Work Text:
“For this plan to work, this place will have to exude an air of- class. Luxury. Relaxation .”
Boba glanced over at the Rancor statues framing the throne, skimming over the mysterious stains on the walls. "We are..lacking a little in that department."
“The sauna isn't the only space that needs to be renovated. And, we need to improve our marketing to appeal to a wider base of clientele."
Boba and Fennec stared briefly at one another.
“We need an expert.”
“Nobody on this planet is going to know anything about any of that."
Fennec leaned back against the wall, crossing her arms over her chest. “You have any off-world contacts who may be of use here?”
In his humble opinion, this was a lot of hassle for what was ultimately an elaborate excuse to use the palace’s facilities for as long as he pleased, but Fennec had a point. If the spa was going to succeed, they needed someone who understood people, who could market the hell out of anything. Someone business-savvy with an eye for interior design. A true entrepreneur.
“Okay, hear me out.”
Lando Calrissian lounged on the balcony with a martini in his hand and vacation on his mind.
As long-time Baron Administrator of Cloud City, one grew accustomed to the cold chill just as well as the thin air. Armed as he was with a warm, custom-made cream-white cape, Bespin’s weather didn’t bother him a bit. It did seem to perturb his companion, however- a handsome Togruta gentleman who really did make a noble effort not to let the brisk wind get to him. He just smiled and draped his cape over the man’s shoulder, pulling him to his side. “There’s plenty more to show you. I know this city in and out.”
“I’d hope so, considering you’re in charge of it.”
“Oh, no, no, the duties of Mayorship are no longer my own. I’m retired. It’s all in good hands. I’ve nothing but the utmost confidence in my daughter’s work as Baron.” She’d taken on the role two years ago, now, through considerably more legitimate means than himself. He’d just won it in a game of cards.
“I see. You must be proud.”
“I am,” he said, and sipped his martini. As grateful as he was for her contribution to the city, Lando had grown a bit restless in the absence of his mayoral duties. He sighed wistfully, looking out over the clouds as they idly rolled by. “It’s hard work. Cloud City has grown quite a bit these past years.”
“Perhaps you can introduce me to your friends. You must know everyone here.”
“Why of course. Which friends would you like to meet?”
“Well- those two seem particularly interested in us, at the moment. Might be a good starting point.”
Those two.
Lando retained his cool, unflappable smile, tilting his chin to glance back up at where his companion was pointing. Indeed, two individuals stood perched upon the balcony just above their current floor.
Two Mandalorians.
“Ah.” Lando paused, making direct eye-contact with the visor of none other than the notoriously dead and buried Boba Fett. Boba waved. The dart struck Lando’s shoulder no less than six seconds later.
BREAKING NEWS!
EX-BARON ADMINISTRATOR OF CLOUD CITY, BESPIN, LANDONIS BALTHAZAR CALRISSIAN HAS BEEN KIDNAPPED
Located in the clouds of Bespin, a gas giant in the Anoat sector of the Outer Rim, the Tibanna gas mining colony of Cloud City has reportedly lost its former leader, notorious socialite, former General in the Rebel Alliance and self-described "galactic entrepreneur” who participated in the Battle of Endor, Landonis Balthazar Calrissian III, more widely known as Lando Calrissian!
The retired ex-Baron Administrator-slash-Mayor was reportedly kidnapped from his patio at precisely 3PM of Taungsday, the 14th, by a pair of unidentified Mandalorians.
[Attached is a blurry image, shot from a distance, depicting a silver-armored Mandalorian and another in green armor bridal-style carrying Calrissian, followed by another image of the pair taking off with what look to be Rising Phoenix jetpacks.]
Some speculate the unidentified kidnapper in green may be none other than the long-thought-dead bounty hunter Boba Fett!
When questioned by our correspondence, Calrissian’s companion commented; “They were surprisingly polite about the whole thing, really.”
Current Baron Administrator Calrissian, daughter of the kidnapped ex-mayor had only one comment; “He’ll be back by Zhellday.”
