"Hell no! Aliens go! Hell no! Aliens go!" Voices repeat the chant angrily, echoing up the hall leading to the main hangar as the shuttle is touching down. Marines are gathered in a protest circle at the entrance, keeping the protest from spilling into the hangar.
This isn't the first such demonstration, and it's unlikely to be the last. But, the size has grown considerably. Almost four hundred people are crowded into the hallway. And, though the marines are able to hold them back by presence for now, the last few decades on Earth showed just how gullible, self-centered, and hateful protestors can be when led by hateful, violent upstarts.
Chief Grey holds his trusty shotgun with what few non-lethal beanbag rounds he could find loaded inside. He knows most of the marines are carrying lethal ammunition simply because they aren't prepared for domestic riot control. And, come what may, no marine is simply going to watch as fellow marines are beaten to death by closed-minded, ignorant protestors.
Grey listens as Tachibana tries talking over protestors, along with several other chiefs and officers. They're trying to reason with a mob; a mob fueled by inactivity, twisted half-truths, and simple mob-mentality. The chants just get yelled louder as the marine leaders talk.
"No one is getting ejected! No one!" Tachibana's voice is starting to break, slipping into hoarseness. This particular protest is over six hours now, having started in the civilian quarters of the ship and slowly marched to the hangar bay.
"You're useless!" "Yeah!" "Navy pigs!" "Monster lovers!" As the repetitive chant continues, many of the protestors hurl insults at the marines. Nothing about it all is particularly surprising. The ships are powder kegs, with everyone locked in together for months now.
Some of the frustrated marines grumble to each other, mocking the protestors, "We're useless?" "Right? They're ones to talk."
A marine next to Grey says dryly, "Weren't most of the civilians that made it onboard liberals?" Another replies, "Yeah." The first adds as if realizing something, "Oh, right. I forgot. They only preach unity when they're getting what they want. Any other time, it's hate and division." "Yep."
Grey rolls his eyes. He can't honestly say he disagrees with the two marines, but it's not the time for it. A seven foot tall alien is about to exit out into the open and there are hundreds of protestors waiting. If they rush the hangar, it only takes one of them getting hold of a gun to endanger their most experienced pilot, whether any human wants to admit it or not. Additionally, if they instead go after the prisoners or...
Grey glances around. There are only three routes in and out of the hangar, excluding the hangar bay doors to space. Two of them, only a few yards apart, are packed full of protestors. The third door is an escape scuttle, and it isn't very easy to navigate.
Grey himself is guilty of overlooking something highly important, just as many of the navy personnel seemed to have. Khla, of course, is not the only alien on the ship. Though the navy has tried to keep her existence and even moreso, her eggs, as quiet as possible, military people talk. They tell family members. Family tells friends. And, before anyone knows it, the wrong people have the information.
The protest grows to a discombobulating uproar of taunts, insults, and other hateful speech, startling Grey. Marines shield themselves as objects are lobbed into their ranks by protestors. He glances towards the shuttle. Kane is standing protectively in defense of Khla, as she looks around with jaded eyes. It doesn't matter that she just helped rescue a bunch of civilian miners. The protestors have been riled up with hate.
The marines keep shouting, "This is a restricted area! Get back!" But their orders are doing no good. No one wants to be the first to fire, but chaos is quickly taking over.
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Supernova Blitz
Science FictionJournal Entry: SB-0001 December 18th, 2031 It has been about five months since the attack, and our meager fleet of ships are clinging to life. It all started with an interstellar signal. Sometimes, superstition has it right. It might not have been w...