James Bond swaggered right up to the Bith, gave a faintly disdainful snort, and said, "Hmph. A Bith."
"Hello, Mr. Sutley," the Bith replied with a smile.
"Chetri. If there's another mistake or another test like this, figure it out yourselves. I'll just consider this trip to Byss a concert." James Bond spoke coldly.
"This isn't exactly a business that can stand in the light, Mr. Chetri." The Bith waved a hand, and a bodyguard beside him immediately placed a piece of metal on the table. "Inside this is about twenty grams of neutron star matter. Kuat Drive Yards uses it to build the armor of Acclamator-class assault ships, allowing them to withstand most weapons fire even without shields. You can't buy this stuff on the market... which means it's worth an astronomical price."
But James Bond pulled out a credit chip and used it to shove the metal aside. "Don't try to fool me with this. I don't care whether it's neutron star matter or white dwarf matter. Where am I supposed to sell it? Back to Kuat? Then get invited by the Galactic Republic Security Department for a few days the very next day?"
"It seems you still don't understand the value of refined neutron star matter, Mr. Chetri," the Bith said.
"I only want cash. Yes, credit chips. And don't try to fob me off with Galactic Republic-issued paper currency either." James Bond did not even have the patience to sit down. He seemed to be growing irritable.
"Your demands are rather unreasonable, Mr. Chetri," the Bith said.
"Listen to me!" James Bond suddenly braced both hands on the table and snarled, "A five-hundred-thousand-ton tractor beam is already weapons-grade equipment! Tell the man behind you this! First, I need to know you have the money! Second, I