Maz Rodan

Always had the best hair in the fleet, and a stone cold gaze! Maz Rodan is Medusa!

Congrats! I hope you have a great time in the fleet!

Huge congratulations to everyone! We all appreciate the dedication and hard work it takes to keep the group as excellent as it is.

Many congrats to everyone! Very well done. 18 years since the launch of the wiki? That’s incredible. I remember when it was just one page 😂 Congrats!

I voted Tribble. But I’m not sure if I’m allowed another one 😂

Lt.Commander Maz Rodan wondered if he’d beamed down to the right reception, or even the right decade. One of only a few individuals in the galaxy, Joined Trill and El-Aurians none withstanding, Maz actually remembers when mullets were the height of fashion. The First Officer of the Arrow sports a solid gold earring, which is only a clip on, since his mother would have a conniption.

Well done everyone!

Can you be your ships judge and submit a story for judging yourself?

I can't tell you how good it is to have my old collaboration partner back on the ship - and the fleet at large - with us! Max, you have been missed, and this is incredible, as usual! --- (( Shuttlecraft Ramena, in Raft-One Traffic Control Space )) Shuttles sure seemed like magnets for disaster - always falling into spatial anomalies, getting captured by hostile forces, breaking down at the most inconvenient times... it was a wonder the crew safety commission didn't strike every single last one from service. The problem was they were still the best way for a small number of people (or just one) to get from place to place. People like Maria. Except they were only the best until they weren't. Maria sighed heavily. The Arrow at long last loomed larger and larger in the window. All in all, the journey could have been far worse. The trip should have only taken three or four days, but instead it took two weeks. She was back though. Of course, Maria wasn't supposed to be seeing the ship or its crew for at least another month according to the original plan, but the reason why her assignment to the Degault and Genti II was cut short was a story she hoped wouldn't pried into. Or not immediately, at least. Ah, who was she kidding? Shayne would probably tear into it (and her) the first second he saw her. She grinned at the thought - nothing like a good verbal sparring match with the ol' CO to feel right at home. The fact she was here at all was a minor miracle. When she was dropped (more dumped, really) at the depot, the sole Starfleet officer on the planet had informed her that there were in fact no shuttles available. Upon some rather pointed prodding, he admitted there was one "in the back." Maria demanded to see it, and he obliged. He led her back, and flung the tarp off of what would more rightfully be called a warp-capable rickshaw, complete with chicken wire for conduit shielding. Anxious to put the Degault behind her, Maria immediately mounted up and warped off into the sunset, no questions asked. Just over six hours later, the shuttle had its first systems failure. From there, it turned into a game of hitchhiking along the trade routes of the Alpha Isles over the following weeks: first with a Caldonian yacht, then a Galadoran freighter, then finally a Dokkaran ore tug. Between fouled warp injectors, a replicator on the fritz, and a navigation computer held together by Serilian Gorilla Paste, the best place for Maria's junkyard queen to be was safely docked in the shuttle bay of a larger, faster ship. That also gave her time and tools to patch the systems well enough to traverse the final twenty-four hours or so to Raft-One on her own, where Arrow was docked. So far, her handiwork held up. Barely making warp two was hardly traveling in style, but when the distance was reasonably short, it worked. She thought, for a moment, she might just dock without incident. Alvarez: =/\= Shuttlecraft Ramena to Raft-One traffic control, on final approach to USS Arrow. Switching comms. =/\= Controller: =/\= Roger, shuttlecraft Ramena. Safe docking. Out. =/\= Maria switched to the channel she had memorized. She felt her stomach churn as the familiar shape of the ship got bigger and bigger. For a moment, she mis-characterized the feeling as anxiety, but quickly realized it had more to do with the fact that Dokkaran miner's rations did not sit well with her. Also, it probably had more to do with the fact that the Arrow was upside down from Maria's point of view, and there was an uneasy lurch in the shuttle's rate of roll coming around to match orientation. Alvarez: =/\= Suttlecraft Ramena to Arrow, request permission to dock. =/\= Shuttlebay: =/\= Permission granted - proceed to shuttlebay two. =/\= Alvarez: =/\= Acknowledged, trimming course. =/\= A few compliant beeps later, and the final approach vector was laid in. Maria, while certified, was far from an ace pilot, so she trimmed the approach rate downwards for a gentle landing. The only problem was the shuttle was now stubbornly stuck at a 45-degree angle relative to the bay. Shuttlebay: =/\= Shuttlecraft Ramena, please adjust your relative roll to zero-zero-zero. =/\= Maria rolled her eyes. Did they think she was coming in like this on purpose? Landing on a single nacelle was about the worst thing you could do. She pressed a few buttons that should have brought her around, but the shuttle's computer beeped at her defiantly. Alvarez: =/\= Arrow, I seem to be having technical difficulties. Stand by. =/\= She got out of the seat, and pried a panel open with a huff. As she stared at the innards, there was a powerful wash of deja vu. She shook it off, and set to work. Alvarez: Fine, you wanna do it the hard way, we'll do it the hard way. Let's see here... :: She started singing, tracing her finger across the circuits. :: The thruster pack is connected to the :: beat :: octo-valve, the octo-valve is connected to the :: beat. :: servo relay, the servo relay is connected to the :: beat. :: nav ODN bus, the nav ODN bus is connected to the... :: She stopped. :: HA! Got you. Just a good old manual override and... She yanked a glowing cable from one slot and thrust it into another port. The shuttle bucked, throwing Maria's footing off and sent her backwards onto the far wall. The