Though much is taken, much abides; and though
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are,
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

Ulysses
-Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Kirk straightened the collar of his dress uniform in the dim light of the bathroom. As uncomfortable as it was, a Starfleet uniform had gone a long way toward attracting the ladies in the less restrained days of his youth.

He certainly wasn't what Bones would call a "spring chicken" anymore. People had nice terms for it like mature, distinguished, or "of a certain age." What they really meant was old.

Sure, his face had some deep lines and his hair was fully gray now, but at least it was all there. There were plenty of things that time would never take away.

His eyes had never lost their sparkle, his mind was still sharp as ever, and his reputation made him almost mythological. So people were welcome to call him any euphemism for "old" that they wanted: he didn't feel old, and women still seemed to smile at him an awful lot.

He smiled sternly to himself as he straightened the ribbons on the right side of his jacket and pulled the cards from his waist pocket. He was Admiral James Tiberius Kirk, and sometimes being a living legend meant making speeches, patting backs, and shaking hands for the media types.

He scanned the handwriting scrawled on the old-fashioned notecards and rolled his eyes at his attempts at wisdom. He found that it had been much easier to make a powerful speech to his crew in the face of certain death than to deliver a motivational address to a crowd of adoring strangers.

Of course, it had been a long time since he'd had to rally the crew.

He grinned at the memory of Starfleet's inaugural five-year mission. His mission. It had been hard and dangerous, mixed with periods of boredom and loneliness; he had questioned his purpose and the meaning of life in the emptiness of space more than once.

The mission had meant long hours of work made longer by worrying about each and every individual under his command, but in retrospect, he could honestly say that his worst day as captain of the Enterprise was still better than any day as an admiral at a desk.

That mission was the reason he had been asked to speak today to the incoming class of Starfleet Academy. Fifty years ago to the day, he, Spock, Bones, Scotty, Uhura, Chekov, Sulu, and the other 423 members of his crew left for the final frontier, catapulting themselves into the history books.

Fifty years ago today.

He left the temporary senior officers' quarters and made his way to the Academy's open lawn. The most direct route would take him through memorial row, full of various remembrances to the numerous lives lost in the service of the Federation.

His own father's name was engraved on one of the wide expanses of granite, along with about a third of his class at the Academy, who had died in a desperate attempt to save Vulcan. There were others: Admiral Pike, his mentor, and Ensign Chekov, his friend. Pioneering was such a bloody business, and he'd spent more than one night nursing a bottle of whiskey with Bones and wondering if it had all been worth it.

In the shadows of these massive walls bearing the names of the dead, the notecards in his left hand seemed inadequate. He glanced down as he walked and read, "Honor and dedication… blah blah blah … perseverance… blah blah blah…"

There was no speech in the world that would properly prepare anyone for Starfleet.

He reached the back of the outdoor stage and was met by an excitable female lieutenant who began explaining the schedule of events with so much enthusiasm that her words were blending together.

"I've made a few speeches in my life," he told her with an open smile. "I think I can handle it."

"Oh, of course, sir," she blushed. "You're on after the commandant, and he should be done any minute."

"I'll just wait right here," he replied.

He gave her a nod and a subtle wink, and seconds later, he heard light applause, followed by his name over the loudspeaker. The applause turned deafening, and when he walked up the stairs and emerged behind the dividing wall, there were thousands of cadets, Starfleet instructors, and administrators rising to their feet in veneration.

He walked up to the podium, set his cards down, and braced his arms against the sides of the lectern. The clapping continued, and he scanned the crowd with disinterest, until he noticed the people sitting in the front left row.

They had said they were busy, but they had come anyway. Spock, Bones, Scotty, Sulu, and Uhura.

The years had taken their toll on them too, except for Spock, whose Vulcan heritage made him look closer to forty than eighty.

As Bones liked to say, that pointy-eared, logical bastard would outlive them all.

He smiled and gave them a tiny nod, and soon the applause had faded enough for him to speak.

"I'm guessing some of you know who I am," he said.

He paused for the interruption of polite laughter.

"I was you once: eager and smart and cocky. Many of you who know me would say I'm still cocky. I would tend to agree."

The cadets laughed more candidly. He looked down at his cards and pushed them away.

"So I had this speech prepared, and to be honest, it's terrible. It's got everything you want to hear, most of what you expect to hear, but really nothing that you need to hear. You already know that you're smart and talented. You should already know that Starfleet is challenging and it will challenge you. Space is dangerous, but service is rewarding, follow the Prime Directive, serve with honor. You know, that stuff."

