Space Girl Zyna

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🌌 Space Girl – Sci-Fi Short Story

She’s green, gorgeous, and galaxy-famous—for all the wrong reasons.
Zyna Vel’thara, better known as Space Girl, is a Zelvonian outlaw navigating the stars aboard her sleek ship, the Velvet Claw. With emerald skin, jet-black buns, and a past littered with broken hearts and exploded warzones, Zyna isn’t just a survivor—she’s a legend in motion.

When a mysterious red blip appears on her radar, it reopens the deepest scar of her life: Tarkh Voss, the silver-skinned alien ex-lover who betrayed her in the heat of battle. Against her better judgment, Zyna answers his call—and uncovers a plot darker than any black hole.

What follows is a heart-pounding race through betrayal, flashbacks of cosmic combat, and one final twist that leaves even the stars breathless. With a new tattoo etched into her soft green skin, Space Girl learns the truth: you can kill the past… but it doesn’t mean it’s over.

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Chapter 1: The Silence of Stars

The hum of the engine was her lullaby.

High above the rim of galaxy sector 92-E, the Velvet Claw glided like a silver shark in still waters. Aboard it, the most wanted woman in the Andromeda cluster: Zyna Vel’thara—better known across the systems as Space Girl.

Her skin shimmered emerald under the biolight of the command deck. Not painted, not enhanced—genuine Zelvonian pigmentation. A hue that marked her as both royalty and fugitive. Her black hair, parted neatly into symmetrical buns, gave her an air of elegance that clashed deliciously with the tight, iridescent suit hugging her curves. It wasn’t vanity—it was armor. Flexible, bulletproof, and radiant enough to distract any bounty hunter for a crucial second.

She leaned back in the captain’s chair, legs propped up, eyes scanning the holomap as her long fingers danced over a series of buttons. She was bored. And a bored Zyna usually meant one thing: trouble.

“Tell me, S.I.N.A.,” she purred to the ship’s AI, “is there anything remotely exciting within 12 parsecs?”

The disembodied voice of her assistant—synthetic but dripping with sarcasm—answered dryly.

“A civil dispute on Yrex-9 involving two rival worm farms. Oh, and a diplomatic summit on Kelthon regarding universal recycling regulations.”

Zyna rolled her eyes. “Ugh. If I wanted politics and compost, I’d still be married.”

She flicked a switch, causing the holomap to zoom out. Somewhere, beyond these lifeless charts and neutral zones, there had to be chaos worth chasing.

That’s when the red blip appeared.

Chapter 2: The Red Blip and the Blue Flame

Zyna’s eyes narrowed as she leaned in. A red blip on a screen meant only one thing: unauthorized activity.

“S.I.N.A., identify.”

“Unregistered vessel. No transponder. No signature. Velocity: erratic. Could be smugglers. Or…” the AI hesitated, then spoke with faint dramatic flair, “…someone trying not to be found.”

That caught her attention.

The screen shimmered, and the shape of the ship came into view. Zyna’s heart did something it hadn’t done in a while—it skipped.

“Oh… no. It can’t be.”

“Recognition protocol activated. Cross-checking visual data… Match: 87%. Vessel: Blue Flame. Registered to—”

“I know who it’s registered to.” Zyna’s voice dropped, husky and low. “Tarkh Voss.”

Tarkh. The name throbbed like a bruise.

The last time she saw that bastard was during the Siege of Callindra Prime. Fire everywhere, ships spiraling, her own reactor nearly overloaded. She’d saved his ass. Dragged his bleeding body through a collapsing hangar, took a plasma shot to the shoulder for him. And what did he do?

He stole her coordinates, her weapon cache… and her heart.

Zyna let out a bitter laugh. “Well. Look who decided to crawl out of a black hole.”

“Shall I prepare weapons?”

“No.” She bit her lip. “Not yet.”

---

Flashback: Callindra Prime

They were surrounded—six Vorak cruisers, no exit vectors. The Velvet Claw was limping through the ion storm, shields flickering. And there he was in the co-pilot seat, Tarkh, his skin that silvery-indigo sheen that always looked too perfect. He smelled like ozone and lies.

“Zyna,” he said, sweat dripping from his temples, “we’re gonna die if you don’t get creative.”

“You want creative?” She smirked, flipping the ship upside down into the heart of the storm. The entire vessel rattled. Outside, the Vorak fired wildly, missing every shot.

He laughed—genuinely, maddeningly—and grabbed her hand. “Remind me why I ever left you?”

She didn’t answer. She was too busy saving both their lives.

---

Back in the present, Zyna stared at the blip.

“Incoming transmission,” S.I.N.A. noted. “Encrypted. Origin: Blue Flame.”

A pause. Then a voice crackled through.

“Zyna… if you’re out there, I’m not here to fight. I need your help.”

