“Kids These Days” & “Beta Test”

The Star Trek universe continues to expand with Star Trek: Starfleet Academy; a show focused on a group of young cadets training to become officers.

Showcasing Starfleet Academy is an idea that has been circulating for decades. One early concept for Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country was a prequel about Kirk and Spock’s first meeting as cadets, and various attempts have been made over the years to develop the idea as a film or television project. None of them reached the screen, aside from a 1997 video game. Cadets and the Academy have appeared in episodes across the franchise, but a full canon exploration of Starfleet Academy has never existed until now.

On paper, the concept is an obvious fit for Star Trek. A Starfleet Academy series could serve as an ideal entry point for younger viewers, offering a natural way to explain how the universe works and examine the principles that define the franchise. A youthful perspective would also stand out, since Star Trek typically focuses on seasoned officers who are confident in their abilities. Characters like Harry Kim or Nog represent the exceptions rather than the rule. A story centered on young people learning their vocation and discovering themselves has the potential to create more immediately relatable protagonists. Star Trek: Prodigy demonstrated how effective this approach can be, even though its target audience skewed younger than the likely young adult demographic for this show.

Star Trek: Starfleet Academy is set in the 32nd century, the era introduced in Star Trek: Discovery’s third season. The series follows the first class of the newly reopened Academy as the Federation rebuilds after The Burn and works to reestablish itself as a major presence on the galactic stage. Reopening the Academy represents a renewed commitment to the future by training the next generation of officers who will carry Starfleet and Federation values forward.

Rebuilding is a concept that is directly highlighted in the show, and it gives the Academy a clear thematic foundation. These cadets are inheriting a damaged world they did not create but are now expected to repair. It is a timely and resonant idea for a series built around young people finding their place in a fractured future. It also reflects a contemporary sense that previous generations have failed the current one, a notion touched on in Star Trek: Picard, explored to some extent in Discovery, and woven into Prodigy’s premise. The episode gestures toward this theme and even calls attention to it in dialogue, although it is too early to expect the story to explore it in depth.

The first episode, “Kids These Days,” struggles with focus. It takes more than twenty minutes to introduce the U.S.S. Athena, the ship that also functions as the Academy’s campus. The episode begins with a young Caleb (Luciano Fernandez) and his mother (Tatiana Maslany) discussing their hope of visiting Earth before Starfleet arrests them and their benefactor, Nus Braka (Paul Giamatti). Nahla Ake (Holly Hunter) is given the grim task of separating a child from his mother in the name of protocol. After a time skip, the experience is shown to have disgusted her enough to resign from Starfleet. She is drawn back into service when Caleb (Sandro Rosta) is located, giving her a chance to atone for what she did.

It’s a reasonable, if derivative, setup that creates a personal connection between Ake and Caleb. Caleb has clearly been shaped by the separation, and as a young adult he relentlessly searches for information about his mother. Ake’s actions left a lasting mark on him, and his single‑minded pursuit has left him without direction or purpose, which makes him an appealing candidate for the Academy in Ake’s eyes. This aligns with the current portrayal of Starfleet as a surrogate family for people who feel unmoored.

Despite this, the problem with the episode’s setup is how long it takes to deliver relatively little information. A prologue set fifteen years in the past shows Caleb and his mother being separated, followed by a time jump that reveals Ake’s resignation from Starfleet. Another scene depicts Caleb hacking a database for information about his mother, and finally Ake and Caleb have a conversation that ends with him being offered a place at the Academy. It is not a complex sequence, yet the episode spends a significant amount of time on it. The material could have been conveyed far more succinctly or revealed organically as the story progressed. As presented, it feels functional rather than textured.

This issue is reinforced by the dialogue, much of which is awkward. The scene where Admiral Vance (Oded Fehr) approaches Ake to offer her the role of Chancellor is the clearest example. Both characters explain Ake’s backstory to each other despite already knowing it, making the exchange feel artificial. It is clearly written to inform the audience, but the characters have no reason to speak this way. The same problem appears in other setup scenes, though it is most pronounced in the interaction between Vance and Ake.

