Shumak Land Reform." "No, dark space above, no such thing! My grandfather was a lowly bum who made a living in the mines before the base took over. I had nothing to do with the old regime. I did live To Smylla, but the Galaxy proves that I am by no means ashamed of being a Smailan. Your cunning tricks of insinuation of treachery will not fool me, and I will not bend my knees. Now you order an arrest or charge It's okay, I don't care."

"My good merchant! I don't care whether your ancestors were the prince of Smaila or the most poor man in the galaxy. I only mention your origin at length to show you that I have no interest in these things. Obviously You've misunderstood. Let's start again. You're from Smaila, you know the outlanders, and you're the best tradesman, have been to Gory, know the Gory. That's where you're going." Marlowe took a deep breath: "To be a spy?" "Not at all. Be your peddler—but keep your eyes open and see if you can find the source of the nuke. Since you're a Smera, I can remind you that two of the lost ships contained Smyrra crew."

"When are you leaving?" "When will your ship be ready?" "Within six days." "Start then. Fleet High Command will provide all details." "Success!" Marlowe got up, waved his hand casually, and strode out. Shahoran waited, stretching his fingers carefully, relaxing his muscles, then shrugged and walked into the mayor's office. The mayor turned off the regulator and leaned back in the chair; "What do you think? Shahoren." "Maybe he's a good actor." Shahorun thought, staring straight ahead.