//------------------------------// // 19. Blackout // Story: Millennia: Eye of the Storm // by Thunderblast //------------------------------// I sat patiently on the exam table, hooves pressed into the cushion by my side while my rears hang off the edge. With how much obnoxious noise the paper sheet stretching down the bed-shaped piece, I made remaining perfectly still a temporary mission. Not that it truly mattered, though. The medical ward on base, as hoped, was not busy. Only two others sat in the waiting room, and have likely been taken by other nurses. The place acted like and even appeared on the outside similar to that of a small clinic. On the inside, however, was a whole new world. Like a small office, its staff took patients, but on a larger scale. It stood as one of the larger structures on base, standing only two stories high with a modern trim exterior, and enormous pane windows in almost every room. While waiting, every few moments I would find myself checking the bite for anything new that may have popped up during the walk across base. Each time I expected the red circle surrounding the almost too-small-to-see teeth marks to have grown, or spread elsewhere on my hoof. I hadn’t taken a moment to look up the symptoms of rabies or other rat-borne diseases online and instead rushed over here. Evidently the assistant who led me to the room I now sat in didn’t seem awfully concerned based on a quick glance, which turned out to be a slight relief, though word from a professional will be nice as well. It wasn’t more than five minutes after taking a seat when the door opened, and in stepped a white-coated, shaven-maned unicorn in the Navy’s working uniform. Looped around his neck sat a stethoscope, and in his hoof he carried a tablet, tapping on the touch screen with his free hoof. A pair of black square-framed glasses sat in middle of his nose, and upon lifting his gaze, a smile crossed his lips. “Good morning there, Star Shooter, my name is Doctor Davenport. What seems to be your ailment today?” he introduced, closing the door behind him after his assistant followed him in, carrying her own tablet and typing away on it. I blinked, closely examining this stallion for a solid thirty seconds. “You look familiar. Have we met before?” Shrugging, he half nodded, half shook his head. “It depends. Do you believe we have met previously?” I went silent in thought, pondering just where I’d seen him, before a bulb switched on in my head. “Oh, the Eclipse! Yes, that’s right, you argued with Petty Officer Anchorage after he had been shot.” The unicorn’s brow raised, but then his eyes widened slightly. “Oh, him!” he rolled his eyes, grumbling incoherently as he slipped the buds in his ears and brought the instrument up through my jacket, pressing it to my chest gently. Damn, was it cold! “He was a character. I hope he never winds up with another injury, for my sake,” he commented, shifting the stethoscope to another position on my chest. That brought a quiet giggle out of his assistant, and a smile out of me. “So, Star, what brings you in today?” Lifting my hoof just slightly, I gestured to the little red mark on it. “Rat bite in my dorm bathroom while I was cleaning. Was about to pick up its droppings under the sink when it bit me.” “Oooh, nasty,” he mused, running a hoof carefully across the mark, which changed into more of a bump. “Yeah, common reason for ponies dropping by. Behind heat exhaustion, broken and dislocated limbs, and training-related injuries, rat bites top the list. How soon ago did this happen?” “Fifteen, twenty minutes ago?” I responded. Perhaps not even that. I fast-walked the whole way here, so it may have been sooner. “Mmhmm,” he nodded, taking his tablet in a silver magical hold and tapping rather quickly on it. “Are you up to date on vaccinations?” “My... vaccinations?” I blinked. “I cannot remember which ones I received in basic a year ago.” “Measles and rubella, feather flu, polio, blue fever, penicillin,” he named them almost instantly after, the final one sending a chill up my spine and my body shuddered. “Then yes, sir.” “So you were some of the last few to not receive the new regulated vaccines, added to the list around August of last year. The rodent infestation issue on base prompted alterations to medical standards for new recruits, not necessarily enlisted or recruits before then,” the stallion explained, still tapping his hoof rapidly on the tablet. I went silent in thought again, blinking twice. “In english, Doc?” A grin crept its way onto Davenport’s muzzle, followed by a chuckle that he let off as he placed the thin square-shaped device down on the small counter in the room. “Means whether or not the rat that bit you is carrying anything, we must take precautionary measures and treat you for rabies. I am going to administer you a six-pack injection that should prevent any health deterioration.” “A six-pack?” I asked, smiling innocently with a trace of