Pierce Aubade Zephyr, conman, mercenary, outlaw, pirate, wanted criminal of seven sectors, was operating a food truck in space. Food was his passion. He loved to eat, and he loved to feed people. His stolen Nigrum Lotos, Anima, was not overly fond of her current shape. She was a bit vain, and preferred to be a sleek fighter model, or even high speed escape pod instead of this ugly shape. The flashing lights of her intergalactic signage was bright enough to be seen 4.2 lightyears away and Pierce was running an audio advertisement over the emergency frequency.
<<<Hungry? Tired of space rations and nutri-paste? Food replicators on the fritz? Have a hankering for kep-mok bloodticks? Stop by the best food truck this side of Alpha Centauri! Pierce's Palate Pleasure Palace! Where even if we've never heard of it, we've got it! It's always fresh at Pierce's Palate Pleasure Palace!>>>
Any passing vessel would hear the ad on their distress band, and hopefully none of them would be hunting him for a bounty, or worse, be a scorned lover. The giant blinking sign had the name of the establishment up in lights. Pierce stood in his amazing kitchen. Anima knew exactly what kind of setting he wanted, and if he chose to he could tweak it a bit to better fit his needs. He was making himself an applewood smoked bacon wrapped andouille sausage on a sweet roll while he waited for a customer to arrive. He had a feeling someone would be coming by to see him soon.