The Star Trek franchise has lived long and prospered, but Earth still needs to watch the sequels regularly to keep its mood elevated. Sixty years after the first broadcast of the original series, the latest program in the continuum, “Starfleet Academy,” has been canceled; its second season of optimistic imagination will end soon. However, plenty of Trek iterations, old and new, remain parked in the Paramount Plus spacedock, available to view on demand. This is access to valuable therapy as more people feel disconnected and demoralized, sick of streaming without dreaming.
That means there’s no time to waste: We must launch another spin-off. And I’m just the Trekker whose nostalgia for the future can generate a proposal ready to pitch to Hollywood.
RANKED HIGH BY USS NEWS AND WORLDS REPORT
I’m one of the countless fans who have been energized with wonderment from the moment Captain James T. Kirk entered popular culture on Sept. 8, 1966. I have also done my duty watching the rollout of “Academy” plots, even though they were aimed at a younger crowd and were quickly torpedoed by critics who called them “too woke.”
The program deserves to be saved in some form! It introduced us to a cadre of spacefarer-wannabes learning good stewardship of the cosmos they inherited. There was so much that these Starfleet students deserved to be taught. Multiple audiences, including baby boomers like me, still can find rejuvenation by sharing additional lessons about “new life and new civilizations.”
That’s the essence of my proposed sequel. Imagine those Academy cadets—call them members of the Class of 3197—continuing to grow up on the school’s San Francisco campus amid great challenges. We’ve been told that the fleet itself is resuscitating former glories after a cosmic disaster called “the Burn” wreaked havoc on planets and travelers for more than a century.
A remarkably diverse generation of idealistic but traumatized young adults has been recruited from species across the galaxy to propagate the vision of peaceful coexistence. The characters represent hope that “ongoing missions” of benevolent teamwork, like those initiated long ago by the United Federation of Planets (UFP), will again fill the skies.
PLOT A COURSE, MR. SULU—AND MAKE IT PROFOUND
To prepare its recruits, the Academy surely must offer a core curriculum that features such subjects as history and philosophy! (Let me intersperse “concept notes” in italics: We’re talking about teaching the humanities and the liberal arts, but let’s be accurate and politic. We’ll adopt new phraseology because “humanities” is an outmoded, exclusivist term in a majority-minority environment. Note that a recent New York Times opinion piece pointed out current interpretations of “liberal arts.” You might say the polarized descriptions range from “liberating” to “trivial,” from “ideological” to “useless in a job search.”)
Nevertheless, foundations of the Star Trek ethos, like classic liberal thought and virtuous notions of progress, persist. Viewers in 2026 probably agree, at least in part, that we should balance adventure with prudence, discovery with anchored self-knowledge, and rapid social change with the resilience of truth, trust, freedoms, rights, and responsibilities.
The Academy’s core courses should provide background about long-respected insights into culture and civilization. The application of these principles across a future universe of different circumstances won’t be easy to discern, but it never has been. The crucial struggle is to embrace this task of critical thinking among individuals and societies, always and everywhere.
The 21st century, for example, has become a chaotic period of big-picture questions, seeking meaning and purpose in our earthbound existence. “Humanity” faces potential rivalries with artificial intelligence and “unidentified anomalous phenomena.”
Although smart responses will arise from the legacy of wisdom found in the past, it’s a wild and worthy idea to aim our inquiries forward, too. We can “channel” some familiar fictional characters to play out the dialogues they might conduct; their own experiences might yield timely tips from the 32nd century.
HERE’S THE OUTLINE SUBMITTED BY ARISTOTLE
The sequel I am pitching will delve into the cadets’ sense of identity and mission. Imagine them taking the Academy’s required, semester-long seminar discussing these subjects. These “meta” conversations will be conducted at a retreat-like location far off-campus. Traveling to the edge of our solar system, students will board the Starship Phronesis.
Of course, it’s a coincidence that my Substack commentaries are titled “Phronesis in Pieces.” I’m intrigued by Aristotle’s term for the virtue of proactive, practical wisdom, geared toward serving the common good.