anxiousness showing. “Six individual injections, three in each arm,” his assistant answered, confirming my fears. “Oh, all right,” I nodded once, smile vanishing in an instant. Great, shots. Six of them! Just like boot camp all over again. “So,” he began, “I shall be right back. My lovely assistant will hang around a bit longer until I return. Sound good?” I responded with a second nod, exhaling deeply but quietly. “Yes, sir.” Snatching up his tablet in a glob of silver, the snow-white unicorn exited while his assistant opened a single-door cabinet above the counter, bringing down an opened box of rubber gloves, a white-capped bottle of transparent fluid, and some cotton balls. I may have been just a bit jumpy as she lifted my sleeve and rubbed a moistened cotton ball along my upper arm, replicating this with my other arm as well with a new one. A moment after did I detect the unsettling scent of medical alcohol that tightened my stomach while I waited for the doctor’s inevitable return. Just as the mare finished and dumped the used cotton balls in a small trash can beside the table, my blood ran cold when the door creaked open, and in stepped Davenport, grasping a plastic-wrapped cluster of six individual syringes and tearing the protective layer off with care using his magic. On the inside, I could feel my stomach twisting into a knot, my fear of needles creeping through the outward composure I showed to the doctor and the mare accompanying him, observing the unicorn stretch plastic-latex gloves onto his hooves. “All right, Star,” he said, raising the first of the inch-long needle syringes in a now-gloved hoof. “This goes against regulation to say, but, you may feel a slight tinge of pain after I inject the dosage for this one.” Swallowing a lump blocking my throat, I nodded anxiously. “Okay.” “Reason why I’m giving this one first is because it is the worst of them. Is that clear?” “Crystal.” Nodding, the unicorn moved closer, taking my left hoof and easing the needle ever so closer to the skin. I turned my head and closed my eyes tightly. The longer I didn’t stare, the better. A grunt built in my chest but never fully escaped as the cold steel punctured the surface of my skin and dug in entirely. Gradually, the doctor pressed the handle inward. In my blood stream came a burning sensation that forced a sweat, steadily worsening even after pulling the needle out. “Nngh, damn it,” I muttered, teeth clenching and body trembling gently. “It’ll be over before you know it, Star. Needle’s already out,” he said, dropping the syringe in a plastic bin along the wall, labeled with the toxic symbol. I let off a heavy breath as soon as the burning dissipated, and with my right hoof, wiping off a collection of sweat along my forehead. “I won’t be needing a booster for that in the future, will I, Doc?” “On rare occasions do ponies need a second dosage. By rare, I mean, one or two per million ponies. So, I would say no. Now, you ready for round two?” Deep down, no, I wasn’t. But, if it meant being immune to future rat attacks... “More ready than I’ll ever be.” *** In the minutes following the final vaccine's injection, a stinging, lingering pain persisted on either of my arms, stretching in a short line between the three spots. On the contrary, I will cordially take the day-lasting soreness a million times openly over the fiery misery moments after the first of the six shots. The deep, slightly pulsating aching of muscles surrounding the injection sites left me in a rocking-motion limp to avoid too much pressure on my arms per step. It went unnoticed by others, much to my delight. Beneath rumbled my stomach in not hunger, but discontent, as a result I'd expected far sooner than now in the medical ward. All sorts of irritation seemed to have it out on my body today, between tendering muscles, a sick-to-my-stomach feeling, and a second looming headache. Worse yet, I reminded myself simply how much of the dorm went neglected during the past twenty or so minutes. Above all else, the rodent vigilante remained on the loose. My mind raced through the endless possibilities of Sergeant Hardstaff discovering it on his own, his choice of words in his unavoidable lecture to Night and I for not handling the situation accordingly, or quickly enough. Not even noon, and time flashing by to the end of the day and resignation to the comfort of my bed quickly became my greatest, sole desire. I hoped so desperately for dusk more than ever. Skip right past the cleaning, the inspection, my shift—ugh, my shift, I mentally grumbled—and let me just pass out right here, right now. Then, as if my prayers had been answered, Nightpath strolled up on my right and matched my pace. "Hey," he said, evidently noticing my lowered head only a moment after. "Everything alright? What's with the way you're walking?" Briefly darting my gaze to him, then forward, "A bit of a shitty day so far, Night," I responded, kicking a pebble a few paces in