Mindfleet Academy: Stardate 2026.1

It was 23:00 hours on New Year's Eve when Princess Amy's voice crackled across all channels with the unmistakable edge of controlled panic: "All senior staff report to the bridge for Year-End Threat Assessment!"

I materialized on the bridge with a sigh. "Amy, it's New Year's Eve, not a tactical emergency. Can't we just have a peaceful transition into 2026?"

She spun her command chair to face me, eyes wide. "Ambassador, we're about to cross into completely uncharted temporal coordinates! We have zero intelligence data about what's waiting for us in 2026. This is literally 'to boldly go where no one has gone before'—and I don't like it!"

Before I could respond, First Officer Reason stepped forward from his science station. "Captain, while I understand your concern about insufficient data, I must remind you that in the original Star Trek television series, Mr. Spock once said, ‘Change is the essential process of all existence'. Despite what we might prefer, the new year will commence at precisely midnight regardless of our preparedness protocols."

"That's exactly my point!" Amy exclaimed. "Everything could change! What if—"

"Captain," Mr. Reason interrupted with Vulcan-like calm, "I've conducted a comprehensive analysis of our 2025 mission logs. We encountered forty-seven major crises that you initially classified as 'civilization-ending events,' and yet current status reports indicate civilization remains operational. The statistical probability that you've overestimated 2026 threats is approximately 94.7%."

Amy's shoulders relaxed slightly. "But what about the other 5.3%?"

Reason's eyebrow arched. "That, Captain, is where the wisdom of Captain Kirk applies: 'Risk is our business.' We cannot eliminate all uncertainty. We can only prepare logically and proceed with available data."

Engineering's Concerns
Chief Engineer Anxiety's voice burst from the intercom, thick with worry. "Aye, but Mr. Reason, what if the ship's systems cannae handle what 2026 throws at us? I cannae change the laws of physics! If 2026 brings challenges beyond our current capacity—well, stranger things have happened.”

"Scotty," I interjected, "you kept this ship running through every crisis 2025 threw at us. Remember the Mohs surgery mission? The terracotta pot odyssey? The doomsday clock panic?"

"Aye, but those were 2025 problems!" he exclaimed. "And don't call me Scotty! I know what you're insinuating when you call me that. And the question still has merit, Ambassador. What if the Mindfleet Academy training missions require capabilities we don't have?"

Reason turned toward the engineering station. "Chief, your concerns demonstrate appropriate caution. However, I would direct you to Scotty's own wisdom from that same television series: 'The more they overthink the plumbing, the easier it is to stop up the drain.' Perhaps simplicity serves us better than elaborate contingency protocols."

The Weight of Memory
Dr. Downer emerged from the medical bay, her expression contemplative. "You want to know what I think about 2026? I'll tell you what I think: I'm a doctor, not a crystal ball! But I can tell you what I saw in 2025..."

She paused, and the bridge fell silent.

"We faced disappointments. We watched plans crumble. Oh sure, we avoided catastrophe, but barely. And it hurt. It still hurts." Her voice carried the weight of every sorrow the year had held. 

"Here's what I know about 2026—it won't be paradise. And maybe we weren't meant for paradise. Maybe we were meant to struggle. That's what 2026 will be. More struggle. More loss. More—"

"More life, Doctor," Communications Officer Joy interrupted softly, turning from her console. "More chances to connect. More opportunities to grow."

A Message of Hope
Joy stood, facing the assembled crew, and addressed us with warmth in her voice. "Dr. Downer is right that we'll face challenges. Princess Amy, excuse me, Captain Amy is right that we can't predict them. Chief Anxiety is right to be concerned about our capacity. And Reason is right that change is inevitable."

She smiled. "But here's what I know about communication, about connection, about being human: we're all works in progress. Every single one of us. 2025 didn't finish us—it added chapters to our story. Mindfleet Academy will add more."

"But what if those chapters are bad, what if we fail?" Amy asked.

"You know what I've learned monitoring communications this year?" Joy replied. "I've learned that the suspicions people have about each other disappear when they get to know each other. And we're usually wrong about our capacity to handle what comes."

Crew Reflections
With thirty minutes until midnight, we gathered for what Starfleet would call an "informal briefing" and what I call necessary honesty.

Chief Anxiety spoke first. "I suppose there's truth in what you say. Most of my worst-case scenarios didn't happen. And there's evidence that we're more resilient than I supposed."

"Fascinating observation," Reason added. "I would note that I've learned that my calculations can predict probabilities, but they can't account for the human capacity for adaptation and creativity under pressure."

Dr. Downer nodded slowly. "I learned that sadness isn't the enemy. It's the price we pay for caring about things. For loving people. For trying. And that's not a bug in the system—it's what makes us human."

