It is with a heavy heart and a deep sense of responsibility that I must submit my resignation, effective immediately, from my post on this Death Star. However, I see no other choice.

Now is the time for all of us to stand up from our posts and do what is right.

It’s been an honor to work on this Death Star. I love the aesthetic. I love how I’ve been able to pursue my greatest passion: destroying planets and pressing buttons. I love my little hat that is a sunshade for no reason! I love the easy-to-access computer interfaces, the blast-door equipped hallways and that one area we can access only by pressing a button to extend a bridge. Our design always made a lot of sense to me! And I love our reliable trash disposal system and the little one-eyed tentacle fella that lives in it. In general, I’m proud of this station and of what we’ve achieved on it, together.

Sure, there have been moments with which I disagreed. Lord Vader and I don’t always see eye to eye; in fact, I have no idea where he is looking in that creepy helmet of his. I didn’t like when he tried to choke my colleague, or my other colleague, or that additional different colleague who later passed away. But I stayed at my post because I knew that my work mattered, and I was helping Grand Moff Tarkin keep the regional governors in line.

I understand that there might be some confusion about what exactly I’m doing, and why I’m doing this now, but I don’t think there should be. I am objecting, on principle, to staying on this Death Star for a single additional second. To those of you who would question my motives: I did know for a long time that the place I worked was a Death Star, but I have to say, until today, I didn’t understand that it was also very vulnerable to assault by a small one-man fighter because of a design flaw!

Destroying planets and using fear of this battle station to keep the local systems in line was my No. 1 passion until — about 30 seconds ago, weirdly! That was when I saw the X-wings that had evaded our turbo-lasers and were proceeding down a trench toward our vulnerable thermal exhaust port — and realized I had to speak up. I thought: What if remorselessly destroying planets isn’t my passion? What if my real passion is staying alive and avoiding the consequences of my actions?

The only thing I hate more than the population of the planet Alderaan, who totally deserved it, is consequences. Consequences and not having a job! I think any galaxy in which I had to face a consequence for my past work on this weapon would be a sad one. That would be divisive and the last thing we need. So I hope that when the history of this moment is written, I will be remembered as someone who stood on principle.

Technically, I am standing on an evacuation shuttle, if I can make it there in time. But mostly principle.

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