Free Bimbos of the Death Sun by Sharyn McCrumb Page A

is very strong, but the story is so-so.”
     
    Onstage, Miles Perry had finished presenting Miss Anderson her pizza certificate, and after urging a final round of applause for all the contestants, he gripped the microphone and looked inquiringly at Diefenbaker. Dief pointed to Jay Omega and nodded.
     
    “One last award to be given tonight, folks. Our other guest author has very graciously agreed to judge the short-story contest, and I’d like to get him up here to announce the winner. He’s here as Jay Omega, author of
Bimbos of the Death Sun
. Let’s have a big hand for Dr. James Owens Mega of Tech’s own engineering department!”
     
    Jay Omega stopped in mid-stride, looking stricken. The audience was cheering louder than ever, and Marion was motioning for him to go ahead. Oh, well, he thought, maybe I could make a living repairing sports cars in a specialty garage. He wished Appin Dungannon would throw a folding chair at Miles Perry. How did he know, anyway? Of course, Marion must have explained it all to the con organizers when she arranged for him to come as a guest; apparently his preference for anonymity had not been made clear enough.
     
    He joined Miles Perry onstage. “Thanks very much for the introduction,” he said, trying to smile.
     
    “As Miles told you, I judged the short-story contest, and there was certainly a wide range of entries.”
     
    Marion nodded. Bad Herbert, bad Tolkien, bad Stephen King.
     
    “Choosing a winner was really a tough decision.” I wouldn’t paper-train a dog on most of them, Marion had declared. “I know you’re all very serious about your writing, and that you put a lot of work into writing and rewriting your fiction.” He grinned. “I know I do.
     
    “Anyway, before I announce the winner, I want to wish all of you luck with your writing endeavors and to tell you to keep trying.”
     
    Because they need all the writing practice they can get, Marion finished silently.
     
    Jay Omega consulted his list. “This year’s short story contest winner, for ‘Memory Awake’ is Diana Gentry.”
     
    Gasps and buzzes of conversation swept the audience. Finally, a cherubic fourteen-year-old boy in tights and tunic approached the stage.
     
    Jay Omega took all the time allowed by the youth’s approach trying to think of a diplomatic way to ask. No inspiration was forthcoming, and when the kid joined him onstage, Jay Omega blurted out: “You’re Diana Gentry?”
     
    He blushed. “No. She’s my mom, and she’s not here tonight. She teaches English at the junior high. You said the contest was open to anybody.”
     
    Jay Omega handed the boy a gift certificate from Blue Ridge Books. “Accepting on behalf of his mother…”
     
    Marion shrugged. “An English teacher. It figures.”
     

SEVEN
     
    D id you know that there’s going to be a wedding at this con?” Miles Perry asked Diefenbaker.
     
    “Mark and Linda? Somebody mentioned it to me. Their player characters are getting married in a
D&D
episode run by Jerry Larson tonight. Why? Do you want to go?”
     
    Miles shook his head. “Not them. Somebody’s having a
Star Trek
wedding tomorrow night after the banquet.”
     
    “Oh. Well … surely they cleared it with you, Miles. You’re director of the con.”
     
    “No. They say Chip Livingstone gave them the go-ahead.”
     
    Diefenbaker looked over his shoulder with a frown. “That is very strange.”
     
    “You’re telling me,” said Miles, “I guess I shouldhave asked to see the letter.”
     
    “Yes,” agreed Dief, “I hope they don’t expect him to show up at the nuptials.”
     
    “I trust not, though it seems everywhere I turn these days, I trip over the name of Chip Livingstone!”
     
    Dief permitted himself a snicker. “He’s becoming quite the BNF, isn’t he?”
     
    “He certainly is! I heard a couple of neofans boasting that they were going to have breakfast with him!”
     
    The laughter was louder at that.
     
    “I should