Skybase was quiet in the late hours, save for the low hum of systems in standby mode. Most of the crew had long since turned in, but Captain Blue was still in the observation lounge, half-listening to the soft static of an old radio broadcast looping through a secure channel.
He didn't look up when the doors opened with a gentle hiss.
"You're up late, sir."
It was Lieutenant Moccasin, the newest recruit in Spectrum's command rotation—fresh from training, still a little stiff in her uniform, still careful to use "sir" even when unnecessary.
"Can't sleep," Blue replied, gesturing toward the second chair. "You?"
"Same. Mind if I ask something?"
"Go ahead."
Moccasin hesitated. Then:
"Why colours? I mean… why not names? Code numbers? Greek letters? We all get assigned a colour—what does it mean?"
Blue chuckled softly. "You wouldn't believe how many times I've wondered that myself."
She smiled, relieved that it wasn't a foolish question.
Blue leaned back. "Some say it's just for clarity. Easy to remember, hard to confuse in the field. Others think it's about anonymity. We're not meant to be people when we're in uniform—we're symbols. But..." he trailed off, swirling the last bit of his tea. "I think it ends up meaning something different to each of us."
The lounge doors opened again.
"You're talking about the codenames?" Captain Ochre asked, stretching as she strolled in. "Let me guess. Blue's giving you the poetic version."
"Naturally," Blue replied dryly.
Ochre grabbed a drink from the dispenser and plopped into a seat. "To me, 'Ochre' means flexibility. Earthy. Adaptable. Not flashy like red or clean like white, but I get the job done. I like it."
"Destiny once told me," Blue added, "that being an Angel wasn't just a title. It was a promise—to stay airborne, stay vigilant. Harmony told me her call sign reminds her of balance."
"So, it's... personal?" Moccasin asked, brow furrowed.
"Sometimes," came Colonel White's voice as he entered without ceremony. "Sometimes it's just what you're given. And you make it matter later."
Everyone sat a little straighter.
"When I was first assigned the name 'White', I didn't think twice about it," the Colonel continued. "But over time, I came to see it as something to live up to. White isn't the absence of colour—it's the presence of all of them. Responsibility. Clarity. Leadership. The weight of everyone else's decisions."
Silence settled in the room, respectful and reflective.
"The code is what we're given," he finished. "The meaning is what we create."
He gave them a nod and left as quietly as he came.
Lieutenant Moccasin looked down at the small stripe on her sleeve—the pale, earthy hue that gave her name.
"I hope I figure out what it means," she said.
Blue smiled, standing to stretch. "You will. Usually around the time you stop asking."