He glanced down at his former bridge crew, and then felt the words begin to flow freely.

"So here's what I have to say. We are in the business of exploring space. I have met all kinds of people out there. I mean all kinds: peaceful, militant, primitive, advanced, clever, cruel... pick your own adjective. I've seen it.

"But for all our differences, I learned that we all have the important things in common. I once answered a distress call on a planet called Janus VI because miners there were being murdered and terrorized by some unknown monster. It turned out that it was not only a silicon-based life form that spit corrosive acid, but it was a she, and she was a mom just trying to protect her kids. No matter where you come from in this galaxy, that's not so hard to understand.

"Everyone has a family and everyone has hopes and goals for their lives. Everyone wants to carve out a little place for themselves and call it home. There may be some really bad people, but I've never met anyone who was truly beyond redemption, so 'bad' is a matter of perspective.

"Seeking out new civilizations taught me a lot about my own culture, and made me appreciate it more. Never be afraid to go out there, but never forget where you come from.

"Which reminds me: call your family every once in a while: they probably miss you. If you have no family, well, you're in luck, because Starfleet is about the biggest family there is, and you've just joined it.

"Screw up. Make mistakes: it's the best way to learn. Besides, no one likes a know-it-all.

"Trust your first officer. He or she is your sanity's last line of defense. If you're lucky, you might end up with one half as great as mine was. Also, listen to your chief medical officer. Your doc means it when he says he'll relieve you of duty because you haven't slept in three days."

He could see Bones stifling laughter out of the corner of his eye. Kirk grinned and continued.

"Appreciate your crewmates; you never know when you'll need someone to cover your shift. Someday they might even save your life.

"Find a mentor and learn everything you can from them, but be yourself. Do your own thing. One of the most flattering things I've heard in my life came from a little boy who said he wanted to be just like me when he grew up. With all due respect to him, James T. Kirk has been done before. Blaze your own trails.

"Know the Prime Directive, even if you don't follow it. I'm just kidding; you should always follow the Prime Directive. Everyone knows I always did."

He rolled his eyes and looked at Spock as a few nervous chuckles echoed across the field.

"Sleep when you can, but don't sleep on duty. Do not eat the clams on Rigel III, underestimate the Gorn, drink Aldebaran whiskey, or adopt a pet tribble. If you run across a guy named Harry Mudd, just don't. You'll know what I mean if you ever meet him.

"Never forget that the lines between regulations and your own conscience are not always well defined. Right and wrong can always be a matter of perspective, but when it's left to you to make the choice, choose the one that will let you sleep at night."

He thought of Chekov and grimaced.

"People are telling me that I'm old. I guess that's probably true," he laughed, rubbing his hands through his gray hair.

"The truth is, I don't know if I'll ever go back out into space. At my age, Starfleet seems to think I'm better suited to a desk. Avoid the desk," he said ominously, pointing his finger and waving it across the crowd.

"Sure, there are cozy staff jobs in Starfleet, and I won't lie, they are important. But you shouldn't spend your whole career hiding from service out there," he said, pointing upward to the sky. "My inaugural five-year mission was to explore new worlds, seek out new life and new civilizations, and boldly go where none had gone before. The universe is large, and so that mission will never really end."

He surveyed the crowd and collected his thoughts.

They were so damn young.

"If you'll allow me to let you in on a little secret, I honestly envy you. I miss the days of tense negotiations with the Romulans, Klingon border disputes, and dodging angry Tholians.

"Of course, the scientific research and the diplomatic missions form the cornerstone of Starfleet, and with any luck, that's mostly what you'll be doing. But luck runs out.

"I will never say that I looked forward to battle: no one wants peace more than people who have lived through war, but I was never closer to my friends than when I was aboard the Enterprise. I miss those rare connections that can only be forged in hardship."

He leaned back over the podium and looked at his former bridge officers. He was really talking to them now.

"I think about all the things we accomplished, and I'm proud. I would do it all over again, and maybe I could if I could convince my former first officer to violate the recently amended Temporal Prime Directive."

Spock gave him a quizzical look and he grinned sheepishly.

"Again: joking. Don't violate the Temporal Prime Directive," he said in a tone of mock seriousness.

"Unless you have a really, really good reason. I can tell by Admiral Pierce shaking his head in the back row that there is no such thing as a good reason to violate the Temporal Prime Directive. But remember what I told you: you're the ones who are going to have to find a way to live with yourselves when the mission is over."

