the hostess. I saw one automaton rifling through
a lady's personal effects! To my horror, Mr.
Vandenklamp was pulled from the sauna right in
front of us and thrown overboard! Only my shock
kept me from screaming.
Why, oh why, are there only two settings?
Hospitable and inhospitable? No neutral? Whose
idea was that? The J.W. Wells company can expect
a strongly-worded letter!
Cyprien and I passed a locked room containing
Sir Hammerhorn of the rest the human crew, who
were pressed against the window trying to get our
attention. Cyprien is a sturdy boy, and I could go
into detail about this, let me tell you, because he is
indeed a fine-looking young man, but I won't go
on about how strongly-built a fellow he is, because
it would take up too much time. He is sort of
thin, not particularly muscular in cut, but strong
throughout. Sort of sinewy, one might say. It's a
very attractive shape for a man to have, if I were
to have opinions about that sort of thing. I might
find that sort of shape attractive in a husband. But
he could not pry open the door.
Through the little window, Sir Hammerhorn
scolded the sailor for shutting the hospitality unit
off. Cyprien gave me a very comical and wry look.
“There is only one hope for us now,” Sir
Hammerhorn shouted through the glass pane. He
told us that if we could get to the First Mate and
turn the hospitality dial on the back of its—her?—
head, it would be able to land the vessel safely.
The airship swayed suddenly, and grinded
against the side of some mountain. It knocked me
quite off my feet and I fell through the door of