Velvet adjusted the lamp again, the fourth time in as many minutes. Scootaloo had decided it was a nervous habit of his, since he had adjusted it too many times to count and she'd only been up in his office twice thus far. Either that or he was just never happy with how it looked in his peripheral vision. Once he adjusted the lamp, he looked up at the orange pegasus filly who was currently reclining on the sofa across from him.

"So, Scootaloo, have you decided to co-operate?" he asked in a flat tone.

Scootaloo merely sighed in response. "I just don't get it... why am I so important? I'm just some pony you don't have in your system."

Velvet rolled his eyes and put a hoof to his temple. "I honestly can't tell if you're playing dumb or not, but I figure I'm not going to get a straight answer out of you unless I explain it to you like you don't know anything. Is that correct?"

Scootaloo nodded. "I don't know anything—that's what I'm trying to tell you!"

"That... is hard to believe. Nonetheless, we'll continue." Velvet adjusted the lamp again, positioning it so the light pointed at the back wall. "Basically, as you should already know, the Bureau is... in conflict."

"Huh? You mean, like, political stuff?"

"Nnnngh... no. I didn't want to say it, and I'm really not supposed to say it like this, but"—and at this point, Velvet leaned across the desk and whispered—"we're at war."

Scootaloo blinked. "And this is... secret?"

Velvet sighed. "No, not secret, just... not officially what I said it is. It's a civil conflict—separatist groups on the Revan planet have taken over the dark side of that planet, and Bureau forces are currently at work trying to... take back control. The terminology we use is important, because we don't want to legitimise the rebel groups."

"Hmm..." Scootaloo hmm'd. "But what does this have to do with me?"

"The conflict on Revan has been going on for generations now... most of the ponies and other creatures that live on its dark side have grown up without the Bureau and therefore don't have ID chips. What's more, over the last decade or so, they have many times sent spies aboard unfamiliar spaceships to all four Bureau planets. So, as you can see, we have good reason to be cautious."

"B-but I'm not from there!" Scootaloo cried. She was starting to tremble; she didn't have any evidence that she didn't, and she knew it. "Honest!"

Velvet looked down. "I'd like to believe you, filly—I really would. But it's the most reasonable explanation—Trotcam's razor and all, you know. The only other places you could be from are the Vergla planet—which is incredibly unlikely—or from outside the system. And that's even more unlikely. You probably wouldn't even speak the same language, then—let alone be a pony."

Scootaloo sighed. "I dunno what else I can do, dude—"

"I'm not finished," Velvet cut in. He didn't sound angry; it was just a statement of fact. "Anyway..." he said, moving his hooves below the desk. Scootaloo heard the metal squeak of a drawer sliding open. "There is something that leads us to believe that you're not a spy, though, and that's this." At that final word, he lifted up a floppy rectangular object in his magical grasp. The thing, awash with the blue glimmering magical aura, floated over the desk and forward towards Scootaloo, stopping about ten centimetres from her face.

Eyes wide, Scootaloo swiped at the black notebook with a foreleg. Before she made contact, though, it levitated back, just out of reach.

"Ah ah ah," Velvet said. "This is important. Very important."

Scootaloo's face was flushed. "That's mine. I want it back."

"Mmm, yes, I'm sure you do." Velvet laughed. "Okay, I'll stop teasing you. Yes, you can have it back." He let go of his magical hold on the notebook and it fell into Scootaloo's outstretched hooves. Once it was in her grasp, she held it close to her chest, hugging it against her fur.

"Thank you," the filly mumbled.

"Of course—we have no use for it anymore. We already have it scanned and in our systems." Velvet rotated his computer screen so that Scootaloo could see the black-and-white facsimile of her writing from just a few days ago, including a drawing of—

"Hey, that's private!" Scootaloo said, raising her voice.

Velvet ignored her. "I'm still looking through the pages here, but it looks like you're pretty adept with a pen. And in the Gnostic script, too! How peculiar. That wasn't really made with hooves in mind, after all..."

"Gnostic script?" Scootaloo asked, momentarily forgetting about her frustration. "What do you mean?"

Velvet just stared at her. "The letters you write with. That's what they're called."

"Ohhh... eheh... yep, I totally knew that." Scootaloo flashed him a totally-not-fake smile. "So... anything else?"

Velvet raised an eyebrow. "Scootaloo, please, just tell me where you're from. We can help you. And, even if you don't tell us, we're going to figure it out sooner or later, whether it's from your journal or your ship, so it would be best to do it on your own t—"

"My ship?" Scootaloo asked, cutting him off. "You have my ship?"

Velvet blanched—hard to do when you're already white, but he seemed to manage well enough. "Um, forget I said that. Really."

Scootaloo stared at him. "If you want me to be honest, why aren't you being honest with me?"

"I have my orders, Scootaloo. Please, I'm just trying to do what's best."

"For who, me? The ponies of this planet? Yourself?"

Velvet didn't answer. Instead, he magically pressed in a button on his control sphere. "Hello? Yes, this is Velvet. I need Guard Verbosity to take Ms. Scootaloo back down to her cell. Thank you." There was a click.

"Velvet?" Scootaloo asked, grinning.

"What?" Velvet grumbled.

"Could I please have a graphick?"

Velvet groaned. Reluctantly, he opened a desk drawer and levitated a small ballpoint pen over to where Scootaloo sat. "Hopefully a grap will do—we don't really have any graphicks to spare, these days..."

Scootaloo just grinned all the more. "Yep, thanks!"

Velvet just sighed again. It was going to be a long few days, and the filly wasn't making this any easier.