Elsewhere, the episode relies on contemporary phrasing such as “hanger,” “cool,” and “top dollar.” This pulls the viewer out of the setting because it makes the 32nd century feel indistinguishable from the present. It also undermines the credibility of the worldbuilding, since the dialogue never suggests a society with its own linguistic evolution.

The introduction of the Athena and Caleb’s induction is similarly functional. The episode offers a sweeping hero shot of the ship, explains its purpose, and then moves straight into Caleb’s abrupt initiation under Cadet Master Commander Lura Thok (Gina Yashere). Thok is presented as an uncompromising educator who responds to Caleb’s attitude with push ups before sending him for a haircut and a change of clothing via transporter. None of this is poorly executed, but it carries a strong sense of familiarity. The arrogant youth being given a sharp lesson in authority is a well‑worn cliché, and this version does little to distinguish itself.

More promising material appears when the episode briefly focuses on the cadets who will populate the Athena. There is little time to develop them before the crisis, but each receives a moment that establishes their presence before they are placed in danger. It’s limited, yet it provides enough for the audience to form an initial impression before being asked to invest in their survival. Even Caleb is defined only by his search for his mother, the chip on his shoulder, and the arrogance he uses to mask his sense of loss.

One drawback of the rapid introductions is that the cadets are defined almost entirely by surface traits that the writing never develops. Jay-Den Kraag (Karim Diané) is a pacifist Klingon, SAM (Kerrice Brooks) is an eager hologram, Daren Reymi (George Hawkins) hides his true face, and Genesis (Bella Shepard) is an Admiral’s daughter with overachiever tendencies. There is clear potential for a strong ensemble, but the first episode offers little indication of how these characters will grow beyond their initial labels.

The older characters fare no better, although strong performances help compensate for the thin writing. Holly Hunter brings the authority expected of a Starfleet Captain and adds quirks that distinguish Ake from her predecessors, along with a problem‑solving style that could serve her well as an educator. Robert Picardo’s return as the Doctor may please long‑time fans, but the episode gives him little to work with beyond a prickly bedside manner and a fondness for opera. His refusal to discuss his past hints at the burden of outliving those he cares about, yet the script doesn’t explore this, beyond having no interest in becoming a mentor.

A crisis emerges after Caleb hacks into the Athena’s communication system and sends a message on a frequency he hopes his mother might be monitoring. His attempt draws Braka’s attention, prompting an attack and a plan to steal the Athena’s warp core for the black market. Ake stalls for time while the cadets try to free the ship from the high‑tech trap surrounding it. The scenario follows familiar Star Trek patterns, with the twist that untrained cadets are the ones responding. The episode frames this as a test of character rather than skill, yet the cadets display the competence of seasoned officers, lacking only system clearance

This is the central problem with the sequence. The core group rises to the challenge without hesitation, reinforcing how little inexperience they display. Kraag briefly falters when asked to operate on Thok, but he overcomes his doubt almost immediately. A background cadet succumbs to shock for a moment, yet the story quickly shifts back to the main group, who continue to perform with confidence. Any sense of inexperience is fleeting.

Lessons and personal obstacles will no doubt emerge as the season progresses, but starting the cadets at such a high level of competence undercuts their potential development. A mix of confidence levels, clashing personalities, and mistakes born of arrogance or misplaced authority would have created a more chaotic and believable response to a life‑threatening situation. Instead, the group functions like an already cohesive crew, with disagreements that are minor and easily resolved. This matters because the show is positioning itself as a coming‑of‑age drama, and that identity depends on watching inexperienced cadets struggle, fail, and grow.

One of the clearest missed opportunities appears when Genesis lacks the clearance to access the tactical systems. This is an excellent problem on paper, since it forces her to confront a situation without the tools required to protect a fellow cadet. Instead of pushing her to improvise or find a workaround, the episode resolves the issue instantly by having the Doctor appear to provide the necessary clearance. The obstacle becomes a brief delay rather than a meaningful challenge. Similar moments could have been used to test each cadet’s ingenuity and limitations, revealing who they are under pressure and how far they have to grow.

The sequence also stumbles on a basic point of internal logic. Genesis encounters the Doctor while a high‑risk surgery is underway nearby, yet she never mentions it to him, even though she knows Kaarg is inexperienced and unsure of his ability to complete the procedure. Allowing Kaarg to resolve the crisis himself is the right dramatic choice, but Genesis failing to inform the Doctor makes the moment feel conspicuously contrived.

