"I think they are. Their squad leader here, Bannerjee, is a reasonable man." Chatt shrugged. "It's easy to get them killed, Ahmina. Harder to keep them alive."
They finally reached the cave where the smugglers were held. There was a commotion, but Chatt's reputation was such that they didn't challenge him approaching the two dozen men sitting at the far end. One of them rose. He was a rare kind: stocky, but not water-fat, a hybrid of adjusting to the necessities of Dune while maintaining privileges of offworld supplies. His eyes were tinged with blue slightly, a sign he'd been there long enough.
"I won't speak out of order, Fremen. Tell us what you want from us and perhaps we can finally come to some settlement."