"Your father was captain of a starship for 12 minutes,” says Captain Christopher Pike. He’s in a roadside bar in rural Iowa, the kind of old-school dive that still serves Budweiser Classic and shots of Jack, despite far more interesting drinks having been invented by 2255.
“He saved 800 lives—including your mother’s, and yours,” Pike continues. It’s quiet in the bar—past closing time—and Pike’s talking to a dipshit farm boy who just yanked a wadded-up napkin out of his bloody nose. The rest of the blood on James T. Kirk’s face is starting to dry—a reminder that, while the kid’s pretty good at starting bar fights, he sucks at finishing them.
Pike looks at Kirk. “I dare you,” he says, “to do better.”
As scenes in 2009’s Star Trek go, that’s a big one. (For Kirk, at least—otherwise he’d have never bothered scraping that blood off his face and ignoring his hangover long enough to enroll in the “peace-keeping and humanitarian armada” of Starfleet.) But Pike’s challenge also serves as a reminder of what Star Trek is all about: he fact that, as a species, we can do a hell of a lot better.