INT. PRIVATE OBSERVATION ROOM, STAR DESTROYER ABRAXAS - ADEBRA SYSTEM
GRAND MOFF WINSPEAK paces impatiently around the observation room. He stops to gaze out of the viewport, staring at the vast fleet of ships in formation around the Abraxas. Eventually, the door behind him slides open, and a pair of soldiers enter the room. They are clad head-to-toe in the standard black Imperial body armor.
SOLDIER 1
LORD IVARIUS is ready to meet you now, sir.
WINSPEAK
I should hope so. Stars know I've waited long enough in here. Bloody Sith. Think the whole galaxy revolves around them.
SOLDIER 1
Please watch what you say, sir. Lord Ivarius will not take kindly to disrespect.
WINSPEAK
To blazes with what Lord Ivarius does and doesn't take kindly to. He thinks he alone owns this system, but he wouldn't be anywhere without us, now would he? Well, what are we waiting for?
He follows the soldiers through the door and down a long hallway until they reach a turbolift. The soldiers step aside as the turbolift doors open, leaving it empty for Winspeak.
WINSPEAK
Not coming along?
SOLDIER 2
Ivarius has requested this to be a private meeting, sir.
WINSPEAK
(Dismissively)
Fine. So be it.
Winspeak enters the turbolift and the doors hiss shut behind him. The lift immediately shoots upward, ascending through the ship before coming to an abrupt halt. After a brief moment, the doors slide open again.
INT. SITH COMMAND CAPSULE, STAR DESTROYER ABRAXAS
Winspeak steps out of the turbolift and into the command room. It is dark inside, with the only light coming from the viewport in the back of the room and the dim red lights emanating from above. In the center of the room, seated cross-legged in a hovering meditation chair, is Darth Ivarius. He is almost completely naked, with only a long, black loincloth tied around his waist. His skin is pale and veined, and deep scars are evident all around his body. Straight gray hair falls from his head, and a thick silver beard covers the lower part of his face. His eyes are closed, and they do not open even after Winspeak enters the room. Off to Ivarius' side, leaning against the wall of the command room, is another Sith, clad in gray and red armor. He appears to be human, though his skin is an odd shade of green, as though he were extremely nauseous. His eyes are a deep red, and he casts a wicked smile at Winspeak, but says nothing. Winspeak rolls his eyes at the peculiar sight of the two Sith. He walks towards Ivarius and gives a feeble bow, clearly forced and insincere.
WINSPEAK
I've arrived, as requested.
There is no response from Ivarius. The Sith leaning against the wall shakes his head. Winspeak ignores him.
WINSPEAK
Hello? Do you hear me?
Suddenly, the air grows murky and dim, and a dead, eerie silence falls across the room. Ivarius' mouth does not move, but a deep, resounding voice suddenly pervades Winspeak's mind, sending chills down his whole body and causing him to wince with discomfort. He clenches his eyes shut and grits his teeth as the voice echoes throughout his mind, immediately causing his head to ache.
IVARIUS
Grand Moff Winspeak. You have arrived, indeed. Though it appears you have not yet learned to bow properly.
Winspeak opens one eye ever-so-slightly, peeking out at Ivarius, whose eyes are still completely shut, his mouth still closed.
IVARIUS
Perhaps we shall go over a few lessons now?
Suddenly, Winspeak's whole body contorts, abruptly bending over at the waist, his arms held rigidly at his side, his eyes watering. He is bending over so low that he should not be able to keep his balance, yet his feet remain planted firmly in the ground.
WINSPEAK
I... apologize... my lord...
IVARIUS
As you should. And I fully expect you to continue practicing in your spare time, Grand Moff.
Ivarius releases him, and Winspeak crashes to the ground, panting. He slowly hoists himself back up, patting off his uniform and straightening himself, attempting to regain his composure. All this time, Ivarius has remained completely still, almost mistakable for a statue if not for his slow, steady breathing. His eyes and mouth have still not opened. Off to the side, the other Sith is laughing with twisted delight at Winspeak's suffering.
