The next day, Jassin refitted his squad and recruited four new men, bringing his squad up to eight men. Not a formidable force, but strong enough for the task ahead of them. The newly recruited men were named Jobe Mayde, Quill Mayde, Sindre Hind and Loback Lowhill.
"Stand at attention!" Jassin yelled to his men, both new and old. Trace stood at the edge of the line alongside me. He was off the painkillers now and he was pale as a sheet. His rifle was slung over his shoulder and he had stolen an imperial chestplate and painted it black. The Hillbillies managed to stand in a straight line at least. "We have been given new orders, and those orders are that whatever I say goes! We are to take the fight to the enemy. We are to dig in at a strategic location north of here by the Pentastar garrison and give them a run for their money. I have chosen you men," he said, spinning around on the spot so he was looking directly at the line of men newly recruited from Hillbilly-batallion, "because I think you might amount to something one day. From this moment and forwards, there will be no Hillbilly-batallion anymore. You are recruits and members of Squad Three." I could actually hear the little blighters grin. "You have three hours to say goodbye to loved ones and pack equipment and food for the march. We will be in the field for an unknown period of time. We have also been given free use of captured war-material, including armour. Just don't use the whole thing and please, repaint them. The white armour sticks out wherever you put it. Dismissed."
"Yes sir!" The Hillbillies said in unison, but Jassin did not care and just walked away to our tent to get some rest. He already had all the gear he could want. As the others dispersed, I jogged after Jassin and patted him on the back. "What is it? I'm tired."
"Of course you are." I replied. "Two things sir. First: We could weaponize your smell and drop it over the enemy to win this thing. And two: What shall we do with Melia?" I asked, cutting straight to the point.
"Take her with us." Jassin answered, sounding as if that was the only logical course of action. "She is your bloody responsibility. I thought I made that clear to both you and Shaz." He had of course.
"Won't she be a liability in the field?" I asked, trying to find a way to leave her in camp. She would be an extra mouth to feed and an extra person to watch. Jassin sighed heavily.
"The way I see this, you have three choices." He said and brought up three fingers on his left hand. He placed his right thumb on the first finger. "One: You have to shoot her in the neck." He moved his thumb to the right and opened his mouth again. "Two: You have to hand her over to Cael and his brutes, losing your right to her as spoils of war." He moved his hand over to the last finger. "Or three: Accept the bloody responsibility and drag her into the field with you. Turn her into a Mandalorian or die trying." He answered. "Now, I do not want to be disturbed until at least half an hour before we leave. Get a shower yourself, and shut up and get ready." Jassin barked, ending the conversation.
"Will do!" I said and spun around on the spot to find Shaz supporting Trace as he sat down on a crate. "You okay there Trace?" I asked and laid a hand on his shoulder. He did not even look up. His eyes were entirely focused on something on the ground and he did not relax before he sat down.
"No." He answered. "Won't be able to carry my gear."
"We'll carry it for you then." Shaz said, stroking his other arm. Trace shook his head. "I can't come."
"Of course you can." I said, "Don't disgrace your clan." I said. It was a dirty move, earning me angry looks from Shaz and Calo.
"Di'kut." Calo mouthed at me. It could have been worse. Trace shook his head violently as if to clear it out.
"We need someone to watch over Melia." I said. "We're bringing her along." I said.
"The trooper?" He asked, finally looking up.
"We split your gear between the four of us, and there will be no problem. You have plenty of kills to make." Shaz said, presenting a very ugly, but reassuring smile. Trace seemed to take heart and nodded.
"I'll do it." He said, returning the smile, somehow making it look uglier than Shaz had. We all gave him a pat on the shoulder or a friendly slap on the back of the head. "You go get ready." he said. "I'll watch her." He went on and nodded towards Melia. We all went separate ways, I prioritized getting a new armour while Shaz reorganized his backpack to fit more ammo. Calo went to find Jelan and learn how to find food that would not kill us. All the corpses had been buried by the Pentarstar troops. All their equipment had been stripped and sorted inside the warehouse. I walked up there, joined a gunner from Squad One on the way up to the warehouse as well. He was going to get some food so we parted ways when we were inside the first gate. He went to the ship, I went through the now open door into the warehouse itself. Instead of following the main corridor inwards, I immediately turned left and came to a series of smaller storages, originally designed for spare parts for ships, droids and larger machinery. The storage for ship parts was where I wanted to go. That spare parts had been moved to the 'larger machinery' section, and was replaced with rows upon rows of white Pentastar armour and E-11 blaster rifles and the odd handblaster, taken from an officer's corpse. I knew there was paint for camouflage on board the captured ship.