front of us. "Had to make a rather... unexpected trip to the doctor's office." He blinked, looking down upon me with growing concern. "Panic attack?" Bless this stallion's heart for recognizing the fragile state my mind rested in. I chuckled in chagrin. "Not that doctor, Night. We have rats in our dorm, and one bit me when I was cleaning out the bathroom cabinet." "Rats?!" Night practically shouted out with surprise, a couple ponies glancing in our direction for a split second. "Since when?" "Can't be sure, today was the first time I noticed." I imagine it was the first week after we moved in. "Shit! What do we do? Have you called somepony?" "With what? I don't have a phone, and neither do you," I reminded him coldly. He faced forward as he walked, a frown clear on his muzzle. "Has to be something we can do. We can't just let them barge in without paying rent!" I tossed a glance his way, blinking slowly. "Neither do we, genius." "You know exactly what I mean," he replied with a scoff. "Better yet, we have inspections this evening, and I'm not done cleaning. Not since it bit me, that is." "Is that why you're walking funny?" "In a way. Had to get some shots. Six of them, to be more precise." Night shuddered at that. "Yeesh. I'm sorry, man." "Yeah, what else is new?" "Hey, guys!" Here comes trouble. A shadow dashed across the two of us as a white-coated, hooded jacket-wearing, saddlebag-carrying pegasus landed with a muffled thud on my other side, startling Night a bit. "What's up, Anchorage?" he asked. "Only just got out of bed a few minutes ago," Anchorage said, chuckling afterward and scratching the back of his mane. "I could not move this morning." "Hangover?" Night claimed, a smirk curving the side of his lips. "Calling it that would be an understatement," the pegasus yawned out and smacked his lips twice. "Anyway, next couple'a days are all to me, thought I'd make a few runs into town. Y'all up for a game night?" "Tonight?" I groaned lowly. "Well, no, you look worse than I did in the mirror," he joked, patting my shoulder gently. I jolted, unbeknownst to either of them. "I was thinking on it, perhaps tomorrow night? I'll ask Ash when he quits moaning." "That sounds good," I nodded, raising my head and glancing to him. "Where are you heading exactly?" "Game shop, then the supermarket to get some snacks. Wanna come with?" he warmly smiled. In truth of the moment—no, I did not. I so desperately craved the sweet release of death instead. Nah, I just wanted to lay down and sleep for a bit until the sergeant dropped by. Ultimately, we needed some groceries for our own fridge, and snacks did tickle my fancy right then and there. Shifting over to Night before giving any sort of response, I looked up at him. He nodded with a firm look. "You go on ahead. I will clean while you are gone." A feeble, languished smile broke. "Really?" He nodded a second time. "Yeah, sure. My bed's a mess anyhow, and I'd hate to leave you hanging, roomie." I returned the nod, retaining my moderately weary smile. "You're the greatest pony ever, Night. Thank you." The brown draft stallion nickered with a smile, branching off as he headed for our dorm building, calling out suddenly as he did. "Oh, I'll see if I can find an exterminator, too!" before heading up the staircase. After he'd gone from sight, Anchorage turned to me with a frown. "Is he really your favorite, Star?" *** The walk to the market in central Bronclyn went uneventful, apart from the occasional short conversation between the two of us while we took in the morning-turning-afternoon sun. Some sort of spell, as it seemed, continued the warm, cloudless days coming. Perhaps the weather ponies were finally getting their shit together. Through sliding doors we walked, straight into the enormous multi-purpose store that seemed larger on the inside! It was certainly bigger than the one I shopped at in Canterlot, that is for sure. And busier. "All righty!" Anchorage said, plucking a folded piece of paper from his hoodie pocket and opening it up, scanning his icy-blue gaze across what he had written down on it. "So, snacks... what do you think? Chips, salsa, cheese dip?" "Hey, it's your list, your party," I replied with a shrug, starting into the store and looping around the hectic registers, with Anchorage tailing after a moment of standing at the door. "I imagine it will prove superior to the one last night." I took a small basket from a stack near the entrance, looping my hoof through the movable handles and looking around me as we strolled past aisle after aisle, shelves stocked to the ceiling with colorful arrays of products of any type, from house cleaning, to frozen foods, a bakery section, and even a small area devoted to toys where couple of foals stood. They were both looking up at the selection, eyes twinkling with awe and excitement, bringing a small chuckle out of me as I strolled by. Those were the good old days of being a colt. "You know, Star, that