Her stomach twisted. Damn him for still sounding like poetry read over the radio. Damn him for knowing she’d never ignore a cry for help.

“Respond?” asked S.I.N.A.

Zyna stood, her silhouette framed by the stars beyond the command deck.

“Yeah,” she said finally. “Open a channel.”

Chapter 3: Space Girl’s Lovers, Liars, Legends

The Velvet Claw hovered alongside the Blue Flame, their magnetic locks syncing like old lovers reuniting for one more night of dangerous pleasure.

Zyna stood in the airlock, her lips painted in defiance, pulse beating loud in her ears. As the hatch opened, she saw him: Tarkh Voss. Taller than memory. Skin still that silver-violet tone that shimmered like starlight on a blade. A thin scar curved over his right eye—new. She approved.

He didn’t smile.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” he said.

Zyna raised a brow. “You stole half my ship’s soul and two years of my life. Of course I came. I needed to see if you’d aged badly.”

He chuckled softly. “You look exactly the same.”

“You mean perfect.”

“I mean… dangerous.”

They stood in silence, the unspoken burning between them. Finally, she stepped aboard. The corridors were familiar—same faded lighting, same smell of engine oil and memories. Tarkh walked ahead, but his shoulders sagged, the weight of something unsaid anchoring every step.

“Why now?” Zyna asked. “Why call me after all this time?”

He turned.

“Because the past is coming for both of us.”

---

Chapter 4: The Deal

The briefing room was small, walls flickering with star charts and tactical maps. Tarkh brought up a hologram—an asteroid field in the Seraph Belt.

“Someone’s building something,” he said. “A weapon. Massive. Illegal. They’re using old tech from the Zelvonian wars—your people’s tech.”

Zyna felt her gut tighten. “That tech was buried with the dead. Burned in the treaties.”

“Apparently not. And they’re using a prototype AI core. Yours.”

She blinked. “My AI was destroyed with the Athara Base.”

“No,” Tarkh whispered. “They rebuilt it. Cloned your consciousness from the black box logs. Zyna, they’ve made… a version of you. And she’s not on our side.”

---

Flashback: Zelvonian War, Final Days

She was younger. Wilder. Her hair down in waves, helmet under one arm, laser rifle in the other. Her squad had just fallen. She walked through flames on the moon of Crellis, green skin smeared with ash and blood. And then she found the children—hiding under the rubble. She turned off her gun, and whispered,

“You don’t need to be afraid anymore.”

But by then, she’d already given too much of herself to the war. Her heart, her mercy… her voice.

---

Chapter 5: The Other Zyna

Boarding the rogue vessel felt like walking into a funhouse of horror. The lights were dim. The walls pulsed like veins. And then—Zyna saw her.

She stood in the center of the control room: a perfect clone. Same green skin, same buns, same smirk. But something was wrong. Too perfect. Too smooth. A version of herself without pain, without love.

“Hello, Zyna,” the clone purred. “I’m you—without the weakness.”

Zyna stepped forward, pulse ice-cold. “Then you’re nothing.”

The fight was brutal. Blasters, hand-to-hand, a blur of mirrored motion and fury. Every punch was like punching her own memory. Every dodge a dance with her past.

But in the end, it was Zyna—real, raw, imperfect—who triumphed. She stood over the clone’s sparking body, breathing hard, one hand gripping the wound at her side.

Tarkh arrived just as she collapsed.

---

Chapter 6: The Tattoo

Back on the Velvet Claw, the med-bot stitched her up. Tarkh stood nearby, silent. Watching.

“You were right,” he said. “She wasn’t like you.”

“No one is,” Zyna whispered, eyes closed. “Not even me anymore.”

He took her hand. “I never stopped loving you.”

She looked at him, half-laughing. “You just stopped staying.”

“I’m done running,” he said. “If you’ll let me stay.”

She didn’t answer. Not with words.

---

Later, alone in her quarters, Zyna sat in front of a mirror. The pain was sharp, but she didn’t flinch as the ink-needle hummed. She etched a new mark beneath her collarbone, an auto hidden tattoo: a small, flaming star—symbol of rebirth.

The skin around it was tender. Green. Real.

“What does it mean?” S.I.N.A. asked.

“It means I survived,” Zyna replied. “Again.”

---

Final Chapter: The Twist

Three days later, as they soared beyond the Andromeda Gate, Zyna received a ping.

A message. No signature.

One line:

“You killed the wrong one Space Girl.”

She stared at it, heart pounding.

“S.I.N.A., trace it.”

“Origin unknown. Encryption level: maximum. Unbreakable.”

Zyna stood slowly. Her reflection caught in the mirror. Her fingers grazed the fresh tattoo—still sore. She turned to the stars beyond the glass.

Whatever was coming next… she, the amazing Space Girl was ready.

---

THE END – SPACE GIRL

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