I lead him out onto the floor, and we manage to find a space where we can accomplish a simple box step together as we move in time to the music.
“This has been the best, most romantic honeymoon ever,” River says, smiling up at me.
“For me too.”
Our time here together has given me a glimpse of our future, and it’s going to be glorious.
We dance for several more songs before taking a break. River finds us a spot at an open table, and I go to get us some drinks. I’m not remotely surprised when I get back to find a horde of fans around our table. River’s smiling, shaking hands, and signing napkins and other objects. He’s in his element and I stay at his side, letting him enjoy the moment while I keep a watchful eye on our surroundings.
Old habits die hard.
Eventually, folks begin to drift back to their seats, and that’s when the costume contest begins.
A new emcee appears on stage, and I recognize her as one of the other organizers River and I met the other day.
“Welcome to Tentacular Tales Con’s second annual costume contest! A fan favorite in which you, our amazing audience, decide the winners. We have ten competitors this evening, so please give them their due as they strut their stuff on the catwalk.”
One by one, costume contest hopefuls make their way down the catwalk. All their outfits are elaborate and quite impressive. River is on his feet and cheering with the audience as each of the contestants have their individual turn to show off their costumes. When Nirblob comes rolling down the catwalk last, on his skates and in full Lord Vardox regalia, River makes enough noise for a small army. His costume, far more elaborate than the one he made me, is a standout. It’s quite the sight to behold and it’s quite apparent to even myself that his is by far and away the best of the bunch.
“You’re giving Lord Vardox realness!” River shouts. “Slay, queen, slay!”
Nirblob grins evilly, which is basically his default look since he has no lips over his bared teeth. Then, with a grandiose gesture, he whips open his cloak to proudly reveal an updated version of the mechanical tentacles belt he made for River—but scaled down to accommodate his much smaller size. The mechanized appendages undulate in the air while Nirblob gives a John Travolta disco-finger to the sky pose.
I’m not surprised when the crowd goes wild.
“I feel like a proud mentor right now,” River says with a sniffle. “I have educated him in the ways of the Light Side of the Force and all that is part and parcel of the holy sci-fi geek grail. Nirblob’s been an A-plus student the whole way. He’s come so far since we first met and is now using his brainiac powers for good.” River sighs happily.
“Darling, you saw something in Nirblob that none of the rest of us did. Your overtures of friendship played a critical role downthe line in saving the Alliance on Earth from Layne Madison’s invasion plans. Your kindness and willingness to see the best in others saved a lot of lives.”
His expression goes soft. “I had no idea becoming his friend would save our asses in our hour of need. I just knew there was more to the guy than meets the eye and I wanted to become friends.” He pats his stomach. “Further proof that I should always trust my gut instinct about people.”
At the end, the contestants come back out together to line up on the stage, and the emcee reminds the audience of their names and numbers for the impending voting. When Nirblob is announced again, the audience is more animated in their response for him than for anyone else.
It doesn’t take long for everyone to submit their digital votes—River and I both happily vote for our friend—and in mere minutes, the winners are announced. To no one’s surprise, Nirblob wins first place and River looks like a proud father.
“My protégé has learned well from his master. The Force is strong with this one.”
I cough to fight back a laugh but even I must admit the little guy has really outdone himself—and thank the galactic gods he’s using his talents to help the Alliance. In fact, I think I need to talk to my parents about offering him an official position on our team. He’s more than earned it, and I know River would be over the moon at the idea. I’ll keep it a secret for now though.
Nirblob rolls up to the microphone to accept his award. “Greetings, my tentacular friends! I’m so honored to be standing here right now. My love forThe Tentacular Tales of Captain Starbladehas brought me great joy and led me on a path toward my destiny. I met River Sullivan and became his friend. I made a new home on Earth and run a bar for my fellow extraterrestrials. I even helped the Alliance thwart a hostile invasion on Earth. My life has taken a turn for the better, and I’m happier than I’ve everbeen. For me, Lord Vardox will always be my guiding light. All hail the Tentacle King!” His mechanical tentacles whirl about in the air in a regal fashion.
Nirblob knows his audience. They cheer him on with loud enthusiasm.
“Hang on a sec,” River says, and in a flash he’s racing toward the stage. He climbs up and grabs the microphone with one hand while resting his other on Nirblob’s shoulder.
Under the bright lights, he beams at the crowd. “Good evening, friends! Some of you may know me already, but I’m River Sullivan—aka KirklovesSpock4eva—the author ofThe Tentacular Tales of Captain Starblade.”
The noise around me turns deafening.
“Thank you, thank you,” River says, and the room quiets. “I want to give my own shout-out of thanks to my pal Nirblob—Tentacular Tales Con organizer, superfan, friend extraordinaire, and now winner of this year’s costume contest! It couldn’t have happened to a better guy.”
He takes the contest’s first-place crown—complete with tentacle crenellations—and places it on Nirblob’s head with a flourish. “I dub thee winner of the costume contest and this year’s Tentacle King!”
Clapping and whistling fill the room. Nirblob looks a bit dazed but utterly elated.
River beams at the crowd. “It’s also my honeymoon here with my hubby-boo over there.” He points a finger at me. “And I want to share a fun human dance number that everyone who’d like to join in on can try. If we can start the music, please?” he shouts to one of the organizers handling the sound tech. Then he turns back to the crowd. “Trust me, no one can resist moving to this classic from Gloria Estefan and Miami Sound Machine!”
The opening notes of “Conga” start playing, and River jumps down from the stage and begins mobilizing most of the audienceinto a conga line. Then he grabs my arm and pulls me to stand behind him, putting my hands on his waist as he takes the lead at the head of the line.
