The meal only took ten or fifteen minutes at most, Scootaloo estimated. They ate mostly in silence since their only readily apparent conversational topic had been covered before the food had arrived and any personal questions would, to be frank, make Tank seem kind of creepy. And he seemed to know this.

All in all, though, Scootaloo was happy she had come aboard the ship—not that she had a choice, but she was super grateful for the food they had offered her. Even if she had to keep going on those Gamsco's balls until she died, she would at least go out knowing that she had one last delicious meal.

Once they finished eating, Tank stood up. "I've got to talk to my superiors right now about whether we're going to take you back to the Kindred planet or not. I'll try my best, but... well, I'm not sure how they'll take it. For now, I'm going to bring you to a room where you can wait until they've made their decision."

"Sounds good to me," Scootaloo replied, standing up from her seat at the end of the table.

She followed Tank out of the room and into the hallway. As with all of the metal hallways she'd walked down as of late, her hooves went clang, clang, clang on the surface as they made contact, and these metallic sounds reverberated down the lengths of the tube. The hallway was no more interesting or decorated the second time they traversed it; it still was just a mixture of sheer reflective walls and the occasional door on either side.

Finally, they reached the end of the hallway. At the second-to-last door on the right side, Tank wiggled the handle. Upon discovering it was unlocked, he pushed it open and ushered Scootaloo inside.

"I should be back in a few minutes—see you then," he said. And, with that, he was gone, door closed with a metallic click.

Scootaloo looked around at the room she now found herself in. Unlike the hallway, this room actually had stuff in it. On the wall with the door, there was an uncomfortable-looking dark purple sofa. It faced a medium-sized window on the outer wall of the ship that gave a good view of the space ahead of them, Equestrian planet included. It was just a featureless blue blob from this distance, but Scootaloo couldn't help but stare at the thing.

On the ground, there was a large rug that covered most of the floor. It was patterened with concentric rectangles, each in a different shade of brown. Scootaloo didn't know much about aesthetics or anything like that, but even she knew it was pretty dang ugly. She peeled her eyes away from that disaster of a floor covering to look at the side walls, which were lined with bookshelves. Curious, Scootaloo walked over to the left side of the room to get a closer look. On the way, she discovered that, even if the rug was ugly as Tartarus, it was still pretty fuzzy.

The books on the shelves were exactly as she expected—no recognisable titles or authors anywhere. Not that Scootaloo was an avid reader, but she still had read quite a few books. What she found most interesting from the books, however, was that the names of the authors were in most cases not that different from the names of ponies (and other creatures) back home. Sure, there was the odd word here and there that was completely foreign—she couldn't for the life of her figure out what 'phaser' and 'zathura' could possibly mean—but the language and culture of these ponies seemed familiar. Almost too familiar. Pondering this, Scootaloo turned away from the bookshelves and started whistling a tune. She wasn't really in the mood for reading anyway.

Scootaloo walked over to the couch and sat down on it. Her eyes had not deceived her; the piece of furniture was truly the most unpleasant one that the filly had ever sat on. She sat there for a few minutes before shifting over to lie down on her back which unfortunately was no more comfortable than before. Scootaloo groaned. Several minutes passed.

"Where is he...?" she wondered aloud. "Goddess, I wish I had a clock..." She lay there for a few more minutes, counting her breaths.

"Thirty-one... thirty-two... eugh..." She turned her head to look at the door. It remained standing there as closed as ever, still refusing to be anything but a door that was closed.

Finally, Scootaloo decided that she'd had enough with waiting. Maybe she could get a look around outside the room before Tank came back, and he'd never have to know about it. She got up off of the couch and walked over to the door. The handle was that type you push down on and pull in, so she put her hoof on it and tried to push down. It didn't budge. She tried pushing again. No dice. It was locked.

"...crud..." Scootaloo breathed. "I have a really bad feeling about this..." Even though she didn't have high hopes, she rapped on the door a few times with a foreleg. "Hello?! Is anypony out there?" There was no reply. Scootaloo walked over to the wall next to the door and slumped down onto the ground in a fuzzy orange pile. "Unngh... that's what I get for being too friendly with ponies I don't even know. Guess this really isn't Equestria anymore, huh?"