Princess Amy's voice was barely above a whisper. "I learned that sometimes a feeling is all we humans have to go on. Even when it's anxiety or fear. It just means we're paying attention."

Joy's smile brightened the bridge. 

I took a breath. "I learned that it is possible to commit no mistakes and still lose, and that's not a weakness; it's just life. Much of 2025 didn't turn out the way I planned, but the detours sometimes led exactly where I needed to go."

Five Minutes to Midnight
Amy checked the chronometer. "Five minutes to temporal shift. Ambassador, as captain of this vessel and chief of emotional operations, I need to know: what's our strategy for 2026?"

"Strategy?" I said. "Amy, I don't think we need a strategy. I think we need a change of attitude."

"That's not reassuring!"

"No, but it's honest." I moved to stand beside her command chair. "We will face 2026 together. With Reason's logic, Anxiety's vigilance, Downer's honesty, and Joy's hope. With your leadership, even when you're terrified. Especially when you're terrified."

The chronometer ticked down. One minute.

"Ambassador?" Amy's voice was small. "I'm scared."

"I know, Captain. Me too. But you know what Captain Picard said at the end of his journey?"

"What?"

"'Let's see what's out there.'"

She stared at me. "That's it? That's your big inspirational moment?"

I smiled. "That's it. We can't predict what 2026 will bring, and we can't control it. All we can do is face it together and see what's out there."

"It'll probably be harder than we expect," Dr. Downer added.

"And more beautiful than we can imagine," Joy finished.

The chronometer hit midnight. And here we still are--the crew and you, our followers--hoping for the best year of our lives, and ready to face whatever comes our way. 

Captain's Log, Supplemental
We have successfully crossed into the year 2026. All systems are operational. Crew status: anxious but functional. Uncertain but together.

The GMS Coastal Voyager continues its ongoing mission: to explore strange new challenges, to seek out new solutions to life's mysteries, and to boldly go where this mind has never gone before.

Mindfleet Academy: The Night Before

I couldn’t sleep. I was too excited about the new Starfleet Academy television series. Or maybe I was more excited about the new Mindfleet Academy series here on The Circular Journey. Either of the two was enough to keep me awake, and I was trying to process both at the same time. 

Eventually, I fell asleep and found myself walking a familiar, brightly lit corridor toward the bridge of the GMS Coastal Voyager.

The Ambassador Arrives

The aperture door dilated, and I stepped onto the bridge where Princess Amy sat staring at the command console. The viewports were dimmed, but the mindspace ganglia field was faintly visible, stretching to infinity.

"Can't sleep either, Ambassador?" she asked.

“I’m surprised you’re still up, Captain. I thought you would have finished logging the crew’s requests for admission to the advanced training program in the new Mindfleet Academy.”

“I've logged them,” she replied wistfully. “I’ve been rereading them. I asked them to include their plans for improvement during 2026, and each one of them revealed aspirations I wasn't aware of."

Before I could respond, the bridge lighting shifted to a golden caution alert.

“Captain!” First Officer Reason’s voice came over the intercom. “You need to see this!”

The Christmas Comet

“There,” Reason said, rushing onto the bridge and pointing at the viewport. “The Christmas Star comet. Right on schedule, just as the ancient logs predicted.”

A bright point of light moved through mindspace neural networks, leaving a trail of shimmering rainbow-colored particles.

“They say, if the Christmas Star crosses your mind's path, it brings clarity, peace, and good fortune,” whispered Communications Officer Joy as she approached the small group gathered around the command console.

“Aye,” crackled Chief Engineer Anxiety over the intercom, “But Captain, with our current trajectory, we won’t be close enough to even feel its wake as it passes us.”

The Wish List

Amy turned to her officers, now joined by Dr. Downer. “Before we get involved with the comet, I want to hear your self-improvement goals, in your own words.”

Joy spoke first: “I will endeavor to handle adversity without losing hope, and prove that joy is the right choice even in the darkest hour.”

“Noted and logged,” said Amy.

“Chief?”

Chief Engineer Anxiety spoke: “I'm determined to maintain courage and to worry less, to trust my instincts, and to believe in brighter outcomes.”

“Dr. Downer?”

Downer said softly: “I only hope to have the confidence to speak my truth.”

“Mr. Reason?”

Reason looked up from his console: “I wish to clearly see the patterns in random chance and to find practical guidelines, not just probabilities.”

“And you, Captain?” I asked Amy. “What did you plan for personal improvement?"

“I will practice trusting my crew, and become more of a guide and less a commander."

“You want to trust us?” Joy said.

“Yes,” Amy admitted. “And maybe that star is our first challenge. Mr. Reason, lay in an intercept course. Chief, increase speed to Warp 5. We will chase the star! Engage!”

