The kids were in class—astrogation and starship systems, the Temple's version of "theoretical piloting."
Aavruun and Krawruuk sat where they always sat when a lesson got interesting: close enough to see the board, close enough to hear the droid's speakers without the room echo. The classroom smelled like polished stone and warm circuitry, with that faint clean bite the Temple air always carried. A rack of battered training remotes sat against one wall. A cutaway model of a hyperdrive motivator sat on a low table up front, half its casing removed so you could see the coils, couplers, and the scuffed mounting points where students had handled it a thousand times.
The twins were ecstatic. Ships meant starfighters, and starfighters meant you could point your nose at the sky and go.
It had been a few weeks since Anakin Skywalker showed up, and Aavruun had only seen him from a distance. He hadn't gotten the chance to know future space Hitler, and he felt fine about that. Anakin's time stayed split between whatever youngling blocks they still forced him to attend and his Master—Obi-Wan Kenobi—because he was the only hybrid in the whole place. Everyone else in their age range still sat in the normal pipeline: you got picked by a Jedi Master or Knight between ten and thirteen, then you moved on.
The instructor droid—tall teaching model, smooth faceplate, calm voice—tapped the front display with a pointer.
The droid said, "Today we're covering core components and what they actually do. Hyperdrive is the one you all ask about first, so we start there."
A schematic rotated in the air: realspace on one side, hyperspace lanes on the other, dotted with hazard markers and mass-shadow warnings.
The droid said, "A hyperdrive transitions a ship into hyperspace. The ship follows a calculated course—an astrogation solution—then exits back into realspace at a chosen point. The calculation matters because gravity wells and mass shadows affect safe entry and exit."
A few kids raised hands. A Nautolan asked about navicomputers. A tiny Rodian asked why smugglers treated routes like secrets. The droid answered in short, normal sentences and kept moving.
Aavruun listened, but his mind kept looping back to that Episode 8 moment—the one where Vice Admiral Holdo lined the Resistance flagship Raddus up on Snoke's Supremacy, punched the hyperspace jump, and the ship hit like a bright, silent blade. The screen had gone white for a beat, then the Supremacy split and the escort ships behind it came apart in a chain. It looked cool. It also broke its own rules.
The droid's sensor head turned. A soft tone sounded.
The droid said, "Aavruun. Your question."
Aavruun straightened on his cushion. His braids brushed his collar. He frowned, a low Shyriiwook rumble in his throat before he spoke.
Aavruun growled in Shyriiwook, "Is it possible to launch a ship at another ship or a planet?"
Everyone in the room was Force-sensitive, and everyone had been around the twins long enough to understand them. The droid understood all languages. The class still gave Aavruun a double look anyway, like, what did you just ask?
Aavruun kept going before the pause turned into a whole thing.
Aavruun growled in Shyriiwook, "If we made automated ships, or used a droid, couldn't we just hyperspace into our enemies? Keep good people safer. Take out the enemy."
Krawruuk snickered through their bond—quick amusement, and the same curiosity riding under it—then went quiet again.
The droid paused the rotating schematic. The room settled into the hum of the lights and the soft scrape of a chair leg as one kid shifted.
The droid said, "A good question, youngling. Your thoughts are Nobel. It is impossible."
A couple kids leaned forward.
The droid said, "Here is why, in plain terms."
The schematic zoomed in on a lane and a cluster of red hazard icons.
The droid said, "A hyperdrive requires a valid astrogation solution. A valid solution avoids mass shadows—gravity wells created by large bodies, and smaller mass concentrations that still disrupt entry and exit. If your plotted course intersects a mass shadow, the navicomputer cannot produce a solution that permits engagement. The hyperdrive's safety governors refuse the transition."
The droid tapped a highlighted block on the diagram labeled HYPERSPACE SAFETY INTERLOCKS.
The droid said, "These governors are hardwired. They exist because unsafe entry or unsafe exit tears ships apart."
A few kids made small noises at that. The droid kept its voice level.
The droid said, "Second point. While a ship is in hyperspace, it does not share realspace with targets that remain in realspace. Interaction requires the same frame. A ship in hyperspace cannot collide with a realspace object in the way you are proposing."
Aavruun kept his eyes on the faceplate, waiting for the final nail.
The droid said, "If a pilot or a droid attempted to 'aim' at a realspace mass and initiate a jump, one of two results occurs. The transition fails to initiate because the solution is invalid, or the ship drops back to realspace at the edge of the mass shadow at a safe distance. It exits early. It does not exit inside the target."
The pointer flicked, and the schematic showed an "early drop" marker well short of the highlighted hull silhouette.
The droid said, "So: ramming a ship into another ship or a planet via hyperspace is prevented by physics, navigation requirements, and hard safety interlocks. It cannot be done."
Aavruun nodded once.
In his head, Episode 8 stayed exactly what he'd always filed it as: bullshit. It broke its own fucking rules. So many things wrong with that movie. Fucking plot armor.
Aavruun hoped him being here would prevent all that bullshit in the future.
The class rolled on after that.
The droid brought the schematic back up and kept the pace steady, pointer tapping from label to label while it talked through what mattered to an actual pilot: navicomputer, motivator, reactor feed, power coupling, shield projectors, sublight drives. Kids asked normal kid questions—how fast, how far, what happens if you hit the wrong button—and the droid answered without getting cute about it.
Aavruun stayed locked in. The moment they got into hyperlanes and real travel time, his brain started mapping use cases. If you could fly, you could move. If you could move, you could choose fights, avoid fights, get people out, get yourself out. That mattered more than the shiny parts.
Toward the end of the block, the droid clicked to a new line on the lesson plan and a small icon popped on the board: SIMULATOR ROTATIONS — UPCOMING.
Aavruun's ears lifted a fraction. Simulators meant hands-on, finally. He kept his face flat anyway. He'd learned early that acting too excited made some instructors slow down and "manage expectations." He wanted the fastest path to the stick.
As the Temple got them older, the rules around what they could learn started loosening in a practical way. More access to basic mechanics. More access to computing. Still controlled, still filtered, still "approved," but it opened up.
Aavruun and Krawruuk made a decision the same way they made most decisions—brief check-in through the bond, then commit. They split their extra learning time on opposites because they could share experiences later. Aavruun took more computing. Krawruuk took more engineering. The basics, for now. They still spent something like eighty percent of their effort on getting stronger and sharper, because that was the core plan, but they wanted to understand the universe they were living in.
Aavruun kept it simple in his own head: strength came from the Force, sure, but you could complement it. Armor. Tools. Knowing how systems worked. Knowing how to fix a ship when it mattered. Knowing how to get into a computer when the right door stayed locked.
Caleb's old-life habits sat under the fur the same way they always did. Operators loved specialists. Aavruun liked being dangerous in more than one lane.