As she mumbled her thoughts aloud, Scootaloo did not notice the clang, clang, clang of hoofsteps outside in the hall until they were right up against the other side of the door. Before she could say anything, a voice emanated from the other side.

"Hello? Miss Bolt? Is that you in there?" The voice was feminine and familiar; Scootaloo could almost place it, but not quite.

"Um, yeah, it's me," Scootaloo replied. "Who's there?"

"That's not important... we don't have much time. Tank's gonna be back any minute now."

"Is that a bad thing?" Scootaloo asked.

"Yes... very bad," the voice answered. "Nnngh... enough with the questions. You need to get out of here, and fast. Tank and the other ponies in charge of this ship have started going against orders and capturing young fillies from the Kindred planet to be sold into slavery elsewhere in the system—"

Scootaloo blinked. "Oh jeez... that's not good..."

"No, it's not," the voice continued, "and that's why we need to get you out of here while we still can. I don't have the keys to this door and Tank will be back any minute now, but there's still a way."

Scootaloo gulped. "Dang it... I've read enough sci-fi books to know where this is going."

"There are little-used air vents in the wall of the room that snake around beneath the floor of the hall. At this time of day, they shouldn't be too hot; if you're quick, you'll be able to make it through. You really must go fast, though—once Tank realises you're not here, it's going to be really hard to get your ship away."

"That sounds good and all, but what am I going to do once I get there? My ship is still stuck to this ship."

The voice didn't reply immediately. "There's... there's a control panel in that room. It should be pretty obvious what to press." There was a pause. "I have to go now. Fly, and be careful."

"Thank you so much, um..."

"Slice. Grapefruit Slice. Don't worry—I'll be okay. Now go." There was more sounds of hooves on metal and Grapefruit Slice said no more.

Scootaloo exhaled, and turned to look at the wall to the left of the couch. Next to the bookshelves on the wall lay, as Ms. Slice had described, a plain white grate that could easily fit a filly her size if removed. She walked across the room in order to get a closer look.

Unfortunately, the grate was attached to the wall by several large screws along the edges; they didn't look particularly difficult to remove, but they would definitely require some sort of tool to get into the ridges on the head. Her hooves alone would not be enough for the job.

Turning around to face the room, the pegasus filly attempted to find something she could use to turn the screws. There wasn't really much in the room, though, besides the books that lined the shelves and the pillows on the sofa. She would probably have tried a hardcover book if there had been one, but there didn't even seem to be any of those. These ponies sure did love their paperbacks.

After a few long seconds of deliberation, Scootaloo found herself focusing on the couch. She remembered something from back in her house in Ponyville; it was unlikely, sure, but she figured that it was worth a try. Scootaloo jumped onto the couch and shoved her hoof in between the cushions, digging around to see if she could find anything. And, as a matter of fact, she found several things.

She pulled her hoof out of the cushiony depths a moment later with a few small items on her hoof: an empty gum wrapper, a silver bit-like coin, and a metal mane clip. The first was absolutely useless; the second, although closer to what she needed, appeared a little too thick to fit on the screw heads. But a quick run over to the grate revealed that the hair clip was nearly a perfect fit and was good enough to get the screws out.

Scootaloo held the mane clip between her teeth and, one by one, rotated the screws out. By the third one, she felt light-headed; once she had removed the sixth and final screw, she had a throbbing headache. Wanting to get this over with, Scootaloo spat out the mane clip and turned to remove the grate from the wall. She lifted it between her hooves and set it gently on the side of the bookshelf. The hole where the grate formerly sat lay open and breathed out a thin jet of warm air.

Just as she was about to step into the vent, Scootaloo looked down at where she had dropped the mane clip on the ground. She sighed as she stared at the pink object. "I'm so glad Rainbow Dash can't see me right now," she said under her breath as she lifted the thing to her mane and clipped it into her bangs.

Then, without another moment's hesitation, Scootaloo climbed into the open vent. She reached out behind her for the metal grate and affixed it as best she could to the hole, albeit without screws.