Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Knife-Edge of Nowhere The Dramática was never meant to move this way. Designed for the sleek, linear "Blink" of Dr. Loop’s calculations, the ship’s structure screamed as the thrusters forced its massive bulk into a slow, agonizing rotation. On Deck 9, the iron ballast "pigs" groaned against their bolts, their molecular weight shifting as the ship tilted toward the 223.2^\circ mark. The Gravity of Choice On the Bridge, Laizer was strapped into the command chair, her face distorted by the mounting G-forces. Beside her, Ducati watched the pulsar’s metronome. The countdown wasn't for a destination; it was for a departure. "We’re entering the final swing," Ducati gasped, his voice strained. "The pulsar’s beam is coming around. If we hit the angle, the magnetic 'lock' breaks. But without the 4D stabilizers, we’re essentially throwing ourselves into a dark room and hoping there’s a floor." "We’re not hoping for ...