Vanahara kept her focus on her work, the muscles in her back straining as she hauled half a gear that had been sheared straight through back into place. She mended two pieces at once, a palm on each one, and listened to the sergeant with one ear. Both hands occupied, she frowned at a particularly stubborn cog that was just an inch out of alignment, and the boot not wedged into the structure lifted sharply, bringing the cog with it and another section of the engine back into play. Her mental map of the engine was taking shape now, and with a little luck and a lot of metal, she might even be able to model it. What her village and others could do with a fully operational steam engine, one that had functioned  until now without any Mechanist to keep it up—

Commander Hayes arrived in a flurry of salutes and respectful nods, and she discarded the errant thought for now. Releasing her belt from the engine and extricating her fingers from the machine, she dropped the remaining two feet to the ground. As she straightened, she gave the Commander a nod of her own. What they were discussing, though—staying on with the ship?

"Headmaster might keel over if any of us actually stayed," she noted absently, but she wasn't actually rejecting it outright, if the offer was even serious. If it wasn't, she'd shrug and move on—if it was...that might actually require some thought. Best to know more about the situation first.

Her eyes flicked to the opposite side of the engine room when the shouts rang down from the deck that the Storm was morphing. "Mothers preserve us," she muttered, more out of irritation than any real fear. At least Hidalgo was moving the ice from spikes to plates against the walls—if there was anything special about it, they might actually get to study it later. When the hydromancer called to her, she turned, casting both her eye and her senses over the engine room—while the main engine was in order now, there were still a few kinks in the system, repairs she could speed up. With another nod to the Commander, she excused herself with a muttered word.

"How good are you with steam and pressure?" she shouted back to Drew, pointing across the room to where a large pipe ran against the wall even as she moved towards it. There was a minute crack in it that was leaking a thin spurt of steam into the room—not a big enough problem to panic over, but it might get worse if they needed to move in a hurry. "Metal won't seal right if there's water in the way. Stopper it up best you can and I'll seal the pipe behind you."