The floor of the cockpit was cold. Scootaloo knew this from experience; she was sitting on it, after all. Not so cold that it was unbearable or that she would get frostbite or anything like that, mind you. No, it was just that type of cold that left you shivering and wishing for a thick, fuzzy blanket. And that's what Scootaloo did; even though she had her orange fur coating her from head to hoof, she still shivered. She thought of the thin white sheet that covered her bunk in the other room, but cast that thought aside—it would barely help, if at all. She began to think of warm blankets like back home, of warm bodies...

But she cast these thoughts aside too before she started thinking too deeply on them; that wouldn't do any good. So she continued to sit there and shiver, facing the pilot's chair ahead and the dashboard beyond that.

But then she had an idea. Scootaloo hopped up to her hooves and bounded over to and up onto the pilot's chair. From there, she was able to once again gaze upon the smorgasbord of controls. Her eyes moved back and forth slowly; she was careful to read each label, in case they had what she was looking for. And, on the third row, she spied it—a little switch marked "Heating". It was in the off position; Scootaloo, with a grin, flipped it to on. She could nearly feel the warmth radiating from below...

...but then, a nearby red light blinked. Scootaloo squinted to read the label underneath. "Insufficient power for heat," it read. She groaned. "These buttons and crud are way too specific..."

So, with nothing else to do, Scootaloo leaned back in the pilot's chair and made herself as comfortable could be in the plasticky thing. Her bag was still on the pedal, rocketing the ship forward. The window ahead continued to show the empty blackness of space with stars—oh so many stars—dotting the view. Nothing immediate was anywhere in sight, however, so Scootaloo just lay back and closed her eyes and tried not to think about the cold.