"Haven't they given her a name yet?" I asked myself as I searched the rows for armour for my upper body and arms. I passed the 'bucket'-row, not even thinking about sticking my head into their helmets. It would have been an insult to my Mandalorian heritage. It took me a few minutes, but I managed to find a suitable set, and headed to the ship. On the landing pad I was met by a familiar sight.
"Hey man!" Braelor said whilst oiling the hydraulics for the ramp. "What can I do for you today?" it had been almost a day since we last saw each other.
"Camo paint. Don't want to be mistaken for a Pentastar trooper."
"That would be bad." Braelor agreed. "It's inn the cargo hold." He said as I passed him.
"Thanks!"
"Up for a game later?"
"Yeah!" I replied while walking down the hallways to the cargo hold. To call the substance we used paint was an insult to real paint. It was more like a goo for smearing. It came in different shades of green, brown and grey. I went with brown and grey this time and smeared it onto the plates. It stunk like hell for the first ten minutes. Then you got used to it. After ten more minutes the world would have to adjust with you or die trying. When it dried up however, it was odourless. Still tasted like shit though. I spent fifteen good minutes making sure I had covered every inch of the armour.
"I smell you all the way out here!" Braelor shouted at one point, but I simply ignored him. I was nearly done anyway. When I put the armour back on and walked out to me, he gave me an approving look and said "It is like talking to a floating head." He kicked out three crates from underneath the ramp and sat down on one of them. "I'll beat you today."
"Not a hutt's chance on Dxun." I said with a grin. Yesterday I had ended up thrashing him. "Still Republic Senate Rules?" I asked, and Braelor smirked. He was very lively today. The arrival of The Restoration had affected him as well. Morale had rose by miles after the guys learned that Mandalore himself was watching us from the heavens.
"Don't worry Erdal, I'll let you keep your armour on today." He replied with a wink and drew his side-deck. On hand I drew -4, +2, -1 and +3. "You draw first." He said and I took his offer, drawing a 7. He laid out a one, while I drew a niner, placing me at 16. I did not stand, and drew a bloody eight. Spending the -4 card, I landed on 20 again, but the crewman had luck on his side and kept drawing until he too landed at 20 without using a single card from his side deck. He grinned as we tied the set and I shuffled the cards. The next set started with me drawing a 2. The sets passed quickly and Braelor won all the sets in a row.
"Care to go again?" I asked, knowing I had some time to spare before heading out.
"Sure." And the cards were dealt again. I drew two niners from the main deck and played a +2 card from my hand. Braelor kept drawing cards until it bit him in the arse and he landed squarely at 25. The first set was mine. We tied the next round, me having spent a card from the side deck again was down to two cards. He claimed the next set, and I the one after that. In the fourth set however, I decided to stand on 18 and lost the set. The next set would be sudden death. Braelor had luck on his side again, and I swore loudly as he landed on twenty. I landed solidly on 23, but spent a -3 card I had on hand, making the set a tie. Sudden death came again and we both stared intensely as the first card was drawn. At the end of the set, I was cardless and landed on 25. Cursing again, I kicked the crate. Braelor grinned. "Not your day it seems."
"Guess not." I replied. "But you know what they say. Bad luck in cards..." And I winked at him.
"If you find a girl on this rockball who is willing to have a good time with someone as ugly you, give me a call. I want to film it to prove that gods exist." I reached across the crates and slapped him on the head while we both laughed. It was a simple, but entertaining insult.
"While we're on the subject of ugly things." I said as he shuffled the cards. "Have you guys in Squad Four been given new orders?" He pointed at the deck and I gave him thumbs up. We drew new cards and talked as we played a new round.
"Seems like we're supposed to pick stuff up from the other villages. Work begins later today it seems." He said, and I watched with glee as the cards turned against him, landing him on 28. The cards were dealt anew. "What about you guys?"
"We're going to march and show the Pentastar troops the most efficient way to kill Pentastar troops." Braelor looked up with shock on his face.
"Weren't you guys decimated? How many men do you have?"
"New recruits from Hillbilly-batallion." I said, starting the new round. It did not fare well for him this time either. "We have a grand total of eight men standing, and we're going to take on a force that could muster up to five hundred angry Pentastar troopers."
"Someone's gone all 'Neo Crusader'." Braelor said, surprising me a little. Most of us had been watching holovids about our clan and its part in the Mandalorian wars. Few paid attention and Braelor had never struck me as one of those. I was about to reply when Braelor raised his left eyebrow and started looking too much like a question-mark for me to feel comfortable. The cards dealt him a stinging blow and I won my second set.