* Subscribe to the Outer Rim Report newsletter for updates as the story develops!
Lando Calrissian awoke slumped in a folding chair in a dark room. This wasn't the first time something like this happened- nonetheless he certainly wasn't happy about it.
"Good morning," said an oddly familiar voice, causing Lando to jolt in his seat as he regained awareness.
"Hello?" He asked, rubbing his face with the back of his hand. Still a bit dazed, he squinted until his vision cleared, eyes falling upon the silhouette of his kidnapper perched upon the edge of a dais. The man leaned forward into the light. It really was Boba Fett, back from the dead. Of course. How silly of him to assume anything might kill that man.
He scanned the room around him, confirming his suspicions. He'd been brought to the throne room of the Hutt palace, by the Dune Sea- relatively high on the list of places he would've preferred never to see again.
"Feeling alright?"
Lando frowned. "I've been better."
"Haven't we all."
"Why don't we cut to the chase, Fett- why've you brought me here?"
The woman to his right interrupted, sliding her helmet off her head. Lando had to admit that he liked her look. The orange- bold, but tasteful, and combined with that rifle? "You read the HoloNet news lately?"
"I like to stay informed. Why?"
"We're turning this place into a spa." Boba rested a hand on his knee, leaning forwards.
He thought about it for a second and it did, in fact, ring a very dim bell. That bizarre ad he'd seen- it seemed he really ought to have paid closer attention. "Ah. So that was your doing- still doesn't explain why I'm here."
"We've got a business proposition for you."
He slowly stood from the chair, hoping perhaps it might help him recover a bit of his dignity. "I'm retired."
Brushing the dust off his trousers and shirt he righted himself- only to notice something was missing. Dread washed over Lando, followed shortly by indignance. He ran his hands down his own back as if to double-check his fears, voice raising a pitch. “Where is my cape?”
“Didn’t want it to get caught.”
“In what?”
“In the jetpack, when I brought you back to the ship,” said Boba. “Trust me, it's better not to risk it.”
“You carried me while flying?” He’d have to check the HoloNet later- it’d be just his luck someone got an embarrassing photo of this occurrence. Trying but failing to rein in his affronted tone, he sputtered; “That was a custom piece!”
Boba said nothing, motionless.
“You owe me a new one,” he groused.
“Sure.”
“A nice one.”
The woman to his side made a face. “We don’t exactly have an abundance of nice things around here just yet.”
Something told him Boba was grinning behind that damned helmet. “That’s why you’re here.”
“Fine. Alright. I’m a patient man.” Lando carefully adjusted his blouse. “Speaking of things you may owe me-” Boba sighed. “-last thing I remember, I had a few possessions on my person which I am now distinctly lacking .”
“Which possessions?” asked the woman.
“An X-8 Night Sniper- a nice piece, mind you, and more importantly my Rossmoyne Vitiator pistol. And I expect a replacement for my cape."
Boba grunted dismissively.
“That pistol was hard-earned! Won it in a game of Six-Card Gizka Limit from a certain Aybarian diplomat. That’s the kind of weapon you can’t find at your local market.”
“Draw up the preliminaries of our marketing campaign first.”
“That's your business proposition?"
“Once you’ve helped us begin refreshing this place’s image, you’ll get your weapons back.”
"That can't be all you want from me."
He nodded. "The marketing is- well. Fennec believes we need to improve it, to reach our intended clientele."
Fennec- judging from the little jerk of his head that was the imposing woman to his side. She nodded and pitched in; "Our interior design, public image and general business plan need to be improved if we want this to go smoothly."
Lando considered it. He knew his answer almost immediately - yes, of course, most certainly, anything for that Rossmoyne- but just for the sake of his reputation he stood, forefinger stroking his beard as if he was truly considering turning them down. "You’ve put me in quite the difficult position here, my friends.”
Boba replied flatly; “I don’t have friends.”
