What’s In A Name?

Posted on Sat Jul 11th, 2026 @ 2:15pm by Captain Nycolas Temple

Mission: A New Day at Midnight
Location: Deck 5 - Rec Deck / Pandora’s Box

ON:

Nyx had a thirty minute window in which to get himself some food before he likely needed to be back on the Bridge. The Pandora’s flight towards the White Diamond Nebula would soon reach its destination and after that, there was a tense obstacle course through the particle clouds towards the planet Omipro. So this was likely the only opportunity that he would have to eat something before they reached the colony. Faced with what would undoubtedly be a very long day, he needed to eat now, or miss out.

Walking out of the turbo lift onto Deck 5, he was pleased to see the Recreation area was seldom in use at the moment. Only Delta shift were in off-duty period, and that meant there should have been at least fifty officers off the “clock” so to speak, not to mention those on Alpha Shift coming up for a meal break. But despite that, the Recreation area was noticeably quieter than usual. Nyx could only assume it was because everyone was preparing for the mission, focused on their roles, or getting settled into the ship.

It meant he could stroll straight into the ship’s main “mess hall”, a decorated restaurant called Pandora’s Box, and have his choice of seating position. The captain chose a small table by the corner. He was tired of seeing the blue streaks of high warp through his own window, he didn’t want to see it while he ate. He ordered his food with a service crewman and leaned back into his chair, getting comfortable as he laid his PADD onto the table, ready to read his reports while he ate. Even during meal time, a captain was always working.

Not a moment later, his PADD illuminated with a notification. He was getting a subspace call from his brother, Federation Ambassador Magnus Temple, currently stationed in the far-flung region of the Delavi Expanse on Starbase 109. Nyx immediately accepted the call, as he always would for his brother, but was met with static and fuzziness instead.

“...Ny…” The voice that squeezed through the ready room terminal was thin and disjointed, completely out of sync with the frozen, pixelated image on the viewscreen.

“Oh no,” Nyx muttered, lifting his PADD a few inches higher as if physical elevation could somehow bypass lightyears of subspace interference. The long-distance link between the USS Pandora and SB109 was screaming with background radiation.

“Nyx?” Magnus’s voice cut through another burst of static. “Can… hear… me…?”

“I can hear you, Magnus, but you look like a broken holodeck,” Nyx complained, tapping rapidly at his screen. “Hold on, I think I can jury-rig a frequency boost from here.”

“Quincy?” Magnus’s audio crackled back, sounding thoroughly baffled.

Nyx minimised the call window and began re-route the subspace network through the Pandora’s Sensor Pod, allowing him to increase the strength of the connection. Suddenly, the static cleared with a soft electronic chime. The picture snapped into sharp focus, revealing Nyx’s broad, triumphant smile. “There we go. That’s better.”

“Much,” Magnus agreed, letting out a breath he’d clearly been holding. He adjusted his stance, looking at his brother curiously. “Who on earth is Quincy?”

“Huh? Oh. No, no,” Nyx chuckled, shaking his head. “I said I was switching to the wide-band frequency.” He pointed a thumb toward the ceiling, indicating to the massive Luna-class sensor pod mounted above the Pandora’s hull. “I don’t know what patch of deep space you’re hiding in right now, little bro, but I can tell you my Chief Engineer is going to have a minor stroke if she finds out I’m routing personal calls through the primary sensor array.”

Magnus’ eyebrows arched in a dry, instantly recognisable expression. “When have your Chief Engineers ever been happy with how you run a starship, Nyx? Honestly, it should be part of your onboarding speech by now: 'Welcome to the Pandora, I’m going to do ridiculous things to this ship, and you’re going to have to fix it.'”

Nyx conceded the point with a sheepish nod. “Hey, I like to keep the crew on their toes. Anyway, I’m sorry it took me so long to get back to you. Starfleet pushed up our departure window and the Pandora is already en route to a priority assignment. A colony was attacked last night, a pretty brutal hit, and we’re responding to the distress call.”

The teasing light in Magnus’s eyes vanished, replaced instantly by the sober gravitas of a Federation diplomat. “Oh that’s horrible. Any casualties?”

“A dozen confirmed dead,” Nyx replied, his tone dropping into a grave register. “Likely more. We’ll know the full extent of the damage once we arrive.”

Magnus shifted uncomfortably on his end of the screen. A sudden wave of self-reproach crossed his face; his own anxieties felt trivial compared to a starship racing toward a crisis. “Listen… I’m sorry for disturbing you, Nyx. I didn’t realize. It can wait until you’re back.”

Nyx caught the sudden shift, the familiar way his brother tried to retreat when he thought he was being a burden. He wasn’t about to let Magnus hang up. “Hey. We’re still a few hours out from the system. I've got time. What’s on your mind?”

Magnus hesitated, staring at the console on his desk before looking back up. He could see the stubborn, expectant warmth in Nyx’s eyes. He knew his brother was actively burning starship resources just to keep the channel open. There was no backing out now.

“I was speaking with SB 109’s Executive Officer, Commander Heriah Rex,” Magnus began slowly. “She’s a joined Trill. Rex is her symbiont. Or, uh, Heriah is the host.” He shook his head. “You know how it works. Anyway, as it turns out, one of Rex’s previous hosts knew our father. In fact, they worked closely with him right when he was… at his worst.”