good news was that the shuttle was now rotating. The bad news was that it would not stop rotating until the cable was removed again. Maria reached forward, and yanked on the cable. Sparks flew up, and the cabin went dark. Outside, Arrow was still spinning closer and closer into view. Upon realizing the step she missed, Maria swore. Alvarez: I really should have paid more attention in engineering class... Shuttlebay: =/\= Shuttlecraft Ramena - please null your rate of roll. =/\= Alvarez: =/\= Yeah about that... =/\= Shuttlebay: =/\= Ramena, you are crossing the final abort zone, correct your roll or abort your landing! =/\= Maria hauled herself up to the chair and tried a few controls. Nothing worked. Alvarez: Computer, diagnostic - what command systems are still functioning? There was a moment. Computer: Audio commands, database functions, and communications. All navigation is offline. Maria groaned. Alvarez: =/\= Arrow, all navigation is out, prepare for a crash landing. =/\= Shuttlebay: =/\= Roger Ramena. =/\= The man sounded thoroughly annoyed. At least with the painfully slow approach Maria had chosen, there wouldn't be any real damage to Arrow, and no one would care much about the hunk of junk she currently sat in. She sat down and held on as the shuttlebay got larger and larger, slowly twirling round and round. Then, she chuckled as an idea crossed her mind. Not everything on the shuttle was broken. Alvarez: Computer, play "The Blue Danube." The computer chirped, and the schmaltzy strings and horns struck up in a lilting waltz. Maria laughed at the perfect absurdity of it. If she was going to get in trouble for all of this (and she almost certainly would), she might as well have her fun with the moment. As Arrow appeared to serenely spin around her, docking lights going in circles around her head, she felt her stomach lurch again. That put a stop to her fits of giggles, replacing it with an uncomfortable groan. Alvarez: I'm gonna be sick... As the waltz drunkenly crescendoed, Maria had to admit her commitment to the joke was not helping her. She gripped onto the chair as the shuttle went upside down yet again as it crossed the boundary of the shuttlebay in slow motion. The normally imperceptible transition in gravity felt like a rollercoaster in this orientation - the blood in her head drained "up", but the blood in her feet "down" - if those directions could even be called that. There was an abrupt crunchy clang on the roof from the shuttle dropping on the shuttlebay floor, and a horrid scraping squeeeeeeeeee of metal against the floor as the shuttle came to a stop. Then, the shuttle's gravity switched fully off, and Maria was sprawled across the ceiling with no warning. Fortunately, her dignity was hurt more than anything, at first blush. She scraped herself off of the deck, and proceeded out the upside-down exit. She gave a pretty smile and flirty wave to the on-duty chief as if that could solve all transgressions, then promptly emptied the contents of her stomach on the deck. (( Mini-timeskip )) (( USS Arrow, Deck 3 - Sickbay )) (( OOC Note: I'm leaving tags open for one or more of our doctors to answer. Or for anyone to visit. )) Maria cradled her head in one hand and her stomach in the other, legs draped off the biobed she sat on. This was definitely not how she imagined her reunion tour starting. She kept her eyes shut to keep the unnatural light of sickbay from making her feel even worse. She wasn't sure if she was being a complete wimp about the discomfort she was in, or if the washes of general stomach malaise were really as bad as she'd said. Hopefully the doctor's tricorder would answer that. Alvarez: I really should not have eaten all that Dokkaran Relvu Stew... Sickbay: Response Alvarez: At least it was fresh! Or rather the captain said it was fresh... Looking back, it did have far more of a fermented taste than seemed safe. Maria didn't ordinarily have trouble with being spun around, and it had been long enough for her vision to settle, so she was a little concerned that her body was still in full revolt. The food she ate for the last two weeks seemed like a good explanation. It certainly felt more satisfying to blame it on that than her miserable piloting and fix-it skills. Sickbay: Response Maria opened her eyes and looked up with a displeased frown. Alvarez: What does that mean? Is it bad? I'm assuming by the number of syllables that it's bad. :: Suddenly grinning :: Is it contagious? Maybe I should be put in isolation for a few days... :: She winked. :: Only Maria could be excited by the prospect of a potentially dangerous medical condition. After all, who knew? Maybe this would be a way to avoid Shayne for a couple more days. Or at least get a doctor's note keeping her out of purging the waste systems. She smiled, then realized that was punishment more commonly reserved for Ensigns. Something she wasn't any longer. On the Degault, her rank wasn't much more than a formality. She spent more time on the planet anyway, so it only now occurred to Maria she hadn't spent more than a minute aboard Arrow with the new half-pip before she'd shipped off. Sickbay: Response Maria was too busy inside her own head to really process the answer to her question. Thoughts of what Arrow had been up to in her absence crawled up in her mind - she suddenly felt a little guilty for not checking in on Quentin or Chloe or anyone else. She had meant to, of course, but it never happened. It took until this moment to process the new scars she'd noticed on Arrow's hull and the general pale dejection of some of the crew wandering the halls. Sure, Maria wasn't exactly hot stuff at this particular moment in time, but at least she had an excuse: she was suffering from... whatever syndrome it was the doctor had just said. What was everyone else's deal? Her dark eyes focused on the doctor, this time with a curious and crystal-clear intensity. Alvarez: Hey, did something happen last mission? Things around here seem :: She considered the word a moment. :: off. Of course something happened. Something always happens on missions. She meant what happened? Sickbay: Response Lieutenant JG Maria Alvarez Operations Officer USS Arrow - NCC-69829 A239710MA0 Wiki Operator

