1889: Journey To The Moon (The Far Journey Chronicles) by George Wier, Billy Kring

pain in the man’s eyes, then Ross beckoned him over and handed him the bottle. “Good to see you, Billy. Lately, our talks are too few.”
    Billy looked around for a glass, saw none, so took a drink from the bottle and passed it back. “Ít was a bit of a waltz for a while there, but up here in the ether and out over the plains like we are, I think we can palaver a while without repercussions.”
    “A noble idea. Shall we sit at the table?”
    “Lead the way, amigo.”
    Ross grabbed two glasses from a drawer, cleaned them with his shirt sleeve and sat them on the table. Both men poured amber liquid in their glasses and they toasted, then downed the bourbon. “That is mighty fine,” Billy said.
    Ross poured them both another and they sipped these, with Ross saying, “Are any sky vessels dogging our tracks?”
    “Haven’t seen any. Those pirates like to hang close to the mountains so they can hide and attack from ambush. Out here on the plains they only have clouds to get behind.”
    “The Algerines are a loutish group. Behind their black sails and Jolly Rogers and kegs of rum, they are nothing more than animals on two legs.”
    “They are all that for sure.”
    “I hear we have one on board.”
    “We do. Blackbeard the fourth or eighth, or thirteenth, something like that. Jay-Patten ousted him when they decided to doe-si-doe against each other with their frog stickers.”
    “Denys is a good swordsman.”
    Billy raised his eyebrows, “I think he might be better than just good.”
    Ross tossed the remainder of his drink back and motioned for Billy to do the same. Billy did and Ross immediately refilled their glasses. “Do you know who taught Denys the art of the blade?”
    “I don’t know. Some Count or Duke I figure.”
    Ross smiled, then downed his drink and beckoned Billy to do the same. Billy did, but he was feeling the effects of the fast drinking already and would have to slow way down if he expected to continue talking. Ross refilled their glasses, “I taught him.”
    “You did?”
    Ross indicated the spasming, quivering mechanical arm, “Before I lost it. No one ever bested me, including Denys.” His mood darkened and he downed the drink and poured himself another. Billy sipped his. Ross continued, “Then this.”
    “But you’re rich, a genius. Being able to use a sword is not something you should consider a big thing.”
    Ross looked at Billy with a sad smile. “I hope you never find out something similar in your life.”
    Billy wanted to change the melancholy subject and said, “Hey, why don’t we go upstairs and open the hatch, look out over the land. We can bring the bottle.”
    “This one is almost empty, let me get another. It will be good to breathe fresh air and see earth and sky from such an aerie. These close walls and these metal creatures leave a pall over my disposition.” As they rose from the table, Ross said, “I’m glad you came to visit, Billy.”
    They took the bottle with them and traversed the ship looking for Merkam. They found him in the control room, adjusting dials and levers, and tweaking two small brass wheels. Billy asked, “How high up are we?”
    Jude said, “Ten thousand feet above sea level.”
    “How high is that above the ground underneath us right now?”
    “We are approximately six thousand feet above the earth at this latitude and longitude. Why do you ask?”
    Ross said, “We are going to open the hold and look outside.”
    “Why?”
    Billy said, “Because.”
    Jude wrinkled his forehead, then shrugged, “Be observant. We need no accidents on the Arcadia .”
    “You bet,” Billy said and led the way to the cargo hold. Billy opened it and the panorama of earth spread out before them. Both men sat in the opening and dangled their feet over the edge.
    There were some strange flapping and popping noises carrying over the air and Ross craned his head to see better under the Arcadia . Several ropes floated like seagulls on the wind, with one or