Beyond the crisis on the Athena, much of the episode settles into standard Star Trek fare that never becomes more than the sum of its parts. Paul Giamatti’s Braka feels oddly detached from the attack on the Athena, and his quip‑heavy grandstanding undermines any sense of threat. Giamatti can chew scenery with the best of them, and Holly Hunter is more than capable of matching him, yet the confrontation lacks danger. Their standoff is dragged down by dialogue that aims for amusement instead of tension. They trade lines like old acquaintances teasing each other rather than adversaries locked in a high‑stakes conflict, which strips the encounter of urgency and fails to establish Braka as a credible antagonist.

This dynamic should gain strength from Ake and Caleb’s shared history with Braka, but the episode never conveys what that history actually means. Despite the lengthy opening, the relationships remain thin, offering too much information without the texture needed to make it resonate. As a result, Caleb’s later confrontation with Braka feels hollow. The scene is also disappointingly familiar, with Braka attempting to unsettle Caleb by claiming his mother has died. It is another example of Starfleet Academy relying on well‑used narrative beats without adding anything distinctive.

Consequences for the attack are surprisingly light. Caleb is reprimanded, but his initiative in helping resolve the crisis effectively mitigates the severity of his actions. He receives little more than a symbolic punishment, which continues modern Star Trek’s tendency to reward insubordination when it produces positive results. Michael Burnham’s elevation to Captain under similar circumstances is an obvious precedent, and the pattern repeats here. Caleb is confined to Academy grounds for a time and assigned community service, yet he faces no real disciplinary action.

Ake’s influence explains part of this leniency. Her guilt over separating Caleb from his mother, combined with the loss of her own son in The Burn, motivates her to advocate for him. The situation offers a clear surrogate‑parent dynamic, and her desire to protect him is understandable. Even so, the consequences remain mild. The lack of fatalities makes forgiveness easier, since injuries with full recoveries are narratively convenient. Had Caleb’s actions indirectly caused the deaths of officers or fellow cadets, the episode would have faced a far more challenging redemptive arc, regardless of his intentions.

A welcome strength of the opening episode is its relative restraint with internal referencing, especially compared to other contemporary Star Trek shows. There are a few glaring missteps, such as the repeated blast of the iconic fanfare whenever the story wants to signal significance, and the word‑for‑word reuse of the Doctor’s tricorder complaint from Star Trek: Voyager’s “Caretaker.” These moments stand out for the wrong reasons. Beyond them, the references are far more natural. The Sato Atrium and the wall of past Academy graduates appear as part of the environment rather than as attention‑seeking nods, characters are name dropped to make a point about the Doctor’s longevity and characters who originated on other shows are introduced in context of their role on this one. They function as texture instead of empty fanservice, which helps the world feel lived in rather than curated for nostalgia.

Curiously, the opening episode owes more to “Caretaker” than to the isolated reuse of dialogue. Several core elements echo Voyager’s pilot: untested young people thrown into a crisis recall Harry Kim’s first mission out of the Academy, Caleb’s criminal past mirrors Tom Paris, and Vance’s approach to Ake resembles Janeway’s recruitment of Paris. These similarities are superficial and do not undermine the episode, since it is not repeating the same story, but they are unmistakable. Their presence suggests that Voyager’s early character dynamics may have served as a loose template for the structure of this show.

The most glaring problem with “Kids These Days” is its failure to establish what Starfleet Academy is actually supposed to be. The episode strings together bloated setup scenes for three characters, rushes through a brief introduction of the Athena and the other cadets, and then settles into a standard Star Trek crisis handled by a group who already function like a competent crew. Very little of the runtime engages with the school itself, despite that being the show’s supposed point of distinction. The academic elements feel like window dressing rather than a structural foundation. When combined with characters defined by familiar traits, the result is a weak and unfocused start for a new Star Trek series.

