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Opening the door, I stepped decisively into the kitchen and tripped over the busboy lying, paralyzed with laughter, on the imported marble floor—recognizing a sterling opportunity, I pulled my Medit from my hip pocket, quickly set up a two-hour knockout and, pressing it against his arm, injected the busboy. Imp was still laughing about me falling over the busboy as I replaced the Medit and resealed my pocket.

The kitchen gleamed of chrome, with black marble accents. The whole place gleamed of clean; it even smelled clean. I must have been lucky to come between meals I thought to myself. Then like a wisp of dying echo, I thought I heard [luck had nothing to do with it] deep inside my brain. The kitchen had everything, including a walk-in freezer which seemed to be just what I need right then.

Rolling the busboy around like a sack of potatoes, I wrestled him out of his white jacket and slipped it on—a fair fit. His ID badge Holo looked somewhat like me, my sandy brown hair and light green eyes, one hundred and eighty-two centimeters tall, besides no one paid any attention to the little people like him; they were just as obvious as a piece of furniture. Still, I adjusted my features slightly; muscles pulled in unfamiliar directions, shifting and tugging until I looked even more like the photo, kind of that bad picture resemblance effect that all ID's have had since before the dawn of time. I would be sore tomorrow when my muscles rebelled. I rolled him up in a bunch of old flour sacks until he effectively vanished and dragged him into the freezer, my breath puffing out in white clouds as I hung him up in the back corner. He should feel right at home, as there were several turkeys next to him to keep him company.

I rummaged around and found a silver tray and a crystal water glass that brilliantly chimed as I added a couple of equally clear ice cubes. When I filled it with cold clear-water drops of dew started to form on the surface of the crystal. A virgin-white cloth draped over my arm, completed my disguise. Thus, appropriately attired, I ventured into the 'Dragon's Lair.' I indicated for an augmented display of risk possibilities, including the layout of the building, overlaid on top of my vision.

Watching for security devices, I navigated surely to the high-security room that was my destination. I was invisible to the people that I passed, almost as if I were indeed literally invisible, thanks to a simple disguise. I walked boldly, as if I owned the joint, yet with that air of deference that said I just worked here. I remember reading that your attitude was ninety percent of a good disguise. I also thanked God that no one could hear my heart beating. As I walked, I would focus my eyes, as if reading, so that I could study the blueprints that Imp had found in the city's computer. When I relaxed my focus, I saw just the hall. If I pushed my focus, as if looking through the wall, I could see a kind of ghostly infra-red image of what was there, but I didn't think about it, I just did it—as naturally as breathing—this would be an easy job, with Imp's help. I was relying heavily on Imp to use some 'friendly persuasion' to 'talk' to the computerized controllers that I would find along the way. Imp made it all possible. He was a computer himself, so he understood all about 'persuasion' from a computer's viewpoint.

Arriving at the high-security room, that was my reason for this crazy escapade, without being noticed—I had Imp convince the door to unlock itself, and then strolled in as if I belonged. It was the right room, but this was no secured Com center! A quick glance at the display showed me that I had the right location, but no Com.

[Imp, it's not here!] Frustration was evident even in my subvocalization. Every bit of the information that I had painstakingly accumulated over the last year said that it was here. Instead, it looked like a standard, although luxury, sleep room.

[Don't look at me, this expedition was your idea, I'm just along for the ride,] Imp replied. I'm the only one that can hear Imp. He doesn't 'actually' talk but stimulates the nerves of the hearing center of my brain. For years my friends thought that I was strange because I talked to this invisible, silent friend. My augmented vision works somewhat the same way, only Imp intercepts the signals from my eyes, processes them for me, and then feeds them directly to my vision center, and I 'see.' I have a variety of sensors built into my body, although you can't see them. Imp can use them as though he was inside of me.

I started looking for hidden compartments. There had to be a door somewhere! I checked for the controls in the conspicuous locations first: drawers, cupboards, etc. The first drawer yielded some strange tangled mass of black leather strips with silver snaps, shiny delicate links of chain, accompanied with what looked like a black leather whip! The next drawer down contained small complicated metal objects, all gleaming with chrome, a variety of exotic odors assailed my nose coming from an assortment of small vials and tubes that were mixed in with the other items. I shook my head, hoping Imp wouldn't try to explain it—because I didn't want to know. I had no more than determined that this was not a standard bedroom, when Imp whispered, [Don't look now, but we have company.]