And now! Checking in on the right thread... The Merry Hosts of Windsor, His Majestic Trillness, King Henry VIII

Haha I came here to post that exact quote!

Have you ever known a huge secret, like something so fantastic and epic you can't wait for it to get started? You're chomping at the bit to tell people, but you know you'll spoil it? This is me right now aching to get our current mission kicking! And this sim from @Quentin Collins III solidifies my childish excitement!! ---- It had been almost a decade since the tomb-ship had moved. Longer still since life had trod its levels. But it seemed it's path through the Isles had positioned it for all sorts of re-acquaintances. Back to light and matter and even a touch of life. Time would tell if they would actually survive it's contact with the tomb-ship but its deckings hummed with an ambient energy all the same. One long thought lost to the ravages of time and cosmic tides. Hosting its first “guests” in the Ferengi; the first in centuries. It's journey had started long ago, but was longer still from ever being complete. Bound a holy mission but then lost to the indifference of space. And a souring in the faith of its crew. One further twisted by time and distance from home. More than a hundred decks carried these stories and more. But that may have been lost on the scavengers that had first discovered her, hanging carefully and hidden in their personal space-fold. Itself another odd quirk of the deep decay that had set into the ship's bowels. Decay that couldn't be reversed now, only managed. By hands inexperienced in the work of its management. But as charged energy particulates danced across its hull, revealing its massive shape and form to open space for the first time in years, something else stirred it the lowest depths of its deepest holds. Something that forgotten what the light even looked liked. But not what the smell of meat smelled like. Groans and creaky wails started to echo from the lower decks. Not all of them mechanical in nature. To Be Continued… -- THE SPACE HULK Ancient Derelict Once Thought Lost to Time As simmed by -- Lieutenant Commander Quentin Collins III Chief Science Officer -- U.S.S. ARROW NCC-69829 ID: E239512QC0 -- F.N.S. CONTRIBUTOR (SB118 Forums)