WINSPEAK
Y-yes, I shall be sure to, my lord.
IVARIUS
Please, Grand Moff Winspeak. You needn't reply to me using your voice.
WINSPEAK
Of course, my lord. I'm sorry, my lord. I just... dislike the feeling, is all.
IVARIUS
I suppose that is understandable. It does take time for the weak-minded to adjust to telepathy, after all.
Winspeak shifts his feet a bit. Uhmyr grins.
IVARIUS
I trust you know who I am, Grand Moff. Allow me to introduce you to my apprentice, LORD UHMYR. I suggest you bow to him in the future, as well. He has a much nastier temper than I.
WINSPEAK
I certainly will, my lord.
IVARIUS
Very well. I assume you know the reason for my summoning you here.
WINSPEAK
Yes, my lord. The Condors' recent sabotage on the-
IVARIUS
Do not refer to them by their petty sobriquet, Grand Moff Winspeak. They are common terrorists, vagrants looking to disrupt the prosperity that I have so generously gifted to them. Nothing more.
WINSPEAK
Yes, of course, my lord. I apologize.
IVARIUS
But you are correct, Grand Moff. I did summon you here to discuss the terrorists and their increasingly brazen- and cowardly- attacks on our fleet. It cannot continue. And as my new second-in-command, I bequeath the task of dealing with them to you.
WINSPEAK
Do you believe they are beginning to pose a real threat, my lord?
IVARIUS
No, Grand Moff. Not yet. But if their attacks continue without appropriate response, they could cut an opening through our blockade, which would open the door to the Republic. And that, we cannot allow to happen.
WINSPEAK
The blockade? I-impossible, my lord. The Scarlet Veil is the most well-fortified blockade in the galaxy. No band of guerrilla fighters could hope to pierce it.
IVARIUS
Do not grow overconfident. The Veil is impressive, indeed, but no defense is truly invulnerable. A blockade is nothing more than a house of cards. If one piece falls, the whole structure will crumble. If these pests are not dealt with, and quickly, the Veil could very well be at risk.
WINSPEAK
Understood, my lord. I will see to these terrorists immediately.
IVARIUS
Good. The Adebra system belongs to me now, Grand Moff. Not the Republic. Not even the Empire. And certainly not a ragtag band of unwashed cohorts.
WINSPEAK
Agreed, my lord.
IVARIUS
Your agreement means little to me, Grand Moff, so long as I have your obedience.
WINSPEAK
You do, of course, my lord. And it shall not falter.
IVARIUS
I hope not, Grand Moff Winspeak. Lest you should end up like your dear predecessor here, Grand Moff Vinyan. And judging by the look he is giving you right now, I would say he is concerned for you as well.
Winspeak opens his eyes, scanning the room around him, but no one besides Ivarius and Uhmyr appears to be present. Then, slowly, Winspeak turns his gaze upwards. Above him, pinned against the ceiling, is the wide-eyed, open-mouthed, decomposing corpse of Grand Moff Vinyan. Pinned to the ceiling around him are numerous other dead officers: Vinyan's predecessors. Most of them are nothing but skeletons by now, held together only through Ivarius' use of the Force. Winspeak let out an audible gulp. Uhmyr cackles loudly, relishing the sight of Winspeak's fear, and for the first time, Ivarius' face moves ever so slightly; his mouth remains closed, but his lips twist into a chilling smile.
IVARIUS
We understand each other. Good. Go now, Grand Moff. And see to our terroristic avian friends.
Suddenly, the air in the room begins to clear, and Winspeak takes a deep breath as he feels the dark presence withdraw from his mind. Shaking, he bows deeply to the Sith lord with the best form he can muster, then turns and strides quickly back to the turbolift. Even after Winspeak has left, Uhmyr continues to cackle gleefully, while Ivarius remains sitting completely still in his meditation chair.