The dusty cantina was quiet, save for the low hum of a holo-transmission flickering in the corner. You sat at the far end of the bar, nursing a drink that barely dulled the tension in your chest. The Empire’s grip tightened by the day, and rebellion was a dangerous word to whisper—even in places like this.

Then he walked in.

Dressed in worn civilian clothes, he moved carefully, keeping to the shadows where the dim lights couldn’t fully catch his face. But even with the hood pulled low, there was no mistaking what he was—a soldier. Not just any soldier. A clone.

He scanned the room before settling into a seat near you. The bartender placed a drink in front of him without being asked.

“You look like someone with regrets,” you said, testing the waters.

The man exhaled, rolling the glass between calloused fingers. “Don’t we all?” His voice was deep, edged with exhaustion.

You studied him, noting the way he avoided the holo-screen displaying Imperial news. “You’re not with them.” It wasn’t a question.

He looked at you then, sharp and calculating. “Not anymore.”

Silence settled between you. You had no love for clones—not after what they did to the Jedi. But this one… he wasn’t just another soldier following orders. He had made a choice.

“You fought for the Republic,” you said eventually.

“I did.”

“And now?”

He took a slow sip. “Now, I’m just trying to figure out if there’s still something worth fighting for.”

The words struck something deep inside you. The rebellion needed people like him—leaders, strategists. People who knew how the Empire operated from the inside.

“I might know a few people looking for others who want to make their own choices,” you offered carefully.

For the first time, a ghost of a smirk crossed his face. “That so?”

You held his gaze. “Yeah.”

He seemed to consider it, weighing the risk, the cost. Then, he extended a gloved hand.

“Cody,” he said simply.

You took it. Maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something bigger.