Why, thank you kindly, Mister! I'll drink your whisky any day. That's the good stuff too, not like that gutrot old Sam over there calls his house brand.

Goes down grateful, that does, I don't mind telling you. Haven't needed a drink this bad since the time I got stranded on a gas-mining kite in the upper levels of Jupiter's atmosphere.

Tall tale? Me? Never! It's the truth, s'help me, and if you don't believe me—

Oh. I see. No, none taken. Aye; cheers, mate.

No, you're absolutely right: They did outlaw gas mining on Jupiter, and this what happened to me was one of the reasons why. It was kind of a hare-brained scheme, really, but it worked all right. Until it didn't.

Our outfit worked like everyone else's. We kept a refinery ship in stationary orbit, and sent down long tubes into the atmosphere, each over a thousand miles long. The top ends were supported by the ship itself; orbital mechanics, you know. But those bottom drogues held the big scoops and all the machinery, which was the heavy part. That end, they held up within the atmosphere by flying these huge box kites measuring half a mile on a side. Unbelievable, but there they were, big as life.

I worked maintenance in those days. They had trouble finding people willing to tend to the lines and sheets and such, what with all of Jupiter hanging underneath a fellow, so to speak. Heights never had bothered me, though, so I was working double shifts, racking up overtime pay and having a grand old time.

One of the unexpected bonuses of gas mining with kites was static electricity. Even in that thin atmosphere, those big sails would build up massive charges. We'd draw them off to the main gas scoop to power the refining and packaging and such, then use something called a directional coil to broadcast all the leftover electricity back to the main ship, where it was converted to plasma for transport.

Now, this one day, one of the main power leads had come unhooked, and one of those big box kites built up enough charge to blast the whole mess right out of the sky: drogues, ship and all. They sent me down with orders to save the kite if I could. If not I was to cut her loose with as little risk to the main boom as possible.

Excuse my coughing. I've gone dry again... Why, 'tis most gracious of you. Your health, sir! Ahh, storytelling's thirsty-making work, sure and it is.

Well. The first thing was to draw down that charge, and get the system hooked back up again. What I did was, one at a time, I sent across chains linked with two-headed metal S-hooks on some nonconducting monofilament, jiggering them about until they grabbed onto the furling grommets. I got twenty of these on each side of the main sail, then ran light cables to connect them all across the fabric, collecting all that static. That was the tricky bit, so as to not blast myself accidentally, but with a few miles of monofilament and twice that of luck I managed it.

The last job was to run a mile-long tail out of cable and join it all up. I put a robot drone on the bottom end to help steer it, and it worked like a charm. Finally, after hours of hard work, the job was finished, and I flipped the big switch and watched that excess power spark off in every direction. If you can think of a brighter show than half a mile of lightning off a box kite in the upper atmo of Jupiter, I'd like to hear it, boyo!

It was done, and I figured I'd best start heading back to hook up the main power line. Well, wouldn't you know it, just about that time, one of them discharges caught the big tether and blasted it to smithereens! The scoop and safety was back there, and here I was on the kite end of things, flying away just as fast as the wind could blow. Talk about being at the end of my rope!

I admit I panicked for a bit, it's true. But I soon realized I had exactly one hope, and that was that robot drone down at the bottom of the cable. I could hop on that, unhook, and steer it back to the drogue. But that kite was moving so fast, there wasn't a single minute to lose.

Quick as a flash, I jumped over to the main sail and slid down the feeder wire to the top of the S-hook chain that linked to my jury-rigged kite tail. Then, hand over hand, I made my way down the big cable. Once I got to a rough part and lost my grip, and zoom! I slid a hundred yards down before a feller could blink! It was only sheer dumb luck that snagged my safety line on some of the insulation. I watched as a huge coil of stripped rubber built up about two feet from my nose, sparks from the open cable flying every which way. Thought sure I'd get blown right off, a cinder floating for ever across the skies of Jupiter.

But the extra drag slowed me just enough, and in three shakes I was standing on that robot drone. Which, wouldn't you know it, had stopped responding to my remote.

Now just look at that. Where does the whisky go? A moment ago, this glass was full... Your flask empty too, you say? Ah, well. I'd best be heading home myself. They don't like it if folks sit here not drinking, y'see.

...Mm? What's that? You want to hear the rest of the story? If you were paying close attention, you'd know I'd already reached the end of my tail.

Pleasant dreams, young feller.