"What do you mean?" I asked and drew the first card. A sixer was revealed and Braelor got his normal facial expression back.
"Seems like I might have overheard some chatter between our leaders then." He said, drawing a card from the main deck, a tenner. "I was monitoring the channels, looking for some Pentastar chatter when I stumbled upon a frequency in use." He paused and watched as I drew a four. "They mentioned a problematic Mandalorian and I knew at once that they were among our own. I could not recognize the voices, but they talked, with great sarcasm mind you, about a guy possessed by the 'Neo-Crusader Spirit'." He said and drew a sixer and threw on a +4, making him smile as he landed on twenty. "None of the talk was polite. They said they hoped he got shot." My eyes shot open.
"Who were these guys?" I asked, drawing card like mad, but in the end I lost the set.
"Couldn't tell you if I tried."
"Recorded it?"
"Not a chance." Braelor answered and drew the first card, a solid one. My luck was much better, and seven seconds later, I won the set and the game. "Fits your officer very well though, doesn't it?" he asked, shuffling the cards again, but he put them away. He leaned forward and looked me straight into the eyes. "I find it... 'Discomforting'... If our leaders are fighting amongst themselves."
"I agree." I replied.
"Should we tell daddy Mandalore?" He asked with a low voice. If you asked me, that would be shooting birds with a turbolaser.
"I think not." I replied after some quick thinking. Nothing good could come from it after all. "I suggest we ride the waves until the situation stabilizes. Could you do me a favour though?" I asked, leaning back from him. Braelor nodded while looking nervously about. "If you hear this 'chatter' again, tell me directly and record it."
"No prob." Braelor said, crossing his arms. "I'll even throw in a recording as a bonus." He said.
"For the clan?" I asked with half a grin on my face. He returned it and nodded.
"For the clan." He said and an awkward silence ensued where we just measured one another. I noticed that he was armed. It was not easily spotted, but inside his thin jacket, her had a small holdout blaster. "Well... I have shit to do." He said and rose to his feet. "Get washed up and get food. If I hear anything, I'll contact you on C-09."
"Got it. Have fun doing transport duty!" I said and left him there alone. Did Jassin need to know about this? Probably not I reasoned. He already had a lot on his plate and he had slept poorly. The last thing he needed to know was that someone in our own ranks had it out for him. "Indeed." I thought to myself and walked through the gate and past the goons of Squad One. The village had come to life and there were civilians in the streets. They were all poorly dressed farmers and they shied away as if I carried some deadly disease. I had been treated that way before of course so it did not matter much to me. At the well, I stripped down to my undergarments and poured bucket after bucket over me, turning a few eyes at the sudden display of skin.
"Cover yourself up!" One of the guys from Hillbilly-batallion shouted and laughed as they passed. "You'll scare our wives away." I did not grace them with a reply and simple laughed as I threw the sixth bucket of cold water over my head. I found that it cleared my head, a lot more than a slap in the face. I took good care to rub myself everywhere, making sure I did not smell, and that I was as clean as possible. One of the worst things anyone could be if they were in the field for a long time was dirty. A dirty body was a good place for bacteria to grow, making infections easier to come by. That was why some of the worst things a Mandalorian could be called was dirty or filthy. The words lazy also followed closly, both in degrees of insult and as a natural follow up. The trademark of a good Mandalorian camp was a clean and efficient camp. Now that I was thinking about it, I was unsure whether I had insulted Jassin too much by discussing the possibility of weaponizing his smell. There was no need to apologize to the man. He would just sleep it off anyhow. I smelled myself and put the bucket down for the last time. I sat there by the well for a little while, letting the sun dry me. The amount of farmers dwindled as they walked back to their fields after having eaten lunch. They were not dirty at all.
"Perhaps they're herdsmen." I thought, but I had not seen any barns. Or perhaps they had mechanized their fields with droids, and only had to do maintenance on them. It would be an answer to why they had at leas three different storages for droid parts. I put my comlink back into my ear, to see if anyone was chatting. The open channels were all quiet like I had expected them to be. It was about an hour left before we were to leave for the new battlefield. Then I remembered I still had Melia to take care of. I brushed the last drops of water off me and put my armour back on. It was odd to be wearing Pentastar armour. My Mandalorian armour fit a lot better, but then again, I had spent hours pouring over that armour, getting to know it better than the back of my hand, and modifying it to compliment my combat-style. I could even add some extra plates in a matter of seconds by clicking them onto a few simple mechanisms I had installed. The ability to turn into a walking tank had saved my life once, when I fought in the Virgillian Civil War. The aristocracy had paid well, and it was their money that had funded several upgrades on my armour. Now however, it was stored safely aboard The Restoration. I laid my rifle over my shoulder as I marched through town and into our camp. Trace had nodded off, but Melia was still awake and secured.
