Turret? Turret, right! That was doable. 

Swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat, Aria took his reassurances on board and jerked her head in a nod, bolting through the hatch to the turret station. She had just settled into the high-backed seat when Neta screeched at her:
"THEY'VE GOT DUSTMAKERS! ARIA, BLAST THOSE SONS OF WHORES OUT OF THE SKY!" Oh, crap. The blips had just begun to appear on the little radar dial as the pilot spoke, Aria letting out another breath as she grasped hold of the trigger and yanked it back into the ready position. The Dustmaker engines squealed as they gained on the ship rapidly, Aria lined up the crosshairs of the turret's viewfinder, thumb poised on the button. Dustmakers were fast and deadly, but taking them out was easy if you knew how they worked. Their shielding systems were garbage, if you could hit the fuel tank or an engine before their torpedo turrets were properly armed, the things were toast. There were six of them, fanned out in attack formation and gaining rapidly. 
"Whatever you're going to do JUST DO IT because these jackasses are RIGHT UP OUR EXHAUST PIPE!" Aria screamed back at them, squeezing the trigger and letting loose a barrage of quadlaser fire on the fighters as they tried to converge on the fleeing spacecraft. The first Dustmaker went screaming back down towards the planet in a thick cloud of black smoke and fire, careening into the next nearest one and knocking it off course in the process. 

The two downed fighters ruined the formation for the other four as the pilots were forced into barrel rolls and/or corkscrews to avoid the flying engine parts from their downed squadmates. Hyperspace in twenty seconds. They were nearly clear. Yerbol emptied their exhaust ports under Neta's directions, the resulting smog making it just as hard for Aria to see anything as it was for the Dustmakers. All she needed to do was wait for one to get close enough... The fighters whirled chaotically past the turret as their pilots frantically scrambled to regain control of their haphazard crafts. Aria had to turn the turret so quickly in order to keep it in her sights that she hoped she wouldn't end up with whiplash. Rather whiplash than six feet under, though, of course! Another Dustmaker bailed out thanks to Aria's crackshot turret skills, the remaining three now in a complete state thanks to the exhaust fumes clogging up their targetting computers.
Two of them corkscrewed past one another and, unable to tell their squadron apart from the target craft in the chaos, blindly fired and emptied their entire torpedo cannisters on one another. 
"HA! NOT SO NICE WHEN YOU'RE ON THE RECEIVING END OF THOSE TORPEDOS, IS IT? EAT THAT, YOU SLIMEBALLS!" Aria's own laughter joined Neta's as she lined up with the last of their pursuers and bid him a not-so-tearful farewell. "Six for six, Neta, let's get the [i]frack[/i] outta here!" 

Their elation at their narrow escape, however, was short-lived as a much bigger BOOM rumbled through the quadrant just as the hyperdrive kicked in. It took Aria about ten seconds to realise that the cloud of debris blasting outwards in the distance was EXACTLY where Tython had been moments earlier. The yawning gap that opened up in the Force as the entire planet's life energy winked out all at once was so heavy as it crashed down on her that it knocked Aria clean off her feet, sending her falling out into the hallway as she grabbed frantically for something, ANYTHING to hold onto to keep herself standing. Her fingers couldn't find purchase on the tightly-woven metallic panels and she dropped like a deadweight, shoulder connecting with the panellingas she went down. Aria had never felt anything like it before, the crippling sense of emptiness and for a moment she thought she would never shake it off and instead just curl up there and let the chasm swallow her up, too. 
If it hadn't been for her bond to Yerbol and the sudden jolt of concern that it prompted her to feel, she might have. Aria managed to get her feet back underneath her enough to stumble back towards the cockpit, rebounding off more than a few of the turns and nearly tripping all over again before she finally got there. Neta was staring at Yerbol, both hands off the control cluster and planted firmly on the young Knight's shoulders to steady him. He was white as a sheet and looked about as sick as she felt. 
Her voice didn't feel like her own as she choked out an explanation in response to the frantically bemused look the pilot shot in her direction. 
"What the HELL was that?!"
"They...They just...BLEW UP the WHOLE [i]KARKIN[/i] PLANET!"

_____________

Admiral Sulan stood on the bridge and watched grimly as the dust cleared. Tython was gone, all that was left were tiny powder particles and chunks of rock that floated lazily past their observation deck windows. The center of the once venerable Jedi Order, reduced to nothing more than ash. And with it, everything the Jedi, and perhaps too the Republic, had stood for. Stone-faced as ever, he banished any pangs of regret to the recesses of his mind, instead announcing in a firm tone:
"Mission accomplished, ladies and gentlemen! That's the end of that!" out of instinct, he turned towards the speaker even though he wouldn't be able to see the Imperial commander he was speaking to. "Kingsley, any word on that damn ship?" 
Silence hung between them for a hair's breadth, before Kingsley's voice, clipped with frustration, answered:
"AWOL, Admiral Sulan. They toasted our fighters and then vanished, must be burning sky now." 
Sulan's gaze flicked to Juno as he continued with their assigned directive. "Set our course for Korriban. If they ARE rogue Force sensitives, they're probably heading for that sector next, too. We'll head them off."
"And if we don't, sir?" 
Kingsley interrupted with a retort of his own. "They can't get away from us for [i]frack[/i] sake! There's probably less than a dozen of them and thousands of us, they have NO chance! We'll find them, if it's the last thing we do."