It's definitely how Jack does business. His plans are as second-hand and cobbled-together as his arsenal, but they haven't permanently killed him yet.

He and Sinclair make a great team!

Jack's seen probably nastier deaths, and a whole lot of them, so the dying splicer mostly worries him on a level of whether it's going to damage the sphere. But they're home free now, out of the building, sailing through the docking rings and out into the open sea. They're free.

They're free.

"Good," he answers, grinning back, and it's clear from his tone that this is the understatement of the century.

He cranks the joysticks -- it takes some effort and finesse, since the rudders were never meant to work this way, but between his muscles and his tonics Jack has strength to spare -- and keeps them coasting through the water, well clear of the drowned skyscrapers all around them. The buildings drift past serenely, almost in slow motion.

Jack leans forward and peers out of the porthole. He can't see the surface from here, it's too far up. But it's there. It's calling. He'll be seeing it very soon.