reminds me," began Anchorage. "What was with the party last night, anyway?" Turning to him, blinking, "What do you mean?" I asked. "I dunno. Something just didn't settle right about that place, about that... guy." "Armet Mace?" "Was that his name? Must have missed it." "You were drunk, after all." "That's not the point," he suddenly halted in the empty aisle, facing me. "I've been thinking this morning. You know, that stallion... Armet, was it?" I nodded. "Well, I didn't catch all of what he said, but, it really peaked my attention when he mentioned super soldiers." "Shadow, too," I added. "And Silver. He asked me what could possibly go wrong with it in the most statement-like question I have ever heard him say." Anchorage nodded, a hardening look displaying across his face. "And he is right. Then he claimed that 'everypony will have access to the most high-tech of medical care'? There's got to be a catch somewhere in that sketchy statement, man." I didn't respond, looking in either direction down the aisle we stood in to make sure no one was around to eavesdrop. “Anchor, is the supermarket really the best place to discuss this?” I whispered to him. “I just need a distraction for a bit, y’know?” he took two steps closer. "Star, there is something not right with that stallion, I'm telling you. His approach just..." he exhaled sharply, turning and beginning to walk again. "All too iffy for me. And what about the Alder?" One brow furrowed as I strolled by his side. "What about it?" "Those griffons were not pirates." "I am aware of that, but, thank you for your observation." He tossed a brief glare as cold as the color of his eyes in my direction. "I know what I saw, and they had proper gear, like what we wore that night. Pirates would not have access to such equipment, nor would they care to detail their look to actually appear stealthy!" "That's exactly what I thought. No way in Tartarus were those dudes pirates. More so, how would pirates get on board in a storm like that, anyways?" "Precisely," he pointed his hoof at me, giving a grin of agreement. "Perhaps Griffonian Special Forces? Then again, I've yet to see them with darkened clothing. It might explain why they didn't kill us." I shook my head, examining a rather colorful selection of coffee mugs as we moved past them and around a shelf corner. "But why would they rig the engine room with explosives out the ass?" Anchorage tapped his hoof to his chin in silent thought. "Hmm, good point." "I get exactly what you mean, though. They definitely were highly-trained individuals, there is no doubting that. There must be some reason we are overlooking that prompted them to want to destroy the ship and, evidently, everypony on it." He turned to me with a bit of a smile. "Your perception is off the rails, man. You know that?" I rolled my eyes and waved a hoof with a grin. "My mother always used to say how good of an eye I had." "My question is, why did they not blow the charges when they had the chance? Why... wait?" "One, they were still on board, we all know that. They would not have killed themselves in honor to destroy a blasted civilian ship. Two, which leads back to point one, they likely heard us coming and stood by to make sure we didn't sabotage their plans." Anchorage stopped, blinking. "So, wait a minute, let me catch up. Are you saying what I think you're suggesting? That they knew we were on our way to rescue the crew?" "Frankly, Anchor, it would not surprise me in the least. You and I both saw the gear they carried, who is to say they wouldn't be carrying some sort of transmitter to tap into secure communications networks? The Eclipse's are outdated, anyways. It's an enormous security risk." His head cocked with moderate bewilderment. "That's a bit far fetched, don't ya think?" I shook my head firmly. "You don't agree?" "That just... well, I suppose it would put two and two together. There's a lot we can't answer," he tapped his chin again. "I am curious, though. Tonight, after we get back, I will see if I can find any information on the Alder, and maybe its payload. That could be what they were after." "Oil is extremely flammable. I suppose placing charges near the engine room could possibly set off a chain reaction and destroy the ship." "Unless they were hauling something else..." he lifted his now-widened gaze to meet my own, with mild concern showing in his eyes. "But what?" I wondered. Maybe he was on to something... *** The short journey back to base looped the two of us on to a further block, where Anchorage had discovered a brick-and-mortar hobby shop ahead of time. Much to his chagrin, the place had closed early due to an isolated power shortage in Bronclyn. For me, while coming across as a waste of our time, it only meant reaching home sooner. What struck me as perplexing was it seemed as though ponies this far east of Canterlot have forgotten about candles and relied solely on electricity across the region. Businesses