Shayne: =/\= Computer, assign Ensign Alvarez to waste extraction, effective her next duty shift. =/\= Computer: =/\= Acknowledged. =/\= Raising an eyebrow, she tilted her head slightly, smirking and sending her red hair spilling off to the side. Shayne: You see what I have to deal with?! MacKenna: She had the best interests of the ship at heart. ::smirk turning into a grin.:: Besides, I know better. He grumbled, though half serious, she found it both adorable and maybe a little amusing. Shayne: But Ash… MacKenna: She wasn't that bad. Ash shrugged, grinned and called with her eyes, waiting for action before making any movements. Finally, after a moment of reluctance, he tapped his badge. Her grin turned into her sweet smile. Shayne: =/\= Belay my last, computer. =/\=

Well done and massive thanks to our Maria Alvarez for brainstorming, evolving and executing the idea of The Bairiri - the cultural, musical, and artistic coming together of the Gentii species and Starfleet. These sims were beautiful to read! (( Genti II - Grand Central Establishment, Federal District. Brynja Bairiri Hall - Main Stage )) (( OOC: Buckle up! I did my best to roughly notate which parts were which, but it’s all pretty approximate if you dare to try matching it up. If you have Spotify, I recommend the edition I’ve been listening to. If you’re short on time or don’t enjoy classical, I’d still encourage you to give the finale (last track) a listen. If you need youtube, this is the best I can do (finale) - personally I find the sweaty conductor distracting (maybe listen, don’t watch) and the live audio quality is inferior, but hey it’s free. Once again, thanks to everyone who contributed, and bravo! Without further ado, turn up the music (no really), and I hope you enjoy reading! )) How exactly do you represent the sum total of the creative and aesthetic output of billions of people living over as many as ten thousand years? Maria couldn’t even be sure how to represent her own tastes, let alone attempt such an undertaking. Should she go modern? Classic? Jazz? Should it be from Earth at all? Orion courtier? Andorian acid? Edo futurist? Cardassian traditional? Some fusion? Endless choices boggled the mind. Truth be told, ever since she came out of the shared dreamscape and learned there’d be another attempt at the Bairiri, there was only one piece of music that she couldn’t get out of her mind, but she rejected it. It was too hard, too long, too old, too schmaltz, too traditional, and most of all: too ballet. She’d spent far too long investing time training in so many other forms of dance to distill herself down to that - not to mention she was still wrestling with how to feel about ballet. She’d appropriated the growing empty space in Arrow where the holodeck would eventually live for her practice the entire week. She sampled parts of as many as fifty pieces, but, try as she might, every time she put on music she found her heart going back to an ancient, mystic tale. Finally she gave in and decided to give it a chance. When she heard it again, in its fullness for the first time in a long while, she knew her heart was set: The Firebird. As she finished the dramatic red, black, and gold stage makeup and tested her pointe shoes one last time, it was a decision she now knew to be the right one. The metaphor was too alike, the music too powerful. From behind the curtains, Maria wondered if R’Ariel or Quentin had made it to see her dance. She’d put up the holocamera Regan’s sister had gifted her, just in case, but a recording wouldn’t be the same. She hoped they would understand the deep personal nature of what was about to transpire. And, perhaps, how immensely exhausting an undertaking it was. Performing the entire ballet was, of course, out of the question. The manpower and time to achieve that was simply unavailable. Had she not performed the firebird role before, it would have been impossible. While some cuts made Maria’s work easier, many removals eliminated vital rest. It turned a twelve-mile jog into an eight-mile sprint. That only compounded the dramatic changes to the choreography since its creation nearly five hundred years ago that kept the dance modern and relevant: each rendition layered in diverse new styles and moves, piling yet more taxing and technical challenges atop an already difficult ballet. So, she had to pare back in places to save strength for the climaxes. Even with the simplification, her whole body was already prepared to have its revenge on her for the hours of practice every day, just as soon as she stopped to rest. But that wasn’t going to happen yet. The sun had just dropped below the trees, setting off a colorful, smokey light show in the darkening Gentii sky. The lightest of breeze picked up in the semi-outdoor stage, tussling the red “feathers” of her short dress adorned in shimmering gold swirls. The costume hugged her body and clung to her arms and legs like any dancer’s costume should. R’Ariel’s words of encouragement to throw herself into the role replayed in her mind. Though her willowy form was certainly on display, she was now transforming into another creature entirely; becoming something born of ancient magic with powers untold. As the high-power lights flooded the stage and