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A New Starfleet

@anewstarfleet.bsky.social

The untold story of Project Galaxy—a vision of exploration forged in ambition, conflict, and innovation, shaping the future of the Federation. A Fanproject from the writers of @wolf359project.bsky.social and @eomproject.bsky.social
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A New Starfleet

@anewstarfleet.bsky.social

For this #TrekTuesday, we wanted to share another sneak peak from 'A New Starfleet'an excerpt from 'As He Saw It: My Time with Admiral Chekov' - a reflection on legacy, vision, and the quiet dignity of a man out of time and yet still of it.
Art by @steillustrates.bsky.social

An aged Admiral chekov looks out over USS Galaxy at her comissioning ceremony - image by @steillustrates.bsky.social‬

“As He Saw It: My Time with Admiral Chekov” by Anton Chekov, United Earth MP & Labor Secretary (2371)
Father only accepted the invitation to the USS Galaxy ceremony the day after the state funeral. And sure, he had spent the last six years complaining about the design & cataloguing the over-engineering and under-planning. And yes, he did feel that every other delegate he would be standing with on stage with was over-promoted and under-experienced. But once he emerged in his dress uniform, carrying his “dress cane”, as he called it, all of that was gone. He seemed less like the Elder Statesmen that he despised becoming and more like the Captain Chekov of the Potemkin that he adored being, spry enough that neither I or his Starfleet Press handler could keep up with him as we glided through the crowd to join the shuttle to Mars.

It was the first time Father had been to space in five years, and yet…while the cameras flashed and hands were shaken, it seemed like he had never left. We sat at the rear of the guest compartment, surrounded by admirals and ambassadors and politicians. Most stopped by to exchange the expected pleasantries; many had little to add to the similar platitudes made to father at Les Invalides a month ago, but he took it in his stride, even managing to laugh politely at the Martian Ambassador’s impolite humour.
Much to my amusement, he was the first person off the shuttle upon arrival, striding

past the queue of dignitaries with complete disregard for the instructions we had been given. I had no choice but to chase after him, only catching him when he stopped to ‘inspect’ a Starfleet service animal. He was gone in a flash once the door opened, calling for me to hurry up and see “Hikaru’s ship.” As we traversed the miles of carpeted, clean hallways, he seemed at home on this engineering marvel that dwarfed the starships he had served aboard. He made jokes with Galaxy’s helmsman about the new computer system, and grilled her engineering staff on the warp reactor, passing on well-rehearsed words of wisdom from legends like Montgomery Scott.
The anecdotes flowed freely once we returned to the observation bay of Watney Station– stories of Kirk & Spock, Uncle Hikaru and Aunt Nyota, of the Potemkin and Cydonia. The usual crowd-pleasing story of his gun-blazing entry to the Khitomer Conference was greatly appreciated by the foreign dignitaries, even the Klingon ambassador. Yet, even I could tell that his smiles never quite reached his eyes. For decades, events like this had been full of his old friends and comrades, but now he was alone.

The absence of the former Premier was palpable in Father’s speech. It was subdued by his standards, especially after the bombast of Admiral Quinn and Commissioner Frevv. He spoke of Sulu’s ambitions for the project with such reverence that you would never believe that he had opposed them from start to finish, and such hope that, by the end, you perhaps wondered if he had shared his friend’s vision. “I think…if the President was here today, to see this triumph of engineering, he would tell you that this is not the end of the journey. This is the start. We are only now passing the start-line of the next great race for knowledge. He would be jealous of those who are about to embark on that race. And, really, so am I.” The applause was sober, compared to the cheers Admiral Quinn received. But it was reverent and respectable.

It was hard to get a moment alone with father for the rest of the ceremony. Eventually I found him by a window, alone, watching Galaxy. “I never understood Hikaru’s vision,” he said, “until I saw her. Now, I wonder what they could achieve if he is proved right about the galaxy, and I am proved wrong.”
I asked if he wished to go aboard again, and he demurred. “No, Anton. I have seen enough of her to see she is in safe hands. Now she belongs to the Next Generation.”

August 19, 2025 at 2:06 PM

A New Starfleet

@anewstarfleet.bsky.social

In the 2350's It would be a big decision to take your family on an interstellar voyage of exploration,

So how would Starfleet recruit families for Project Galaxy?

Life aboard the Galaxy-class, as Starfleet imagined it.

Special thanks to @portalrealm.bsky.social

A front-facing view of the folded pamphlet, slightly fanned to reveal the interior beneath. The cover artwork depicts a cozy Starfleet living space: an officer gazing out a viewport, a couple in uniform conversing on a bench, and soft lighting throughout. The text on the front reads: "A new galaxy awaits you – Orientation for families on deep space exploration." The folded edge of the pamphlet reveals part of the ship chart illustration from the back.

