Page 29

Jennette

“Lead the way, Captain,” Jaz says to Tad.

Rushing from one of the side paths, a woman practically jumps at Jaz, eyeing her with avid interest. “How did you get your makeup blended so well? It looks like your skin!”

“I’m a professional,” Jaz says.

I blink at that response. Because she’s a musician, not a makeup artist. But it feels like she gave the lady the fastest response to shut her up.

“Let’s go,” Ravik says.

“Yeah, we’re gonna miss the start,” Poppy calls.

We hurry past booths bursting with cosmic curiosities as I guide us to the panel discussion area. I have my obsessions, okay? And I still love Nebula Odyssey , even if Colin McFarland is gross. I’m positive Chelsie Linnloch, who played Captain Zara, is as awesome as she seems on social media.

“There!” Poppy points at a cluster of empty seats, miraculously unclaimed.

We dart through the throng of people, dodging a duo dressed as galactic bounty hunters and a trio of robots clinking with each step.

“Good eye. Prime real estate!” Tad says as we settle into our seats, unobstructed by errant antennae or oversized headpieces.

Seeker chooses to sit beside me at the end of the row.

I wonder if he’s nervous about being out and about as himself.

So far, he’s fielded compliments from Poppy and Tad on his cosplay, but nobody has given him too much attention.

There’s a papier-maché Hutt being towed around on a wagon, so he picked quite a lively day for a debut.

The Nebula Odyssey moderator strides out in uniform, knowing we all want Chelsie. But she wins the crowd over by dropping the phrase that true fans know by heart. We even shout it with her.

“Here’s to new worlds and new friends!” She continues, “I’d make a long introduction, but that guy might shoot me with his blaster rifle.” As she intends, people laugh when she makes finger guns. “Without further ado, I give you Chelsie Linnloch…and special surprise guests!”

The panel kicks off with thunderous applause as Chelsie takes the stage.

I wonder how she feels about doing cons in the middle of nowhere.

But this is a big crowd, too much to be contained indoors.

She’s flanked by two costars, each dressed in screen-famous regalia.

I suspect this is damage control. These two, Ensign Franks and Commander Ryn, don’t have billing in the program.

They must’ve been booked in a hurry when McFarland acted up.

I don’t think I’ve seen either of them in any other series.

Out-of-work actors sometimes wind up with regular jobs.

Maybe that’s what Franks, played by Steve Jenns, and Ryn, played by Miriam Werner, are doing now.

For a while, they share stories, ribbing each other gently, and it’s so much fun to get a glimpse of the behind-the-scenes magic that I can’t stop smiling.

I glance at Seeker, who’s watching me instead of the guests onstage.

I smile at him, feeling a blush warm my cheeks.

God, he’s sexy.

“Remember when we got stuck in the escape pod?” Chelsie says. “And it turned out, someone’s pet Fluvian snarler had chewed through the wiring.”

“Hey, that snarler puppet had better acting chops than you,” Miriam retorts.

That sounds a little bitter since Chelsie is still working and Miriam isn’t. She’s an older woman, late fifties now, and I hear it can be tough to get acting jobs past a certain age. Steve smooths over the moment with a cute anecdote about a crew reunion party that happened five years ago in Vegas.

“But what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, right?” He grins.

It’s so strange that Ensign Franks is older than me. I’ve seen him on TV as a kid for years. But he’s a grown man with a salt-and-pepper goatee, not a super genius who graduated from Nebula Academy eight years early.

I sneak another peek at Seeker. His upper body is nearly brushing mine since these seats are quite close together.

If I shifted, I could touch him. But I don’t.

I just savor the feeling of wanting to, a soft anticipation tightening my stomach.

There’s real delight in the tentative start of something, wondering if they’ll hold your hand or smile at your joke.

When the panel ends, the moderator comes back out. “There will be an autograph session at the pavilion tent in Section 7-A. Candid pictures aren’t allowed, but you’ll be able to purchase signed glossy photos on-site.”

“So glad we didn’t miss this,” Tad says.

I agree. “Took the bad taste of McFarland right out of my mouth.”

We stretch our legs and wander back to the maze of tables and stalls, each more alluring than the last. I catch snatches of geeky conversation and notice the sound of rolling dice punctuated by occasional blaster effects.

Seeker pauses by a table with an array of alien artifacts. Well, replicas from various shows, that is.

“Do these devices function?” he asks.