the holographic orchestra tuned, she felt the familiar rush of blood through her chest and cheeks and fingers. It wasn’t quite the usual performance anxiety - the Gentii had never seen anything like this, and she’d practiced tirelessly. Instead, the warmth [...]ing her nerves was a friend that focused her. She imagined the heat in her veins belonged to the firebird herself, manifesting in her body and to help her take flight. She looked across, beyond the other side of the stage was a surprise for everyone: her Gentii counterpart, Eka, who would dance the part of Prince Ivan. She proposed the idea as soon as she settled on this dance, and within the hour she was shaking the man’s hand. It was a massive gamble, but the consummate professional learned the choreography at an unbelievable pace. It forced even more simplifications, but the reward was fully embracing the purpose of the Bairiri in a way Maria enjoyed far more than she even thought she would. He looked back to her and nodded. He was ready. The orchestra fell quiet, and the hall became very still as the spell set in. Countless Gentii (and at least a few crew) waited for the start of the legend of the Firebird. As she entered the stage, Maria felt all the other thoughts and inner talk melt away. She was no longer an listless ensign or an out-of-place officer, or even Maria. She was the Firebird. --- ( Introduction, Appearance, Danse, Capture, and Supplication of the Firebird ) The lights came up, and the faintest of creeping the low strings set the scene. The holographic backdrop and set depicted an old, decrepit garden overgrown and only darkly lit by the light that filtered through to the dank forest floor covered in fungus. Smoke rose in the background. This place slowly succumbing to a rotting power no magic could not defend against. The firebird entered, stage left, and beheld the land’s steady march towards ruin. Her flight coasted from one side of the stage to the other, distraught by the steady defilement and decay of her natural home. She flew and flew, gliding through the twisting vines in search of any life that hadn’t been overtaken. The grim, plodding music offered little hope for the magical beast. The light steps and buoyant arms carried the bird back and forth, a little arabesque in a place that looked hopeful, but then up and onwards when the leaves wilted away at the slightest touch. Then - at last! The firebird spotted a cherry tree with a single blossom in a grove. The flower radiated faint holographic light in the dim light. The radiant red creature finally descended into the clearing. She cupped the precious life in her hands, thankful to have found anything remaining. She turned slowly, appearing to hover, supported only by one pointed foot, tending to the branch and tree that held the pink-white flower. She pranced with delight at finding something so beautiful still tenuously holding on to life. Suddenly, the wind turned, pushing in the smoke from far away. It flooded in like fog, suddenly gripping the tree trunk, threatening to strangle the life from it. The firebird flew into action, circling the tree now under her protection. She flapped and flapped, whirling her limbs to drive away the choking smog. As soon as she chased some out, yet more rushed in. But in the end, her sheer energy and the wind from her wings pushed the fog’s grasping fingers back, saving the tree. She danced again a while, slowly and gracefully, assuring herself the grove was now safe. Finding a forest creature, she playfully chased after it, her soft and gliding movements taking joy in the small pleasure. Finally, content with the sparse grass and leaves, the firebird finally set down to rest on a branch. Immediately disaster struck. A snare! The bird leapt into the air, frantically working to escape. The cruel chain pulled her back to the ground, her feathers collapsing. She got up and twisted the rope round and round, trying to wear out its threads. She jumped again! But it was no use. The tether would not yield - its teeth held fast. When all seemed like it would be lost, a hidden figure emerged from the woods. Prince Ivan (played by the Gentii Eka), the philosopher, ruler, and hunter, danced his way out onto the stage. He circled the entrapped mythic beast in slow steady steps, hardly believing his fortunes. The firebird, huddled in a shivering mass on the floor, looked up to him with soft pleading eyes. She held her arms close to her, then offered up her hands in supplication. She slowly rose, announced by hushed strings that wove a winding melody as delicate and subdued as her dance. She circled, dipping repeatedly to beg the prince for help. And free her he did, only to bind her to himself. The firebird hid her face, then took his hand as the strings warmed into the pas de deux. The orchestra, never quite sure of its footing, swelled and dropped back, in and out of key after key, as the prince and firebird danced through the grove - the red wings never able to spread and carry her to freedom. The prince led his prize through each step, never letting her out of reach. The dance seemed to stretch out, the pair twisting around with the woodwind’s harmony. The firebird, on toe points, was paraded around the stage for the