Taken as a whole, “Kids These Days” resembles a pilot more interested in proving it can function as Star Trek than in defining what makes its own premise distinct. The Academy exists as a backdrop rather than a guiding idea, and the episode never articulates what this environment offers that a traditional starship story cannot. The concept remains strong, but the series will need to articulate its identity with far more clarity if it intends to build a meaningful foundation for the stories ahead.

“Beta Test,” the show’s second episode, comes much closer to what Starfleet Academy should be, but it still stops short of committing to its own premise. The main plot centers on the arrival of a Betazoid delegation to discuss rejoining the Federation. It’s familiar Star Trek territory. Diplomatic scenarios are common throughout the franchise, yet it’s the wrong sort of story for a series about cadets who shouldn’t have influence in galactic politics.

One thing in this episode’s favour is that it provides a clearer sense of how the galaxy is structured after the Burn, something Discovery often struggled to convey. Betazed was once a Federation member and is now weighing whether rejoining is the right choice. This gives the setting scope and reinforces how far the Federation fell when it lost key worlds. The negotiations highlight a desire to rebuild and explore whether unity still has value, continuing the theme of a broken world being inherited by young people who are now expected to repair it.This idea is strengthened by the fact that the negotiations only occur because a younger cohort of Betazoids pushed for them. It reinforces the sense of a generation eager for change but lacking the authority to enact it. Tarima (Zoë Steiner) embodies that progressive outlook, while her father, President Sadal (Anthony Natale), is shaped by a lifetime of isolation and struggles to trust the Federation with his people’s safety. Their dynamic mirrors contemporary debates about generational responsibility and resistance.

The problem is that, strong as this material is, it has little to do with Starfleet Academy. Once again, the episode pays lip service to what should be the show’s central premise. Classes appear only as a brief montage at the start, paired with a speech from Ake about teamwork, belonging and core values, but they carry no real narrative weight. The most substantial class is Jet Reno’s (Tig Notaro) Temporal Mechanics session, yet even this is framed around a quick recap of her backstory for viewers unfamiliar with Discovery and a clumsy reminder of Caleb’s motivation before the story pivots fully to the political plot and his flirtation with Tarima. The Academy functions only as a backdrop for these threads, which could unfold almost anywhere, and this highlights the show’s ongoing struggle to establish a clear identity.

Another issue with the identity building is the repetition of the dialogue issues from the premiere. Tarima referring to Caleb as “chaos boy,” for example, is one instance of the show’s tendency toward contemporary phrasing that feels out of place in a far‑future setting. It isn’t limited to that moment, but it’s a clear illustration of how the dialogue can break immersion and pull the viewer out of the world the series is trying to build.

Pushing aside that this episode isn’t really about cadets learning how to be Starfleet officers and is instead about Betazed considering rejoining the Federation, there’s a lot to recommend here. The points raised through the various discussions are valid and compelling. The negotiations come just as the Federation is considering where its new seat of government should be, with its old home in Paris the front runner. Sadal uses this to argue that the Federation is resistant to change, which makes him doubt its ability to learn and grow. Ake counters with her own experience of resigning from Starfleet and later returning because she believes the organisation recognised its mistakes and took steps to correct them. She sees her return on her own terms as evidence of a sincere desire to improve. Vance adds that many who claim to want progress don’t truly want to change, which makes achieving both impossible. His point lands with particular force because Sadal is forced to acknowledge its validity as he quietly reconsiders his own assumptions. The episode becomes a slow wearing down of Sadal’s resolve until he reaches the point of agreeing to have Betazed rejoin.

He isn’t going to blindly accept the Federation’s promises at face value and needs tangible gestures to convince him. At first he makes unreasonable demands, such as being able to veto any membership requests he doesn’t agree with, regardless of the consensus of the other members, effectively making Betazed the only world with the power to decide who gets to join. Vance can’t agree to that because it isn’t democracy and the Federation won’t compromise that principle for any member. It isn’t explicitly stated, but this is likely a test to see how strong the Federation’s core values are in practice and to gauge their sincerity. Sadal is ultimately motivated by fear and wants to ensure that his people’s way of life is protected from their enemies. Considering how critical Sadal is about every aspect of the Federation’s offer, it is striking that he raises no objection to the absence of the Federation President or any civilian leadership during negotiations of this scale. Vance is a Starfleet Admiral and Ake is a Captain, so neither should be responsible for admitting new member worlds.