A slightly angled view of the inner spread of the Project Galaxy pamphlet. On the left, a stylized illustration of a Galaxy-class starship in dock, viewed from above. The rest of the layout showcases promotional text in soft coral tones, extolling community, connection, education, and family life aboard a deep-space Starfleet vessel. An illustration on the far right shows two officers in uniform standing near a compact habitat or classroom module, surrounded by greenery.

A flat-lay view of the Project Galaxy pamphlet, fully unfolded. On the left panel, a sketched Starfleet officer studies a vertical ship design chart. The middle and right panels depict warm-toned interior starship scenes—officers chatting, standing, and observing a purple-hued planet through a large window. The retro-futurist typography reads: "Your journey begins here... Welcome to an exciting new chapter in Starfleet’s mission of discovery. A new galaxy awaits you."

June 13, 2025 at 3:24 PM

A New Starfleet

@anewstarfleet.bsky.social

For this #TrekTuesday, we’re sharing something special, a short excerpt from "A New Starfleet".
Told through the eyes of a veteran shipbuilder, it captures the quiet wonder of watching a Galaxy-class starship rise from Martian soil into the stars.
#StarTrek #GalaxyClass #TrekFic #Worldbuilding

Voices from the Yard
Shipwright Lioren Vale
Utopia Planitia Shipyards, Mars – 2352

I’ve been in this trade a long time. Helped build Excelsior cruisers back when they were still the crown jewels of Starfleet. Gamma welded the bulkheads of the Ambassadors that were meant to usher in a new age of diplomacy. I’ve seen starships take shape from the first laid keel to the last hull plating. But nothing—not a single project I’ve worked on—comes close to what we’re building now.
These Galaxy class are unlike anything we’ve ever attempted. When we started laying down the first frames on the Martian plains, the sheer scale of them defied belief. The saucer alone is the size of a city. I’ve walked along its framework, through cavernous compartments meant to house families, scientists, diplomats, all alongside the most advanced propulsion systems ever developed. We don’t just build ships anymore. We build civilizations—vessels designed to sustain entire communities as they venture into the unknown.
Utopia Planitia has never seen an undertaking like this. The old yards had been resting on their laurels for a time—smaller projects, standard hulls, refits and maintenance cycles. But this… this has revitalized everything. There’s a new energy here, a sense that we are truly at the frontier of what Starfleet can accomplish. Thousands of us work in shifts, constructing, assembling, refining—every weld, every rivet, every isolinear relay is done with the knowledge that these ships are going to be the first step into a much

bigger universe.
And today—today is the day we watched one of them take flight.
For months, we’ve been shaping these hulls right here on the Martian surface, piecing them together under the blue-glow of the shipyard beacons, their skeletal frames rising like mountains from the ground. But they don’t belong here. They belong among the stars.
So we link them up to the orbital tethers. Heavy-lift tractor assemblies, electromagnetic guidance locks, graviton stabilizers—all engaging in perfect sequence. And then, slowly, impossibly, the behemoth begins to rise.
It’s an eerie thing to watch—hundreds of thousands of tons, an entire city, lifting into the air as if gravity itself has momentarily forgotten how to work. The ground crews step back, craning their necks, shielding their eyes as the hull ascends, inch by inch, meter by meter, higher and higher.
At first, you can still see the raw details—the unpolished duranium plating, the open cavities where the impulse manifolds will go. But then, as it rises, the light changes, and the hull begins to glow in the Martian sunlight, turning gold against the sky.
And it keeps going.
Up, past the drifting clouds of construction drones, past the carrier platforms, past the drydocks where Excelsiors and Nebulas are getting their maintenance checks. Soon, it’s just a speck against the sky, a single gleaming light among the other specks of the orbiting docks. And then it’s gone, pulled into the final assembly stations, where it will be fitted with warp cores, computer cores, the heart and soul of a vessel meant to last for a century.
And we watch.
We watch because we know that one day, these ships will leave us behind. They’ll break

orbit, sail beyond Mars, beyond the Sol system, beyond anything we’ll ever see in our lifetimes. And sometimes I wonder—will a ship I helped build make it to the far side of the galaxy? Will it find worlds untouched, civilizations undreamed of?
Maybe.
But for now, we keep building. Because the future doesn’t wait. And neither do the stars.

An illistration of the saucer of a Galaxy Class starship being raised from the Martian Surface

May 6, 2025 at 9:53 AM

A New Starfleet

@anewstarfleet.bsky.social

"No empire falls overnight. It fractures first, hairline cracks that spread until the weight of history collapses it entirely. Romulus was lost long before the star burned."
—Admiral Kirsten Clancy, Reflections on the Romulan Evacuation, 2393