Sentinel Fan Fiction Page || Fanfic -- Everyday Life Series
Remember that Star Trek convention Blair mentioned in Weekend Plans...? This is another "alphabet" story as a sequel. Again, I have been to a few Star Trek conventions, but, no, this is not reflective on what I've seen at them.
"Are you having fun, Jim?" asked one very hyper guide (dressed as something Blair had called a Bajoran, complete with wrinkled nose ridges and dangly earring) to his feeling-much-put-upon sentinel (dressed as Jim Ellison, complete with jeans, lightweight plaid shirt, and ID in his back pocket).
Bravely mustering a smile, Jim winced as the convention hall's loudspeaker squealed again and nodded in response to the question, replying above the noise, "How long did you say this thing would be going?"
"Couple days, but don't worry, I'm not planning to stay here more than a few hours."
Darth Vader walked by them as they ambled -- or rather, Jim ambled and Blair bounced -- from one dealer's table to another.
Eyes widening, Jim stopped and turned to watch the black-cloaked and helmuted figure disappear into the crowd
Following a moment later was a very scantily-clad, very green-skinned woman who smiled and winked at Jim as she passed him.
Glancing around to locate his friend, Jim spotted him talking to a rather tall, rather large, rather well-armed -- what is that thing? some kind of really nasty knife? -- rather well-endowed...is that a woman? dressed in black leather? with tire tracks on her head? a female, um, Klingon, I think Sandburg called them?
"Hey, Chief..." he called out quietly as he approached them, "I thought you said this was a Star Trek convention -- I just saw Darth Vader go by; isn't he from Star Wars?"
It took a moment for Blair to drag his eyes away from his female company, but he did, answering quickly and somewhat distractedly, "Yeah, but all sorts of sci-fi fans show up at these things."
Jim watched in vague amusement as the tall Klingon woman -- a whole head taller than his partner -- handed Blair a slip of paper, her fingers lingering on his as she spoke in a low voice, "Call me," then slipped away into the crowd.
"Kinky, Sandburg; didn't know you went for quite that much leather and metal and sharp-edged weapons."
Laughing, Blair shook his head as he pocketed the slip of paper, "Actually, Jim, she has a Ph.D. in molecular engineering and does volunteer work every other weekend at the local homeless shelter."
Mouth forming an "oh", Jim stared after wherever the Klingon woman had vanished too, then shook his head and strode off after his partner who had bounced off to the next dealer's table.
Necessity and a not-so-small fear of being left alone among the sea of strange and sometimes scarily dressed people kept Jim at Blair's side the rest of the afternoon.
Openly watching everyone in his range of vision, Blair, ever-the-scientist, greedily devoured -- and shared with Jim -- huge amounts of information on the cultural value and implications of science fiction, Star Trek, Star Wars, other sci-fi shows, their impact on the world in general, on people in particular, on Blair personally, on that green-skinned woman cavorting in front of them...
"Please, just..." Jim held up a hand, covering Blair's mouth when he paused for breath, "....stop -- I get it already."
Quaking slightly with laughter under Jim's hand, Blair nodded, eyes bright with humor.
Releasing his partner, Jim gestured in front of them, "What's next?"
Strolling along the dealers' tables as they leisurely made their way back to the entrance of the large room, Blair pointed out other sci-fi characters, including more Klingons, stormtroopers, a smattering of Romulans, Bajorans, and Breen, Jedi, the occasional vampire, tons of people in uncomfortable-looking uniforms that Blair said belonged to the Federation, the green-skinned woman again ("An Orion slave girl -- don't ask."), a handful of amazons, a few fans with really large ears attached to the side of their heads ("Ferengi, Jim, not Fahrfugnuggen."), and others Jim knew he had no hope of remembering.
Tarrying at one last table before they left the large room, Blair leafed through magazines and a few books, chuckling with a few younger girls also at the table.
Under the guise of leafing through a stack of old and classic comic books -- ooh, a Spiderman comic, hmm... -- Jim kept an eye on Blair as he struck up a conversation for a few minutes with another "dressed-as-whatever" fan who had pointy ears and did some odd V greeting with his hand.
Vulcan -- as Jim learned -- exchange finished, Blair rejoined Jim by the comic books just as a troop of people swept past on their way to a archaic weapons table.
"Who's she supposed to be?" Jim pointed discreetly to a black-haired woman in leather with a big sword pommel rising over one shoulder and a round thingy on one hip.
"Xena, Warrior Princess; not someone you wanna mess with -- she's got an evil glare almost as bad as yours and this really cool battle cry...."
Zany and rather shamelessly hammy sword-swinging performance by the Xena-impersonator startling him, Jim snagged Blair's arm and hustled him from the room, ignoring both the laughter and the not-quite serious pleas to go back inside.
- The End -