‘Remember, gentlemen, that salvage from an abandoned vessel is the legal property of its finder, a just and sensible right of ownership that’s upheld by the highest laws of the Spindelve and by the rules and regulations of a considerable majority of the lesser species. With that in mind - we leave no survivors.’
The final words of legendary Mog-Ak corsair and trader Bor-Lis, moments before perishing in a Diwt sting operation aboard a Duuic-class freighter.
SENDER: MASKED. LOCATION: MASKED. RECIPIENT: MASKED. ENCRYPTION BEGINS.
My dear lady Gyze;
In every squalid marketplace, pirate colony and ruined world - wherever, in short, there are scraps of alien technology, curious gew-gaws, or devices of considerable power and more considerable risk to be found - there, most likely, will you see a Mog-Ak ‘historian’ or pirate, blinking furiously through his round yellow eyes, dressed in a fashionable urh-fur longcoat to keep away the chill, puffing away at an ornate pipe that’s packed with a smooth blend of poisonous hallucinogen* and with one hand at the bizarre-looking pistol at his belt, in case the local dealer foolishly decides that he’d prefer not to sell. Few traders who know the Mog-Ak, however, are tempted to refuse them; it is an unwritten law amongst their kind (as well as a matter of plain common sense) to treat their business partners fairly, to offer them protection, and to return to trade with them in the future.
Their methods of accumulating such technology appear deeply haphazard - indeed, completely random. This is almost certainly a strategy taught by the tutors of the species** to give the smaller raiding fleets of the Mog-Ak a distinct combat advantage against more uniformly trained opponents. Thus when an enemy captain observes a Mog-Ak cutter approaching on his starboard side, he has no idea whether to expect an Imperial cannon-burst, a blast of Ots jet-fuel to bring them alongside in a matter of seconds, or even something truly extraordinary that he has never encountered before and which he could not have possibly predicted. It should be noted that there is, of course, a financial element to the species’ love of the exotic (for such technologies sell for hefty sums in the halls of the Spindelve) and a combination of compulsive greed and personal vanity - this, I feel, could well be used against them.
In answer to your second question, my lady, the Mog-Ak offer no substantial threat to our plans. Their raiding fleets are impressive, certainly, equipped with all manner of gadgetry, and the corsairs themselves are surprisingly proficient in close combat, bristling with electrified lances, serrated blades and personalised small arms - for this reason, a Mog-Ak crew without a fleet to belong to may often find themselves hired as mercenaries. They lack, however, cohesive leadership; the Spindelve itself is a collective of dithering, easily-bought diplomats, widely-loathed weaklings who bicker and draw up over-complicated laws ignored by the entire species and murder one another in the black and ruined halls of the species’ first crashed mother-ship, the Kouk-Un, which according to the species’ myths fell from the stars more than eighty thousand years ago into the dust of their homeworld.***
The true decision-making comes from the great corpulent lords and trader-barons of the Mog-Ak pirate fleets - The Golden Purchase, The Scarlet Glory, The Bounty Of Tar-Ush. These elders have the power to issue decrees, and, more importantly, determine the latest fashionable technologies and affect market prices across various worlds. If a young Mog-Ak captain has a grievance, seeks the aid of a greater force, or needs a loan to purchase a particularly fascinating device, he will come before one of these barons - and, if he’s sensible, he’ll bring a substantial offering gift along with him and some appropriately eloquent words of flattery. Skill with language, after all, is revered by the Mog-Ak, as an important part of haggling and salesmanship, to the extent that, as far as I can tell, they will always attempt diplomatic overtures, with a palpable pleasure, before giving the order to attack an enemy fleet. The barons' wealth and influence is legendary, which means that there is, generally speaking, very little violence between Mog-Ak clans; captains engaging in acts of war against fellow Mog-Ak ships will quickly find that there is nobody left who’s willing to trade with them.
The researching abilities of the species, too, are limited by the nature of Mog-Ak society - there is no sustained central effort amongst their kind towards discovering new technologies, merely the piecemeal scavenging efforts of individuals; and these, too, can come to nothing when there are no other species in a particular solar system to pilfer from or trade with, resulting in the collapse of their internal barter-based economy.
Perhaps once in a generation, the Spindelve will successfully call a Grand Plunder - decreeing that the laws of fair trade no longer apply to an entire species (usually the result of some attack or grievance) who will, henceforth, be treated collectively as prey. Upon such an occasion, every captain and trader-baron will send their ships out on raids and even full-scale frenzied assaults against the chosen foe, although this is borne rather more out of a desire not to be shown up by their peers than out of any kind of respect for the parliament. Once the Plunder has ended, the fleets will traditionally return to the Spindelve to show off their looted technologies, and to trade. This last element, I think, might be of a great deal of use to us and our own plans.
My anatomical analyses are attached, as well as the blueprints of the Mog-Ak vessel I stowed away upon. I shall contact you promptly from my next location, with further information.
Ever yours,
Syfra.
* FIRST ADDENDUM- The Mog-Ak histories claim that the venom provides them with visions of the past life and, therefore, worth, of a particular technological device. My own anatomical experiments on an adult Mog-Ak suggest nothing of the kind. It seems likely that the action merely provides an addictive, slothful pleasure. Practically speaking, it may also serve as a status symbol, with older and more powerful Mog-Aks enjoying stronger blends without succumbing permanently to their deadly effects, and as a way of hardening their resistance to the subtle assassination attempts of which the younger and more ambitious members of the species are so fond.
**SECOND ADDENDUM- It appears to be a habit amongst the Mog-Ak, once they reach a certain age or have tired of trade and battle, to devote themselves to advising the young in the guise of an impartial tutor or ‘historian’ (a career that’s considered more honourable and far safer than joining the corrupt politics of the Spindelve), to the extent that most fleets will carry such an elder as a permanent member of their crew. To symbolise their retirement from adult Mog-Ak life, and to signify that they are no longer a threat and therefore unworthy of assassination, candidates will ceremonially geld themselves. Indeed, as I travelled upon a Mog-Ak cruiser in the guise of one of their own, I established a close rapport with the ship’s historian, who with a great deal of pride showed me his severed sex organs, which he kept pickled in a jar above his own bedchamber...a most peculiar custom.
***THIRD ADDENDUM- The homeworld on which the crashed mother-ship is located is a closely guarded secret, although visual recordings of the squabbling parliament are replayed on Mog-Ak ships, to the mocking delight of the captains. The records speak of swirling dust-storms and poison-water. I will endeavour to uncover more of this, my lady.
ENCRYPTION ENDS.
