“It’s mostly done for my own amusement,” Steris admitted. “Or my own anxiety.”
“What a waste,” he said, picking up one of the sheets. “I thought your evacuation plan was exhaustive, but this is even more so. It’s brilliant. You have detailed plans like this for other disasters?”
“Only fires, earthquakes, hurricanes, sudden invasions, dust storms, droughts, food shortages, and mass pipe breakings. There are seven more I want to get to.”
He stared at her, his eyes wide, several of the remaining officials gathering around and nodding as they looked over her maps, instructions, and plans. “Your talents,” the governor whispered, “have previously been wasted, Lady Ladrian.”
What … What was this emotion?
Feeling appreciated? She’d felt appreciated before by Wax, yes, and occasionally Marasi. But to see it in the eyes of virtual strangers, to have her overplanning seen as a talent, not a bizarre character flaw …
By the Survivor. This warmth inside. She’d always said she didn’t care what people thought of her. And she’d worked hard to build that bubble around herself, a protection against the way she was normally treated.
But this … this was a remarkable feeling. Was this what it felt like to be proud of who you were? Instead of worried you were embarrassing those around you?
Miraculous.
“What is next?” the governor asked. “What else can we do?”
“I want to sink those ships,” Steris said, pointing to the large cargo vessels out in the bay that were waiting to be called in to receive passengers. “After bringing their sailors in safely first, of course.”
“Excuse me,” one of the remaining foremen said. “Sink them?”
“I think it might slow the water,” Steris said, “in case of a tsunami. You read what happened to the island of Alicago three years ago? No? Well, anyway, think of speed bumps. Large cargo ships on the surface will glide over the water, or worse be carried with it and slammed into people on the docks. Scuttled on the bay’s floor though, they’ll create drag and slow the force of the wave if one comes.”
Again, instead of objecting or complaining, the foremen simply accepted her explanation — and her orders. Only one seemed concerned. He hesitated as the others began to move off.
“What is it?” Steris asked.
“His Honor the governor,” the man said, “told us there wasn’t much time left. To get those ships sunk might take hours, ladyship. We’ll have to take tugs out to them — not many of the cargo ships have radio yet — and then explain to the captains, probably fight them on it. Then the scuttling process … it’s not as easy as it sounds. I’d guess four, five hours to get this lot sunk. At least.”
Rusts. Well, that wouldn’t work.
Someone cleared their throat behind her. One of the eight people who had approached her first. Oh, right — she still didn’t know who had sent them, or even who they were.
“Perhaps we can help,” the man in the lead said. “You are certain this is legal? The mass sinking of private ships?”
“Yes,” the governor said. “On my authority. If we are so fortunate as to have overreacted, the city will pay for the losses incurred by the ship captains.”
“Ohhh…” Steris said, leaning toward him. “Varlance, that sounded positively heroic.”
“Really?” he asked, eager. “Heroic?”
“Decisive,” she said. “Very leaderlike.”
Nearby, the leader of the eight people nodded to her, then launched into the air.
Oh! Allomancers. She had all the official ones working on the main evacuation. But having these to sink ships would certainly help. And then she could use them to help carry the injured or infirm away with Steelpushes.
The others followed one at a time, until only one remained. He nodded to Steris, and on the back of his hand — mostly obscured — she saw a red tattoo.
“Your sister,” the man said, “sends her regards.” Then he launched after the others.
That was the last of the meaningful actions Steris could take. From here, she could only make certain her plans were being executed. Everything else rested on Waxillium. None of this would matter if that bomb reached the city.
You’d better be on that ship, Wax, she thought.
71
Clearing the ship proved to be an ordeal. Even worse than that time Wax had decided to teach Wayne “the value of hard work” by making him muck out a stable all on his own. Yeah, he’d learned the value of hard work — it turned out to be three clips. Least, that was what Jeffy had charged to do the job for Wayne.
This time, there was nobody else to do the job. After locking the door to the room with the bomb, they set out to take control of the ship. Wayne kept the key in his pocket, in case Wax had to face another Coinshot.
They didn’t meet any. The ship had only a skeleton crew; seemed they’d saved most of their troops to protect the Shaw. It took some time to fight their way to the bridge regardless, given the need to check every corner and flush out people trying to ambush them. Wayne thought every crew member on board had been mustered to try to stop them.
When, half an hour or more later, Wax finally Pushed down the reinforced door to the bridge, they found a disturbing sight. Four people — three women and a fellow — dead on the floor from self-inflicted gunshots. All wore officers’ uniforms. They’d killed themselves rather than fall into custody.
“You know,” Wayne said, shouldering his rifle, “I thought the weird ones would all be in the Roughs, you know? City folk, they were supposed to be educated. And … and refined. And not bleedin’ zealots.”
Wax checked the bodies to be sure, then stepped up to the ship’s front controls. They were a confusing mess of levers, along with a giant ship’s wheel that appeared to have been locked in place. The ship was still moving at full speed through the mists, and rusts. Wayne thought he could see the glow of Elendel on the horizon. They were getting close.
Wax stopped at the controls, then cursed softly.
“What?” Wayne said.
“It’s wired to the same system,” Wax said. “Harmony? Can you confirm?”
Yes, unfortunately, the god said. With you to give me sight, I can see that it’s wired into the bomb.
“If we undo the locks on the controls, it blows,” Wax said. “I should have foreseen this. We wasted time coming up here.”
“But—” Wayne said.
“It makes a brutal sense,” Wax said. “They guided the ship here, then locked the course down before killing themselves. The thing will explode the moment it stops — as soon as it hits land. We’re not on a traditional ship. This is a rocket, like the one they built to fly to Elendel. Self-propelled. Needing no controls. Set to detonate the second it hits.”
“Mate,” Wayne said, pointing out the front windows. “I see lights.”
You have approximately twenty minutes, Harmony said softly, at current speed.
“We have to risk trying to defuse the bomb,” Wax said, rushing out onto the deck.
Wayne scrambled to follow, tripping on bodies. “Wait! You said that if we tried, we’d almost certainly blow the thing!”
“Do you have a better idea?”
“Maybe,” Wayne said, halting beside the railing — mists coursing past like a river in the sky.
Wax froze, turning back to him.