“That may be news to her,” he said, scoffing at the sniper who now sat perched on the arm of Fett’s throne. Increasingly incredulous, he pointed next at the ominous silver-clad Mandalorian in the pure Beskar who was just- standing there, hovering over the man’s shoulder. “And to him! Who even is he, anyway?”
That man was beginning to creep him out, standing there so motionless.
Boba Fett didn’t say a word, turning to look expectantly at the other Mandalorian. He jolted, as if surprised that anyone might expect him to speak. He awkwardly shifted his weight. “I- work here.”
Lando snorted. He looked more like a decorative suit of armor in a museum than a massage therapist. “You work at a spa.”
“...Sometimes.”
The man in charge must've tired of their back-and-forth, speaking with a more demanding tone this time. "So? What'll it be, Calrissian? You want to do this the easy way, or…?"
Lando cast a discerning look around the room. Hands on his hips, he began to circle the throne room floor, making a face at the stone rancor faces flanking the throne, the tiny, meagre windows above, the sand covered floor, and the faint stains on the wall.
Well. This just wouldn’t do. It had the right bones for a renovation, most certainly; the smooth angles of the entryway, the cool interior of clay and stone, and the engravings high on the ceiling did seem promising, though he doubted it’d get any better than this as one descended into the lower levels of the palace.
He sighed. His retirement was getting a little boring. And his daughter had it all handled back in Cloud City- in fact she might be grateful for a little time without him hovering over her shoulder. Not to mention the lucrative possibilities- a public bath house on a world with little to no in-home running water would be a certain success, and the allure of cooling spa treatments was certain to attract the leathery locals who spent their lives baking under the twin suns.
It was a good investment, besides the obviously alluring challenge of creating a hub of luxury on a notoriously dangerous and inhospitable planet.
It might even be fun.
"Show me to my quarters, let me have a drink, a little to eat, and a couple hours time, and I'll write you up a list of my expectations in this partnership."
Boba huffed. He and Fennec exchanged a long, wordless look, at the end of which he threw up his hands in mock surrender. They certainly seemed close. He then gestured to his Mandalorian comrade, ushering him in his direction. "Show him to the residential hall."
Lando held up a finger. "I humbly request a suite."
If he was going to be living on this dustball, they at least needed to give him a pleasant room to sleep in.
"Are you sure he's not more hassle than he's worth?" Asked Fennec, thumbing the annotated list of requests and demands.
"You asked for class, style." Boba propped his boots up on the table, slouching. "Nobody's more proficient at that than Lando Calrissian."
"Hmm," she hummed noncommittally, still not entirely convinced. He did put up an air of elegance, wit, but anyone could do that. "Looked like he had quite the setup on Bespin."
"Won it in a game of cards."
"Sounds like an inflated rumor to me."
"Eh, I wouldn't put it past him. He's known for his get-rich-quick schemes- sometimes they even succeed."
Fennec glanced over the list of demands again. It wasn't entirely unreasonable, really- mostly he expected the same as she and Boba did from the place, though perhaps in fancier words. A good salary. Bubble baths. Nice clothes. "Judging by this list it almost seems like he's planning to move in long term."
"He said Cloud City would be just a brief con, too. Now his daughter's running the place in his stead."
"So he's loyal."
"It's complicated."
"And he demands high thread count sheets."
It was a droid who rolled up to him at midday with a HoloPad file of Fennec's advertising proposals. He'd expected the woman herself to bring it over, or maybe one of the palace attendants, but it seemed he had no such luck.
The remaining employees around the place all gave him a wide berth despite his attempts to introduce himself. He supposed they'd all know him soon enough, one way or another.
Lando made his way to his desk, brusquely wiping off the dust before opening the pad to read the first draft.
Give Us Your Body For A Day…
And We’ll Give You Back Your Mind..
Located in what was previously the Monastery of the B’omarr Order!
He had a lot of work ahead of him.
He'd seen the sauna already; apparently this was an improvement on its previous state. He agreed to leave that issue up to Fennec and Boba. It wasn't part of the contract, after all.
