“I don’t know! I’m filling the ballasts! Shut off the engines; we need to relieve the pressure now!” the old bird bellowed, his scratchy voice no impediment to the force of his voice. Handy scrambled back to his feet, clutching the doorway as the ship lurched violently to the side again, everything leaning at a steep, forty five degree angle. Detritus was sent sprawling across the bridge and at least one doorway was slammed closed after furniture spilled out of one of the rooms, crashing on the walls of the corridor.