Who:Banshee crew and guests - OTA Where: Threed spaceport What: Party! When: Saturday afternoon Rating: PG unless things get interesting - will adjust if necessary
Selene dropped the cargo ramp to horizontal and deployed the auxiliary stairs. With the help of her B1s a large gas grill was unpacked from transit storage and hooked up, and folding tables and chairs were set up around the perimeter of the ramp. Not much later the caterer she'd hired arrived with ice chests of grillables, several plastic half-barrels of beers and wines in crushed ice, glasses, napkins, plates, and all the rest of the necessities for an afternoon barbecue, complete with a cook who started up the grill and stood ready to cook steaks to order.
Yes, it was more than a tad ostentatious, but some of the best business deals had been made at the chateau back in Hungary during parties and dinners and the like. And she did have some business in mind. Talk to Buffy Summers about Alucard. The fact that he seemed to think Buffy would be able to do something about him if he went off the rail, possibly with her assistance, did not bode well. Talk to Jael about the possibility of becoming one of her line. Selene had decided that since she appeared to be stuck in this universe, it was probably time to consider expanding the family - so to speak. She had run into Jael before, out on the Outer Rim, and knew her to have the Mandaloran warrior ethic, which could only benefit any line. Other vampires seemed to be setting up in some semblance of respectability; it might just be the time for her to do the same. The fact that with enough fresh blood, Jael would fairly rapidly regrow whatever she had lost might be a selling point to her 'pitch' - as Jael had called it. Maybe someone from the Resistance would even try to contact her. After her talk with Alucard, that was something she wanted to look into, given her disapproval of First Order tactics and the lack of any action on the part of the Republic. Of course there was no telling who else might come out to take a look at the gunship and crew that could afford something like this to celebrate a good month. Success sometimes begat success. And luck sometimes begat luck. It wasn't everybody who went bumbling along like a fat freighter flying a merchie transponder signal and got 'surprised' by a pirate ship with a hold full of hijacked gems. Selene did like big paychecks.
She had Sargent Bone position the rest of the B1s, all freshly polished and gleaming, for groundside security, just in case, and set internal security to discourage intruders. A fly couldn't get in through the vents without facing biofilters and shock screens, and internal doors would only respond to a key code and hand print. It was a lot higher level of protection than they ordinarily ran, but with an open invite, no telling who or what might show up. While she had her hair up and was wearing a revealing sundress, there was a compact blaster strapped to her thigh, and the B1's weapons could go from stun to lethal with the flick of a switch. A girl had to be ready for anything at a party, invited guests and rude crashers as well. She set a small ear bud into one ear so she could communicate with the rest of her crew, hung her silver cross from the thin silver chain around her neck, and used her remote, disguised as a silver bracelet, to start the music playing and went out to see who would arrive. Sipping from a goblet of Wookie brandy, poured by the droid bartender, she circulated, playing hostess.