Hundreds of eyes and thousands of ears had been keeping close appraisal of all that transpired within the Core of the Galaxy. From innumerable hidden redoubts, built during the time of the One Sith, a network of listeners, informants, saboteurs, provocateurs, and subversives had lived, died, and were born again over half a century's time. Entire generations whose sole existence revolved around the task for which they were born to fulfill, their only home isolated fortresses and warehouses carved into unnamed asteroids or beneath the surface of untamed planetoids; all uncharted and unknown to every power that ever passed through the Core Worlds.
Children were raised beneath durasteel roofs, never once knowing the warmth of the sun or the brilliance of stars. They too would grow and sire their own children, their own replacements, and then they would die and become nourishment. A cycle unending, all for the cause of their blessed Master. They knew not His face, for those that once did had since passed. Nor were there any depictions, it was forbidden to depict the Master in any shape or form. They never spoke to the Master, only to His other servants.
When the Galactic Alliance arose to sweep away darkness from the heart of the galaxy, they watched and recorded. As the Maw burned a bloody path through the Core, torching worlds as they went, still they watched. As a new Empire planted its banner over Coruscant, jewel of the galaxy, they marked the occasion in meticulous detail. All of this was packaged and dispatched through secret channels to the Master and His servants. And as a new conflagration loomed to again consume the Core, these tireless agents of the Master marked everything.
Every communique without ironclad encryption, every fleet movement, assassination, transfer of funds, and public broadcast was known to them. Very few things escaped the tightly woven net that had been draped over the center of the galaxy for decades, invisible to all but those who laid it.
So it was, far beyond the Core on the Sith throneworld of Jutrand, a secure connection was made. As her delicate hands keyed in her acceptance, millions of fine particulates accumulated to form an image before her. His face was sharply regal, eyes blazing even through the holographic veil. It was a face she knew well, one that she could always turn to in her quiet hours for strength.
Darth Carnifex looked down at Srina Talon, Empress of the Sith. His face a mask of grim determination.
"It's time."
