A Railgun Charge Is Worth a Thousand Words
This, *name*: All the great nations in the galaxy have long allowed each other to travel freely in pursuit of commerce, but I've just heard a story that makes me think this time of freedom is near its end.
Pisharpar Corilian is one of Amarr's most renowned poets of all time. He is gifted, but a typical example of a poet. He's effete, arrogant, and overly sensitive — always with his head in the clouds and his feet floating half a meter off the floor. In Corilian's case, this is literal: So obese that his legs can no longer support his weight, he uses a hoverchair to get around.
He is also a spy. He has been on a "book tour" of Gallente space for several months now, and our suspicions were confirmed when we tracked a coded transmission coming from his pleasure yacht. We believe he has had secret data chips implanted within his massive rolls of flesh, where he can hide all sorts of sensitive information.
We cannot tolerate this blatant abuse of the arts! We want him terminated immediately… but it must look like piracy. That's where you come in. He is currently traveling to *system*. Warp in, blast him and his entourage to smithereens, and warp out. Simple.
Now, it's likely that a man this respected in Amarrian society has a clone, but at least we'll have destroyed whatever information he's gathered into his data-ridden body. Take care of him, and you'll be doing us all a great favor — both politically and artistically... (If you've never read his work, you'll have to take my word for it.)