For many, "science fiction convention" are the three most chilling words in the English language, summoning the image of geeky guys in Spock ears flashing Vulcan "live long and prosper" signs and arguing about how many steps it was from the bridge of the Starship Enterprise to the transporter room.

But here in the sun-dappled registration area of "Bucconeer," the 56th annual World Science Fiction Convention, there's not a Trekkie in sight and the people into "costuming" seem almost subdued, like the woman in the plunging white gown and angel wings.

True, there was a tall, burly man dressed in a shimmering blue robe, hair swept up in the distinctive, fan-shaped style of a Centauri on the popular "Babylon 5" TV series, with a duck under one arm. But most of the crowd here in the Baltimore Convention Center appears more sober-minded, with the Birkenstock and beard count off the charts.

The five-day convention (a k a WorldCon), which runs through Sunday, is the largest of its kind in the world and is expected to draw 6,000 fans from 26 countries.

It features panel discussions on all manner of science fiction topics, autograph sessions with big-name science fiction authors, science fiction art and history exhibits, science fiction folk-singing (called filking), movies and a large dealer room with hundreds of tables filled with science fiction merchandise.

One high-light is tonight's Hugo Awards -- a hybrid of the Pulitzer, Academy and Tony awards -- honoring the best science fiction novels, art and films.

In the meantime, Worldcon attendees are hoping to dispel the image of the science fiction crowd as nerdy, out-of-touch visionaries who need to do one thing right away, which is get a life.

"This is not a bunch of people sitting around discussing who's the better 'Star Trek' captain, Jean Luc or Kirk," says Bart Kemper, 33, a WorldCon spokesman.

Indeed, the seminars sound positively lofty, with such titles as: "SF and Anime: Western Influence and Eastern Refinement" and "Did We Win? SF and Its Takeover of Popular Culture."

"Science fiction is mainstream now," Kemper says almost wistfully. "It has lost some of its insular [nature], its ghetto mentality, its 'We're the only ones who get it, the whole world's against us' thinking."

As he talks, the burly man in the blue robe with the intense hair and the duck under his arm strolls by.

"Hmmm, I don't know what the duck means," Kemper says, in the same tone that an office worker would say: "I don't know if a yellow tie works with that shirt."

Kemper, a mechanical engineer and free-lance journalist in Baton Rouge, La., developed a love for science fiction as an Army brat in Germany. Berlin in the late '70s was a swell place to grow up, he says, if you didn't mind being bored out of your skull and depending on six hours of lousy American TV programs for your daily entertainment.

"When I left in '77, we just got 'Happy Days' -- and this was a big deal," he says.

To keep his brain from shriveling to the size of a cocktail olive, he turned to his dad's science fiction books and was quickly hooked.

He has attended every WorldCon since 1988, and when you ask him why, he gets this faraway look.

"We've lost most of our frontiers," he says sadly. "You just can't get on the horse and go to the frontier anymore."

But in science fiction, there are always frontiers to be visited, and sometimes conquered.

Only the Mundanes, those poor souls not a part of SF Fandom, lack frontiers.

An e-mail will do

At the opening ceremonies, a somber announcement is made: Special guest J. Michael Straczynski, writer and producer of the megahit "Babylon 5," will not be attending the convention. He has walking pneumonia.

The crowd is momentarily hushed. But when an apologetic e-mail from the great man himself is read, applause washes over the cavernous auditorium.

The Straczynski bulletin has not dimmed the action in the Dealer's Hall, where conventioneers are two and three deep at stalls selling everything from Xena the Warrior Princess T-shirts, porcelain Star Trek figurines (five for $150) and Excalibur broadswords ($329) to three-dimensional chess sets and porno fantasy novels known as Slash stories (Kirk and Spock as lovers, that sort of thing).

Fantasy is a growing science fiction sub-genre, and doing a brisk business is a booth called Graven Images, where a pleasant-looking man dressed in black T-shirt and blue jeans is making prosthetic fangs.

"We're oriented to the Gothic vampire style," says owner Ken Beauchemin, 25, a former dental lab technician from Nashua, N.H.

A set of single fangs custom-fit to go over your canines will set you back $50. A set of "Interview with a Vampire"-style fangs goes for $100.

"My customers come in three categories," Beauchemin says. "There's the fetishists, the S&M; and B&D; crowd. There's people into costuming. And there's people into gaming, live-action role play games where they dress as vampires."

Being fitted for fangs right now is Michele Jaye Solomon, 43, of Des Plains, Ill.

Solomon, an administrative secretary for Allstate insurance in Chicago, says she's into costuming as a hobby.

She recalls going to one masquerade party in full vampire regalia: ankle-length black nightgown, black-laced caftan, black wig with widow's peak, glistening fangs.

When the party broke up around 3 in the morning, she stopped off at her local supermarket to get a couple things. Rounding one of the aisles, she ran into a stockboy, who nearly had a coronary, but instead managed to flee out the back door.

