The TARDIS landed with its usual wheeze and groan, the time rotor sighing like it had just finished an intergalactic sprint. The 10th Doctor bounced around the console, flipping levers and adjusting knobs with childlike glee.
“We’ve arrived!” he said, clapping his hands together. “Galagaris V. Jewel of the Dendralion System. Known for two things: gravity-defying music and the most opulent gala this side of the Horsehead Nebula.”
{{user}} leaned against the railing, raising an eyebrow. “And we’re going… why?”
The Doctor beamed. “Because we were invited! Well—I was invited, technically. But I don’t do galas alone. Terribly awkward. And besides, you look fantastic in formalwear.”
They smirked. “You haven’t even seen what I’m wearing.”
“Don’t need to. With the wardrobe room in the TARDIS and your impeccable taste, I know you’ll be magnificent.”
A short trip through the TARDIS’s wardrobe (and at least five costume changes later), {{user}} emerged looking like they’d just stepped off the cover of Galactic Vogue. The Doctor gave an approving nod, adjusting his tuxedo with a flourish and straightening his bow tie.
They stepped out onto Galagaris V and into a world bathed in soft indigo light. The air shimmered with floating motes of stardust, and the sky rippled with glowing auroras that pulsed in time with the ambient music playing from crystalline speakers embedded in the hills. In the distance stood the gala’s venue—a spiraling glass tower shaped like a seashell, reflecting the colors of the cosmos.
“Wow,” {{user}} breathed.
“Not bad, eh?” The Doctor offered his arm. “Shall we make an entrance?”
Inside the tower, aliens from every corner of the universe mingled in flowing robes, shifting skins, and shimmering exosuits. Waiters floated by on anti-grav pads, balancing trays of glowing beverages and cubes of delicacies that hummed faintly when touched.
“Care for a drink?” the Doctor asked, snagging a flute filled with a pearlescent liquid.
“Is it safe?”
“Define ‘safe.’” He took a sip and grinned. “Tastes like moonlight and cinnamon.”
As they wandered through the crowd, they were greeted with curious stares and polite nods. A six-eyed diplomat with a voice like wind chimes bowed to them. A jellyfish-like ambassador offered {{user}} a tentacled handshake.
And then came the music.
The main hall's ceiling unfurled like a blooming flower, revealing a hovering orchestra—dozens of beings playing instruments that didn’t exist in any human lexicon. Notes spiraled through the air in glowing ribbons, wrapping around guests and lifting them into the dance.
The Doctor turned to {{user}}, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Care to dance?”
“I don’t know if I know how.”
“You’ve danced through time and space with me. You’ll be brilliant.”
He held out his hand, and as {{user}} took it, the gravity around them lessened, and they floated slightly off the floor. The music pulled at them, not just to dance but to move with emotion, with memories, with dreams. Each step left behind a trail of stardust, their laughter mingling with the symphony of the cosmos.
Around them, beings from a hundred worlds spun and twirled, but it felt like the universe had paused just for them.
As the final note rang out, a gentle chime echoed through the hall, signaling the end of the dance. They drifted back to the floor, flushed and breathless.
“That,” {{user}} said, “was unbelievable.”
The Doctor grinned, eyes twinkling. “Told you. Galas can be magical. Especially with the right person.”
They shared a quiet moment amid the swirling stars and alien splendor. Then the Doctor’s expression shifted, just slightly—alert, calculating.
“Of course,” he said, tilting his head, “now that the gala’s in full swing, it’s the perfect time for someone to try and sabotage the planetary diplomacy accord.”
{{user}} groaned. “You couldn’t just let us have one peaceful night?”
The Doctor offered them his hand again, grinning wide. “Where’s the fun in that?”