never closed their doors in the event of a temporary outage. Then again, I suppose, Canterlotians held tight to their traditional means as if they were going out of style—which, in truth, was the case. So, with two bags of groceries fit neatly in his saddlebags, and just one balanced evenly on my back, we headed back as thick cloud clusters shifted in above the city, signaling an approaching front, and with it, much-needed rain. In spite of the looming grey curtain, the warm sun continued to beat its golden light across, shining off of buildings across the river in blinding reflections that forced Anchorage and I against the left side of the street so as to avoid losing our eyesight. Following a brief ID card check, the guard occupying the gate checkpoint allowed us through a side door next to the enormous steel gate, where carriage shipments entered. This had been a change implemented in recent years, seeing how many more individuals came and went than wagons, and having to constantly open the door for just one or two ponies at a time became a nuisance, prompting those along the walls (the ones manning the main gate's controls inside a small control booth). Some shouting occurred after we stepped hoof inside, minding to close the heavy door behind us. Neither Anchorage nor myself were able to make out what had been said, not that it seemed of any significance for the two of us. They hadn't been calling after us, or ordering us to halt. Once at the barrack dormitories, we parted ways, heading to our respective buildings. Anchorage's was a bit further down the line, whilst mine and Nightpath's stood closest to the entrance. I drew a set of keys from my pocket, sorting through the four of them, and inserting the correct one into the lock of our dorm. Giving the key a twist, the lock retracted with an audible click, and I took the knob in my hoof, turning it and pushing inwards to walk inside. Much to my shock, a wall of darkness stopped me part-way in through the door. Blinking, I scanned around the shadowed kitchen, only narrow slits of sun rays spilled in through closed blinds of a window above the sink, reflecting off of the refrigerator. That appeared to be the only source of light, even as I attempted to flick a switch and met with no response from the shield-shaped lights in the kitchen. "Night?" I called out, setting the grocery bag down on the counter beside the door, leaving it open to shed at least some light in this place. "Close the door, you're letting the cool air out!" he responded from in back, shuffling with what sounded to be his bed sheets. I gently kicked my hind hoof, knocking the door back just enough to close under its own weight. It took a good few seconds to adjust to the dark, moving to the kitchen window and raising the blinds. It helped somewhat. Light thumps turned into clops of hooves on tile as Night trotted into the kitchen. I looked up, furrowing an eyebrow at him. "What did you do?" I played. He perked, eyes widening. "Nothing!" he came back, sounding offended. "Power went off when I was cleaning, I didn't do shit!" "I'm messing with you, Night," I assured him as he sauntered up to the counter. A frown worked its way across his muzzle as he peeked down into the paper bag. "That's it?" "It's all I could afford." I let off a sigh that came off as one of stress. "Just what are you buying that leaves you broke all the time, Star?" he questioned, raising his head from the bag and turning back toward the corridor. "Not what I'm buying, what I'm paying for. I still have a place in Canterlot, you know," I answered, slipping out of my jacket and placing it on a hanger in the closet, hanging up my cover on a shelf above it. "Why don't you move? No use in paying rent and utilities for an apartment in the capital, especially if you are there once a month if you're lucky!" A momentary silence followed as I pondered my response. "I can't afford something in Manehattan, Night. I just can't. Neither can you, and neither can both of us combined. Sure, Canterlot isn't the most affordable city to settle down, but it's where I've lived for nearly six years." "I didn't mean in Manehattan. You could live somewhere up the coast, like Alderneigh! Cheaper cost of living, with a plus of cutting the time of your train ride by, what, two-thirds? Three-quarters?" "Alderneigh isn't the nicest city to live in. Not Detrot terrible, but it's steadily working its way there. That, and I hear the smog is unbearable." "Does it top Los Pegasus' atmosphere?" "Do I want to find out?" "Good point. But, say there wasn't smog, would you?" "I would prefer not to be shot in my own home, either." "That's why you buy a gun!" "With what money, Night? Hell, it might cost more just to move than it would be to stay put. The recruiter lied when he said that Marines were paid more than royal guards. Unless he was implying that they are paid fuck-all." Night opened the fridge door, frowning a second time upon