Ishukone Corporation Factory–Mista
For Capsuleer Scone Pancake I-alt, life had just turned upside down, with years of hard work and many hours of scheming coming to a sad end. He looked out of his pilot’s quarters into the devoid space beyond the station, seeking guidance on what to do now, his entire purpose for being now redundant.
Following years of concerted efforts to tame the lands of Providence,and the boot of many jokes, Provibloc was essentially disbanding. The project had come to an end. Empress Catiz formally acknowledged the withdrawal of interest in the region, writing it off as an honourable retreat by her loyal subjects. Some remain, but there is little hope for any meaningful presence in the region; the local aggressors had seen to that, preying on the handful of stragglers or the occasional evac vessel.
Mr I-alt however, has no reason to continue on. His entire existence is solely for the purpose of being a spy in the bloc, to be the ears, eyes, and the occasional co-ordinated decimation of operations that he sadly had to do to keep up the ruse for his real superiors. He had risen high in their ranks, played the part of a committed leader, organised logistics, mining, industry, and most important of all: diplomatic ties. And now all of that had come to an end. Truth be told, he was becoming concerned with his dedication to the operation; he was more CVA than spy at this point. He was only supposed to be simple eyes and ears in the alliance and somehow he became one of its most valued members. He was on a first-name basis with many of the CEOs and was just grasping the basics of Russian, something essential to issuing orders to interceptor pilots. His affection for his unaware alliance members caused a brief tear to swell in his eye before he quickly put an end to the thought. All those green captains he trained, all the fleets he commanded, all the laughs he shared, now no more. Where would he go next, and does he have the will to lose it all again?
Such is the sad fate of hundreds of planted agents in the coalition. There was definitely not enough work out there in the rest of New Eden for them all. And it would not be easy to get into another corporation; anyone recruiting would smell a spy as soon as he stepped in the door, unlike the instant application approval in Provibloc. Most of all, would they take the heartbreak again? Just as Mr I-alt soon came to realise, he became so much more than a spy; he became an unsuspecting part of something much, much greater.
Bars and diners across Domain are littered with ex-spies for the time being, drinking their sorrows away until the pain no longer throbs through their hearts. They occasionally pear out windows into space, quelching sorrows of the past. Farwell Provibloc, see you in the next life. o7
