A faint curse escaped the man's lips when a faint static shock shook through his hand, the Concordian waving it up and down to shake it out and away before he continued his work on the harvest droid. Waylon waited just behind his father, crouched down in a similar manner to the older man as he tinkered away at the droid, glancing once toward their landspeeder before back to Maynard. He cursed again with another shock, too stubborn to get someone else better at the task to do it for him. For all the heights he'd reached in policing Concord Dawn as its de-facto ruler for some years, he relished in completing simple tasks like this, as rather inconsequential as they were, or as simple as it was to dispense accountability for them to either of his twin sons, what with his daughters having since marooned from the world.
He was initially furious with them up and running away but had since relaxed his stance. He knew at some point they'd want to sprout wings and flutter off, make lives of themselves away from the homestead.
He just wished they didn't steal his lightsaber.
As much as Maynard thought to build the dream here, he knew just as well the call of the Galaxy was strong, as much as he'd seen the deepest, darkest underbelly of it, it made him into the man he was now, it gave him Loske and everything else he had here. Until then, he maligned this place as much as they did.
He could tell his boys wanted to make way down a similar path, they were getting antsy, questioning more and more about where their sisters could be and what they could be doing.
"Still just gonna keep shocking yourself or do you want me to take over?" Waylon asked, lofting a brow to his father who shook his head.
"I'll get it eventually- it usually isn't this-" And with a final crank, the harvester droid powered back to life, Maynard pulling himself up from the hatch, closing it before he dusted his hands off and tossed Waylon the tool bag.
"See- toss that in the back, would ya? We got a couple more to check and then..." He said, mouth agape slightly as he saw the arrival of the Imperials. The scorched earth beneath their arrival and the fires that tread in the wake of their path.
"Wh-what are they doing here? I thought-" Waylon began to speak before Maynard hopped over the hood of the landspeeder to get into the driver's side.
"Get in, come on. Get the commlink up, get your mother on." He said before he flicked the various control panel switches of the landspeeder to life, grasping the control yoke before twisting it in the direction of the main homestead. Sentry drones were already flying overhead as he doubled back across the sprawling fields of grain, raking through them with the mass of the landspeeder easily cutting through them.
Waylon was working the commlink on the dashboard, tuning into the homestead's channel only to find static.
"They're- they're jamming...they're fucking jamming!" Waylon said, desperately fumbling with the device.
"We're almost over there, what about Waylon?" He asked, nudging for his son to switch the channel of the commlink.
"He's on shift today, with the Protectors." They both worked to fill in gaps in the nearby patrol schedule. Crime wasn't often beyond low life criminals they'd string up. It was a good, low risk way for his boys to get experience.
Soon enough, he had eye sight of Loske, Djorn. He parked the landspeeder behind one of the storage units on the homestead. He turned to Vyrin, pulling the scoped rifle from the storage trunk of the landspeeder and tossed it his way. "Watch my back, any of those imp beeline it for me or your mother don't fuckin' hestitate, you understand?" He asked, making his way to the homestead proper as he unclasped the holster of his blaster rifle, glancing over his shoulder for affirmation.
He made his way toward them in a brisk pace, his teeth grinding against one another in some aggravation. He glanced over his shoulder again to see Vyrin posting up atop the storage unit, aiming down the scope of his rifle as he braced it up against the durasteel vent of the structure, scanning for nearby targets as Maynard walked toward the figure opposite of Loske.
His eyes narrowed as he recognized him.
"Djooooorn- Bline." He said, grasping the pistol belt as his hip as he eyed the man up and down. He knew well that Bline loathed in seeing Treicolt again.
"I'm sure it was me you were missing, huh?" He asked to the man, crossing his arms over his chest.
"What business do you and your men have here? Other than causing needless trouble? Last I heard us and yours were on decent enough terms, able to talk at least...and now here you are burning up all that good will. Among other things...for what?" He asked outright, some bitterness seeping into his tone.