'Children of Earth - The Apocalypse' is an original work of fiction. Please do not plagarise
this work or anyone's work for that matter for you own safety, pride and credibility.

Please enjoy this work!


M.
**********




Children of Earth
Cycle One
-The Apocalypse-





Memory Data #1.01 - Sasha, the Beginning of the End.





Every great story has a mediocre beginning or so it seems, but this story is the story of
my life on Earth and it is far from mediocre.

I was born into a world at war sometime in the middle of the twenty first century. Never in my
life did I truly know peace on the third planet in a system on the edge of the universe.

And like every Great War, the reasons are supposedly for the good of the world. But the war I
knew had no positive outcomes.

As far as I remember the war began three years before my conception by a human mother and father.
In the 21st century the world tried to unite itself into a whole government power. Numerous
countries, most I remember from geography lessons were either for or against the World Tribunal.
The country I was born in was supposedly the major force behind the Tribunal, the strongest of
all, the United States of America. But by the time I was old enough to realize there was a world,
the country I lived in was falling down around me.

You see, by the world being unified there would be no need for war or for monetary concerns.
Ideally the planet earth would be in a Pax Romana of sorts. Everything had a place and
everything was to be in its proper place, or so the politicians thought. This ideal of peace
never happened.

Countries rose up against the allies of the Tribunal and war ultimately tore the world apart.
Civil wars in various countries added to the world war, genocidal massacres, political
assassinations and monstrosities of war turned the world upside down. While some countries were
making pacts of peaces, others were breaking them.

The year I was born the second nuclear strike wiped out most of the Eastern Coast of my country.
The first strike took Western Europe. There were others as the years went on, places like Buenos
Aires, Rome, Tokyo, Tehran and then Jerusalem. The world was falling apart and the survivors
fled to desolate places the farthest away from the war as possible. My family was among the
millions who were of the pacifist mindset.

The village where I grew up had a population of five hundred men, women and children. We were
hidden deep in the mountains of the eastern seaboard, beyond the threat of fallout from the
nuclear strike the fourth year of the war. We were a peaceful people, living off the earth,
making our way as our ancestors had hundreds of years before.

My parents were of the educated elite, my father a doctor and my mother a teacher. I was
educated along the rest of the children in our village from the texts of the Hebrew God, the Tao
Te Ching, the Koran and all the philosophers of peace. Although I was taught the
importance of life, people were dying all around me. War still raged in the skies above us, we
could watch the "dog fights" all hours of the day. I was taught to ignore the war. I was above
the ignorant hedonism of war, or so my mother said at one time. I was to wait for my time, to
preach peace and live a life without war...

But war never seemed to end. By the time I was twelve years old, our village was cut off
completely from the outside world. Air attacks were less frequent, and news of the war came in
from wanderers only, not from the media. By then there was no media left.

Not long after I turned thirteen, disease had found its way into our village. Survivors were
pouring in from the cities on the coast, living through the blast and the fallout to come to our
humble community. Wanderers came in and out, bringing what news and supplies they could trade.
We found ourselves in the midst of a plague soon enough. The diseases that were defeated in the
20th century were killing half of our village. Cholera, dysentery, tuberculosis, and other new
diseases took my mother and my friends in a matter of months. We had no defense; whatever
medicine we had could not kill the stronger strains of the old plagues. Many nights my father
would sit and cry, cursing his god for not giving him the power to heal his innocent people.
Though I pretended not to understand death, I absorbed the knowledge that lay before me.
Some were immune to the plague; most others were not. The early years of the 21st century
provided the key to my survival. Genetic engineering had made the children of my generation the
strongest of all the people of the world. I was lucky in ways, to live past the death and
suffering around me then, but in ways I regretted that I could have not died with the others.
At fourteen the village I called home was captured by an army that I had never heard named in
all those years of war. Apparently, while my village lived in ignorant bliss of the outside
world, two factions rose out of the ashes of the world. The Alliance Army was of the faction
against the World Tribunal, and the army against the Alliance was called the World Army. A
tribunal had crudely formed in a remaining city in Europe, and the Alliance was bent to destroy
it and revert back to having separate countries. But continuing, the Alliance found our village,
now less in number. The remaining men were enlisted in the army and treated for symptoms of
disease. The Alliance held salvation for our village in the way of medicine. My father was
also taken to work on the front lines as a field physician, though he resisted, he followed, he
was a true pacifist after all... Resistance meant death.

As for myself, I was taken with the rest of the children to be trained in the Alliance Academy.
Soon we were taken by air carrier out of my homeland and were escorted with others to a remote
camp in the grasslands of Australia. The Alliance had taken Australia as their home country and
their headquarters were in Sydney, deep underground.

The Academy held two hundred children ranging from the ages of twelve years old to eighteen
years. I was fourteen, almost fifteen when I arrived. I was soon in classes for history,
reading, writing, and the sciences and surprisingly enough, art. I was also physically trained
as well. I was taught battle tactics, weapons handling and survival training so that I someday
could serve the Alliance Army.

I was compliant to a point in my physical training. I knew that possibly one day I would need to
know how to survive on my own. I had plans of escaping the Academy and living as I once had,
away from war. I was not like the other children in any way. It seemed the others were
brainwashed for they delighted in hearing the Alliance victories, and savored tales of war we
heard in class. I had other delights of course. Reading books of literature, studying about
the supernatural and developing my artistic talents, I had no need for war. But all this time I
spent in the Academy; I missed my home and my parents. I remember the last words my father said
to me as the troops dragged him from my arms... 'Do not fight, but if you must, fight to live, not
to kill... War is an excuse to murder your brothers, not to unify them...'

Several years past, and news of the war was less in frequency. In my heart I knew that it was
almost over and I would be free. But in the late part of my seventeenth year something happened
that dispelled all thoughts of war from my head.

We had heard that there were pirates of sorts roaming the countryside searching for supplies and
fuel to support their vagabond villages. We had also heard that they attacked Alliance convoys,
killing all and raping the women... They were pirates indeed from the rumors I heard, but we had
never seen them ourselves. But one night in the fall, the walls of the Academy tumbled down and
my life did as well...



*********


Hello, minna-san! Moira here, just posting a really really really old story I wrote. It's a long
haul, folks from here to the end. So stay along for the ride and don't forget to review!!!

I'm not sure how much I'll post, but feedback=new chapter. Remember that everyone!

JE NE!

Moira.