audience to see. But the uneasy music kept any glory at bay. Every once in a while, she’d attempt to flit away, just to be restrained by the prince once again. Finally, after a long dance, the firebird knelt at the side of the cherry tree, and wept. A tear fell to the ground, and her magic filled the stage with horn and light! Suddenly a thousand glowing pink-white blossoms bloomed, breathing life and light back to the tree. The prince, shocked and realizing his error, dropped the tether. The firebird looked up, realizing she was now free. She wriggled from the dreaded leash, and took flight across the stage, a trail of twinkling magic left behind her wings. The prince chased after her, still fearful of the wrong he’d nearly committed. The firebird circled back, and took his hand, again suspended in an airy arabesque, leg arcing into the sky as she floated. They danced again, but this time he pleaded for her forgiveness in each step. His frame lifted her into the air, and she exalted in the flight. At last, the gentle duet wound back down to a whisper. The firebird, facing the prince, plucked a feather from her plumage - glowing brightly of red and gold as if holding her fire in its veins - and offered it to the prince. It was a token of forgiveness and gratitude all in one, but more than that: it was a way to summon the firebird and her magic in a time of need. She swirled about with great majesty, and the feather’s light blossomed, imbued with her powers. The prince accepted it with great reverence, hallowed music weighing his motions down. He led the firebird through a final dance in thanks of his own, then the music carried her off into the sky and off the stage. TBC... PART II (( Genti II - Grand Central Establishment, Federal District. Brynja Bairiri Hall - Main Stage )) ( Tsar Ivan and the Princesses’ Round ) Prince Ivan was alone on the stage. With the magical protection of the firebird now gone, the fog began to creep back in. He moved through the forest, seeking shelter from the oncoming nightfall, the ever thickening vines and branches closing in about him as he searched for the way out. He gracefully circled one spot, then another, and another, hoping to find escape. But it was not to be, for a dark and powerful curse animated the trees against him. There! In gaps, flashes of white shapes frollicked just out of view. Their music was light and beautiful, almost enticingly so. Ivan chased after one, then tumbled headfirst into a clearing containing old stone ruins. He sprung back up, and to his amazement several women (holographic in nature) dressed in pale white circled around on the stage, arms joined together. They danced around and around, half peasant-like, half with seductive regency. The orchestra warmed into a simple, lyric melody led by the winds and echoed by the strings. The women reached out with translucent limbs, beckoning to Ivan to follow. And follow he did. He floated towards them, drawn in by their ethereal beauty. When he caught up, the princess in lead, wearing a silver circlet, let her hands alight in his. Overjoyed, he took it and whirled her about in slow motion, unable to remove his eyes from her. He lifted her, regarding her like a precious jewel. She, in return, glided around him in dainty pointed-toe grace, leading him through the ruined stone walls. The romantic swells of the orchestra shifted through the keys, as gentle and tender as the prince’s movements. She regarded him equally - falling in love with each measured lean and step. Yet the music shifted into an uneasy, disquieted minor even as their footwork grew more intimate. The prince seemed to take no notice as the orchestra took an unexpected turn into dissonance. They danced and danced, the other women praising the pairing. The stage lights slowly narrowed and narrowed as Ivan’s steps became more and more labored. But still he went on and on to the slow lyricism, still unable to drag his gaze away from the princess. He went on until finally the light shone nowhere but him. In the background, darkness fell fully on the stone ruins. Exhausted, he slowly laid to the ground, and released his grasp on the woman who slipped into the now-everywhere dark. ( Appearance of the monsters and the Capture of Ivan by Kachtchei the Immortal ) Clangorous bells sounded with the crash of a cymbal, and blue swirling light appeared everywhere, as if through the lens of rippling water. At the edges of the castle wreckage, the petrified forms of a dozen knights standing still in stone were revealed, fortelling Ivan’s fate. The prince, realizing his peril and free of his trance, scrambled back up to find the maidens were now ghouls and goblins swarming around him. The monsters taunted the stricken man, forcing him to leap to and fro. Their giddy demon dance was pushed on by the whip of dissonant horns. Dark horns and claws and gnarled feet terrorized the audience equally, flooding up to the brink of the stage before withdrawing in a wave. An audience member shouted out, temporarily forgetting the limits of their holographic power ended at the lip. Then they were all suddenly still. A short horn intercession, and timpani silenced their cacophony. Silence rested heavily. Ominous, muted reeds twisted together in malicious