Hattie was dying for a cigarette.  Unfortunately, there seemed to be no place on this accursed vessel for her to smoke.  They were barely off the ground but she had already been repeatedly harangued about the flammability, and the inflammability of the hydrogen gas that kept the airship aloft.  It seemed perfectly daft to her.  The rudeness was galling.  Eventually, she ventured out onto the rail.  The wind would do, she reasoned, to  hide the smoke.  She paused when she saw the young couple talking next to one of the roaring turbines.  With a faint smile, she withdrew back inside.

Read from the beginning!

Support Hugh on Patreon for more fiction and podcasts!