Meanwhile, in a secret base under the sea Commander Jack Staunton was faced with a decision - should he launch the vertical torpedo and risk destroying the moon or should he step down and let one of the sea-people take command and make the decision for him? The sweat slipped tingly down his asscrack.
"Commander," a young marine whispered, "commander."
"Quiet Jenkins," he replied. "This is hard for me."
"I know, but I want you to know," the marine continued, "that whatever you decide I'll still be there for you."
"Enough!"
"But commander," passion flaked the marine's voice, "I love you. There, I said it. I love you!"
"Moi non plus," the Staunton whispered. He turned to face Jenkins. The boy was no more than eighteen, maybe younger, but he was cute. Damn cute!
"I think, to help me make this decision, Jenkins, I need you to remove your clothes. That tattoo we forced you to have is actually a map leading to the Presposteron's secret moon hideout and I've decided I'm going to blow it up in your name and in the name of love."
"God bless America!"
"God bless us, one and all. Even the sea-people for tomorrow shall be new day. A new dawn."