Scootaloo was pretty sure her body hated her. Or maybe the world did. Briefly, she remembered some of the churches back home, the ones that revered Princess Celestia as a goddess—an omniscient, omnipotent creator. She wondered if perhaps that was true and it was Princess Celestia reaching down from the heavens with some mysterious yet majestic magical power, punishing her for her sins. Then she remembered that Princess Celestia was a really nice pony and that Rainbow Dash had told her about how she really wasn't anything like a goddess if you got to know her. No, it was probably just her body.

Why was Scootaloo having these thoughts? Because she couldn't sleep. She had spent the whole time when she needed to be running around feeling like she was going to collapse from exhaustion, and then as soon as she was given the opportunity to sleep, even though her eyes felt so weary that they could pop right out of her skull, she just couldn't get herself to drift out of consciousness. It was odd; she didn't usually have trouble sleeping.

Scootaloo turned her head and looked over to the side to see Flight snoring gently in the lower bunk on the opposite wall. The filly had trotted straight in to the room, climbed atop the mattress, and simply collapsed without another word; Kevin, who had clambered up the ladder to the bunk above her, took just a minute longer. Yet by the time Scootaloo had shut the door and flown up to the top of the other bunk, she felt an odd restlessness that jittered all through her hooves. She turned over a few times, but could never get her wings to sit right between her back and the sheets; no matter what position she took, something felt pinched in the wrong direction, or like it had too much pressure on it. She let out a sigh of frustration, found the most comfortable position she could, and slammed the pillow over her face in annoyance.

Just as she did this, there was a click down below. Scootaloo froze; she recognised it as the door handle clicking open. Was Kevin or Flight leaving? Yet she couldn't hear the telltale squeaks of their mattresses and both of their snores, gentle as they were, filled the room. No, this was somepony else, somepony coming in from outside. Slowly but surely, Scooatloo turned her head to look down.

However, before she could see who it was, the door quickly squeaked closed and she merely caught the latch clicking once more. There were faint hoofsteps outside, but those soon became inaudible through the wall. Scootaloo shrugged. It was probably just Later or Mochi, coming to check on them and see that they made it to the right room. They probably had already found out where everypony at the base was, and had likely already learned about the 'mission'. Scootaloo closed her eyes, hoping that the nervousness bubbling through her body would somehow subside soon so she could stop feeling like the living dead.

And then—of course—she heard another thing that would serve to delay her from sleeping: a voice. It came from the room next to her, speaking in a low tone that she was having a hard time making out. Groaning quietly, the filly scooted over until her ear was pressed directly against the wall. It didn't help much, but at least she was able to make out what was being said.

"Hello?" It was Cotton Fluff's voice, and she sounded like she was talking to somepony. "Are you there, G—uh, you?"

"I am," came an unfamiliar masculine voice. It didn't sound like the pony was actually there; from the metallic crispness, Scootaloo guessed that Cotton was speaking to somepony on her comlink. "What was that back in Ferretfall? Why didn't you—urgh—why didn't you stop them from going back to the police station?"

"I didn't—it would have been suspicious!" Cotton Fluff's voice replied, sounding annoyed. "Please, I'm doing the best I can. It's a miracle they don't suspect me already."

"Still, there's no point having you with them—and away from me, darling—if you can't do anything useful," the masculine voice replied.

Scootaloo had heard enough. She wasn't exactly sure what was going on, but she knew that Cotton Fluff was involved with somepony with the Bureau—or at least nopony friendly. Taking a deep breath, the filly threw the pillow off her face and stood up. She sucked in her gut, holding her breath so as not to make much noise, and took off from the bed, flapping her wings slowly and landing so gently on the ground that you would have thought it were a cloud rather than stone. She stepped forward quietly, opened the door, and closed it gingerly behind her as she faced the hall ahead of her.