Protocol Ember
Her name was Caeli Runar.
Thirteen years old.
The daughter of war-born heroes.
And the last living thing on a dying planet.
---
They had promised her she wouldn't have to make the decision.
But promises meant nothing when the sky turned black and the oceans began to boil.
The alien swarm—Sarketh—had devoured two-thirds of Solenar-9. Cities crumbled. Skies screamed. Entire continents lost contact overnight.
Her parents, the President and First General of the planetary alliance, had hidden her deep inside Vault Halcyon, the final command post buried ten miles beneath the capital.
They handed her the code disk.
They gave her the override phrase.
And then they went back up to fight with the others.
She never saw them again.
---
The room around her was sterile and gray, lined with cracked monitors and old-world tech. The emergency lights buzzed red like the planet's veins had burst open.
Outside the vault walls, the world ended in screams.
Inside, Caeli whispered alone.
"Protocol Ember is active," she said, fingers trembling above the console. "Final authorization ready."
She looked down at the disk.
It weighed almost nothing.
But it held the burden of everyone.
---
When she was nine, her mother taught her to disassemble a plasma rifle with her eyes closed.
At ten, her father showed her how to survive without food for four days in the Dunes of Kharis.
At eleven, she hacked a locked simulation chamber to get extra combat training.
At twelve, she killed her first Sarketh drone with a makeshift trap.
Now, at thirteen, she held the death of a world in her hands.
---
The vault shook. A low, guttural roar echoed through the tunnels.
They were close.
The creatures didn't come in single numbers.
They came in clouds.
In hunger.
With no eyes. No voices. Just clicking limbs and a will to consume.
She pressed her back against the cold wall, clutching the disk to her chest.
And that's when she heard it.
The faint buzz of the intercom line.
It hadn't worked in days.
Then—click.
"…Caeli…"
Her mother's voice. Warped. Faint. Strained through static and blood.
"Are you there…?"
Caeli crawled forward, her knees scraped and bleeding. She slammed the response key.
"Mom?"
A pause.
A cough.
"…Baby…listen to me. The shield is broken. Your father is… gone. The nest… they've breached every continent…"
Her voice cracked. It sounded wet.
"You remember what we taught you?"
Caeli's vision blurred. "I don't want to be alone."
"I know, starshine. But you're strong."
"Please come back…"
"We can't. You're our legacy. It has to be you."
A beat.
Then the final order:
"Initiate Ember."
---
She cried after the comm died.
Not loud. Not hysterical.
Just a low, guttural sound — raw, from the base of her ribs, like something old was dying inside her.
She let herself feel it for exactly one minute.
Then she stood.
Wiped her face.
And walked to the core terminal.
---
There was no hesitation in her movements now.
She placed the disk into the interface slot.
The screen lit up.
> EMERGENCY PROTOCOL EMBER INITIATED
PLANETARY CLEANSING SYSTEM PRIMED
FUSION CORE DETONATION: 90 SECONDS
She exhaled.
Outside the door, a roar sounded again — closer. Metallic limbs scraping against vault walls.
They were coming.
She turned and looked at the single chair in the center of the room. Her mother used to sit there during lockdown drills, reading Caeli books about the stars.
She climbed into it and folded her legs.
She was shaking, but her eyes were clear.
---
"Planet Solenar-9," she whispered to herself, "founded in the year 6702 Galactic Time. Population: 3.9 billion. Terraform class: Level Seven. Capital: Solen Prime. Formerly known as a sanctuary world."
She let the words soothe her. Like facts were armor.
Then, quietly, to the memory of everything:
"My name is Caeli Runar. I'm thirteen years old. And I'm the last daughter of this world."
---
The vault door groaned.
Something was pushing on it.
Something heavy.
> DETONATION IN: 30 SECONDS
Caeli looked up at the ceiling.
Not to pray.
But to remember.
Her mother's laugh. Her father's strong hands teaching her how to throw a knife. Her brother's terrible jokes. The smell of sky. The feel of gravity before the air turned to ash.
Then she closed her eyes.
> 15 SECONDS
She placed her hand over her chest.
Her fingers touched the little locket hidden under her shirt. Inside: one photo. Her family, together, before the war. She'd worn it every day since they gave it to her.
> 5… 4… 3…
The vault door screamed open.
Alien claws scrambled against metal.
She didn't scream.
She smiled.
> 2… 1…
---
The planet lit up like a sun.
A core-level fusion detonation unlike anything ever seen in the quadrant.
The alien swarm was eradicated instantly — their minds scorched, their hives obliterated, their spores turned to light and nothingness.
Caeli's name would never reach the stars.
No statues.
No songs.
But far, far away — on a listening satellite orbiting the twin moons of Vellisar — a single transmission blinked to life from Solenar-9.
A distorted voice. Young. Steady. Brave.
"My name is Caeli Runar… and I did what had to be done."
---
End