When I was a kid, there were only two things I ever really wanted to be when I grew up.
One was a knight. Never the type to be constrained by the expectations that society pressed upon little girls, I frequently recited the Old Code with pride and even built myself a sword and shield out of an old panel of wood and some landscaping stakes.
But the other was a pirate. In fact, more than a knighthood, I wanted a ship. A beautiful craft with three masts and a polished deck. Something I could sail over the horizon with, embarking on wonderful adventures involving feats of bravery and strength and chances for personal growth every moment in-between. More than anything, I wanted to face wind and rain and rising waves with a shanty in my heart, a sword in my hand, and my comrades beside me.
But I especially dreamed of calm nights full of brilliant, shining stars in an endless sky—just hanging like a promise over our heads. A promise that our lives would always be as free, as hopeful, and as complete as this.
But at one point, reality sank in. Real pirates weren’t about adventure: they were about making their own rules and getting rich. Most of them, in fact, couldn’t even swim (If they got swept overboard, drowning would ensure a quicker death than drifting for days). And swords and cannons were a thing of the past—modern pirates could just fire a semi-automatic at innocent people from a safe distance like the rest of society.
Suddenly the pirate dream was no longer for me.
But since leaving the pirate life behind, there have been a myriad of fictional ships that have worked their way into the empty spaces of my heart. Beyond The Black Pearl, I have sailed in spirit on such vessels as The Dawn Treader, the SeaQuest, The RLS Legacy, Serenity, and the TARDIS— just to name a few.
But there’s one ship in particular that has held a distinct significance for me, especially as I slip further into my adult years. This is a ship that has successfully combined my childhood desires of chivalry, adventure, and camaraderie with my natural inclination to gaze longingly up at the stars and wonder what’s out there beyond my tired, little, shuttered world.
And today, only a day after creator Gene Roddenberry’s centennial celebration, the Night Crew and I would like to talk about why a piece of our hearts will forever sail with the Starship Enterprise.
As Simon Pegg (the latest incarnation of Montgomery “Scotty” Scott) stated in his introduction to Entertainment Weekly’s “Ultimate Guide to Star Trek” (2016), all the reasons why this series has stayed strong well into the 21st century can be summed up in one word:
Hope.
Star Trek presents us with the idea that humanity has a future.
Not only that, it is a future in which we have finally set aside all our idiotic squabbles and our greed and put all that energy into research and discovery. The Enterprise is the epitome of everything we have ever wanted from the planet Earth—a single unit that may contain dissimilar opinions and beliefs, but still manages to hold logic and reason and the pursuit of knowledge ahead of everything else. A community led harmoniously by people of different backgrounds who have come together with one common goal in mind: peaceful exploration for the sake of unity; all peoples on all planets, in one universe. Equal. Regardless of species, color, culture and beliefs, the duty of the Enterprise crew has always been to reach out to others with an open mind and a desire to learn how other societies live and view the universe.
Star Trek was one of the first television shows to portray life among the stars as anything but a horrific place full of invaders and monsters. Granted, the original series was filled with many corny moments and cheap effects, but from the beginning its characters and concepts have been far ahead of their time. From the first interracial kiss on American television to an episode where a member of an androgynous race declares herself to be female, the show has long presented us with the ridiculousness of our modern controversies and demonstrated how we must overcome them if we have any hope of attaining peace—both on Earth as well as beyond our galaxy.
Say what you will about warp speed and phasers; what’s canonical to the series and what isn’t: Star Trek has given us a hypothetical setting in which humanity chose to do better. Chose to grow. To learn. To change. To think.
Speaking as one, the Night Crew has nearly lost all hope for that future.
But, maybe, if most of us maintain a curious mind and a willingness to explore, we will someday walk among the stars. Space truly is the final frontier; though our world still manages to hold some mystery for us, it won’t be long until all we have left to do is reach out past our galaxy. And when we do, it will have to be a better, more peaceful and open-minded humanity that shakes hands with its first intergalactic neighbors. Because we won’t get very far from this planet—physically or conceptually—if we can’t focus on anything past our ignorance and our prejudices and just plain stubbornness.
We all have to start reaching for the stars.
We all have to boldly go beyond our limits.
And then maybe—if we’re really lucky—we might one day get to have adventures beyond a distant horizon after all.
With our eyes on the stars and our crew by our side.
We await the formation of the United Federation of Planets with great impatience, but continuous hope.
Live long and prosper.
The Night Crew
C.M., C.O., C.Q.
Pegg, Simon. “My Out-of-This-World-Adventure”. Entertainment Weekly: “Ultimate Guide to Star Trek.” 2016.