Her new fangs will be ready in about an hour. Two other customers are waiting.

If business gets any better, Beauchemin will have to have them take a ticket, the way you do in a bakery.

Party animals

WorldCon is famous for its parties, many of which are raucous hotel-room blowouts, listed on the Party Board. Here, the Balkanization of the SF crowd is evident, as notices for Christian Fandom, Gay Fandom, Furry Fandom and Pagan Fandom parties vie for attention.

"One reason people come to these conventions is to find acceptance they can't get anywhere else," Kemper says, although what some people do for acceptance can be extreme.

Lenny Provenzano, 43, a professional photographer from Hicksville, Long Island, was at a wild WorldCon party two years ago when another conventioneer staggered up and demanded he drink with him from a bottle the man was waving.

"I'm not a drinking man," Provenzano, a slight, bearded man, is saying now. "Maybe a glass of champagne if I'm at a wedding, but that's about it."

Still, in the spirit of brotherhood that WorldCon fosters, Provenzano knocked back a shot.

The man grunted with satisfaction, then let Provenzano examine the bottle. It contained a lizard at the bottom.

The lizard was not exactly doing the backstroke, either, owing to the fact that it was quite dead.

"I have no idea what it was, vodka or tequila or what," recalled Provenzano, who suddenly felt the urge to check out some of the other parties on the floor.

Trivia pursuit

In Room 331, an airless, carpeted gulag off the main registration area, the Science Fiction Trivia Contest is about to get under way.

This is the first heat. It's being moderated by Brick Barrientos of Gaithersburg. A WorldCon volunteer, Barrientos ("just say I'm in my late 30s") is a huge science fiction trivia buff himself.

He also seems to be a celebrity in this room, due to the fact that he won $14,000 last summer on "Jeopardy!" the Valhalla of game shows.

The championship round for this year's trivia contest will be held tomorrow, with winners receiving a prize badge depicting the Inner Harbor being attacked by giant, mutant crabs.

Most in the crowd of 70 or so, especially the locals, agree that this is a nice touch. And when Barrientos asks "OK, who's going to play?" a dozen people rush to the front. Three two-person teams quickly square off, and Barrientos begins reciting the questions with practiced ease.

Over the course of 45 minutes, he lobs a couple of softballs ("What is the name generally given to the enemy in "Starship Troopers?" Answer: the bugs.)

But most of the questions are of the killer variety, at least to Mundanes:

"Titan Plagues killed the crew of the 'Fool's Gold' in the novella 'The Death of Captain Future' by Allen Steele. Does it cause madness, decay from the inside out or flu-like death within 24 hours?

"What is the name of the alien race that left behind the gateways to other parts of the galaxy as well as other artifacts in the novel 'Gateway' by Fredrik Pohl?"

For a category involving the novel "A Fire Upon the Deep," this question was asked: "What is the name of the world-destroying evil released from High Lab?"

"Microsoft Windows 98!" a contestant shouts and the room erupts with laughter.

The first heat is won by the veteran team of Leo Doroschenko from West Orange, N.J., and Tom Galloway from Mountain View, Calif.

Doroschenko, 49, a shy, soft-spoken man, is a seven-time winner of the WorldCon trivia contest. Teamed with the affable Galloway, who seems to finish second or third to Doroschenko at every WorldCon, the two are a formidable pair.

They kick butt with more than 200 points, prompting a fellow contestant to cry out in exasperation: "Are you two people or androids?"

Later in the lobby, asked to explain his phenomenal success at SF trivia, Doroschenko furrows his brow, then offers: "It's just accumulated knowledge. You can't study for it. Just like you can't study for 'Jeopardy!' "

However, part of his secret may have a little something to do with the 300 science fiction books he says he reads each year.

Three hundred books a year?

"Yeah, I read about one a day, four or five a week," he says quietly.

As the enormity of this statement descends on his listener, Doroschenko chuckles softly.

"Obviously," he says, "I don't have a life."

Besides being a heavy-hitter in SF trivia, Galloway, a software engineer at a California start-up, is also a giant in the world of comic book trivia.

He plans to attend a big comic book convention in San Diego later this month.

His chief rival for the comic book trivia crown also happens to be attending WorldCon, and when the two pass each other, they take turns bellowing questions like: "What's Superman's Social Security number?" and demanding detailed breakdowns of the composition of the planet Krypton's atmosphere.

They will see each other often over the next few days, as WorldCon rolls on, exploring new frontiers and whatever the mind can dream.

Space station

What: 56th annual World Science Fiction Convention

When: Through Sunday. Registration open: 9: 30 a.m. to 8 p.m. (ends at 12: 30 p.m Sunday) Where: Baltimore Convention Center

Cost: Today and tomorrow, $65 for adults each day; $25 for ages 4-12; Sunday, $20 for adults, $10 for children

Call 410-534-8136

Pub Date: 8/07/98