The vendor seems confused, and I step forward to smooth things over. “Do they turn on, light up, make sounds?”

“Oh. Yeah! Of course. This is a genuine crystal orb,” he promises. I lean closer to inspect the mesmerizing swirls of light within the glassy sphere. “Crafted with such precision, even a Vortoxian wouldn’t spot the difference.”

“Remarkable,” Seeker murmurs, examining the orb with delicate curiosity. “The artisans of Earth have a mastery of detail that rivals that of the finest crafters in the Cygnus Cluster.”

“What?” The vendor doesn’t realize that Seeker is messing with him.

Or at least, I think he is. Maybe it’s a sincere compliment.

“He’s refusing to break the fourth wall,” I say swiftly.

“Oh, right. Committed to the cosplay, I got ya. Did you want to buy that?”

“We can’t,” Tad says, coming up behind me. “You don’t take intergalactic credits.”

“So fucking funny.” The vendor moves off, muttering about weirdos ruining his business.

He wouldn’t have a shop without us, though.

“Maybe next year, they’ll consider it,” Poppy jokes. “Especially if Space Con becomes an actual space destination!”

I choke a little on my own saliva. Don’t panic. She’s kidding.

“Can you imagine?” Tad laughs, picking up a meticulously detailed model spaceship at the next table. “Real aliens? That would be something to phone home about.”

I notice Jaz pause and she seems to share a look with Seeker. She hasn’t commented on his super-realistic costume, either, unlike Tad and Poppy. Wait, does she know too? Did she know first ? Why that bothers me, I’m not even sure. But my chest feels tight.

“You show the world too much,” Ravik says softly.

They certainly can move quietly.

I blink. “What?”

“There is no value in inventing reasons for sorrow,” they add.

And then they move off through the crowd, leaving me with the sense that they know something I don’t. Maybe a lot of somethings.

“No way, an Astro Cruiser!” Tad’s voice pierces through the din of chattering fans and electronic beeps from nearby gaming booths.

It’s like we’re all kids again. Poppy is the first to move, and then I follow Jaz to Tad’s side, where he’s gazing fervently at a life-size replica of the famed spacecraft from Astro Adventures .

It’s especially impressive that they built this out of Lego when the ship came from a cartoon of all things.

“By the moons of Jupiter,” Poppy intones. “We must investigate!”

Tad chuckles, adjusting imaginary spectacles in true Professor Nexus fashion. “‘We shall discern the secrets of the cosmos’—or at least snag some cool merch.”

Zeltron was only the first of my many alien crushes. And now I’ve met a real one.

I pick up a toy blaster that’s for sale nearby, strike a heroic pose, and quote the commander. “‘Fear not, for the stars guide our path!’”

“Classic Zeltron,” Tad says. “Always the optimist, even when faced with a black hole.”

“Optimism is the light that drives darkness away,” Jaz says sagely.

“Plus, it helps to have a genius sidekick like Doctor Nexus,” Poppy adds.

Who knew window-shopping could be this much fun? I find nostalgia in things we pass, and I don’t need to collect everything or take it all home. I have these moments instead, happiness percolating away, and I decide to take Ravik’s cryptic advice.

It doesn’t matter who knew what when.

I matter to Seeker, or he wouldn’t have told me; that’s what counts. A few booths down, he’s checking out a selection of futuristic gadgets, each one promising the power to warp reality or bend time, though the fine print says for entertainment purposes only .

“Ah, the Quantum Multi-Tool,” I say. “With this, I can repair my ship’s FTL drive, change the bozon flow of a frackulator, or convert a microwave into a particle accelerator!”

“Useful,” Seeker concedes. “But what about this Cloaking Wristband? Invisibility has its perks. Sneaking past guards, avoiding awkward social situations—”

“Is that something you’re worried about?” I cut in, surprised.

His voice wavers slightly, hinting at the hidden weight of his words. “Not normally. But here, if I misread cues or say something wildly incorrect…”

The unspoken consequences are clear; I don’t need him to finish that sentence. The desire to protect him thrums within me, and I find myself lost in his rare, wonderful gaze. Electricity zings through me, just from a look. I need to know if he feels this too.

But I’m scared to ask. Scared to get an unwelcome answer. So I just drink my fill visually because sometimes it feels as I’ve been thirsty my whole life, and only now has anyone thought to offer me a cool, refreshing drink. To me, he is that—and more.

I’m so scared by how much I like him already.