(OOC: If anyone wants to play as bands of roving pirates, that’s encouraged. It’s pretty much anything goes.)
IC
About 75 miles off the Western coast of Avisronia
Avisronia had long been a seafaring nation, and had long defended the right of merchants and fishermen to do pretty much whatever they wanted, even within Avisronian territorial waters. As an island nation, keeping sea lanes open was the life blood of the nation, and that’s the way it had always been. For roughly 100 years, ever since the Commonwealth emerged as a regional power, the pirates had stayed away.
That is, until recently.
During the recent global financial crisis, the military had shrunk. That, and several of the governments up and down the coastline had done far, far less to weather the proverbial storm, and had left their people hungry and desperate. Avisronia had emerged from the recession stable, where others had not. As the Avisronian economy began to thrive again, so had the piracy. In particular, shipments of rare materials had been hijacked, among them lithium for Avisronia’s burgeoning electric automobile industry, and the spike in shipping prices and production delays had forced the governments hand.
The primary area of concern was a shipping lane shaped like a large T. The top of the T was a major international shipping artery, that ran up and down the coastline of the mainland and, by extension, several developed and undeveloped nation’s. The base of the T led directly to Avisronia’s west coast, and at some point crossed into Avisronian territory waters.
The government had tried everything. Avisronian corporations offered pirates jobs, though usually not in-country. The government had even paid for the release of at least one crew. But with the multitude of roving gangs and actors at play here, it made it impossible to achieving a lasting settlement. At this point, a whole generation had one skill, and one skill only: piracy.
Making matters more complicated was that there were unconfirmed reports by Avisronian Naval Intelligence that there were actual Avisronian citizens out there, among the pirates. Likely boat crews laid off during the recession. The public was in no mood for bloodshed, especially against its own citizens.
0400 hours, aboard nuclear attack submarine AVN Johnson City
Captain Delp looked intently at the display ahead of him. On it, the side of a massive oil tanker, the name painted over, stared back at him. This oil tanker had been taken by the pirates months ago, the crew released, but then the ship turned into some sort of floating amphibious assault base. Naval special forces had disabled its propulsion, so it wasn’t going anywhere, but these pirates were smart. They used UAV’s - likely commercially available - to scout the shipping lanes, then attacked wth smaller crafts. They’d set up at least one makeshift SAM battery, and seemed to work in shifts. This was the - or at least a - mothership. There were hundreds, of not a thousand, people aboard this ship.
Captain Delp knew all this, because he had been watching them for months. With that said, they had grown too much of a menace to ignore. The decision from naval command had been made, and he was prepared to carry it out.
“Weapons Officer?” His voice cut through the tense air of the blue lit bridge.
“Yes sir?”
Captain Delp took a sip of his coffee and muttered the words he’d have to live with.
“Firing point procedure Delta. Fire at will.”
—
And just like that, several hundred lives were lost. What crude oil had remained in the supertankers massive tanks erupted when the volley of torpedoes struck. The shantytown constructed atop the flat top was flung upwards, then fell into the bright inferno beneath. The Avisronian Navy would be on hand to aid survivors (and keep the sea lanes open) momentarily, while the Coast Guard contained the oil spill.
Meanwhile, the Johnson City dove back to near her maximum depth, rendered the shipping lane, and slipped away as if nothing had ever happened.
