Black Gate Zeppelin Pointed Towards Dragon*Con
I arrived at our building this morning to find people milling around in the street, pointing into the air. A fat, smoke-shrouded zeppelin was moored to the Black Gate rooftop headquarters.
“Oh God, no,” I thought. “I was sure Howard was joking. That thing is a death trap.”
Howard wasn’t joking. I took the elevator to the roof, punched in the secret code, and stepped out into chaos. Minions were scurrying everywhere, loading cargo into the airship. John Woolley, our graphic designer, was stuffing our brand new 12-foot banners into a well-worn travel case from the 1920s. I caught him just as a strong gust of wind damn near took him over the edge, and we got it stowed into the cargo hold.
I found Howard commanding operations. “Are you crazy?” I shouted at him. “That thing will never make it to Atlanta. It can barely do five knots!”
Howard did look slightly crazy, dressed in jungle fatigues and standing on a desk. He was clutching a worn parchment. “Isn’t she beautiful? Jason Waltz completely re-built the engines. She hit Mach 2 just after midnight last night during our test run!”