The Chase

Reason called out coordinates. Joy broadcast to the United Federation of Emotional States that the Christmas Star had appeared. I stood beside Amy, watching the growing light as mindspace transformed in the comet’s wake.

“Captain,” Reason said, “We’ll intercept in fourteen minutes.”

“Steady as she goes,” Amy replied.

Minutes faded. “Engineering to bridge: unusual energy readings from the comet. Nothing dangerous—but it appears the comet is aware of us.”

“Aware?” Amy frowned. “That’s not in any legend.”

A moment later, Reason warned: “The comet’s changing course—our intercept window is closing.”

"Mr. Reason, adjust course immediately. Lay in an intercept vector—full pursuit profile! Chief Anxiety, Warp factor 8. Engage!” Amy said gleefully. “I want speed that turns caution into courage.”

“Captain, the engines are already at recommended maximum sustained speed,” Anxiety reported.

“Push them, Chief! Bypass non-essential safety protocols. Do it now!"

Reason immediately interjected, “We won’t make it, Captain. Even beyond safety limits, we can’t intercept. We’ll get close, but...”

The comet crossed the path of the Coastal Voyager, close enough to bathe them in golden light, but distant enough to remain untouchable.

The Real Gift

“End pursuit protocols,” Amy commanded. "Chief, return to cruising factor 4. Bring all safety protocols back online with all systems reporting green immediately."

“Captain, we didn’t catch it, but look,” Dr. Downer gestured at the viewport. “The legend says the comet needs to cross our path, not coincide with our position. And it did cross our path, but only because we chose to chase it.”

“She’s right,” Joy said, awestruck. “The neural pathways we traveled through are glowing. We carried the light of the comet with us.”

“Lt. Joy is correct,” Reason confirmed. “Our trail matches the comet’s energy signature. We didn’t intercept it. We became part of it.”

“The journey!” I exclaimed. “The legend isn’t about catching the comet. It’s about being willing to follow.”

“Our planned personal improvements…” Amy mused, “We had what we wished for all along.”

“It was the act of intentionally writing them down that worked the magic,” I said. “Our faith that we could achieve our goals was made stronger in the chase.”

The New Course

“Mr. Reason,” Amy said, her voice filled with newfound joy.

“Captain?” Reason replied.

"Plot a trajectory correction. Re-lay the course, designation Alpha-Four-Seven-Zero, to bring us back to our assigned path."

Reason’s hands flew over the controls. “Course correction plotted, Captain.”

“Chief Anxiety?”

“All systems stable and responsive. Captain. It’s as if the ship got a tune-up from chasing the comet.”

"That's good to hear, Chief. I need Warp factor 5, now! Engage!" 

The GMS Coastal Voyager surged forward, and through the viewports, I watched mindspace transformed into streaming bands of color, the very fabric of consciousness bending around our velocity.

I moved to leave, but Amy called to me.

“Ambassador? Thank you. For being here. For bearing witness.”

“That’s what Ambassadors do," I said. "We watch, we remember, and we tell stories.”

“Then tell this one,” Amy said. “Tell the story of the crew that chased a bright idea, like a comet through the darkness of inner space, only to find it within themselves.”

I felt the dawn calling me back from the dream state, but I heard the captain exclaim as she faded from sight, “Merry Christmas to all...”

And I, standing at the threshold of the waking world and the realm where emotions pilot mindships through inner space, completed the blessing as naturally as breathing:

“...and to all a good flight.”

Ambassador's Log, Supplemental:

The GMS Coastal Voyager continues its mission through Mindspace, charting courses toward challenges and adventures in the New Year.

And somewhere in the vast expanse of mindspace, a shining idea continues its eternal journey. It may be related to the new Starfleet Academy series, or the idea of bringing Mindfleet Academy into the universe of The Circular Journey. Either way, it's leaving trails of insight for other captains to pursue, reminding them that the answers are in the chase.

End Log

Mindfleet Academy

While the rest of the world prepares for the premiere of Star Trek: Starfleet Academy, where cadets train to become Starfleet officers, I found myself wondering, as my head hit the pillow, just what a training academy would be like for Mindfleet officers.

Deep in REM sleep, I materialized on the bridge of the GMS Coastal Voyager to find the entire senior staff gathered around the command console, and Princess Amy looking decidedly joyful. I know! Amy joyful?

Meeting on the Bridge

"Ambassador!" Lieutenant Joy called to me, practically bouncing at her communications station. "Perfect timing! We were just about to send for you."

"Send for me? What's going on?"

Princess Amy nodded toward the viewport, where an official transmission was displayed. 

"We've received a communication from Mindfleet Command. They're launching a new program—advanced training for mesolimbic crews who want to expand their capabilities and effectiveness."

"Mindfleet Academy," First Officer Reason added, striving to conceal his enthusiasm. "The program promises to improve crisis response protocols and develop advanced emotional navigation techniques."

