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Fiction Short Story

by Vash Brandy

Wings of Space

I met my first angel on the D410 run to the asteroid belt. My heart leapt from my chest when I saw her lean against the massive drill, her arms folded over her full breasts. She had a beauty that transcended her ordinary features: fine bones, thin lips, green eyes set a touch too close. Her gold and white feathered wings matched the highlights of her hair. The rest of her shone as naked as a sea of stars.

I switched my spacesuit com to the outside speaker. "Dirk Sandleson, over. So, uh, what's a knockout, naked woman with wings doing hanging around this old asteroid?" I glanced down at the oxygen readout on my left arm. Twenty minutes left to return to base. I kept cutting these runs closer and closer. A part of me wondered if I wanted to make it back at all.

With the lack of air in space, I shouldn't have heard her answer, but her voice came in clear as a chiming bell. "What are you here for, Dirk Sandleson?"

I was tempted to say something clever or meaningful, like I was searching for the remains of one of those 21st century tycoons whose ashes were scattered among the stars. But if she was an angel, I doubted she'd appreciate my lies. I said, "Talarium. Powers the ships, you know..."

She stared up at me with blank green eyes. I walked past the drill to the storage car behind it. I punched my seven-digit code into the first keypad. The door beside it popped open. I leaned inside, grabbed a small chunk of black rock and held it out to her. "Talarium."

Her brow furrowed. "The wishing stone?" Her golden wings shivered and flecks of light from them softened the harsh appearance of the asteroid's craters. "But why do you need so much to fly?"

"Humans don't have wings." I replied. I shrugged my thick miner's shoulders, and imagined my chiseled face, fractured bones, and scarred torso framed with gold, fluffy wings. marked with bumps. I had as good a chance of growing a second head.

"You really don't know anything, do you?" She sighed. "Have you even tried to grow wings?"

"When I was a kid, yeah. I jumped off the roof of my grandma's house. Didn't work out so well." I remember the second after I jumped, my stomach leaped out of my body, and I thought for sure I'd grown wings. Got a broken leg for my troubles. That and a lecture from grandma. Only angels and spaceships fly. You'll be an angel soon enough, she said. So I went for my piloting license instead.

The angel stared at her feet. "Is that when you lost your dreams?"

"No. My dreams changed, that's all." Or maybe they just eroded. Four years flying a commercial jet. Five years working like a dog to get onto a NASA exploration team. Failing that, I finally ended up here, ripping up asteroids for fun and profit. Better that than the military. At least shredding rocks meant I didn't have to kill.

She looked up at me. Her dark green eyes widened and her mouth drooped. "Maybe you should try again?"

"Try what?"

"Flying." She grabbed my hand and heat surged through the thick layers of my suit gloves. "Get out of that thing. Hurry."

"Are you trying to kill me?" I wrenched myself from her grip.

"You're almost out of time."

"Out of time for what?" I checked my left arm for the oxygen readout. It blinked red. Three minutes of air left. My stomach clenched. Impossible. There was no way we'd talked that long. Besides, the alarm should have sounded at fifteen minutes. How had she stolen my time? Fury burned my fear away. Delusion or not, angel or not, I wasn't going to let her get away with killing me. I shoved her back against the drill, put my gloved hand around her throat and squeezed. "What did you do?"

Crystal tears welled in her eyes. "It's not me. The wishing stone plays with time. I knew once you saw me, it was almost too late."

"Talarium's never done this to me before."

"Not at first. Only if your dreams are strong does it respond at all. And only sometimes."

The glow from her wings brightened. It surrounded her like a blinding aura. My helmet's visor should have darkened to save my eyes from the glare, but the light bored into my skull. The hiss of oxygen into my suit sounded like the last grains of sand falling through an hourglass. I loosened my grip.

Her chest heaved as though gasping for air. Ironic. Even through the helmet, I felt her breath on my cheek. She said, "The problem with humans is that you don't have any faith."

I knew I was a dead man.

"Tell me your name." I demanded. I couldn't imagine dying without knowing her name.

"Sandy."

I closed my eyes. "Tell me what I have to do to live."

"Pray," she said.

I heard the latch on my helmet unlock. Sandy yanked my spacesuit down to my knees. Pain ripped through me. I screamed. The air tore from my lungs. I felt betrayed. What had I expected, for my angel to save me? Soon, the water would evaporate from my skin. Then convulsions. In ten seconds I'd be unconscious. Just long enough to feel my bowels let loose.

I reached for her. "Please, don't let me die."

I saw only darkness. I heard my heart beat. My lungs filled.

"Am I dead?" I asked.

I felt her hand on my shoulder. "Open your eyes."

I did. She pressed against me, her arms wrapped around my body. Her golden hair smelled like roses.

"What happened?" I asked.

"You said you'd never grow wings."

"Was I right?"

She stepped away. "Look for yourself."

I craned my head back. My wings startled me. Neither gold nor fluffy, they were bronze and black, with visible tendons that shifted as they moved. A miner's wings. I laughed hard and tears welled in my eyes. "God knows how I'm going to explain this to my supervisor."

"You can't. He won't see you. None of them will."

"Why not?" My voice trembled. Maybe I had cut it too close this time, ignored the warnings and imagined her existence just as the oxygen expired. My wings shuddered. They felt real. I stretched them wide and saw their shadow touch the edge of the drill.

"It's always a one-way trip," Sandy said. Her expression was as remote as the darkest depths between the stars.

A lump formed in my throat. "When I first saw you, I thought you were an angel."

Sandy smiled. "That's so sweet."

"Was I right?"

"There are many different kinds of angels." She held out her hand. "Will you fly with me?"

I trembled as I looked at the asteroid under my feet. Did I really want to cut my last link to the world and fly through the winds of space for eternity? "Do I really have a choice?"

"Of course you have a choice." She blew a lock of golden hair from her eyes and laughed. "The first time you jumped, you chose to have wings."


About the Author
Vash Brandy is a 26-year-old Vet Tech/Writer from Philadelphia, PA. Her passions include writing (of course), visual art, science fiction and fantasy, Japanese language study, anime, cats, and martial arts. She's currently pounding away at a novel, as well as a number of short stories. Vash can be contacted at: vashinator137@yahoo.com.