2049-09-10

From:              Ens. Albert VII
To:                   Cdr. Ezra Stone

Subject: Recommendation for Recognition of Distinguished Leadership in the Face of Adversity for Ensign Quillroy (Continued)

The little Gray Cleopatra guys were scattered throughout the experiment room doing weird experiment things. Almost before I knew it, Quillroy found a way down. The plan was for him to unplug the cords leading to the operating table tablet thing. We had no idea if it would hurt Lieutenant El Ray, but we figured it had to be better than whatever they were doing to him—if he was even still alive. I stayed in the room above. My job was to come in from above, grab the Lieutenant, and leap out of there with him. 

Quillroy isn’t the best with tech. When it comes to complicated equipment, he’s kind of like a rhino in a china shop. He’s really more a strength and muscle guy. Which, honestly, when you’re facing off against a bunch of weird gray aliens isn’t such a bad thing. He yanked the cords apart, but not before tripping, stumbling, and crashing into everything that had any electronics whatsoever. Needless to say, he caught the attention of the Gray Cleos.

They attacked full force, but Quillroy didn’t hesitate. He punched, smashed, and launched his quills, making attacks from the rear impossible. 

I climbed down from an overhead light fixture, careful to avoid some sharp, scary-looking things hanging from the ceiling. Lucky for El Ray, it was me and not QR who pulled the weird spaghetti tubes out of his face. 

I checked for a pulse, but to be honest, I don’t know where fish pulses are supposed to be. He wasn’t moving, but air seemed to be moving in and out of him.

“Come on, El Ray, wake up!” I says, but nothing I tried worked until I filled up the ol’ whoopie cushion. 

BLLurrRRrrRRrrrrp! I blew that thing right in his face. El Ray’s eyes opened in shock.

“Ugh! Did you just cut one in my face?!” he says. 

I had no time to laugh at what was easily the best prank react in the past ten weeks. The toot bag had gotten me some unwanted attention, and a Gray Cleo moved in to attack. 

I quickly struck him in the head with my mallet, but another Cleo grabbed me from behind. I gave that one the Sucker Punch! He never saw my extendo-glove coming. I guess they don’t have slapstick down in this uncultured, one-seahorse-town.

“I can’t move my arms and legs,” El Ray says. 

“What? Are you paralyzed?” I ask.

“Negative. Something invisible is holding me down,” he says.

Lucky for GK Delta, they have a certified clever-monkey on their team.

“What about your bio-shocks?” I ask.

El Ray managed to generate a decent pulse and . . . ta-dah! The electricity fried their system. El Ray was free.

We regrouped around Quillroy to help him fight off the Cleos. 

El Ray tore a metal rod from one of the sharp thingies hanging from the ceiling. He sliced, diced, and shot electricity from it the same as he would with one of his harpoons. Midway through the fight, I realized El Ray was breathing easy despite the weird gasses in this environment. I guess it’s the fish in him. 

Quillroy and I made use of the weapons we’d brought with us. His flail launched Cleos left and right. I think I even saw one bounce off a wall. Hilarious! 

Me, though? I’m a little guy, and I appreciate using my wits in battle, so I relied on the ol’ Banana Rifle to tak-a-tak-a-tak-a our attackers. 

Finally, we broke through the Cleos. We had a problem, though. We didn’t know where to go! Once again, Quillroy stepped up. 

“El Ray, we found a bunch of ships in a storage room that way,” he says.

We headed up to the mezzanine and down the corridor. 

It was a good idea, but we didn’t see any ships that’d help us escape. Boats and airplanes don’t help when you’re this far underwater. 

Then Quillroy spied something on the other side of the room. “Guys, what’s this?” he says.

El Ray and I ran over to find the sorriest rust-bucket of a submarine I’d ever seen. The thing was long but small. I wondered if Quillroy would even fit in it. 

“Could this work?” Quillroy asks.

“Hard to say. It’s pretty old, maybe even Civil War era,” El Ray says.

We hear commotion coming from the corridor. 

“It’s our only chance,” I says. “But how do we get it outta here?”

“Duh, use the doohickies by the windows, dude!” Quillroy pointed at a big, rubber glass airlock on the other side of the dimly-lit warehouse. Of course, there was a doohickey, just like all the other doors. I admit it. QR got me. 

I ran over to open the door while El Ray and Quillroy push the craft to the airlock. From the other side of the glass, we could tell the Cleos could see what we’re doing. They stopped in their tracks and instantly retreated. I hopped in the sub, but I’d been right. Quillroy couldn’t fit his big rhino butt through the hatch. 

El Ray pushed and I pulled, and we finally got him. El Ray closed the hatch so he could activate the airlock. Just in time, too! Our re-breathers didn’t have much juice left in them. 

The window opened and out we went. El Ray guided us from the outside as we swiftly floated toward the surface. Everything was going well until we heard the sound of twisting metal. The pressure of the sea was too much for the old craft. 

While Quillroy used all his strength to push back against the bending metal, I looked out the window. There was something out there. 

I searched for El Ray, but I didn’t see him. Then I saw his bioelectric shocks. They lit up the murky water enough for me to see what was going on. The Cleos were following us in underwater saucers! Speed-wise, they were just as fast as El Ray, but they didn’t have the maneuverability he had as a swimmer. 

El Ray juked and slipped like he was Muhammad Ali and Barry Sanders combined, but for swimming. Okay, I’m not a great sports analogy guy. Either way, the Cleos couldn’t keep up. Some even accidentally shot at or crashed into one another. 

We were nearing the surface, but it was too late. The ship was imploding around us. Water gushed in and we were sucked out into the sea. 

I floated there, wondering if the Cleos would get me first or if suffocation would. That’s when I saw a big, beautiful blue fishman swimming toward me, his bioluminescent light illuminating the water. El Ray was tailed by three Cleo ships, but he just kept coming. Without stopping, he yanked me and Quillroy by the collars and headed to the surface. 

Beneath us, the Cleos fired an explosive projectile, knocking us all apart. 

That’s when you arrived, Commander Stone. And can I just say how grateful we are that you and that flipped out frog boy got there when you did? I’m not just buttering you up for more free time in the rec room. I mean it. You were brave and daring and bold, and I’m sure women find you attractive, sir. The way you flew the experimental Thunderbird aircraft under the water and took out those Cleos was stunning. It took us a minute to figure out how to use the jet’s airlock to climb aboard from underwater, but I bet if we got a chance to do it again, we’d be pros. 

Anyway, thanks for flying us out of the water . . . that’s a weird thing to say, huh? This concludes my presentation. I’ll open the floor up to any questions. JK!!!