How shameful. The Dark Lord turns his back for a month to oversee the construction of his empire... and all falls apart. Such incompetent fools. Clearly, the acolytes of the dark flame have forgotten their place... their reason for their existence, and the avatar on which the Dark Side's mantle rest. The only thing the Sith respect was power, and thus, a worthy display of it was necessary.
Throughout the galaxy, voices would flash into the minds of those whose ears could listen (in other words, Force Sensitives). Horrifying visions, bloodcurdling screams... but most of all, a great gaping maw of the Dark Side, swallowing entire starships along the Spice Run. Force Storm, it was called by the Jedi. People were devoured by the thousands, starships destroyed, men, women, and children dying... not to mention the resources gone forever.
Throughout the entire vision, the Dark Lord's hissing voice whispering in the language of the Ancient Sith. "Without a leader, there is no order. Without order, there is no strength. Without strength, there are no Sith. Without the Sith... there is no Galaxy. Fly away home, little sheep... your shepherd calls for you."