finding the light inside to be off. Though, thankfully, the cold remained, albeit draining per every moment he kept the door open, and he stuffed the refrigerated items in quickly. "That depends. I hear officers have a higher pay grade!" "Well, that's just lovely, Night, but who got kicked out of that class last year and denied any future enrollment?" I snarkily replied. "Touche. But, promotions come with raises, too, right?" I snorted. "By what, one or two bits? Not to mention the wait isn't worth it. We'd still be first classes if it weren't for the attacks." To merely bring them up brought paining reminders of that fateful day back to life. It took every ounce of my physical and emotional weight to quell the grieving inhibition as a result of mentioning the battles that lasted three days total, yet ongoing in my head. "On that topic... when do you think our next promotion will be?" he posed. "Hard to say. It won't be at the same time, that's for damn sure, and I pray it will not be due to another incident that we are thrown into, you know?" "Yeah, ditto," was all he said, crumpling the bag into a wad and tossing it into the plastic bin in the kitchen. "But, going back to the power... what if they call off the inspections?" "Depends. How long has it been off for?" "Since..." he mused. "Not long after you left, actually." "Well, if it isn't fixed before then, they might. It was off in town, too. Anchor wanted to stop by a little shop to look at games, but they were closed." "That's a shame. At least we're not the only ones," he admitted, coming back into the bedroom. I nodded. "Until we find out, and 'til it's time for my shift, there isn't much to do around here. Oh, Night, did you find anything about an exterminator?" *** By five that evening, no word came regarding the status of the inspections, nor for the ongoing power shortage. Ponies on base remained busy like bees in spite of it. By six, things had begun to slow down. That time in between was spent napping, presuming no one would be coming to check our dorms in total darkness. Seven-thirty came in a flash, prompting me up to head off to work. With a cheap battery-operated light, I bathed in just adequate enough brightness to not hurt myself by slipping and falling. Miraculously, the water remained somewhat warm for the duration of the shower, and after dressing in the bathroom afterward, I left Night behind to watch over the place until before dawn, when we would exchange occupancy of our dorm. To my knowledge, the geology office wouldn't have been closed, seeing as most of the offices around base ran on hours of generator electricity, and perhaps the help of a few know-it-all unicorn electricians to create temporary solutions. Though, as I entered the building, I stopped. With an eerie vibe creeping up my spine, I ventured cautiously further into the darkened halls with only a sense of direction and my wits to guide me. An unordinary silence left a slight echo of my hooves' gentle steps on a tiled floor as the only noise to be heard. I don't know why I kept going. It made no sense to. Nopony was here, obviously. The generators must not have been working correctly—or, to save juice, they closed the place. That's what came across as peculiar: many vital offices occupied the building. So, why is no one here? I asked to myself. After eventually adjusting just to where I can make out doorways and labels along the wall, I came to a halt at the geology office. The door remained slightly ajar, a sign that somepony might have been in there still, or neglected to close it fully on their way out. What made me really freeze in my tracks was the fact that a set of keys remained in the lock slit within the handle. I blinked, narrowing in on the ring and plucking them out. They clinked against one another, stopping as I held and examined them in the flat of my hoof. One feature stood out most, that being a little ladybug keychain attached to the bunch. My eyes shot wide open. These are Aphrodite's keys. She never leaves them anywhere. Never. I jumped with a surge of adrenaline upon hearing a gentle pat of an object—plastic was my guess—smacking the thin-carpet floor within the room. All sense in me demanded to leave, yet was drowned out by curiosity as I reached a hoof forward and gradually pushed the door inward. It let off the lightest of creaks, making me wince. My heart pounded as I took my first steps inside the pitch-black space. I halted a few paces in, scanning about the empty console room. To my relief, nothing seemed out of place. None of the monitors had fallen over, nor the chairs. The mini-kitchen sat neat, with a thin trace of leftover coffee still in the pot. I allowed myself to ease off, breathing it all out. "W-who's there?" came a weakened voice from across the room. My blood ran cold. Absolutely freezing. The maroon of my eyes shrunk drastically, and out of instinct, I raced to the source, which sat in an open door leading