harmony as a figure emerged in the dark. First seven foot tall, then eight, then nine. The hideous and powerful Immortal Kachtchei stepped forth into the diseased light, tattered rags doing little to mask his mangled form. His nails were so long they curled in on themselves. His beady eyes glowed out at the audience before casting their glare onto the Prince. Ivan scrambled up as the music turned to stark clashing harmonies. The dark magician approached him, heavily swaying on each beat. A mangled hand reached out towards the prince, and Ivan swirled away in fear. Ivan danced again, attempting to escape but the monsters blocked his path at every turn. They closed in ever tighter as the music spelled his imminent doom. Kachtchei raised his knotted staff, and prepared to cast his wicked curse. The glow under Ivan’s jacket was his last hope. He drew forth the feather, the red and gold filling the stage with its glow. He thrust it high, and the abominations cowered from its radiance! ( Return of the Firebird, Her Enchantment, and the Infernal Dance ) The feather glowed bright with the light of a sun, and the firebird appeared in the center of the stage unfurling her plumage (a special effect masking the transporter beam). Seeing the prince’s predicament, she flit over to him in a rush of music. She swirled energetically about, shielding him from the hordes of beasts taunting him. They recoiled as she chased them back, then rushed back in as she moved to the other side. Kachtchei stretched out his arms, tattered robes hanging from his bony form. He swung forward, trying to catch the firebird with his curled nails, but she was too fast. She pranced out of the way, light on her feet. She circled back, just out of reach and he swung again with a heavy step forward. Again, he missed - the firebird sprung effortlessly away, beating her feet midair in a teaseful flourishing cabriole. She led him through a chasing dance, ever just out of reach. Her plan steadily became clear as the golden-red trail of her sparkling magic began to weave a spiraling trap around the sorcerer. As her sweet enchantment grew in power over him, so too did the monsters steadily fall to her magic. The music grew and grew, causing more and more monsters to follow her steps, succumbing to her fast fluttering steps. The stage steadily turned redder and brighter as her elemental energy dominated the creature’s minds. Finally, even Kachtchei himself was bound to her dance, his hulking mass entranced. Blam! The full orchestra struck. Percussion shook the very walls of the performance hall. The sides of the stage belched flame and the spell was sealed. Horns blared and the whole ensemble ran into a dizzying fervor. The monsters fell over themselves, leaping from all fours, led on by the ever-tireless firebird. Her weightless effervescence was totally beyond them, seemingly unbound by the laws of gravity with easy flicks of the legs keeping her suspended mid-air or on toe point. Kachtchei himself fell in alongside his own cursed servants. The firebird circled him, her swirling flight forcing him to exert his own enormous size into the air with great effort. The symphony careened further out of control as the beasts pushed themselves ever harder and faster. Any time one would flag, the firebird was there, her lyric magic jig keeping them from flagging. On and on they went, possessed of no will other than to dance under her spell. The firebird’s spell crescendoed with the music - she swooped from one end of the stage to the other, until the full thunder of the orchestra joined her in powerful spin after spin, the magician and foul servants spinning with her. One by one they fell away until it was only the magician who remained standing. At last he too dropped to the floor, exhausted by the dance, unable to move. That left the firebird to finally alight next to Prince Ivan, now released from Kachtchei’s powers. Rescued and reunited, he took her hand and led her through an adagio berceuse, warm strings underpinning the gratitude and peace that came after the toil of the dance. The pair took slow, steady steps across the ruins, the prince’s hands on the firebird’s waist, supporting her as their fluid motions glossed across the stage. But there was still something else stirring. The hulking form of Kachtchei rustled with an ominous double-reed dissonance. He awoke, then snatched up the firebird, catching her by surprise! She flailed and fluttered in his grasp, trying to escape. Ivan, seeing her peril, pulled his sword and lifted it high. (A skilled eye would have caught the influence of Klingon Operatic arts here in particular.) A swift stroke, a short struggle, and the sorcerer stopped moving. The firebird flitted away, escaping his reach, but it wasn’t necessary. His body fell to the floor with a clangorous clash of cymbals and horns, sword in back. Kachtchei was no more. ( Finale ) Quiet settled, and profound calm washed throughout the auditorium, only the hushed whisper of violins speaking in unified harmony accompanied the first pale yellows of dawn. Then, something even more unexpected: a soft carpet of grass came to life at the feet of the prince and the firebird, sprouting as if in fast-forward. As the light continued to