The galaxy is dangerous.
Civil wars, betrayals, alliances and competition for resources all make sure that combat, be it political or military, is a constant.
Except on that day.
For on that day none dare fire.
On that day the trenches and bunkers stay quiet.
No soldiers die by the hands of others.
Weapon manufacturers do not display their newest inventions.
Gangs leave the citizens alone.
Cartels sign cease-fires with the authorities and each other.
None dare fire.
Every person on every planet waits in silence.
Then they come.
Millions upon millions of gigantic ships approach the planets.
Men, women and children watch in awe as each ship approaches their planet and releases its payload.
Deserts become beautiful mixes of yellow and white. Plains become great canvases for children to create their snow angels.
Grandparents watch the young play while reminiscing of their youth. Families talk and laugh while watching the snowflakes fall.
Soldiers leave the protection of their bunkers and tanks to walk freely on what was once the battlefield.
Enemies play cards as they drink their nation’s version of a hot winter beverage while the great ships move around carrying the snow with them.
Religious fanatics and cynical non-believers share drinking songs while they give themselves liver spots.
The tension is unbearable. At any moment anything could go wrong.
It is a thin peace.
But it is peace.
The next day there is only war.
Ships explode, planets burn, soldiers are mangled to the point death would be a blessing for them.
But the memory lives.
The memory of those great ships and their artificial snow.
The memory of the peace.
The memory of when they and the entire galaxy lifted their glasses towards the symbol of a pale blue planet and yelled as loud as they could:
Republished with permission from the author, Reddit user u/Mercury_the_dealer. Image created using Stable Diffusion.