This latest maneuver was irritating Argon on a number of levels. It wasn't because he didn't get where Morgo was coming from; he'd seen the play, he'd watched his horny First Marauder manhandle Natalie—with her apparent acquiescence, even if only in the interest of thespian professionalism—and so he understood why Morgo would want to follow up on the Starflake's quiescent actresses. But it seemed like a really bad idea to be here, after lights out, skulking about on the ship's dormitory level, especially when they'd already aroused suspicions with that steward, Heather.
Morgo, though, would not be dissuaded, so here they were, following Fuckface through the dormitory's angled halls and trying to keep to the shadows. Argon passed a closed door and heard a pair of girls chattering behind it; this didn't still his misgivings.
"If we get caught down here," he whispered, "we'll have a fight on our hands."
"We'll be fine, long as we're careful." Morgo turned to give Argon the sincerest look he could muster. "Go with me here. If you want to take the Starflake on the sly, it's worth the risk. I've got a plan."
Argon sighed, exasperated. "Okay. Goddammit, you know I trust your judgment."
"And you say you got where this Brooke girl's room is?"
"I know where all the girls' rooms are," Fuckface, walking point and peeking around a corner, said.
"And she's got a single?"
"Yup. Mostly they're singles. It's up here. We just go 'round this corner and then it's three doors ahead on the right." Fuckface started to make the bend and Argon followed, but the Gob froze in place and held his hand up. "Wait. I hear something."
Suddenly Argon could hear it too, a quiet but rising series of footfalls, and waved an over-eager Morgo back as well. They retreated and crouched, and a second later the Starflake's lone security guard strutted by a tee intersection at the end of the hall, his U-shaped phasor pistol bouncing at his hip. Luckily, he didn't stop or look over and instead went briskly past.
"Phew," Argon fretted. "That was close. Those phasors pack a punch; he could probably take down all three of us with that."
Fuckface nodded. "Good news is, if he's doing his rounds like normal, he won't be back around this way again for at least another half hour. As long as none of the students pokes her head out, we should be fine. Come on."
The trio tiptoed down the hall and momentarily they were flanking one of the doors on both sides, commando-style.
"This is it," Fuckface whispered. "Brooke Bethany's single. What's your plan?"
Morgo, still in his monster costume and lugging its head under one arm, started to wriggle it over his grisly skull. "Unlock the door. Quietly." Fuckface complied with scarcely a rattle, then ducked to one side. Morgo, in full monster getup, moved to face the door at a crouch, then rapped it lightly with his knuckles.
"What the hell are you doing?" Argon exclaimed at a fast angry whisper. Morgo held up a placating palm.
"Who's t-t-there?" came a girlish voice at the door immediately. Morgo ignored it and knocked again. The doorknob turned and the door started to open. Argon scarcely caught sight of the pretty, distressed damsel Selena from the play, peeking past the door and flashing one creamy bare thigh, before Morgo leapt upright, presenting his hands like bared claws and letting a vampire hiss.
Brooke recoiled in terror. Her eyes swelled to the size of golf balls, her mouth frozen open in a scream that caught in her throat. Argon worried she'd cry out; if so, they'd likely feel the sting of the guard's phasor within the minute. Instead, her pupils rolled up into her head and her shoulders slackened. She crumpled and collapsed on her side in a delicious heap. Her violet, frilly nightie feathered up to her waist, baring her upper thighs and translucent matching panties.
She'd fainted dead away.
***
Without wasting a moment, Morgo stole into poor Brooke's dorm and waved Fuckface and Argon in after. Once they'd safely invaded her space, Morgo quickly but quietly clicked the door shut behind and turned the lock. "Hurry." He tilted his head toward Brooke's desk. "Check her purse."
Argon unsnapped it and looked in.
"Her Dub!" he exclaimed.
"Just as I thought. Go. Go." Morgo snapped his fingers, got the Dub-LM from Argon and started scrolling through it. "Zero out the fear level, give the poor girl a break."
"Maybe we should gag her," Argon suggested villainously. "She might make noise when she gets up otherwise."
Brooke breathed deeply and her eyes fluttered open. Fuckface shot Argon a doubtful look.
"Shouldn't need to," the Gob piped in, "if you use it right." He looked over Morgo's shoulder and pointed. "Find the 'quiet-chatty' slider." Morgo scrolled about. "There, it's there. Slide it all the way to the left. Negative twenty."
"She's waking up," Argon observed.
"It's all right," said Fuckface. "She won't make a peep."
"Let's see," Morgo mused with a scratch of his chin, getting it. He deftly thumbed the Dub-LM. "More docile, less rebellious. More eager to please, less defiant..."
She roused.
A comely and quizzical Brooke picked herself up on one elbow and looked around. She scrunched her brow pleadingly, parted her lips as if to speak. But no words came out.
"Move it from 'Oriented' to 'Lost,'" suggested Fuckface with what Morgo thought might be a suppressed giggle. He did, and in real time Brooke's eyes fogged over and her gaze, which had been passing over each of them in turn, seemed to come unmoored.
It smelled of perfume here.
"Here," said Morgo, and handed the Dub to Fuckface. "You've done more homework than me on this thing."
"Ah," Fuckface exclaimed, a fish to water. "Tasty." Scroll, scroll. "The first thing I've always wanted to do," he poked out his tongue with glee, "is see what happens when you max this thing out on poised as against clumsy." Scroll, scroll. "Poised."
Morgo looked about and saw, under the white sofa in the corner of the room, several pairs of shoes: pink sneakers with ankle-high cotton-ball socks tucked neatly in them, girlish penny-loafers, and three pairs of pumps, including one in a cheery violet that nearly matched her shimmery sleepwear.
"I think this is working. Brooke? Can you hear me, Brooke?"
Fuckface's voice took some time to reach her, but she eventually turned to him and nodded, barely perceptibly.
"Do you see those purple pumps over there?"