They eventually agree to rejoin when the Federation offers to make Betazed the new seat of government, which guarantees major investment in infrastructure and would make it by default one of the most heavily fortified systems in the Federation. It also shows Sadal that they take Betazed’s protection seriously and gives him the assurance that they’ll fully commit to supporting them as a member, to the point that they become a central figure in the organisation. This comes after Ake is called out for seeing Betazed as it used to be rather than what it is now, which suggests that everything they’ve endured isn’t being fully acknowledged. That would make Vance’s earlier apology for failing Betazed after the Burn seem insincere from Sadal’s perspective, but once Ake recognises that she was unconsciously stuck in the past she’s able to learn from it and propose a way to build something new rather than try to restore what once was.

The idea comes to her during a conversation with Caleb about building something new together. She admits that she spent years looking for the little boy she failed and now has to accept that he isn’t that person any more, just as he does. He has defined himself through loss and the pain that followed, but he now has the chance to see the universe differently and grow beyond it. It’s a slightly contrived way for Ake to reach that realisation, but it works because the character work is strong and Holly Hunter’s performance gives it weight.

Caleb’s mistrust of the Federation mirrors Betazed’s own isolationist stance.The episode explores this through his interactions with Tarima and his dynamic with Ake. The moment where he bites into what he assumes is an apple, only to discover it’s a fire fruit, neatly reflects his view of the Federation as something that looks appealing but proves painful once experienced. Later, after he begins to open himself to what the Federation represents, Ake tosses him an apple that’s actually an apple. The change in taste becomes a simple but effective symbol of his shifting perspective.

Another lesson in unity and cooperation comes when Tarima gives him access to Betazed’s star charts, which reveal the missing planet he’s been searching for. It’s a clear example of what can be achieved when people share what they have. Tarima literally provides the missing piece he needed, which prompts him to consider what else might be possible if he were willing to be just as open.

He begins the episode not fully committed to the idea of being a cadet who has to work with and rely on others. Looking out for himself has defined his life so far, so trusting others doesn’t come easily. This is shown through how guarded he is around Tarima and his refusal to offer anything of himself to her. She senses his conflicted feelings and the internal struggle he keeps hidden, and becomes frustrated when he won’t open up. It’s an unfair expectation on her part, but as an empath she’s used to emotions being openly expressed and isn’t sure how to respond when someone is so closed off. It’s a consequence of Betazed’s isolation from the rest of the galaxy, since her interactions with non‑Betazoids have been limited and she hasn’t developed the cultural range that would come naturally within the Federation.

Caleb eventually realises he can’t resolve his trauma alone and offers Tarima the olive branch of emotional honesty, urging her to ask her father to return to the negotiation table one more time to see if anything has been learned. It’s another contrivance, but it fits the theme of the future belonging to the younger generation and the idea that change is possible when everyone is working toward a shared outcome.

Outside of the season’s prevailing theme, this episode is about people finding their place. For Betazed, it’s about finding their place within the Federation, a relationship that differs from what they had before but is no less valid. For Caleb, it’s about finding his place in Starfleet Academy, a development emphasised by him finally making his bed after refusing to do so earlier. His roommates help him, which further reinforces the strength of unity. It’s an earned moment that flows naturally. He still has progress to make, but it marks an important step toward embracing what Starfleet stands for and what it can offer him. Even Genesis and SAM have a brief conversation about whether they belong and conclude that they do. There’s also Tarima finding her place in the War College, though the episode hints that it may not be the right environment for her, something likely to be explored in future episodes.

As stated above, the character work in this episode is strong overall, but it remains at odds with what Starfleet Academy should be as a show. Caleb acting as a guide for a visiting official’s daughter and the two being drawn to one another fits the young adult focus, but too much time is spent on the diplomatic negotiations. Despite the character focus being on the younger cast, the narrative focus drifts away from what this show should be. The message that the universe belongs to the younger generation and that change can be achieved through their influence is a positive one, but it strains credibility when set against the high‑stakes political situation unfolding around them.

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Verdict

A shaky start with strong character work, but an unfocused premise traps the show in a frustrating identity crisis.

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