The USS Phronesis will be somewhat “retro” in design, comfortably familiar for older Trek fans. The vessel is a permanent feature of the UFP’s Starfleet museum, which was first mentioned in the series, “Star Trek: Picard.” (It’s there in Season 3, Episode 9)
This vessel is where the future gets immersed in history. Try to picture an extreme update of the 1964 World’s Fair pavilion where audiences watched an animatronic version of President Abraham Lincoln deliver a speech. Or picture Disney’s Hall of Presidents, populated by robots built by Imagineers.
Aboard the Phronesis, students are able to interact with holograms of Starfleet heroes, from Starship Enterprise legends like Captain Kirk, Mr. Spock, and Captain Picard, to luminaries elsewhere in the fleet such as Captain Janeway of the Starship Voyager.
Cadets can observe holodeck-like re-creations of classic space battles, but this seminar is not a gut course—not a “Fun with Phasers” exhibit. The best learning occurs in the ship’s large lounge for group recollection (please don’t call it Ten-Backward). Here, in each episode, the Trek role models converse with the students about the deeper lessons of past adventures and the values embodied by history’s brave crews. Lively Q&A sessions ensue.
This format I’m pitching will allow inspiring call-backs to memories prized by boomers and other generations of fandom. They will remember grappling with moral dilemmas, hard-to-fix mistakes, tensions between reason and emotion, and technology-gone-awry.
A PREVIEW OF PHRONESIS IN ACTION
Here’s one proposed plot, for example, where futures and histories intersect.
in the episode of “Picard” that follows their visit to the Starfleet museum, the reassembled cast of “Star Trek: The Next Generation” warped into an impending cataclysm.
The machine-like Borg Collective had used biotechnology to implant their own code into the minds of young crew members on every Starfleet vessel. Under guidance from Borg infiltrators, all the ships assembled for a Federation memorial ritual. (S3, E10)
Things got worse. The neural networks and cyber-connectivity which make each Borg body a mere appendage of the whole race had been engineered into the operating systems of these starships. Under a new “fleet formation” strategy, the Borg-assimilated vessels were ordered into battle against Earth, acting in unison as if obeying a single hivemind with massive firepower.
The Borg “queen” had hatched a plot in which the ships began automatically attacking Earth’s cities. Only Picard & Co., helming the single starship not absorbed by mechanical code—that is, the classic Enterprise-D which they “borrowed” from the museum—could act independently, save the planet, and destroy the Borg queen. They did just that.
The saga of this day is retold to Academy cadets, more than a century later. In conversation aboard the Starship Phronesis, a hologram of Captain Picard leads the students in a practical and philosophical review of the risks of “Collective” control. Voila, this is an allegory for many historical occasions when members of a species (such as humans) have gone all-in on group identity and ideology; they choose homogenized affiliation over broader collaboration, the communion of distinct persons making common cause.
THE FUTURE—AND PAST—ARE PRELUDES
Hologram Picard, drawing upon his own horrid experience of being assimilated by the Borg, can speak compellingly to Starfleet trainees. The discussion groups aboard the Phronesis probe the pros and cons of collectivism as seen by the Class of 3197. Some episodes of “Starfleet Academy” deal directly with cadets’ efforts to balance individual values, solidarity with others, and finding a golden mean through tolerance or genuine concern.
Back in 2026, we earthlings, some of whom condemned the Academy’s tolerance as performative “wokeness,” now can discern the balance for ourselves, with Picard as our guide.
Throughout his intense life journey, Picard has retained his self-possession—even as enemies attacked his relationships to the fleet, to his family in France, to his son Jack, to his human species, and more. The hologram discusses his distaste for collectives and his commitment to dignity in this context. His experiences have taught him a different kind of solidarity, not as an appendage but as a human agent of expansive, intimate connectivity.
