Sanson knew it was wrong when he woke to snow on his eyelashes. His memories downloaded across the clone’s brain, restless after being stored in the ship’s routers during the interstellar flight. Snow?
Sanson followed sounds of hammering and laughing to the bridge, dodging snowdrifts along the way. The galaxy, stretched by hyperspace dilation, rippled like water beneath the transparent floor of the bridge. A bearded figure sat in the captain’s chair, supervising small aliens making strange toys.
“Have a seat,” it told Sanson with a laugh. “we have to speed up to make it to every house in one night!”