The public bath house was a beast of its own. Thankfully it possessed none of the famed green funk of which Boba Fett so disdainfully reminisced anytime he was quested to scrub yet another part of the palace. The improvement was minor, in his opinion.
One thing was obvious- the bath house was once elegant, refined, decorated with shiny patterned tiles, the halls interspersed with booths full of plush cushions and luxurious towelettes. It might've been stylish, once.
Now it was just a dusty court of empty tiled pits possessing an oddly stinging chemical smell to them. The dilapidated furniture was at least two decades out of style, much of it quite moldy, and one of the empty bathing pools was now inhabited by a chittering B'omarr monk's jar-pickled brain riding on mechanical spider legs.
He considered weeping, but figured he couldn't spare the moisture.
It was just his luck that this bizarre palace still held remnants of its previous forms- monastery turned fortress, turned cartel hub, now a spa.
Lando was loath to discover whatever lingered in the deepest levels of the subterranean complex. He made a mental note that they should hang up very clear signage, in multiple languages, discouraging guests from exploring beyond the bounds of the spa facilities.
He turned on his communicator. "I found another monk."
The device crackled and popped before Fennec replied; "Seriously? Still up and moving?"
As if it was trying to respond, the bizarre creature clawed uselessly at the tile walls.
"I think they're stuck. Why don't you come and set them free?"
"That's Boba work. I'll comm him, he'll handle it."
"I'm sure he'll be very grateful."
"He better be. I'm knee-deep in permits."
Lando warily backed away from that particular bath, trying to ignore the horrible sound of those metal claws scratching at the tile. "Just lie. This is Tatooine, nobody's going to double-check."
"And if they do?"
"They wouldn't risk their necks over datawork, I'm sure."
"Good point. I like your attitude, Calrissian."
He sighed and hung up, flipping to the second page of the supply list. This place was going to need a serious refresher.
Lyn Me trotted up to Fennec with a suspicious little grin on her face. "Here are Mr. Calrissian's edits."
She frowned. There'd been quite a bit of material in there. "So soon?"
Lyn Me shrugged. "He practically chased me around trying to give it to me, so I think he's rather invested."
Less work for her, she supposed, taking the HoloPad with a nod and a thank you before sitting on her bunk to read it. She trusted Boba’s instincts- he wouldn’t go to such lengths for a dead-end investment. So far Calrissian was surprisingly promising. Hopefully he’d continue to impress.
The device lit up to a page of blurbs she’d written, intercepted by notes in a glaring red font.
- Sanctuary at The Krayt’s Spa
Take refuge here. Leave your baggage at the door. Try our newly revamped sauna for the right kind of heat in the desert that will do your body good. Other spa services available include massage therapy, facials, wraps, scrubs, and nail/hair/horn/claw/tail care.
Everyone is welcome.
* No feuds in the spa.
* Limitations apply.
Limited forms of credit currencies accepted. Bartering and pawning available upon request.
Also available for rental: sports and sparring arenas. Coming soon: target practice range. [LC: ????? Why???]Rule violators will be ejected from the premises with extreme prejudice.
* See disclaimers on file with management. [LC: make more prominent]
Fair enough criticism. She swiped to the next page.
- Keep your cool in the hottest destination in the Outer Rim! [LC: Better.]
Are you looking for a place to get out and relax? If you're gooey, gunky, slimy or hairy, we'll get you squeaky clean no questions asked ! [ LC: Absolutely not .]
* Exclusions will apply. Facilities accommodating to most species.
* Krayt’s Spa is not liable for loss of limb or life on the premises. [ LC: You really know how to appeal to the masses. Thank the stars you've got me.]
Her comm lit up again, this time with Lando’s necessary supply list and budget, each roughly four pages long, with annotations, links, and contact information to certain builders and suppliers attached. At least someone around here knew how to run a business. At the end of the list he’d very subtly included a link to the particular replacement cape he wanted.
Fennec leaned back with her glass of spotchka and got to work.