Chapter Text
They mock us.
Their hubris, their lies, their sanctimony.
They condescend to us.
For the Tatooines, Corellias, and Bandomeers amongst us, the dilettantes of the Core dare name us hives of scum and villainy.
Hives of scum and villainy are we, whilst places like Coruscant exist—those who in their arrogance have changed the very name of their planet to reflect their status.
Of Naboo, who practice a cruel apartheid to this day! And yet Senator Amidala will no doubt name me a tyrant in the Senate. And what of Alderaan? With their wealth and power, could they not help those less fortunate? Or is their royal family merely maintaining recruiting grounds for their scores of servants?
It is indeed rich for the leaders of Naboo and Alderaan to claim to fight for democracy when they themselves are autocratic. One is only reminded of the need for democracy when it serves the needs of the Core. Else, they care not.
My friends, I must share something personal. Some may have known me as a Jedi. Some may have heard that I have since broken with them. It is the truth. I am a Jedi no longer. I have since found a different faith.
I know what you are thinking: why should you care what my religion is? And I will tell you plainly—you should not. And yet I must speak of it, for the Republic and my former brethren the Jedi shall attempt to discredit me using it.
I am a Sith.
I have committed no crimes.
So come at me, armies of the Republic. So come at me, my brothers. Strike me down for disagreeing with your policy and your faith, and in doing so demonstrate to us all the extent of your hypocrisy and intolerance.
Slavery is illegal in the Republic—yes, yes, I hear the hypocrisy already. Let me amend the words of our friends on Coruscant. Slavery is illegal in the Core. Slavery is illegal for the rich. But for us? We are not the Core. We are not rich. Yet are we not people still?
Are our rights not guaranteed to us by the Republic? They should be. And yet, regrettably, they are not. As always, the Outer Rim is left to fend for itself. The Core cares not for our plight so long as our resources feed its voracious appetite.
The Chancellor cares not that the lavish robes he wore to the gala yesterday were sewn by a Tatooine slave. The Senator does not care that her scarf was made from the fur of an endangered species on Dantooine.
But they care now.
They care when we have found our voices. When we look tyranny in the face and say, not today. When we halt the flow of tibanna gas to the refineries of Kuat. When their thoughtless luxuries are threatened, they notice.
I am tired. I am tired of seeing my people struggle endlessly for the benefit of the Core. I am tired of the vaunted Republic Navy being unable to muster ships to deter piracy in the Perlemian Corridor because a Core Senator requires an escort to Ryloth. I am tired of our problems never being their problems—and their problems always being ours.
And so, my friends, after consultation with our allies and with heavy hearts, we declare nevermore.
We are the Confederacy of Independent Systems.
We shall bow to the whims of Coruscant no longer.