I stared up at the white flakes falling down upon me. It reminded me of stars, except here the background was grey instead of black. A dark blur appeared above me, and I blinked to resolve it into a face. I could tell it was a male by the stubble on its chin.

“You’d better put on some clothes. You’re bound to catch your death,” he said.

It was then that I realized there was cold, hard-packed precipitate beneath me. The man put out a hand, and I took it to help me get up. His eyes lingered on my chest for a bit before quickly looking away. He threw me a bundle of various cloths, telling me to put them on. After much difficulty, I managed to get everything on, and realized just how cold I had been.

“Some trip, huh?” he said.

I was too busy looking around to answer right away. Dark gnarled trees rose from the ground, and the white stuff, still falling around us, covered the ground. I squatted down, put some of it in my hand. “What is this stuff?” I asked.

The man made a face, and let out a series of short huffing breaths. “It’s snow. Amazing, isn’t it?”

I turned and looked at the man. “Are you in pain?”

He shot me a look that seemed like confusion. I elaborated, “It seems like you screw up your face a lot, and you let out strange sounding breaths, too.”

He did it again. “Ah, that,” more strange breaths, “It’s called a smile, and those breaths, are me laughing!” He let out a louder, more hearty series of the things he called laughs.

“You are a strange man,” I said.

“The name’s Detective Michaels. You?” He held out a hand, “I should at least know the name of my guest before we get to the scene.”

“My name is Freya,” I looked down at the outstretched hand, “No, thanks. I’m already up.”

Michaels laughed again. He seemed to do that a lot. With a nod and a smile, he motioned me to follow him down the trail. It was a short walk. A pair of men greeted us, shiny metal weapons in their hands. They let us under a piece of yellow tape with black writing on it. The scene was a bustle of activity; men and women were moving all over it, all talking at once. It smelled like burnt plastic and ozone.

They all cleared away when they saw Michaels and me. It was a large crater, still smoking. The hydrocarbon wings and tail of the flyer had dissolved around the pilot upon impact. The snow melted quicker on those spots, clearly showing an outline.

“God,” whispered Michaels. “Looks like a giant snow angel.”

“A what?” I asked.

He turned to me, surprised that I heard him. “It’s nothing. C’mon, you don’t have much time. They say he’s still alive.”

I nodded in agreement. I went down into the crater, and Michaels respectfully kept his distance. The pilot groaned as I approached. The metal and plastic mesh around his body had melted; his face was smeared with grease and soot. I knelt down in the fresh snow around him. He opened his yellow eyes.

“I’m sorry. I fell,” he rasped.

I shook my head as I looked up and down his body, reading his diagnostic plates. They were still active, but they were glowing red. “Don’t apologize soldier, you did good. Two went down with you. You terminated them.”

His lips pressed together in happiness. “What is this stuff falling around us?”

“They call it snow.”

He drew in a shuddering breath, “I like it. Tell me; am I, am I going to make it?”

I looked him in the eyes with one hand gingerly on his chest. “You’ll be fine. I’m going to take you home.” He gave a short, pained nod. I told him to relax as I stood up and went over to Michaels.

“He going to make it?” he asked when I got close enough.

“He’ll be just fine. A long recovery, though.”

“Why do you guys do it? Flying around up there, fighting who knows what, just to protect people who barely know you’re there. Is it worth it?”

“Send a ship to pick us up. We’re going home.”

He nodded, looked down, and kicked at the snow. He called out the orders, and started to walk away. I grabbed his arm to stop him.

“We like it here,” I said. “We don’t want them to do to your planet what they did to ours. This place is just too amazing to let it go so easily.”

He looked at me, and smiled. His eyes wrinkled at the corners when he did that. I noticed they were blue. “Hey, Freya...” he said.

“Yes?”

“If you come back sometime, do you think we could go out for coffee? It’s a… drink,” he stammered.

I looked at him, looked around at the trees and falling snow. It seemed very peaceful. I looked back at him and tried to smile. “I would like that very much.”