The room that Scootaloo entered was nearly devoid of features, besides a computer console on the left wall where Fir sat, staring at the screen and occasionally punching something into the keyboard. The rest of the room looked much like the ones in Scootaloo's own ship, with curved metal walls that led upwards into a rounded ceiling. She was curious about what the stallion had meant when he said her ship looked unusual—this ship didn't seem much different.

She was forced to walk quickly to keep up with the stallion, making quiet clangs on the metal with each hoofstep. When they reached the other side of the room, the stallion stopped and raised a hoof to push down on the door handle and pull it open. He stood aside to let Scootaloo through the doorway; she took the few steps necessary to get inside and he followed, closing the door gingerly behind them.

That doorway opened outward into a large, rotund room with terraced floors, each lined with various different computer and control consoles and ponied by a variety of mares and stallions wearing the same type of uniform as Fir and Scootaloo's guide. They appeared to be hard at work doing various operations for the ship; only one or two looked up to see Scootaloo and the stallion enter, and they just nodded their heads as the two passed. The stallion led Scootaloo along the top level to the right toward a doorway that led to another metal hallway.

As they passed, Scootaloo gazed out into the centre of the room. The bottom layer, a perfect circle of reflective metal, was empty, devoid of electronics or ponies. It gave way to a humongous transparent window in the front of the room that revealed a wide view of the yawning maw of the void that lingered outside. However, because it faced the opposite direction that Scootaloo's ship had been pointed, the window offered Scootaloo a clear view of a green-and-blue orb that hung faintly in the centre. At the sight of it, she paused.

The stallion stopped once he heard her hoofsteps stop. "Something the matter, dear?" he asked.

"What... what's that planet out there?" Scootaloo asked.

"Oh, that's... um... I'm not exactly sure what it's called. It's the third planet from Solaris. There's ponies on that planet but they don't have space travel yet and they worship some weird goddesses, I think. Poor souls. The Bureau forbids contact with any planet that doesn't care to explore the heavens, though, but you already know that."

"Oh, yeah, of course," Scootaloo said, still staring at it. "It looks so... so beautiful."

"And I'm sure it is." The stallion coughed. "But we must be on our way... the sooner I talk to the cook, the sooner we can get you some food!"

"Yeah, okay, I'm coming," Scootaloo replied, facing him. As the stallion began walking again, she took one last look before following him down the next hallway.

This hallway was nearly as featureless as the room that Scootaloo had entered the ship in; the only distinguishing features were the many doors that lined the sides and a corkboard on the left that had a few notices posted on various different coloured pieces of paper. One prominent one with a pencil sketch of a dragon on the top advertised a "game night" on Fridays with free food; another next to it on white paper was asking ponies if they had seen a missing comlink and it talked about how the commander would kill the pony who posted it unless the device was found.

As they walked, the stallion spoke. "So, young'n, I just realised—I never asked what I should call you."

"Oh... erm, my name is... uh... Rainbolt." Scootaloo's heart pumped as she said these words; she wasn't exactly sure why she didn't give her real name.

"Rainbolt, huh? That's a nice name. Kinda quaint, but I know you rich folks love your history. You can call me Tank, by the way."

"Thank you, Mr. Tank," Scootaloo said. "Funny... I knew a tortoise by that name a while ago." She paused. "My parents are definitely into that whole family heritage thing. I don't really care that much, though—you can just call me Rainy or Bolt if you want."

"Alright, Bolt."

They continued forward in silence for another minute or so, passing a few more metal doors in the interim. Then, finally, they stopped at an open door near the end of the hall.

"Wait here—I've got to talk to the cook for a moment." Tank walked into the doorway and closed the door behind him. Scootaloo was left standing alone in the hallway.

She sat there alone for a minute or two, just looking around at the sheet metal surface around her. She walked over to the end of the hallway where a porthole lay low enough on the wall so that she could look out. But all she saw through the window was stars, stars, and more stars, as well as the dust and grime that covered the glass. Then, behind her, Scootaloo heard a click and a few metal clangs.

"Hello?" came a voice from behind her. She turned her head...