#seraphsystem

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He’s way past being just short of breath as he runs through the metal halls of Helios; air rushing through his lungs but all it does is burn, the stitch in his side making it even harder to breathe as he leans against a hidden corner. His head thumps numbly against the cool wall as he holds his ribs and wishes he’d gotten to the gym a little more before all this. But he’s come too far already-- sacrificed too much. He’s too close to stop now.

Having the communications system in Helios down is a bigger pain in the ass than he’s willing to admit, and it means he doesn’t have his Guardian Angel to guide his way. Even though the Vault Hunters he’s hired are working hard to shut down the jamming signal on Elpis, Jack can’t wait any longer. The Lost Legion are dogging him at every turn, and he’s getting really tired of laser burns on his favorite pair of pants.

If he could just get a strong enough signal to the satellite orbiting Pandora--- he could re-establish contact with his eyes and ears and get this Lost Legion Problem dealt with.

He has a plan. If he can redirect communications from the commerce grid he could probably stretch it just far enough to catch the satellite and link it to his Echo. It’ll be a schlep, but he’s jerry rigged far more complicated crap in the past. ( I mean, just look at Clap-Trap. )

He takes a few deep breathes, psyching himself up to run through another road block of soldiers. As handy as he is with his lasers, he doesn’t think the one verses an entire army odds are really in his favor. Once he’s recuperated, he shoves himself off the wall like a rubber band snapping, using the speed of someone who’s not in layers of heavy armor to his advantage and bolting through geometrical bushes and benches down the pathways towards where he knows the commerce section is. They spot him, but the lasers are the only thing that can keep up with him. A couple graze him, and he hits the wall at the end of a hall hard, cursing and limping his way into a ventilation shaft that should bring him right where he needs to be. The streaks of blood he leaves behind should concern him more, but he ignores them, focusing solely on his plan. 

The main communications room is blissfully empty-- Zarpedon probably doesn’t think anyone would try and use a signal that only stretches far enough to radio incoming ships to the cargo bay, but that’s where she’s mistaken. Jack kicks open the terminal panel, gingerly sitting on his heels to pull at wires and redirect things where he needs them to go. He finally looks over his wounds as it synchronizes and hisses between his teeth. They’re probably going to scar. He’s really wishing he’d bought more med-hypos. The screen fizzles to life and Jack reaches for the com button, fingers slippery with his own blood. He tries to not let his voice shake, he doesn’t want her to worry about a couple flesh wounds.