On either side of the ship, the rest of Weatherby’s fleet began to ready for “keel-fall” by tucking in the sails on their rudders and unfurling their plane sales parallel to the deck. The sails on all the ships were also drawn upward at an angle to further provide drag. A moment later, Victory disappeared into the clouds, and all they could see was a lime green mist around them. “Venus’ clouds are supposed to be made of sulfuric acid,” Stephane said quietly. “The winds here should be roaring at 360 kilometers an hour. And the atmosphere pressure…” He took a sniff of the air. “It simply smells humid and green, like a swamp.” The ship suddenly lurched under them, buffeted by a series of sharp gusts. “Well, the winds are still impressive,” Shaila said. “Happy the acid’s not here.” She was also happy for the lines that secured her to the ship’s mizzenmast, helpfully provided by the little lizard guy—Weatherby’s valet, a Venusian named Gar’uk.