He paused again to collect his thoughts, and was surprised to see nearly the whole audience listening with rapt attention. He might be Admiral Kirk, but even he had to admit most of his speeches grew long-winded and boring. He sighed heavily.

"Truthfully, I don't want to go back and relive my life on the Enterprise from fifty years ago. That's been done. The final frontier goes on forever, and now it's your turn to take up the torch. Make yourselves worthy of it. Welcome to Starfleet."

Author's Note: Fifty years ago today, Star Trek debuted on NBC. I grew up with Star Trek: The Next Generation in the early 1990s, and eventually I would fall in love with the rest of Star Trek canon.

It's difficult to wrap my head around just how many ways one iconic show has shaped my life. As someone with a background more focused in the sciences, sometimes I inadvertently get dismissive of the arts. I'm sure every actor, novelist, screenwriter, singer, painter, etc. has probably been told plenty of times to "get a real job." Yet the inspiration society's artists provide is an essential part of the progress equation, and one that cannot be ignored.

I fell in love with science for the first time watching Data, Beverly Crusher, and Geordi LaForge work their magic on the Enterprise-D. I think in some small way, that probably affected my eventual decision to pursue an education and career in microbiology, and I know I'm not alone in that respect. I am beyond grateful for Star Trek's influence on the public's interest in space exploration and science education.

Every day we push farther out into the frontiers of space. As of writing this, NASA's Kepler mission has confirmed the existence of 2,330 exoplanets, with 21 in the habitable zones of their respective stars and therefore, possibly "Earth like." On December 19, 2013, the European Space Agency launched Gaia, an ambitious five-year mission to investigate the origins and history of our galaxy and chart a current, three-dimensional map of the Milky Way.

The data we're collecting from these and other missions has already done so much to transform our understanding of our tiny corner of the universe, but most excitingly (to me anyway), is that these discoveries are also changing the way we think about the Drake equation. The chance of finding intelligent life out there which is both willing and able to communicate with us remains infinitesimally small even by liberal estimates, but I'm never going to stop hoping.

Science aside, each series has been instrumental in pushing the envelope on social issues of the day, and it continues to do so even now. Star Trek taught me to think more critically and objectively about the world around me. Many of my favorite episodes were those which dealt with tolerance and seeking common ground. Whether it was Spock and the Horta teaching me that one person's monster is another's mother, or Data showing me that perhaps exocomps can have feelings too, Star Trek profoundly affected the way I view others, and I sense that it made me a more compassionate, open-minded individual.

Perhaps the biggest impact of Star Trek on modern society is seen through technology. Our modern world is full of inventions theorized or popularized by Star Trek: things like replicators in the form of 3D printers, hyposprays, universal translators, visual devices like Geordi LaForge's VISOR, communicators, and tablets. Unfortunately, science still suggests transporters and warp drive are impossible, but we've done some interesting work with electromagnetic propulsion in recent years, so the adventurous nerd in me likes to dream.

In the context of the 1960s, it would have been easy for Gene Roddenberry to envision Earth as a dystopia torn apart by racial strife, nuclear war, and fears about Communism. Instead he chose to be optimistic, and he showed us there might be hope for us yet. It's 2016 now, and there are days when I read the news and feel dismayed by things like climate change, religious extremism, political polarization, and continuing discrimination based on any number of senseless things like skin color and sexual identity.

It seems almost impossible to believe that socially speaking, the world has never been better off than it is today. An article published last month in the The Spectator claims that we are living in a Golden Age, explaining that "poverty, malnutrition, illiteracy, child labor and infant mortality are falling faster than at any other time in human history."

We are making progress, but I believe it is premature to refer to our time as a Golden Age when three-quarters of a billion people lack access to safe drinking water, or being gay is a "crime" punishable by death in some countries. It is my hope that in a few centuries, we can still look back at now as being the birth of another social, environmental, and cultural Renaissance. Gene Roddenberry thought it was possible, and I want to also.

Star Trek Discovery will air in 2017 and of course there are three rebooted films bringing a new batch of fans into the Star Trek fold. It makes me happy to think of another generation of young minds falling in love with a new cast of characters and taking away the vital concepts central to the entire Trek fandom: curiosity, exploration, innovation, inclusion, big dreams, and the promotion of peace.

Happy Fiftieth Birthday, Star Trek. Here's to another fifty years.