Welcome, distinguished luminaries of the intergalactic soirée. Tonight, you will witness an array of dance that has no parallel—and perhaps, none is ever again desired. Under the authority of Saturn’s rings, we guide you through an evening where destinies pirouette in odd synchrony.

Rumor has it that an explorer from the Proxima B Systems mistimed their leap upon our stage, missing the Parsec Guild Dues meetings for this. Ballet, after all, is a series of graceful pirouettes undeserving its association with traffic chaos regulations of your quadrant.

Prepare yourself for the familiar somber step of space-time auctioneers and prophetic moonwalks by the great shaman Esmeralda of Jupiter. The diva bows to upper atmospheric tides, no gravity can hold back such audacity.

Reflecting on past performance audits with a quasiphrase: "After all, no ballet has ever been reviewed without a black hole for critique." Do consider the cosmic irony, dear audience.

One final reminder: skills gleaned from the galactic pirouette may not count toward a title in Mixed Astronomy with Acidic Theatrics but surely polish one’s dance as they stumble in proverbial orbit.