The Hartford’s battered hull flew just over the crests of waves, not less than fifteen-hundred meters from the surface of the Sea of Kansas,
This is contradictory. It's on the crest of the waves, yeah? Then how it can be 1500 meters in the air? This confuses me. I'm just a dumb blonde erotica author, help me out.
done in part to avoid the weather reports of water spouts in the area and the concomitant low-air pressure that other ships of the air now struggled to navigate.
Some nice Weather channel language to end up the sentence. Let's look at is a whole:
The Hartford’s battered hull flew just over the crests of waves, not less than fifteen-hundred meters from the surface of the Sea of Kansas, done in part to avoid the weather reports of water spouts in the area and the concomitant low-air pressure that other ships of the air now struggled to navigate.
Okay the ship's battered hull, flying over these huge waves on the Sea of Kansas is cool; visual, visceral. It's fun. It's good. Why do you weigh the rest of the sentence down with boring crap about weather reports and concomitant low air pressure. Ugh.
Moving on.
The ship listed back and forth momentarily, pushed by northern winds from Taigan preserves, that met the high temperatures of the Exoduster Desert and exploded as violent squalls over the great artificial inland-sea.
I feel like the same complaint is here. Your main character (who is your main character? Why haven't we met him or her yet? is clinging onto the wheel or the mast or whatever. Yet we don't get any personal gut reactions. We get a micro lecture about a desert. Nuts to that.
Yet, much like most airships that piloted over this region of the Americas, the Hartford used sheer will power to power through these weather outbursts,
The ship is anthropomorphized here, is it sentient? I don't think so, I think this is figurative language. But since we don't have any idea who is piloting this thing, maybe the ship is the hero?
the old airship’s mechanics came in the form of a dual array of six-prop engines that burned hot with dervish motion. The overdriven sound of whirling blades cut through the most-stormy disturbances, and the airship bounced and rocked through the tempests, until a calm patch over open water provided a respite for the continued journey.
This passage is fine, although you undercut the most dramatic part with some calm respite.
The below and top-below and middle-to-top-below cargo holds pulsed with humanity. Crowds of people sounded like one voice, but the trained ear could recognize the beginnings, middle and endings of hundreds of conversations. The tumult of the pilgrims thundered through the decks of the airship.
Holy crap! Here's all the people. Glad we don't live in an entirely robotic future. Could you find a more awkward way to describe decks than top-below and middle-to-top-below? Sometimes things might be historically accurate but totally insane. It's okay to change them.
Games. Lovemaking. Games of lovemaking. Inspiration also came from the media in/outlet of the Eye-NC. The holds of the airship accommodated the wishes of the entertainment hungry. All was fair, not just in love, but in war.
What? Without a viewpoint character, this is authorial blather.
TVed-screenz kinecasted color-chromation info-bars at hundreds of drawn-lines persec. 8Fold Hydras and their televizioned/personaze with color-keyed faces went greenscreen black, and alpha channelz blasted keyframe registerz. Images overtook screen thresholds, readjusted monochromatics, then dumped meta-lines of fact-check-doublefacts to the millions of Nelsonites scattered in their suburban fortresses, frontier franchises, and colonial corporations.
I quit here. You're going from 1890s ship voyage to wannabe cyberpunk without understanding narrative, point of view, and many other basic skills.
Sorry to be a downer, I try and be cheerful, but this is seriously crying out for multiple revisions. Like sometimes it takes ten or fifteen times to rewrite a story, maybe more. Take that as you will.