The Last Signal From Balaclava 202606161605
The fog clung to the air-dock like a shroud, thick and yellow as old parchment. Eleanor Harrington stood on the gantry of the Neptune, her father's great steampower vessel, and watched the gas lamps of London's Sky Port bleed through the mist like dying stars. Three years. Three years since Captain Reginald Harrington had piloted the Neptune beyond the stratosphere and never returned. "The...
0 Комментарии 0 Поделились 2 Просмотры 0 предпросмотр