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It was a cushy job, but somebody had to do it. Last year I was in boot camp. Now I —Serina T'gerr—was a member of the Duke of Paldonia's guard, although it did mean always wearing dress blacks. The Duke insisted that as head of Imperial security that he be accompanied by an honor guard wherever he went. The Emperor indulged him—so we went. I was new to the platoon but accepted because of the 'Esprit De Corps' that held the Imperial Marines together.

I was flying high because I had the highest score, so far, in the annual corps-wide unarmed combat competition. That was why I was with this platoon, as a reward. All the top winners had a tour of duty with the Imperial Guard, which The Duke of Rathsmor controlled as head of Imperial Security, although admittedly you had a better chance of being assigned to the Duke's guard if you were female and attractive. He was a fanatic about the Martial Arts and had put the polish on many of my comrades. Why just this morning, during a workout, the Duke had sent me flying—I hadn't even held back . . . well, just a little bit.

The facilities here were unbelievable. They had that oriental style that the Duke loved so much. Duke Rathsmor had created a small special force's group under his direct command that he unofficially called his "Ninjas." I was hoping for a place on that team.

Right now I had to contend with the sergeant. He was old school and felt that too much play was bad for us, so our platoon was on guard duty, not that we needed too. The way robotics' protected this retreat it was impossible for anything to get past those barriers. This facility belonged to the Lady de Winter. Knowing the Lady de Winter's reputation, I could guarantee that only the newest and nastiest of defenses were on duty on the far side of the earthen berm that isolated this area from the other security villas in the area. Rumor had it that she and the Duke had something going, something more than his usual encounters. The Duke was what they called in the old days a 'Wolf.'

It was a beautiful afternoon, and we were all enjoying the gardens, even if we were on guard duty. Our Disrupters, new this morning, were at least a kilo lighter than the old model, which almost made us feel that were not carrying them, they were a delightful weapon. Sight it visually or preferably with a combat helmet's H.U.D. and pull the trigger and whatever it was—wasn't. It was pleasant here—a slight breeze kept us cool. The constant murmur of the water soon relaxed me. Just at the edge of my vision a fish of some kind jumped out of the water after an insect and startled me. I was right in the middle of the biggest bridge in the gardens when I swear my legs took on a life of their own. It must have been that session with the Duke—as holding back while trying not to be damaged in the process, actually takes more effort. A charley horse in my leg? Anyway, the next thing I knew—I was in the water. I surfaced, gasping for air, and floundered a few meters to the edge of the pool. My platoon had come a-running, adrenaline pumping, anticipating that dire events were transpiring. They gathered round, concerned and wondering.

I felt something moving inside my tunic; I imagine my face at that point must have been a sight to behold. Not to boast, but I did fill out that tunic more than most of the other gals in the platoon. Suddenly this fish flopped its way out of the pocket created by my breasts and tunic. It slapped my face several times in its effort to regain the watery world. A couple of seconds later it was safely in the water. Fearing that another fish, or worse, might be hiding under my tunic, I pulled my tunic over my head, without any conscious thought, more as a reflex action on my part, not thinking about what water does to white clothes.

When the rest of the platoon saw my new teddy, (my current flame, Captain Briant, had sent it to me in yesterday's mail) showing under my blouse, (all lacy and dotted with large bright red hearts and definitely contra regs) they couldn't take anymore and fell to the ground, rolling around in a fit of laughter. They were so hilarious that I had to join in.

The Sarge finally restored order after several minutes had passed. Tears streaming from his eyes, he put all of us back on guard duty—including me, I suspect as a punishment for falling over my own feet. A houseboy ran up to the Sarge after what felt like several hours had passed and delivered a message.