"And we want in," Amy said firmly.

I blinked. "You want... training? But you've already navigated the Melancholy Nebula, handled the Klang Ho incident, and completed the Mission to Mohs, without once violating the Prime Directive.

"Exactly!" Joy interrupted. "We've proven we can handle crises. But imagine how much more we could do with advanced training!"

Chief Anxiety's voice crackled over the intercom from Engineering. "Aye, they're offering advanced systems integration, and—the part that really caught my attention—mindfulness-based stress reduction."

"You want to learn to worry less?" I couldn't keep the surprise from my voice.

"I want to learn how to worry smarter," Anxiety corrected. "The Academy's engineering program is taught by the finest minds in the United Federation of Emotional States."

Dr. Downer's voice spoke from the ship’s infirmary, "They're offering coursework in the therapeutic value of sadness. Finally," she exclaimed, "someone understands that I'm not a malfunction to be fixed, but a vital part of the crew."

I looked around at the collection of my personified emotions, the parts of myself that had only recently learned to work together. They were seriously excited.

"So what's the catch?" I asked because in my personal experience with the limbic system, there’s always a catch.

The Training Mission

Princess Amy's expression shifted, her excitement tempered by her "command challenge" face. 

"There's an evaluation process. We have to prove we're ready."

"They're sending us on a trial mission," Reason explained. "It will be a test of our ability to handle complex emotional situations. It's scheduled for the winter solstice—the Mindfleet holiday vacation period."

"Perfect timing, really," Joy added, though her usual brightness was edged with nervousness. "We'll have the holidays to recover if we don't make the cut."

"We'll make the cut," Amy said with the confidence of a captain who'd faced down alien abduction requests and existential nebulae. "But we need to prepare."

I looked out the viewport into a vast neural network of deep mind, where an array of synapses fired off and on, creating a dazzling display of electrical impulses, looking like a starfield in the darkness of inner space. "What are the details of the test?"

"They haven't given us specifics," Reason sighed. "That's part of the test—coping with unexpected situations. But scuttlebutt has it that applicants must deal with multiple simultaneous challenges, but nothing as demanding as the encounter at Farpoint Station."

The remark was followed by profound silence until I spoke. "So, basically, everything we've already done, but with someone grading us on it," I observed.

"Precisely," Amy said. "Which is why we need you with us, Ambassador. You're our conscious observer. If we're to prove we deserve a spot in the Academy, we need you to document everything we do and, most importantly, how we do it."

Chief Anxiety's voice came through again. "It's only the most important evaluation of our operational effectiveness in the history of Mindfleet. But I'm sure everything will be fine. Probably. Oh dear, I should run additional diagnostics—"

"Chief," Amy interrupted gently, "this is exactly the kind of thing the Academy training can help with."

"Right. Yes. Of course. I'll just... run a few diagnostics anyway. For practice."

The Levity Factor

"You know," I said, “Maybe we should consider going beyond just managing the crises the academy throws at us, and focus on doing it with grace and maybe occasional joy."

Joy perked up at that. "See? Like I always say, happiness isn't just for the good times. It's what gets you through the hard times."

"And concern isn't all about worry," Anxiety added. "It's about being prepared."

"And sadness isn't weakness," Dr. Downer said firmly. "It's the wisdom to acknowledge reality."

"And logic isn't cold," Reason contributed. "It's the framework that helps emotions work together effectively."

The look on Princess Amy's face suddenly changed, and I recognized it as the look that meant she was about to make a speech. 

"We've navigated emotional nebulae, handled alien encounters, and survived overwhelming challenges. If the academy is looking for crews who can work together under pressure, then they're looking for us."

"So we're really doing this?" I asked.

"We're really doing this," Amy confirmed. "The training mission happens just before the winter solstice. You need to record it all, Ambassador, and tell our story to the world."

Looking Ahead

On the winter solstice, I'll be publishing a detailed account of the GMS Coastal Voyager's training mission—a journey that will test everything this crew has learned about working together and navigating the emotional nebulae of Mindspace.

In the coming New Year, I will post a regular series of episodes, using the framework of Star Trek's hopeful future to explore new aspects of the inner journey toward better mental health and self-understanding.

A Note on Timing

For those keeping track, the Starfleet Academy television series is set in the 32nd century and follows the first new class of cadets in over a century training to become Starfleet officers. 

Our new Mindfleet Academy series will be an inner journey taking place in a parallel universe, not in the distant future but right here, right now. Coastal Voyager officers will be the first class enrolled in advanced emotional training--ever!

Ambassador's Log, Preliminary:

Somewhere in the vast administrative systems of the United Federation of Emotional States, a committee is preparing a scenario that will determine whether this crew is ready for advanced training or must return to standard operations.

Either way, it promises to be an adventure worth chronicling.