6—The Prize
Adora and the Doctor were sitting on the porch swing when they heard the house communicator sound. Adora went in to answer it while the Doctor stayed outside and enjoyed the fresh air. He and Adora had spent the rest of the weekend quietly with him working on the home security system and her planning out her novel. They ate together, talked together, and made love on the porch during the thunderstorms. It was all domestic and cozy and couple-like but the Doctor refused to get used to it. Thalmidor would be back in a few more days and Adora would tell him it was time to go.
The security system was nearly complete; all he had to do was connect it to the local emergency system and hook it up to its own private, self-sustaining, reliable power source. He had the perfect thing waiting on the TARDIS in some back room hooked up to a popcorn machine system, complete with the hydroponics set-up to grow the corn and a mini dairy for the liquid butter. He wasn't sure why he was still growing his own popcorn, but he could do without and it would work well for Adora's needs. He made a mental note then sat back and let the cool breeze blow through his hair, letting his mind float free.
Adora came back out and sat next to him.
"That was Geptum checking in. He said there are arrangements being made so I can go on the ultra-high-class star-liner 'Princess of the Universe' as research for my story, 'Love on the Ladris'. It's a three-week vacation with stops to Ganarobii, Marissis, Zald, Najawertenfarr and three planets in the Veldu Circle. I'll take a speed shuttle from here to the Hyper-Line transport hub the night before and catch the space liner first thing in the morning. I'll have an almost unlimited line of credit for day excursions and various necessities while on-board; it's pretty much all-inclusive, but services like the spa and beauty salon are extra. I'll have my own suite and I'll have access to some of the crew-only areas as part of the research. I'll have to go to get a complete new wardrobe for the trip; everyone says I'm not posh enough with what I have now, except the dress you fixed. It's all right for one formal night but I'll need at least six more. Can you imagine? Seven formal dresses, all for one vacation? They're paying for that as well; Reyapre that is—they have a shopping consultant coming next month to get the clothes I'll need for the trip, and if necessary there's a dress designer on standby for the formal wear. I can hardly believe it! You'll come, won't you?"
The Doctor looked Adora straight in the eyes and said gently, "No Adora, I won't. I have no place in a world like that. You keep telling me I would die a slow death if I stayed here with you; it would be worse on a posh star-liner with everyone worrying about getting the best seat for the evening entertainment or if they look curvy enough in their dress or if the Pomdon sauce has enough caviar in it. I'd last a whole ten minutes. I'd move planets for you, Adora, but I can't go on a trip like that."
Adora took his hands and said, "I understand, Doctor, I do. It's not a favorite atmosphere for me, but it's one I was born and raised in, as you well know. The political scene on Gallifrey was very much like a high-class party, everyone only knowing and accepting the best, and ready to snap at anyone stepping out of line. I'm sure you remember . . . all too well, probably."
The Doctor grimaced. "Far too clearly and far too well, my dear. I wish I could help you. What about Geptum?"
Adora shook her head. "That would be awkward for both of us. Do you think I could persuade Thalmidor?"
"You're welcome to ask him; I'm not sure what he'll say, though."
"No, Thalmidor would be just as awkward as Geptum, in his own way. I wish I had a good, female friend to take."
"When's the big event?"
Adora said, "In a few months."
"Hire a companion," the Doctor suggested. "Other travelers do."
Adora looked at him scathingly. "The day I pay someone to be my friend—"
The Doctor took a step back. "It was just an idea, that's all . . . just a suggestion."
Adora lifted her chin. "No. I'll go alone, and I'll have a good time. I might even make friends while I'm there. I will, however ask Thalmidor to house-sit. You wouldn't mind?"
"Not at all, Love. In fact, we can both watch your house together."
"Only if you promise not to ever, ever go in the kitchen alone."
"I wasn't that bad!" the Doctor protested.
Adora reminded him, "You tore open your palm, you almost poisoned yourself with the nut butter and crackers and then you got yourself stoned on the Delbital. You are not going in my kitchen alone!"
The Doctor mumbled something.
Adora said sharply, "What was that?"
"Thalmidor wouldn't let me anyway," the Doctor repeated, embarrassed.
Adora patted the Doctor's knee. "Look at it this way—you wouldn't let me go into your TARDIS engine room with a penlight and snipping pliers, would you?"
"Of course not!" the Doctor objected, sounding alarmed. "You have no business near any of her systems with tools, not for any reason—"
"Just like you shouldn't be in a kitchen with tools," Adora finished for him. "Not without someone there to help."
"It sounds better when you say it like that."
"And don't go rooting around in my garden, either!"
The Doctor raised his hands in surrender. "I promise your house will still be standing if Thalmidor and I watch it while you're gone, all right?"
"It had better be!" Adora insisted. She stopped talking, listened for a minute, then said, "There's another thunderstorm heading our way . . . in the mood?"
"I'll grab the inflatable mattress," the Doctor told her, hurrying inside.
Adora and the Doctor were just gathering the day's harvest of black carrots when they heard the familiar racket of the Doctor's TARDIS landing. It sounded rougher than usual; the Doctor cocked his head and said, "There, you hear that? That's the magnetron acceleration unit trying its best; good thing we've got a new one."
"I just hope Thalmidor doesn't land back here on something in bloom . . ." Adora worried.
"I'm sure he'll materialize on the other side."
When they got to the front of the house Thalmidor was standing in the TARDIS doorway with a good-sized trophy in his hands.
"Second Place!" he announced, jubilant. "I would have won it all but Judge Fifteen said my Amprezed muffins were a shade too pink. Still, I was very close!"
"That's wonderful, son!" Adora cheered. "What did you win?"
"I got the trophy, bragging rights and an Alphazod year's worth of hard supplies—pans, appliances, anything non-food. And you'd better believe I'm going to win next year!"
"Brilliant, Thalmidor, just brilliant!" the Doctor told him, shaking his hand warmly. "Always knew you would do the family proud. Now go put that on the dining room table and hear the favor your mother wants to ask!"
***** Sequel to follow: Bitter Fruit *****