The Commander sat at her usual place in the mess hall, eating slowly, not really focused on her meal. She glanced at her chronometer again; just under eighteen minutes.
"It's not going to happen," said Smith, sitting across from her.
Jones chuckled, "He's succeeded at every solo Game he has tried his hand at so far."
"I don't care what he's done," said Smith. "The Kid is a decade younger than most trainees. I want to know who he is!"
The Commander rolled her eyes, "Smith, I can't tell you, even if I wanted to. His file wasn't even redacted. It was empty. One paper, a request to receive, with a date. He could be from anywhere. He speaks Spanish, French, Russian, English, Arabic, Mandarin, and Japanese, each with a variety of regional accents. He has the highest scores in hand to hand I have ever seen. His understanding of forensic sciences is without precedence. There isn't a melee weapon I have found that he isn't at least proficient with. He picked up repelling and climbing, both urban and terrestrial, with alarming speed. He was giving the drive instructor tips for tuning up the vehicles after his first lesson. He is more skilled than most of the ex-cons that have come through here at picking locks and breaking into rooms. He tested out genius on every mental exam we have given him. The only reason he hasn't graduated yet is because he says he isn't ready to leave yet."
"He has to be some new type of soldier," said Smith. "Generically engineered and given neural stimulants or some such. Raised by scientists and specialists in some secret installation, conditioned in his sleep with subliminal information."
"Oh, shut it, Smith," said Jones. "Next you'll be saying tripe about alien DNA or transgenic cyber implants."
Suddenly, The Commander turned, drawing the others' eyes to what she was looking at. The Kid had entered the mess.
The Commander didn't have her title for nothing, and despite the sheer talent and competency of the group, she could see that more than half the occupants of the mess had their covert gaze locked in on him. And he was aware of it too, she could see. He was doing a masterful job of feigning nonchalance and indifference, but there was something in the grand scheme of it, an element of theatricality, that allowed her to see his tells. From the moment he entered the room, he was playing to the crowd and doing a very good job of it.
She checked again; a bit over eleven minutes.
"He isn't going to do it," said Smith. "He might be homo superior, but he is still just a man. Er, a kid."
"He'll do it," said Jones. "I bet you first pick at the Games tomorrow, three up."
Smith grinned, but not an assured grin, "Deal."
Time stretched, The Commander trying to decipher his expression. She knew he seemed confident, everything about his display and posture said so. And yet, she didn't know how he could do it. It was practically impossible.
Since before she had taken over as Commander at The Facility, there had always been The Safe Op, a covert operations Game for those with the gall to try it. It had evolved over the years, keeping up with new technology, but it was essentially the same game. A computer was monitored by a well thought out system of surveillance, containing encrypted files, and the files must be retrieved before the allotted time is up. In the current incarnation of the Safe Op, the computer was a laptop, with a thirty-six hour battery, a GPS tracker, and an encryption suffocated enough that it would take more than the combined processing power of every computer in the Facility to brute force the files in the thirty-six hour window. The surveillance was set up with a variety of sensors ranging from thermal, motion, and trip lasers, and all of which are set up with redundant generators, each that would sound an alarm if they went down. The setup was ideally secure, to say nothing of the regular guards sweeping the grounds around the building in question every quarter hour.
And, here was the Kid, the first anyone had seen of him since the Safe Op had started. He couldn't have hacked his way in; the laptop's wireless networking card was removed. He could have somehow gotten past security, found the few blind spots there were, gotten to the laptop, unlocked the manual locks covering the thumb drive ports, brought a device the mimicked the scanner that fed the laptop the information on the deep tissue blood vessel scan of the Commander's palm, transferred the file to a thumb drive, and gotten back out again. But the blind spots were undocumented. Even if you made it into the building, finding the blind spots without being sensed would be extremely difficult if not altogether impossible. And, as per regulations, she had not slept in the last thirty-five hours, fifty-one minutes, so there was little chance, even if he knew, that he would have been able to get a scan of her palm. This incarnation of the Safe Op had never been beaten. She doubted it ever would.