There’s another lesson here about mixing self-knowledge with big-picture consciousness. The climactic end of the Borg crisis reflects the interplay of different age cohorts. The “older generation” constituting the Enterprise-D crew brings indispensable experience to Starfleet’s pivotal moment. And note the happy accident: Their tie-in to technology is literally outmoded, meaning they’re spared from the Borg’s algorithmic slaveholding. Their different version of “fleet formation” leads to everyone’s liberation.
Cadets, who says you can’t trust anyone over 30? Who says the latest technical tactics are always the best? This is a warning about generation gaps that all generations need to hear.
So, there it is: Call this the pilot episode of the new series, “Starship Phronesis.” This same multi-layered storytelling, jumping from space-time to space-time, can be applied to numerous Star Trek adventures. Their lessons never get out of sync; they reinforce.
REMEMBER, RERUNS ARE RECYCLABLE
Consider additional “Starship Phronesis” scripts that might draw upon storytelling from “The Ultimate Computer,” “The Doomsday Machine,” or “I, Mudd.” Those plots entailed surrendering humane judgment to artificial intelligence devoid of context and conscience.
Or consider “A Taste of Armageddon,” a tale in which two planets fighting a deadly but vicarious war have reached a bizarre peace: Leaders have programmed computers to simulate a battlefield by calculating virtual fatalities and sending citizens to actual death booths according to those quotas. Apropos of 2026 debates about autonomous drone development, Captain Kirk wisely demands that the leaders bear conscious responsibility for the killing, rather than pretend innocence by reducing lives to mere statistics.
Well, that’s a first look at this enterprise of my own—this “Starfleet Academy” sequel. Such a program aims to keep hope alive at the intersection of tomorrow’s fictional cadets and today’s aging Trekkers. Beyond hope, it’s a call for the young and the old of 2026 to keep learning from, and teaching, each other.
Hollywood, committed mostly to prophesying values of the “cool kids,” is likely to reject any pitch I make. Nevertheless, “Starship Phronesis” is the kind of project I should tackle as a writer, honoring foresight informed by truths we’ve shared in stories.
EPILOGUE: STAR TREK MEDIA ARE THE MESSAGE
I’m no immature fanboy, dressing up and going to conventions—although I will admit to having visited the “Star Trek Original Set Tour” in Ticonderoga, NY, a while back. The delight of being one of today’s human tourists on that very “realistic” starship bridge set made me eager to organize more pilgrimages to new places of prospering.
We see all around us the ongoing need for open minds and open hearts—and for the practical wisdom preached by Aristotle—in face-to-face conversations and digital entertainment. It’s encouraging to see that people are not ceasing their Star Trek spin-off efforts. On You Tube, we’ve recently watched video podcasts of chats featuring William Frakes (Commander Riker) and Brent Spiner (Lieutenant Data). There’s also an audio series—harking back to the days of radio dramas—called “Khan.”
Perhaps a podcast would be the perfect format for my “Starship Phronesis” show, tapping into the online potential for longer-form (and lower-budget) discussions.
We’re approaching a day that’s ideal for browsing through Paramount’s digital spacedock and other archives already produced. Fans observe “Star Trek Day” annually on September 8, the date on which the first episode made its debut on NBC. It’s one of various dates on the calendar when we can marvel at the past, present, and future fitting together to help our world stay together. July 4 epitomizes such a date of “fitting” remembrance, when the day’s fireworks highlight the impact of America’s founding documents plus a zeal to carry forward their ideals with noble intentions.
In that spirit, let’s hope that our chaotic culture makes more opportunities for voyages of understanding and connection. I’m campaigning to make phronesis our vehicle for traversing Trek’s buoyant stories about humanity, civilization, reality, solidarity, and a sense of mission. The enormity of questions being asked will not exhaust or divide us, but rather make us lose all track of time. Bring on the sequels! Earth needs this therapy of wonder.
Meanwhile, I’m waiting and wondering when Hollywood will call.
Image by Microsoft Bing AI Co-Pilot designer.