After a short coronary, my heart stilled, I could see with my augmented vision the ghostly heat images of two people, as though I could see through the wall, walking toward this room! Quickly refocusing my vision, I looked at an eagle eye display of this floors layout. There was no other possible destination. They weren't going anywhere else! It may sound corny, but the closet was the only hiding place around, so I used it. Imp talked the room's door into being sticky for a moment. Even with that help, it was just moments before the door opened that I pulled the closet door lightly behind me. Turning I froze, the door was gone! Panic! Of course, I only allowed this condition to continue for just a second so the adrenaline could clear out the cobwebs in my mind and let my body to slip into a fighting mode. Recognizing that the door was a one-way mirror, I relaxed somewhat.

They entered the room; she was tall and perfectly shaped as only the super-rich can be. Her emerald green silk kimono, slit to the waist, flowed over every curve. An embroidered Dragon stitched in gold, silver and drawn ruby threads floated across her back, and its scales glittered of real rubies. Her dress revealed but left plenty to my imagination, which was going full-blast. The other person was a large man with brown hair, shot through with gray. His dark metallic blue kimono embroidered with a silver and gold lion. However, she demanded, no commanded, my full attention. Turning, she faced him and slipped into his arms. A long moment later she stepped back, giving me a full view of her charms. Imp, recognizing the lady in green, said, [That's Lady Cynthia de Winter. She's one of the 'Seven.'] Soundlessly I whistled. That woman was one of the wealthiest people in the galaxy.

There is a point after which more money becomes meaningless. After that point, all that is left is the power that money can command—and pure raw power was what the Seven craved. That meant that the man Lady de Winter was entertaining was a VIP indeed, an Imperial VIP, judging from the guards outside.

Cynthia slowly, tantalizingly, slid the kimono off her perfect shoulders, . . . time crawled. Her kimono, seemingly frozen in space, slowly drifted to the floor gradually revealing all her secrets.

Now I loved water sports, and was more at home in the water than a seal—so I was no stranger to the female form. But this was different! Her full firm breasts seemed chiseled out of the purest pearl white marble; tipped with the finest of rose quartz, each with one flawless ruby right where you would expect.

Each muscle in her flat midriff appeared etched in granite. Below her ebony triangle, two of the longest, most perfectly formed legs that I had ever seen. Cynthia slipped back into her lover's arms after a split second's absence.

I started, as one coming out of a trance, I was staring, and I was in love—well lust anyway. My rival lifted 'my' woman in his arms, and carried her to the massive 'Float' bed. They floated, apparently in midair, cuddled securely and warmly in the bed's suspension field. Cynthia nibbled his ear with her full, sensuous, ruby lips.

My body burned, temporarily out of control. I stepped forward, my hand reaching to thrust the door open. While my body was doing its own thing, Imp was screaming out in recognition, but I was temporarily deaf. Then my rival turned—an icicle was thrust suddenly into my heart, freezing my hand in mid-reach. I recognized Sir James Rathsmor, Duke of Paldonia, and Regent of the twelfth galactic region and head of Imperial security. Effectively the number two man in the empire.

My gaze was jerked back to Cynthia, as though my eyes had no will of their own. Cynthia wore her raven black hair long, which was not 'in' but looked 'fantastic' with the rest of her essential equipment and she was well equipped indeed. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders, flowing in waves of black silk over her generous pearl white curves. Cynthia's cheekbones were high, her nose; classic 'Roman,' and her eyes; a shimmering metallic blue were beautiful, and I started to drown in them. Sir James attempted to slip out of his kimono, while still floating in the Float field. Feeling safe from observation while he undressed Cynthia relaxed slightly—her eyes turned plasteel-blue as she looked at him with contempt. I had, while gazing into the mirror of her soul, looked into the depths of hell.

Gagging, I cuddled up in the back of the closet. My mind retreated; escaping to my childhood, back to my first time on the beach at Los Angeles, on Terra….