And, she was wrong. She had been sure. She had been so sure that when she had come up with the idea, post-coitus with the former Commander of the Facility, her sometimes lover, he had made her a bet and she had agreed. He had graciously allowed her to put back on the black lacy bra and panties set she had been wearing earlier before snapping the photo that she was to use as the Safe Op file. For which she was thankful, because five minutes before the deadline was reached, the projector that was normally used for presentations and Game orientations sprang to life, projecting said picture on the largest blank wall in the mess.
The response was a nearly instantaneous uproar. The Commander was an attractive woman, as she knew. She had been told that she was too attractive for espionage field work, too noticeable, too memorable. She had settled for Black Ops work, and when that career had run its course, she had used her wits and her keen observational skills to land a teaching position at the Facility. And, despite her hard life and because of her constant athletics and healthy eating, aside from the barest hinting of crows feet, she could have passed for a third younger than she was. Despite the fact that every single person at the Facility, a majority of which where men, that had spent any time training with her knew that she had more balls than half the trainees who came through here, they were still men. And that picture was a sight to behold.
Everyone at the Commander's table gaped, half at her and half at the picture. She was in touch with her sexuality enough to give a little dignified smile but returned to business as usual. As soon as the deadline was reached, the projector cut off, to many protestations.
The Kid never moved. He finished his meal without so much as a smirk, but the Commander saw that he was pleased, just a bare hint in his eyes, a slight flush in his cheeks. As soon as he was finished with his meal, he left the mess, ignoring any shoulder slapping or shout-outs to socialize. And the Commander knew an invitation when she saw one.
He was in the barracks, packing a few meager personal belongings. She nodded upon seeing this, knowing what it meant.
"How'd you do it?" she asked, informally and because she knew it was the question he was waiting for.
He said nothing, and she marveled at his total self-control, his intuition as she watched him play her, drawing out the anticipation. Once again, she seriously considered sleeping with him before he left.
"I cheated," he said, his tone caviler. "A little research and a willingness to hack your personal computer will get you a long way. I had already won before the game had started."
He turned his back to her as he leaned over a tablet, checking something. The knife she pulled was matte black, with no gleam to give away its appearance. She felt the old rush come back, wondering how close she dared, if she still had the reflexes to pull the attack in time, if need be. Aiming for his kidney, she drove straight in.
He stepped back, his side coming dangerously close to the knife. His foot landed behind hers, his counterintuitive movement the most direct way to getting behind the knife and her attack, and he didn't care that it left him the most vulnerable. His strong grasp caught the hand holding the knife, pressing between two knuckles that loosened her grip with ease. Sliding his free arm up and around her neck, he caught her in an upward facing headlock. He knocked the knife out of her loosened grip by bringing her hand down hard on the top of his rising knee. He could have easily hurt her if he had wanted to, and yet, as with everything else he did, his control and discipline were awe-inspiring.
She suddenly found herself facing a wall, locked in an armbar. His strength was impressive, considering that had only just begun to acquire some bulk. She couldn't help but moan with the intensity of it. But at the sound of her voice, he immediately released her.
"No," he said, going back to his packing. "You're better than that, Commander."
She turned, practically fuming for more than one reason.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" she asked, trying to get ahold of herself around the pride and indignation.
"The picture was a bad idea," he said. "It's true, it does the trainees around here some good to see you as human, but you don't need to sleep with me to feel better about yourself."
She was practically seeing red. Turning her back on him, she tried, unsuccessfully to keep her voice under control, "I may be the Facility's Commander, but that doesn't make me any less of a person, of a human, a woman. And I have desires I want to be met. Don't you dare try and judge me for that!"
Turning with a head of steam and fully prepared to mow him down, she found the room empty. There was no evidence he had been there and his gear was gone. So total was his presence removed that she spent a moment questioning her senses and sanity. But then, with a smirk, she realized that she had been played again. She decided it was his loss and wondered if she would ever see him again.