No Free Meals

No Free Meals

In good ol' New Eden 'twas another fine day.
The Macks were undocking and warping away.
Orcas were boosting while freighters did haul.
The ice belts had spawned, offering riches for all.

But one lonely soul brought a Procurer to mine.
The others all laughed, "You're just wasting time."
"We're fit for yield, we'll out-mine you quick!"
But the Procurer wasn't bothered, his skin was too thick.

The ice chunks depleted, the Procurer was filled.
"Look, he's going to the station while we're mining still."
But the Procurer was fine with the slow mining pace.
He turned on his hardeners, this wasn't a race.

But a silence had fallen all through the belt.
The miners were frozen, such a presence they felt.
Tensions were rising as seconds ticked past.
When a message in local caused them to gasp.

"To the miners of New Eden I'm sorry to say,"
"The mistress of fortune is not smiling this day."
"I have seen you grow lazy, mining just like a bot."
"Now the day of reckoning comes, to clear out the rot."

Not a moments delay before the wraiths did appear.
Hellfire rained down, all were stricken with fear.
"Why is this happening, we're still in highsec!"
But as Concord arrived there was nothing but wrecks.

One ship alone was left on the field.
The single Procurer was at thirty percent shield.
The mail icon blinked, what could this mean?
A message had come, it was from James 315.

"Judgement has come, you have passed our harsh test."
"Your ship is still standing unlike the rest."
"You sacrificed yield to ensure you survive,"
"Yours is the fit to which others should strive."

"Carry this message as you go on your way."
"To all of the miners not present this day."
"The New Order is here, and now you must choose."
"Fit your ship proper, or pay us your dues!"