into a tiny office partitioned off by frosted glass. Looking down, I wanted to gag. "Aphrodite!" I yelped in shock, dipping to the mare's side as she lay in the door, uniform drenched red with her blood originating from a sizable laceration across her chest. She raised her head, breathing heavily, shaking, but for the most part, she seemed... fine? "W-what are you doing here, Lance Corporal?" wheezed the bun-maned mare. "I came in for work! What are you doing here, Sergeant Major?" There was much panic in the tone of my voice. "I-is it gone?" she gasped sharply, then weakly began to press herself upright. Gently, I pressed her back down by her shoulders. "Don't move, you might aggravate the bleeding," I said hastily, beginning to look around frantically. Aphrodite's hoof came up to my chest beneath my shoulder to grab my attention. "First aid's i-in my desk, s-second drawer on the right. No key." Nodding and leaping up, I rushed into her office and looped around the right side of her desk. I practically threw the metallic drawer open, and between some small miscellaneous items sat a white and red box with a red cross in center. Snatching it, I hurried back to her side and began digging through the contents of the little round-edged plastic box, bringing out some gauze pads, a roll of bandages, a bottle of medical alcohol, and several capped-off needles attached to tiny sac-like tube. We had only learned so much about treating injuries in basic training. Alas, only the bandages and alcohol I was familiar with. I did not have a clue of what to do, where to begin, what not to use. I knew first and foremost that ceasing the bleeding of her wound was top priority, yet it seemed what little training received threw itself out the window. "What the hell is all of this?!" I wailed, holding the multiple miniature syringes in my hooves. In the truth of it all, I have never seen these before in my life. "M-morphine syrette, use it," she huffed out, coughing lightly twice. "Where do I—?!" I froze, heart racing, shaking my head with confusion in the moment. Without another word, she snatched one suddenly and plucked off the plastic needle guard, before jabbing it into the red-turning skin no more than a hair beside the open wound. She squeezed the sac gently, groaning quietly and closing her eyes gradually, teeth clenched. She kept breathing after all of that, much to my relief. The liquid contents of the sac as it was squeezed administered itself until there was no more to inject. She held the syrette in a few moments longer, only to pluck it free of her skin and drop it on the floor beside her. Her breathing became notably lighter, which could have been a good or bad sign. It remained steady soon after, and without hesitation, I went along with covering the bloody gash from end to end with gauze pads and a layer of bandages on top of that, taping it down with medical adhesive. Aphrodite grunted and winced the moment I pressed the gauze pads down, likely due to the burning sensation it would create against an open wound. Without stitches or some other tool provided to seal the laceration, there was not much I could do right then and there. While the bandages did shift a faint hue of red, they seemed to hold up, and the bleeding managed to somewhat stop miraculously. With her breathing seemingly stabilized, she turned her head just slightly and opened her eyes, gaze meeting my own. She gave a look that mixed between a 'thank you' and 'what the fuck is wrong with you?' reaction. "You are telling me you haven't a clue of how to use morphine syrettes?" Cheeks warming with embarrassment now, I shook my head slowly. "They only taught us how to patch wounds and nothing more." "That is shameful," she commented, trying to ease herself up again. I moved to keep her down, only to be stopped by her hoof being thrown up. "I am fine, the pain is numbed... for now. That's what the morphine does, it tones down pain. Was used for amputations in the old days." I nodded in understanding, beginning to place items back in the box. "I am sorry." "Don't sweat it, Shooter. I'm thankful you came as soon as you did," she assured, sitting upright with another soft grunt. "Yeah, I almost didn't," I replied with a tedious chuckle, but then dropped it when something came to mind. "Who attacked you?" Aphrodite perked her ears a bit. "Who attacked me? A better question to ask is, what attacked me?" I blinked, maw parted just. "Well, do you know? Or at least have an idea of who—what it was?" She shook her head firmly. "I couldn't make anything out apart from its eye, which almost looked like it was... glowing. Was behind cracked glass, it looked like." "What color was its eye?" "Bright purple." My blood ran cold again, and both eyes shot wide open. I blinked twice, remaining silent as it went over in my mind. No, it couldn't be... I thought. Shaking my head, I looked at her, saying sternly. "Sergeant Major, let's get you out of here."