Even as the Knyghts reached out to the Force, seeking some sign of their foe,
things got worse.
Relatively little hyperspace traffic was making it into the Adrathorpe system, an understandable effect of the devastating emergence that had vomited so much cosmic debris and stellar instability into local space. All pilots had to be constantly checking their sensors, for any new hyperspace contact was likely to be another fragment of metal, rock, or ice slipping out into realspace at some dangerous and unstable trajectory... one that might well cross their own flight path, with potentially fatal results. But the next object to drop into the system wasn't some mindlessly destructive fragment of a dead planet. It was another souped-up X-Wing.
And it was piloted by another being who glowed brightly with the light of the Force.
Telemachus ground his teeth. This was getting out of hand; now there were two of them! It was proving difficult enough to swat
one of these Alliance aces. His only consolation was that every moment Sacrior Squadron distracted these highly skilled pilots and their lethal craft was a moment they couldn't be unleashing their arsenals on Mawite capital ships. The goal of every warrior of the Brotherhood was to serve the divine plan of the Avatars, and if that meant dying in battle to ensure that more important elements of the Dark Gods' forces survived, such was their purpose. Still, he railed against the helplessness he felt against these foes.
He was meant to be
elite, not to be chewed up like cannon fodder!
Before Telemachus could fully react to the new X-Wing's arrival, the first ship reappeared... and it bore deadly gifts. As the Jedi Ace came in behind one Divine Eagle, shredding its engines and bursting it in a hail of space debris before its pilot could so much as turn to face him, he also launched a missile. And it was no ordinary missile. Telemacus saw the way it wove through space, making rapid course adjustments whenever its target moved even slightly. It followed the Divine Eagle it'd been launched at as though it were a living thing, a sleek hunter pursuing a prey animal through the shadowed forest of open void. More of that advanced tech.
But technology was insignificant compared to the power of the Force.
"Keep the pressure on him," Telemachus ordered.
"Don't let him link up with his friend." The remaining Divine Eagles - except the one frantically fleeing the missile - closed in toward
Zaka
once more, converging to force him away from the newly-arrived X-Wing. In the meantime, Telemachus shut his eyes, letting his cybernetic implants make what minor course adjustments were necessary to keep him from crashing. He did nothing else with his ship for now. Instead he reached out with the Living Force, seeking, grasping... until he found the cold metal of the incoming missile, so precisely targeted, seconds from blowing up another Divine Eagle.
With an invisible hand, he
seized it. It fought him, bucking hard, re-targeting constantly...
... but if all went well, it would be too late. With a great effort of will, blood streaming from his nose and running freely down his flight suit, Telemachus dragged it onto a straight course guided by his own iron hand. The
brilliant missile's maneuvering thrusters - and onboard droid brain - kept trying to guide it back toward the Divine Eagle it'd been chasing, but he overrode them, no matter how taxing it became. Instead, he sent it to thread the needle of debris, its main engine still flaring as it tried to seek its target. He guided it right toward the newly-arrived X-Wing of
Okkeus Dainlei
, trying to blow up the Jedi Ace with his friend's own missile.
A brutal "gift" to welcome him to the carnage above Adrathorpe.