Len looks for a Contractor

Fawx and Len left the Family and the crew behind to guard the two ships, while they entered the Zancor Space Station alone.

The wide hallway from the docks to the trade hub was already filled with all kinds of scum and beggars. Junkies trapped in their fever dreams, people begging to afford some food, or the next shot to join the junkies.

The atmosphere here was a special mix of gases that allowed most races in the galaxy to survive without special equipment.

Had Len not spent the last two weeks absorbing knowledge, he might have been surprised.

From the memory of the bean and Sean bean, he knew about the existence of many races out there but compared to what he accessed on the Retriever it had been quite chaotic and narrow.

As expected from humans and their thirst for knowledge, it also included a catalog of all intelligent races they knew through the Galactic Federation. What would have surprised him now, was the number of humanoid races.

Of course, humanoid was meant in a broader sense of the word. A torso, two legs, two arms, and a head in a roughly human configuration and size.

According to the information he got, it was still a topic of research even in the galactic federation, as the kind of similarities of life could not be explained by convergent development. It was also one of the reasons why a special atmospheric mix could sustain almost all intelligent species.

Leaving the docks they entered the chaotic "trade hub" At some point in time might have had the structure of a mall with several branches of intergalactic traders buying the mined recoursed brought by the on-sight mining businesses.

After hundreds of years of expansion, breaking through floors, and adding more structures it became a chaotic area with all kinds of shops and living spaces mashed together. At some parts of the structure, there were still parts of former spaceships recognizable that were simply added as-is.

The ghoul took a deep breath of this foreign air. To a human nose, it might have smelled weird, or bad. A human might have had a hard time breathing, but the undead did not need to breathe, to begin with.

Len was a predator picking up the scent. The air was oozing the scent of life. The smells of food, drugs, chemicals, smoke, and all kinds of debauchery in as many variations, as there were alien races.

Everything was dirty and exuded the aura of disrepair and make-shift engineering. As run-down everything looked on the surface, it was filled with a bustling crowd and colorful shops.

All kinds of shady businesses like scrappers, crafters, or dealers lined the narrow pathways. Women offering their services pandered to the flow of people, taking one or another customer to their ramshackle abodes.

Small dirty restaurants and street vendors bordered dark and dim drug dens. All kinds of alien children, wearing rags, were running through the crowd, begging, and pickpocketing from people. Len felt as if transported back to the slums of earth. With teeth and nails, everyone here was trying to stay afloat and make enough to somehow survive to the next day.

And like in the slums, maybe worse, there were many not-so-friendly glances ogling the two newcomers. He couldn't help was smile in derision. To him, it was like an aggressive bunny trying to intimidate him. This was just cute.

His grin showed his terrifying fangs and those that dared to look him in the eyes, would shiver and look away. The fact that almost all races shared a common root, also meant that all of them were potential prey.

They had come for business, but subconsciously he was treating the place as a buffet. When humans were his comfort food, then this place had just turned into an exotic restaurant. He started judging the meat based on their smell.

The young prostitute at the corner looked almost human, except for her indigo-blue skin and four eyes. She smelled incredibly sweet, like a fruit Len had never tasted. His mouth watered, disregarding her looks or flirty gestures.

Had she known his gaze was not one of lust, she might not be acting this tantalizing.

Another scent sticking out was one of spice. looking around he found a huge hunk, currently occupied with beating up someone, together with three of his friends. This guy wore a crude mix of armor and spacesuit, maybe the augmented equipment of the former miners?

This alien was huge with 2,5 meters, pale, and had neither ears nor a nose. he obviously featured a huge amount of strength, as he kept botting his victim on the ground. The more he moved and became worked-up, the thicker became the smell.

If Len had not been on a business trip, he might have caused a commotion by savoring a bite right then and there. The alien's thick pale neck was as alluring as a well-prepared dinner.

"M-Master..." Fawx coughed next to him.

This was another worry. The captain had only been turned a few weeks earlier. Unlike Len, who had centuries to control his urges, the captain had a much harder time not to take a "sample" here and there, like a rabid dog.

The ghoul couldn't change that, as Fawx had been the best option to take along. he could only exert his control as the progenitor to calm the youngling's violent hunger.

The reason they had come here was not to find shelter but to ultimately solve their little piracy problem. If everything could happen as Len wished, then they would have rented one of the shipyards of the station and installed the endo drive onto the Ankara, while selling the retriever.

However, things were not that easy and they didn't have the time to completely remodel the two ships in this way. What was the next best option?

Turning the Retriever-33 into a bonafide pirate ship. And for this, they needed to find a Contractor. Pirates had their own ways to deal with the Federations pursuit and contractors were the people apt in overhauling stolen ships for sale or further activities.

From transformative work like paint jobs or changing the ship's shell to cloaking devices that could hide the ship from detectors and even sight. Everything that would hinder the Federation from finding stolen ships.

Furthermore, they offered to install detection devices and weapon systems of various price classes. Everything a modern pirate would need to survive and thrive in the galaxy of today.

Was it cheap to refurbish a medium-sized ship like the Retriever? No. Did Len even intend to pay? Also no. The best labor force was always a cheap labor force. The ghoul was a master in haggling, one bite and he could get all the services for free.

But before he could start haggling, he needed to find a contractor first. One thing that stayed true was that the easiest place to get common information was always a bar. Unless they could get access to some kind of dark web.

However, since illegal mechanics did not just advertise their services even in a place like Zancor, they had to do it the traditional way. The place Faawx and Len entered was dark and grimy. Well, everything in Zancor was dark and grimy, it did not really specify anything.

This dark and grimy niche was a place that sold cheap booze or chemicals that would melt your brain. Len was not quite sure, but it did not seem to make a big difference, anyway. Dirty, smelly humanoids were sitting around in an overall atmosphere of melancholy and desperation.

If this wasn't a bar, Len was ready to eat sean bean's leg. He was always ready to do that, so there was nothing to lose, really. The two sat down at the counter. Fawx, who finally managed to control his urge to taste the exotic meals, spoke to the barkeeper and ordered some drinks for them.