I

Team Blackstar
Baseworld: Qandar
Currently Unnamed Spacecraft
Qandarian License 04032-H Division
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An elite team, hand-picked from the best of the best, equipped for every mission in the universe....
Ready for danger...ready for action...ready to kick butt!...
Ready to destroy The Raven and his cohorts, who have the Outer Realms in an iron grip...
Ready to free the people of said Outer Realms...
No one but Team Blackstar can take on the challenge of the galaxy!...

Marshall threw down his pen and messed up his hair again.
"For the last time, does anyone have any serious suggestions?"
The team shifted, an uncomfortable amoeba.
"I was serious," Flash mumbled. Further down the table, Tracey tittered.
Marshall's squint drifted from Tracey to Flash. "You know as well as anyone else that was no name for a proper, licensed, missioncraft, Jake."
"I thought it had a particularly subliminal ring to it," Glen piped up helpfully.
"Nobody asked you -"
Flash interrupted, "Captain, you have to at least admit it was better than 'Ultimate Destroy-o-plex'." He shot a sideways glance at X-Ray.
"Not by much," X-Ray shot back with a glare.
Tank decided now was the moment to intervene. She cleared her throat, nasally. The team respectfully prepared itself for her diplomatic mediocrity.
She read aloud the paragraph, the o's and a's of which she had been busy turning into quaint daisies. "We have much to learn from and glean through both names, which are equally fantastic and essentially synonymous. Where Raymond's 'Ultimate Destroy-o-plex' suggestion lacks charm, however and for instance, one observes an analogous lack thereof in Jacob's--" She paused, deciphering her flowery hand-scrawled notes. "Terrible Carnivorous Space-Beast."
"But it totally is!" Flash protested.
Marshall's fist slammed multiple times on the long white fiberglass conference table. "Silence! Silence!"
"Nobody is talking," said Glen.
"I did some thinking and I just may have a solution." The Captain motioned to a green pulsating hologram. "I have just initiated the forum for open-vector brainstorming. When the light turns red, I want everyone on the team to log into this central unit every singly term that comes to mind. Once we have accumulated at least three hundred terms the Scrambler will auto-proceed." He sighed emphatically. "It's a last resort, but we may end up with a combination of words that better suits us than any we have...attempted in the past."
The light turned red. Nine team members scribbled furiously with pentrons on the digital table.

"Chaz, you aren't writing," said Aspirin, adjusting her up-do absentmindedly with her bright violet pentron.
"The light's red," replied Chef.
"Uh, yeah, meaning you should be writing."
"No, dork, red means stop," Chef said. "Dear God, woman. And they let you fly this thing?"