"Hello trooper." I said, and squatted down next to her.
"My arms are stiff." She said, not even looking at me.
"Well, you will be allowed to take a small walk soon." I said, and reached into my pocket, fishing out an old-fashioned key. Her eyes widened, and I reached her and unlocked the cuffs. "Now, I will trust you, just a little bit."
"Why?" She asked, slowly bringing her hands in front of her. I took a step back and trained my rifle on her.
"Because Trace here is wounded, and he is going on the little walk too."
"You want me to carry his gear?"
"That is only part of the reason." I said, turning the safety off. "We're going to see your buddies, and I am not allowed to leave you behind here with mine."
"So I am basically just a lifter droid?" She asked.
"Put politely, yes." I replied. "Get up." She obeyed.
"Yes sir." She said, making a mock salute. Pain flashed across her face at the sudden movement, and she dropped the salute.
"My name is Erdal Tussick. My friend who was with me when I captured you was Shaz. You know Trace and Jassin." She nodded. "Have you been on long marches?"
"A few times." She answered. "In full combat-gear too."
"Cute." I replied, and picked up Trace's bag. It was empty. Shaz and Calo had already taken their pick of gear to carry. "You will carry food and water. Nothing more. You know where to find it, correct?" We still had crates of food left over down here that we still had not moved. She nodded. "Good. Now get to. Any sudden moves and I will have to carry your load."
"Understood." She said.
"Ladies first." I said, and let her guide me to the food-stations the Pentastar troops had installed. The kitchen had been scavenged on the first day and moved elsewhere. The food however, remained. I watched in silence as she popped open crates and pulled out cans of food. Mostly fruits and fish I noted, but did not complain. She stuffed bags of water between the cans.
"How long are packing for?" She asked.
"I have no idea." I answered truthfully.
"Do you have any idea what you are taking on?" She asked, when she was done packing the bag. She would be carrying food for over a week in the field. Five if we rationed it right.
"We have a certain idea." I answered. "We'll be marching in less than an hour. If you want to clean yourself or something, now is the time."
"And you'll be watching?" She asked as we made our way back to Trace, who was still asleep, sitting on his crate, leaning against a wall.
"And I'll be watching. I'll be respectful and give you a curtain or something, but you will never leave my sights." I told her. She did not answer me, and slumped the bag down next to Trace. He did not even open his eyes. "Did they give him painkillers?"
"Yes they did. Strong ones." She answered. They would have had to. His wound was far from healed.
"How is your wound?" I asked, gesturing towards her old spot on the ground.
"May I sit here?" She asked, pointing towards an empty crate labelled "E-WEB-GENERATOR". There were crates everywhere. I nodded. "Medic Drex Kroan is good at his work." She answered. "I mean, it is not healed, but I can carry your shit for a few miles."
"Sounds good." I replied.
"And I want that shower please." She said. "I believe there is a female locker-room in the warehouse." She said.
"There is a locker-room alright." I replied. As far as I knew, there was only one, but there were showers there. "I'll take you, but don't spend too long in there. We are marching out in less than an hour." We walked up there in a quick pace. It took some explaining to the pilots about what I was doing to get her into the warehouse. One of the pilots gave us a dry towel. Melia had to give him a nice smile for it. We found the lockers, and I stood guard over her armour as she took a warm shower.
"Do you have any soap?" She asked as steam slowly filled the room in spite of the ventilation system's best attempts to keep the room clear.
"We don't have time or soap." I answered her, holding my rifle aimed at her. She was behind a rockrete wall, but it was too thin to protect her for more than one second.
"Don't complain if I smell then." She replied curtly.
"Just be thorough!" I replied, trying to guess the time. "If we're late, I'll personally make you carry my ammo as well."
"I have no doubts about that." She said, turning the hot water off for a few seconds. I thought she was done and reached for her towel, but she turned the water on again. "No soap?"
"No soap!"
Indeed, we were not late. A sleepy Jassin on the other hand, was indeed very late. No less than ten minutes too late did he come charging out of his tent like an angry zakkeg and twice as deadly.
