STAR Trek is no stranger to reboots – the series has had more reincarnations than Spock himself.

But all this while, it has remained true to its prime directive: To explore strange new issues, to seek out new discussions about life and civilisations; to boldly talk about what no man has talked about before.

Any show that can withstand the test of time without Simon Cowell deserves an award.

It is a testament to the cachet of entertainment that contains intelligent social commentary.

Ages before meaningful discourse and issue-discussions became the hallmark of The West Wing (or The Simpsons, for that matter) this show offered a place for debate on how we could be in a society.

That place: Space, the final frontier.

You want globalisation? You got it.

In the original series, Captain James T. Kirk helmed a crew with members from Russia, Scotland, yea, even the faraway planet of Vulcan.

Interracial relationships? Affirmative.

Kirk was notably quite the inter-galactic Casanova, with girlfriends in just about every colour of Saturn's rings.

What about respect for elders? Yep. Got that too.

Was it not this series, after all, that made famous the salutation, "Live long and prosper"?

Each series' captains also embodied a zeitgeist.

The original Kirk (William Shatner) was the sixties' trigger-happy space cowboy version of John Wayne; The Next Generation’s Jean-Luc Picard (Patrick Stewart), the erudite eighties leader who would rather engage than annihilate; the sadly short-lived Enterprise's Jonathan Archer (Scott Bakula), a man who had noughties' "faith of the heart", as Bryan Adams sang in its theme song (Actually, a reader pointed out that it is Russell Watson, not Bryan Adams, who sang the theme song. He just sounds like Bryan).

As a life-long fan, I never wearied of the show's themes, inferences, mystery and dialogue.

I adored all its captains, especially a certain Captain Kathryn Janeway (Kate Mulgrew) of Voyager, who in the mid-nineties became the first female commanding officer in a Star Trek series.

Hers was a character all young women could have looked to as a role model.

In fact, what I liked most about the characters of creator Gene Roddenberry's future were that they were not predisposed to the whinging so fashionable on Desperate Housewives or Grey's Anatomy.

You also got the sense that they evolved in a good way after every adventure.

They represented a kind of future anyone might want a stake in.

But recently, as I searched for a deep theatrical experience in Star Trek Rebooted, I found quite a different revelation.

Although a flick touted by some of my best mates as nothing short of a spiritual experience – such hardcore Trekkers as to own (and wear) custom-made "Starfleet" uniforms – I discovered one thing lacking.

Women.

Going by a wholly unscientific observation – I recently found myself at one screening among just a handful of females in a dark room surrounded by men – it struck me that the franchise marketing starship had warped past Venus by several light years.

Instead, most women glaze over at the mention of the series.

And, going by nothing other than my own sad experiences, some more diplomatic ones say things like "erh, I'm not really into Star Trek", "oh you poor thing" or "stop that talk right now please".

Most do not care that Star Trek paved the way the sci-fi fare they love, including George Lucas' Star Wars.

Instead, the majority of my species are more likely to balk at my understanding of jokes involving the "Picard manoeuvre" or debates on how long a symbiont can survive outside a humanoid host.

There are sympathetic "uh-huhs" to my excited outbursts of trivia like "they never said 'Beam Me Up Scottie' on the orginal series", or what NCC 1701 means (it's the, uh, Enterprise licence plate number).

But mostly – I'm speaking in general and mean no offence to other federation loyalists like me – women would rather just ignore this sector of geekdom.

Enter the prime directive of this reboot: To hell with it, let's just boldly get the women in the door.

As far as Trek movies go, this film's greatest success is the unabashed casting of eye-candy factors Zachary Quinto and Chris Pine at its fore.

In their own new tangent, they might just convince more women to be aware of discussions of xenophobia, racism, bigotry, and why to a Klingon, revenge – even when nothing good comes of it – "is a dish best served cold".

Compared to previous reboots, there is more in it to engage female audiences, based on the strength of the cast and an extremely modern plot, rather than just historical baggage.

This reboot's central theme of how our lifelong relationships with significant others define us is also less about sci-fi, more the stuff of Hallmark.

So to my sisters outside the federation zone, I beseech you, don't let this undiscovered country pass you by.

There's a lot more we can take from it than just Phasers and geekspeak.

Time to engage.