The casual warmth left Nyx’s posture. He sank back into his chair, his expression darkening. “Damn. They actually knew him?”

“In a manner of speaking. The host knew him before the joining, so the memories are a bit filtered through the symbiont's collective consciousness,” Magnus explained, rubbing the back of his neck. “But the name 'Temple' struck a chord. Rex still carries a vivid impression of our father. And, more importantly, a very clear idea of what he was up to back then.”

Nyx let out a slow, heavy breath. “So… we’re talking before the arrest? Before the court-martial? During the worst of it? Arms dealing, drug addicted, dirty dealing, gambling it all away.”

“Yes,” Magnus nodded grimly. “Most of those records were buried by the judiciary to protect our privacy and, let’s face it, Starfleet's reputation. Even if people recognize the family name, they usually don't know the ugly details. But now, here is someone who lived through it, albeit tangentially. Turns out you can squash official database files, but you can’t squash living memories.”

A protective, defensive edge crept into Nyx's voice. “Do you think she’s going to be a problem? Is this a political liability for you? Because I can pull a few strings, talk to Starfleet Command, reach out -“

“No, no,” Magnus interrupted firmly, raising a hand to cut him off. “It’s not like that. In fact, the Commander was incredibly graceful about it. She explicitly told me she wanted me to know that I am not defined by our father's sins. It was actually… incredibly kind.”

Nyx blinked, letting the defensive wall crumble as he leaned back again, realising he had over-reacted a little. Of course, it was instinct to become protective of each other. To raise arms at the slightest hint of a threat to their happiness now. No one looked after them when they were young, so they looked after each other. It was a hard instinct to let go of. Nyx wanted people to know that if they heard their name now, they wouldn’t think of their father but instead of the protective brothers. “Oh. Well. That is nice. But… still a little jarring, I imagine.”

“What can we really do?” Magnus shrugged, a touch of fatalism creeping into his smile. “This shadow is always going to hang over us at some level. People knew him, even if they now pretend that they didn't, just to be polite. And given that he’s still out there somewhere, continuing to be a massive disappointment and embarrassment, it’s only a matter of time before he crosses paths with someone else we know.”

“Yeah,” Nyx admitted softly, a rare look of resignation crossing his face. “I know. It feels like a double-edged curse sometimes. I’m in Starfleet, working my ass off so that I’m never compared to our father. And there’s you in the Federation diplomatic corps, doing the exact same thing so you aren't compared to our mother. We just can’t seem to shake either of them.”

Magnus let out a soft, genuine laugh. “We really screwed up, didn't we? We should have just been musicians. There's no political or Starfleet legacy to uphold in a band.”

“Well, I can’t carry a tune to save my life, but I think I could manage the drums,” Nyx offered with a grin. “It’s not too late for a career pivot.”

“What about that band that came out of your old crew? Warp 9?” Magnus chimed in, fully embracing the absurd distraction. “Maybe they need a backup dancer? We could just hit the road, tour the Alpha Quadrant, and leave the family name in the stardust.”

“Don't tempt me,” Nyx said softly. The joke lingered comfortably in the air before slowly fading away, as those comforting, impossible fantasies always did. “But… jokes aside, I think I’d just like my own record to speak for itself.”

“Me too,” Magnus agreed. “I just want my work to mean something. More than the name. Our name.”

“It will,” Nyx said earnestly, his voice full of the unshakeable faith he always reserved for his brother. “But are you absolutely sure about this Commander Rex? You trust her not to weaponize this?”

“I do. I genuinely believe she only brought it up to reassure me that she didn't care,” Magnus said. “She didn’t even think it was worth mentioning to Captain Francis.”

Nyx nodded thoughtfully. “Francis has been around the block. Honestly, he probably already knows anyway.”

Before Magnus could respond, a sharp electronic whistle pierced the cabin. ⁠=/\= Engineering to Captain Temple. =/\=⁠

Nyx immediately mouthed, “Uh oh,” to the screen, a sly, boyish smirk breaking through his serious demeanour. He tapped his comm badge. ⁠=/\= Temple here. Go ahead, Engineering. =/\=⁠

⁠=/\= Sir, we’re experiencing a highly irregular power fluctuation in the secondary EPS conduits. It looks like an immense amount of system resources are being routed directly through the... tactical sensor pod? Do you have any idea what could be causing a power drain up there, Captain? =/\=⁠ The Chief Engineer's voice was a masterful blend of exhaustion and brewing fury.

Nyx looked back at the viewscreen on his PADD and sighed. “I guess my time is up.”

Magnus nodded, the warmth back in his eyes. “Duty calls. Good luck out there, Nyx. Stay safe, and call me when you’re back in subspace range.”

“Always. Take care of yourself, too.” Nyx smiled.

⁠=/\= Captain Temple?! Are you receiving me? =/\=⁠ The comm badge barked again, notably sharper this time.

Trying, and failing, to stifle a laugh, Nyx cut the subspace link and braced himself to face his Chief Engineer with contrition and good humour.

OFF