Blackout

Sanctuary Base Phoenix, present day.

He awoke early and began to train, as he did every morning. Preservation was the key to survival in this age, the preservation of his physical abilities and the ponies that were still alive were chief among his priorities. So he trained.
The air was cold and carried the stench of salt everywhere. After nine years of living on base he, just like everyone else, had adapted to the constant sway and motion of the modified Aircraft Carrier.

He walked to his bathroom, his hooves tapped against the ice-cold steel floor. He turned the tap and flushed his face with cold water. There was no hot water any more, they barely had enough fuel to alter their course, let alone produce enough power to see to the ponyal needs of everyone on board. Thus they drifted most days, only powering the engines to ensure the carrier stayed far enough away from the shore.

Showers were short and cold. Management decided it was for the best. The shorter anyone was out of action, for any reason, the smaller the chance of being overrun. Not that being overrun was very likely.

Three deep knocks echoed from through his door and, consequently, around his room. He meandered his way toward it, peering through the peep-hole. A stallion, a military stallion, was standing easy outside.

He opened the door to greet the stranger.

“Knox, John Knox?” the stallion queried.
Knox checked the stallion's rank slides.

“Actually that would be Captain Knox, Corporal, do you need something?” he replied lazily.

The Corporal pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and unfolded it. He paused for a few moments to read it.

Knox tapped his fingers on the door frame impatiently. “Well?” he continued.

“Actually, Mister Knox, it says here you are retired from active service.”

Knox smiled. “That’s true; however, if you are here it’s more than likely that I’ll have to start using the old title again. Wouldn’t you say?”

“That’s not my place to say, Mister Knox. I am here to deliver a message from General Costello.” He answered.
“What happened to General Pierce?”

“Quarantined,” he answered simply.

Knox sighed. “That’s too bad. We can’t afford to lose any more good ponies.”

The Corporal shrugged the comment. “General Costello wishes to meet with you immediately. Can I tell him to expect you?”
“No.” He answered. “I’m done with military service. Tell your General to find someone else.”

Knox showed the Corporal out of the door and closed it.

“They’ll be back. I’d better get changed.”

He was right. Within ten minutes a military officer was standing at his door.

As he did with the last messenger, Knox answered the door and discovered the stallion's identity. His name was Lieutenant MacMurdo.

“As you are well aware, Mister Knox, Sanctuary Bases are for the use of Alliance Military ponynel only.” MacMurdo commented.

“And?” Knox probed.

“General Costello wishes to speak with you regarding a matter of utmost urgency. He tells me it has to do with you being retired from active duty.” MacMurdo informed him.

“So if I don’t go see the General he is going to kick me off the base and leave me to them?” Knox asked.
“The General would never put it that way.”

Knox followed MacMurdo through endless corridors. The floor swayed beneath them. It was a five minute walk from Knox’s quarters to the General’s office.

MacMurdo tapped on the door.

“Come.” A deep voice commanded.

MacMurdo opened the door and Knox followed him inside. An overweight General Costello sat comfortably behind a dark wooden desk stacked high with paperwork which had a light coating of dust gradually covering the stark white paper.

Knox glanced around the room. The walls were lined with bookshelves. Most of the books were probably the last ones left, or the last ones anyone could access. They had no use for them, after all.

“You served the Alliance for three years, is that correct?” General Costello enquired.
“That’s correct. But what does this have to do with kicking me off this base?”

“As you know, the Sanctuary bases were designed as guards for the civilian fleet. They serve no other purpose than to safeguard the future of the pony race.”

“Your point?” Knox replied, “I served my time.”

The General lifted a manila folder from his desk. He opened it and examined it briefly. “That you did, and with great honour.”

The General placed the folder back on the desk and stood up from his chair.

MacMurdo stood at attention. Costello waved him down.

“Every day we are losing our recruits to dangerous missions on land. Only a hoofful of our military ponynel have ever survived our land based operations, you and Lieutenant MacMurdo to name two.” The General commented.

“So, what, you want me back?”

“Not permanently,” the General answered, “We have a mission we would like you to complete.”

“A mission?”

“Doctor Lee, our resident biologist, believes she is close to discovering an anti-virus for the infection that plagues the hoard.” He continued. “However, she seems to have hit a roadblock because of the virus’ adaptive nature. After so many mutations she can no longer create an anti-virus to counter the infection on all fronts.”

“She needs the source.” Knox commented.

“Patient Zero, the good Doctor himself.”

“That’s impossible. No one even knows if he is still alive. We know that they do die eventually. What says he hasn’t already bought the bullet?”

“Nothing,” the General admitted, “but we need you to determine the truth. And if he is out there, I want you to bring him back here.”

“Bring one of the infected to a Sanctuary Base?” Knox enquired. “And if it is too difficult to bring him across that much water?”

“A sample of his DNA should prove to be enough to counteract the virus, or so Doctor Lee informs me.”
“What makes you think I can do it?” Knox asked.

“You remember Borenai?” the General asked, “your mission with Rookie and Toast?”

“The old mining town,” Knox confirmed, “what about it?”