Solipsism

Jack: Keep Moving or Die

Exactly…

Do you believe it? The man said, "Exactly…"

I swear to you I've never told him the story about that movie theater. And yes, while we all know The Doctor is to a certain extent telepathic, I'm quite positive he's not that telepathic.

If I were the superstitious type I'd be running as fast as I could to the TARDIS right now.

As it is, as a result of The Doctor's possibly imprudent proclamation of defiance, I half-expect right then and there to feel death descend on us as the air is sucked violently out of the room.

But Newhope apparently isn't ready to exterminate us – at least not yet.

I look at The Doctor. I heard plainly what he said just now, but the dark hollows under his eyes betray his deeper feelings. He's been dealt a terrible blow – the tragic loss of a companion – something that definitely doesn't happen every day; in fact I've never before witnessed him reacting to such horrific news as this. But I know it has happened before. He's told me of companions who have been killed while serving with him. I mean companions other than myself, of course. I don't know all the details, he mentioned a name or two in passing but the names didn't mean much to me at the time and didn't stick. I intend to change that, I intend to learn their names and their stories. I intend to commit them all to memory… someday.

Above those dark hollows his eyes are full of pain and sorrow. Of course this particular companion, Varna, did not die while serving with him per se. But there's no doubt in my mind that he's feeling responsible for what happened to her. And those feelings make him vulnerable. I've already told you – my job is to protect him and to facilitate him. Those two objectives sometimes seem mutually exclusive, but that's my problem, not his. He is The Doctor, and he is like me, and we are both of us like sharks: we must keep moving or die.

Yes, we must move ahead. The question I need to answer is: which way is forward?

Suddenly a thought occurs to me. It is a vague, nascent idea of a plan. I stare into The Doctor's eyes intently; trying to somehow, someway, convey what I am thinking. Then I look at John and it's not even a wink, it's more like I squint at him with my right eye. I hope that the signal is enough – it might have been at one time in our past, I don't know about now. I take a deep breath and begin my spiel.

"Doctor, you've told me we're a team, so I'm calling a vote. All those in favor of leaving the ship, please raise their hand." I immediately shove my fist into the air and watch John, who I can tell is madly thinking. I mean the gears are turning wildly behind his smoky gray eyes. "John," I nod my head encouragingly, "this is a democracy, and you get a vote too."

John's eyes flash in recognition and he raises his hand.

I look at The Doctor and before he can say anything I announce, "That's it. Vote's over. Majority rules. We're leaving. We will head back to the TARDIS but first we need to swing by the bridge and pick up the stuff we left there." I nod at The Doctor, "You know… our helmets?"

He nods back at me, "Right, Jack." I'm not sure he knows what I'm trying to do, but it appears he's willing to play along. At least for now…

As the three of us begin walking silently toward the bridge John nudges me with his elbow and stage whispers, "I gotta, uh… how about if I meet the two of you there?"

I stop, turn toward him and shake my head, "Not a good idea. If we've learned anything it's that none of us should be alone. It's too risky."

John raises his voice, "I've been in hibernation! I have to pee! If that means all three of us have to crowd into the head while I take a leak, so be it."

I notice The Doctor has stopped a few feet in front of us and is watching the argument with a bemused look on his face.

I press a couple of buttons on the breast of my spacesuit and it gracefully disengages from my body – don't be alarmed, it's designed to do that and I'm wearing a full-length bodyskin beneath it, so I am not being unduly immodest. "I have a better idea," I tell John as I lean over and pick the suit up off the floor. "Put this on."

John pulls a face, "Ew! Why would I want to do that?"

"Don't argue with me just do it!" is my response.

"And I thought this was a democracy!"

"John," I growl, "we don't have time for this."

"What about the bodyskin?" There's a nasty gleam in his eyes.

The Doctor clears his throat. "It isn't necessary. The spacesuit can go on over your existing clothes. It will adapt to whatever you're wearing just like it'll automatically adapt to your size and shape. Jack is just always looking for a reason to parade around in that skintight bodysuit of his."

John looks at The Doctor and I catch him winking, "Yeah, I know. My former partner, he's such an exhibitionist!"

Despite being made fun of, I give a silent prayer of thanks for John Hart, who in a single fell swoop just took care of one of my biggest worries about what is yet to come.