Yellow Alet, Pt 2

"Thunderhorse with me, Steve with Mark. Split up and take cover," Doc instructs the Time Operatives. "Steve, can you patch me into the ship's PA system?"

"I can try. Give me a few."

Mark and Steve head across the street towards an open clothing store. Steve seems to be staring at the floor as he runs, his lips moving like he's reading an invisible book.

Mark stops briefly to take a long shot at the guards approaching from behind. The shot ruptures the guard's helmet, slowing and spreading the pulse of bullets, causing his head to explode beneath his mask. His head is literally blown off.

"Easy as pointin' yer finger," Mark praises his new toy.

Doc heads towards the sporting goods store on the fore-bound side of the street. Thunderhorse stays behind a moment to fire at the guards as well. He manages to compensate for the recoil this time and the weapon stays true; a direct hit to the chest, killing the second guard. Thunderhorse joins Doc in the store.

Steve calls Doc. "Okay, you're in."

Doc tries it out. "Attention, passengers of the Indestructable Starship Marseille Marriott. This ship's crew are pirates, and you are all prisoners of Admiral Spaaz. If you want to survive this journey, grab whatever you can and storm the bridge! People, unite! We will not be made slaves or killed like sheep!"

His words echo down the vast corridor.

Something about the combination of Doc's words and the sight of armed guards running towards a mass of civilians stirs the docile to action. People in stores flood the street, screaming about their money and demanding revenge.

The three riot control guards are swarmed by the crowd. One is decked in the face, but the rioters trip over themselves trying to beat him further. Another manages to defend himself against the rioters until he's kicked squarely in the balls. Other rioters then entangle themselves trying to finish him off. The third is simply beaten senseless. The other two regain their footing and continue bashing heads with their shocksticks. Rioters fall to the ground, screaming in electric agony.

The stunned are the fortunate, as the armed guards close in fast. The remaining runner fires wildly into the crowd. The crowd is so close together the bullet wounds three people before stopping in someone's shoulder.

The hover carts come screeching to a stop. The six guards dismount and also start firing into the crowds, killing and wounding several more people. One of them, the highest ranking one, has a shotgun. It's loud, echoing blast cuts through the rioters like butter.