Chapter 8
Kinda Psychic
"You've been expecting me?" the Doctor furrowed his brow. "How did you even recognise me?"
Alonso smiled and showed him a piece of paper encased in a black leather wallet. "Jack left it behind when he disappeared," he explained.
"Psychic paper," the Doctor observed, taking it from the midshipman, "but these aren't your thoughts. They're Jack's!"
"Jack's and someone else's," Alonso pointed out, "it's like they're having a conversation telepathically."
"Not telepathically," the Doctor corrected, "but in the same mind. Two wills sharing one consciousness. My, they don't like each other, do they?"
"The other person," explained Alonso, "Jack calls him Master."
"The Master!" the Doctor snapped the wallet shut and gave it back to Alonso. "I need to know everything that's happened since Zaggit Zagoo."
"You know about Zaggit Zagoo?"
"Of course I do. I gave him your name."
"Oh," Alonso said, slightly disappointed, "I thought he was psychic."
"He is now," the Doctor gestured at the psychic paper. "It takes a lot of willpower to transmit your thoughts through space and time. The Master's influence must have boosted the signal. But let's focus on that night at the bar, Alonso. What happened?"
"Well, we were kissing," Alonso began his story but decided to skip forward when the Doctor cringed. "Anyway, a Graske showed up and teleported Jack away. I think he shot it."
"My mission to Earth," came a voice behind the Doctor, "was to track down that Graske."
"Jack!" the Doctor exclaimed. "I said to stay put. Why doesn't anybody ever listen to me?"
"Hi," Jack waved at Alonso seductively, ignoring the Doctor's protests. "I don't believe we've met."
"No point in standing around here anymore," the Doctor declared conclusively. "Into the TARDIS, both of you, now!"