rise, the reason became clear: the magician’s cursed machinations were burning away in cleansing fire. The sun crested with the horn solo. As the curse lifted, the monsters transformed back into the women the prince had danced with. Now, instead of sickly pale, they were radiant and vital, wreathed in silver-laced white gowns. The firebird swooped over to the princess, still slumbering, and woke her with a gentle touch. She rose to the tune of the horn’s anthem, life and light spreading their foothold around her. The princess looked up to the firebird, then the prince, the first people she’d seen with her own sight in ages. The princess took the prince’s hand, and the two danced for joy, united this time of their own volition by the soft violins. As they did, the other women regained their feet. The firebird roused them, her flute joining in the reverie, her magic accelerating the crescendoing return of their epic theme. Then, even the stone encasement of the knights began to crack and fall away, their cruel entombment finally coming to an end. The strings soared with full brass as the transformation gained speed and life returned. The firebird took flight, and the knights and women paired off; the prince with the princess. She twirled about, flowers and trees of the glade returning to full leaf and blooming in the magical contrail she left behind. The plants clawed up the stone ruins as she danced and leapt for joy at life returning to the garden. Then, a true miracle came with the arrival of a new elevated key. The old stonewall face crumbled away under the weight of the new greenery. The wrecked magician’s abode dissolved away with the chest-rumbling exaltations of the full orchestra. In their place, golden red walls erupted from the ground forming the pillars and vaults of a magnificent new palace. Beginnings erupted everywhere around the firebird and the royal court, exploding out into the depths of the forest, dispelling every trace of the defeated evil. At long last, the orchestra halved their tempo and returned to the home key, giving shaking grandiose acclaim of the soon-king Ivan, and his soon-queen processing down the red-and-gold marble steps. The knights and maidens were their entourage, the firebird the symbol of their new peace and balance with nature. The firebird herself alighted, resting in the officiant’s place, tongues of flame on her feathers bearing witness to her rejuvenated power and spirit. Brass blasted their final cadential pronouncement over heroic strings, the powerful vibrations moving the air inside the audience’s chests. The firebird anointed the prince as king and regent over the reclaimed lands with fire that spread across the stage. She placed a crown on his head, then the princess’. The new monarchs turned to the audience, and the orchestra swelled to its final climax. The final cymbal crashed, and the lights blinked off. --- The story was over. By the time the lights came back on for bows, Maria was herself again, though not entirely the same Maria. She was gracious, all smiles and gratitude for the crowds; friendly to every Gentii or crew who came up to her after the show, but everything after that last note turned into a surreal blur. Like there was still a piece of her still up on that stage. Still a piece of her that was the firebird. Maybe a piece of her that was still Quentin, too. She lingered a long time into the night on the Gentii surface, even well after she’d taken the makeup off and changed into something far more comfortable. There were a great deal of “hows” and “whys” from new converts to modern ballet, all of which she answered thoughtfully. But eventually, they all left for home, exhausted from the days-long Bairiri. After the public left, she found herself saying her farewells to Eka, even giving him a tight hug he never expected. The look in his eyes as he said goodbye told her it would be a long time before he forgot this night. Maria still couldn’t rest though. With the Bairiri hall emptied out and closed for the night, she found herself meandering the quiet streets of The Grand Central District, brilliantly lit by beautiful skyscrapers. Even though she was totally depleted, she couldn’t get free of the music or the rush of the performance. She had probably danced as well as her very best before she injured herself. She wandered until she found a park with local late-night patrons indulging in the street-side carts under warm street lighting illuminating every step. A couple was making out on a bench, totally unaware of the alien not ten meters away. She strolled the path inwards until her toes were at the edge of a pond that reflected the city lights and stars back to her. She closed her eyes, and found herself to still be humming the final theme. Her arms moved through the fluid motions on their own by pure memory, her body not ready to let go of the magic. A tear finally started to dribble down her face. When she opened her eyes again, there was a woman watching at her, completely still. In the dim light, Maria saw that the Gentii was totally fascinated, even moved, by the scene. Maria just smiled. END Ensign Maria Alvarez Ops Officer, USS Arrow A239710MA0 Wiki Operator

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