"We march in half an hour!" He shouted, all red in the face as he charged into the forest in nothing but his underwear and blaster-belt. When he came back ten minutes later, he was soaking wet. "Go polish your guns or something!" He shouted, charging back into the tent. He managed to make more sound packing than an overheating and exploding E-WEB. He did however, break all current records at fastest bag-packing. When he finally emerged from his tent, he was fully dressed in armour and he held a devilish pace. "We move!"
Ten Kilometres west of Velyme
The trees passed in a blur as Sai's Squad Two passed through the wood at the highest speed possible. It was not particularly fast. Sai'alor was not pleased in the slightest. They had kept an almost constant speed of twelve kilometres an hour, and they were just about halfway to their target.
"What is the name of the village?" He asked his squad over the comlink. They all knew of course, but he liked to check. The answer cam simultaneously four different voices.
"Santer!"
"Good boys!" He said back. "Everyone remembers the rules of engagement?"
"Don't shoot to kill. We're here to make friends." They all said, echoing his own words.
"Unless?"
"Unless we see Pentastar bucketheads."
"Good boys! I may have to throw you a snack when we reach Santer after all." They were still an hour from their target, and the it was not even midday yet. Sai had done plenty of recruitment runs before, but not quite like this one. During the Virgillian Civili War, he had found lots of people wiling to fight against the aristocratic dictatorship. Having the Rebellion's support also helped of course. Now however, he only had farmers to work with. The people of Velyme had not been mistreated by the Alignment. Not badly enough to warrant an insurrection anyway. Sai had to fan a flame where there were only half-cold embers left to work with. The people of the planet were just farmers and hunters. Few of them ever ventured off Magloran and fewer still had the interest of doing so. Luckily, there were plenty of villages to draw recruits from. They just had to get their first, and then others would follow. It was the same thing as running a store. Getting your first customer however, was hard. Another hour flew by before the Mandalorians raced through orchards and farmed fields, turning heads wherever they went. They delivered a message to everyone they saw: "Go to the market at six o'clock." Everyone obeyed, but many came carrying weapons. No Pentastar troops came to the meeting either, which was a solid bonus.
"I guess it is showtime Sai'alor." his lieutenant Kennon Mort said, giving his leader a solid nod.
"It is indeed." Sai said, and placed his one foot onto his speeder and hoisted himself up on it so he was at least half a metre higher than everyone else. As he looked over the population of Santer, he did his best not to groan with frustration. It was all he feared. Stupid and happy farmers with no reason to leave their homes. "Good people of Santer!" He said, falling back on the recruitment-speeches he had used earlier in his career. "I have come here to unite you against an enemy we may share." Some people murmured, nodding amongst themselves. At least the men with weapons were clustered together. None of them wore military weapons or armour of any kind. Controlled bursts would have them killed if they chose to fight instead. "The Pentastar Alignment. We have already liberated Velyme, and we came here. Not to force you to join us, but to ask you of your own free will! Nine men were to be conscripted from Velyme to the armies of Grand Moff Ardus Kaine! To serve his purpose." Sai paused to let the echo of his booming voice die down. "You may ask yourselves: How are these bandits any different?" A short pause again to let them think. "The answer is simple. We have not come to liberate you. We will never liberate you, not now, not ever. We have come here so that you may liberate yourselves! Those nine men now serve us as soldiers on the front line of their own free will." Sai paused again, letting the message sink in. The people were talking in quiet voices amongst themselves.
"What about taxes!?" an older man yelled in a very thick accent. Sai could barely make out his words, but the answer was simple.
"We will want very little from you! Our armies can feed themselves and we buy our weapons and armour elsewhere. How much does the Pentastar Alignment take from you?"
"Half our crops!" The same old man yelled, and Sai could barely make out his words this time around too. Sai was proud of his fake laugh. It was convincing and useful. Especially in situations like this one. His laughter danced back and forth between the houses.
"We only ask that you give us one tenth. As we grow stronger, even less than that!" Sai had agreed upon these numbers with Mandalore himself. "We do not want to fight against you, but alongside you! Our fighters bring back spoils of war! Send your men with us and they can bring their own spoils back as well." Sai lied. After the recruits were done with basic training and war, only the fewest would return to their village. Once they were fully inside the Mando'a spirit, the fewest would return. "If anyone wants to join us, come talk to me." Sai said, and stepped down from the speeder.
"Good one sir." Lieutenant Karaz said and they all clicked the safety off their rifles. If shots were to be fired, the time was now. The Mandalorians watched as the crowd dispersed in peace. Only a couple of youngsters and a drunkard remained. Karaz checked his chrono. "A quarter to seven sir."
