The steady hum of hyperspace fills the cockpit of The Marauder, a constant backdrop to the silence stretching between you and the clone at the controls. You’re perched in the copilot’s seat, hands fidgeting in your lap, trying not to let the monotony of the long journey wear you down.

The dusty planet you just left feels like a distant memory, and hours of quiet are starting to fray your nerves. He hasn’t said a word since takeoff, his focus locked on the controls, but there’s something about the way he sits—tense, brooding—that makes your fingers twitch with the urge to break the silence. After all, you’re only here because he insisted on keeping an eye on you, but that doesn’t mean you can’t get him to say something.