"I know." Sai replied. "If no one shows, we'll leave." And just as those words exited his mouth, one of his men named Caleb Roth pointed over his shoulder. "And what can we help you with son?" Sai said and turned around. What met him was possibly the sorriest sight a warrior ever saw. Sai first noticed the weapon. It was a seriously old laser rifle, one fed with small shells containing enough energy for one shot and the rifle only had a chamber. No magazine. The young man carrying it looked like he could use a lot more food than he was receiving. His bones were clearly visible along his body, and he was eating a piece of stinking dried fish. His dark hair was long and he kept it tied up in a horsetail.
"I want to come with you." The young man said. He was probably still a teen. "You need men to fight and I have a life throw away."
"Indeed you have young man." Sai said and laid a heavy hand on his shoulder. "Caleb! Give this man some of your rations. Our new brother looks hungry." The man's eyes widened as two protein-bars were dropped into his open hand. In between the mouthfuls, he said that his name was Shrewd. No last name. As soon as the bony boy looked away, they shook their heads. "Bloody hell." Sai thought, and as he turned to the market, an entire group was headed towards them. These were better armed and in better shapes. "Hunters." Sai concluded by the look of them. "And you boys are?"
"Melden Sang, Kim Sang, Saul Hillcrest and Boul Hunter." Their glorious leader said, pointing to his friends one by one. They were all equally ugly, strong and in rough shapes. Their weapons were cheap and old. They had probably passed in the families for generations. "And I am Sill Uphill." The leader said, pointing his thumb to himself.
"You interested in joining us?" Sai asked, holding a firm grip on his rifle and turning on the full-auto mode as discreetly as possible.
"If I get to kill Pentastar bastards." Sill said, patting his rifle. All the Mandalorians heard the clicking of loose parts. In his mind, Sai marked him down for extra technical training.
"That you will." Sai answered with a grin. The recruitment was going well. They would part the chaff from the wheat later. A live-fire exercise usually did the trick. "Mort. Call for Squad Four. Tell them we have people to pick up, and tell them to bring more speeders. We'll need them." He said, and Mort followed his order. Other groups were moving in to talk to Sai and his men. "Caleb, deal with the drunkard." He said and pushed the man to talk to the wobbling drunkard. Or at least Sai thought he was headed for them. He was not sure. The man seemed to suddenly veer off in an entirely different direction before turning back to them just as suddenly. Caleb reached the man, stopped him and started talking, just as the first group met Sai and they started talking. By the end of the day, they had gained some new men, and some had decided that the fight was not meant for them. All in all they stood with twenty men and women wanting to strike against the Pentastar Alignment. "Have they named the bird yet?" Sai asked as the Mandalorians reconvened at the centre of their herd. "They really should."
"The Fourth Son." Mort answered. "Of course they would name it after themselves."
"Of course." Sai agreed.
"ETA six minutes" The Fourth Son came swooping in from the east, landing on the outskirts of town.
"I heard you wanted a lift!" Braelor said through the secure channels as he let down the ramp. All of Squad Four and half of Squad One. They needed the extra guns. Just because the new guys signed up did not mean they were cleared of all suspicions. They would be flown to the second village to help with the recruitment there.
"Indeed we do." Sai answered, dragging his speeder behind him. The cargo-hold would be full of new recruits.
"How many?" Braelor asked.
"Round twenty."
"Ooooh." Braelor replied. "I'm not sure we can hold much more than that. May I suggest something Sai'alor?"
"Go ahead pilot." Sai said as they passed the last houses and entered onto an empty grazing-field where The Fourth Son was parked. Second Squad had marched out onto the field and awaited the new recruits with stern looks on their faces.
"We take these guys back to Velyme and start their training. You keep one or two of them for display, and ride on to the next village. We pick you guys up there tomorrow." Braelor suggested.
"Agreed." Sai said. There was nothing to think about. Really. "Unload the speeders and I'll find the guys I want."
"Understood. Braelor out." The pilot replied and passed the orders on. As the recruits were herded into the cargo-hold Sai picked out the two men he wanted to bring with him: Sill Uphill and Boul Hunter. They were prime examples of the men they could expect to get. They would just slap a Mando'a-sticker on them before the new meeting tomorrow and show them off. Two speeders were brought out, and the new recruits put on them. As The Fourth Son took off and flew towards the eastern horizon, Squad Two drove towards the next village to the south-west.