time, I’ll give you a quick way to get through 9 and then we’ve gotta move on. Granted… it ain’t the strategy that my team used to beat it, but it’ll get the job done. Now, how good is your Com-Spec?”
“You kidding me?” the boy grunted, seemingly offended. “Zeus full-on mastered Alystierian code via beta site training before we even started the game. The guy’s like, untouchable! He’s the best MA hacker on the net!”
Lee flashed a tenuous smile. “With respect, sport, I can promise you he’s not. Anyway, tell Zeus there’s a secondary function in the computer core’s primary security mainframe that’ll allow him to trip an installation-wide lockdown. Mind you, that won’t buy much time—only 60 seconds or so—but it oughta be enough for you to make a break for your ship. He can access the command with the authorization code Alpha-Zulu-6-4-Charlie.”
Utterly beside himself, the boy sank back in his chair and rubbed his eyes to process what’d been said.
“Hey Dr. Summerston?” he wondered aloud. “You said your team used a different strategy to get out of the bunker, right?”
“That’s right.”
“Well, if you didn’t use the lockdown, how did you guys get out?”
Lee shrugged, having waited for this exact question. “I did a case study once about a small unit of British soldiers in World War II who found themselves in a similar situation. They were pinned down by the Nazis in a small village just outside of Vienna, and they were carryin’ intel that was absolutely vital to the Allies. Needless to say, they got out and I modeled a lot of my workup for E-9 off of their ideas.”
“And what did they do?”
Lee’s smile widened. “You can read about it for yourself. It’s on page 297 of that textbook you were just usin’ as a cover for your mag.”
****
The boy’s jaw dropped in amazement. It wasn’t like he’d never been called out by an instructor before, but never like this. Not only had this guy just busted him for reading a gaming mag in class, but then he’d completely trumped him on its contents? In what crazy parallel world does that even happen? Truth be told, his clan had been stumped on E-9 for nearly three weeks now, and here he was being walked through the solution by—of all people—his history professor?
Then again, the boy thought, the man’s outward appearance alone should’ve indicated that he wasn’t a total academic stiff. Fairly tall, with a stocky, medium build and slightly rugged features, he couldn’t be any more than 32 or 33 years old, tops. Plus from the looks of things, he was no stranger to a gym, or the beach for that matter, judging by his copper skin tone and the sun-streaks in his shaggy brown hair. Add all that to the mild southern accent in his husky voice, and whoever he was, he was a far cry from his fellow faculty members here at Layne, with their horn-rimmed glasses, tweed coats, and tobacco-stained teeth. On a related note, if the looks of the other students around him were any indication—particularly the huddle of girls down front who hadn’t stopped giggling since he walked in this morning—they apparently thought so too. Bottom line: this guy was alright and maybe because of that, this class wouldn’t suck so bad after all.
“So where are you?” the boy asked, unable to help himself.
“I’m sorry?” Lee replied, re-opening his lecture notes to continue.
“Which environment? I know you’re at least on E-15, which is definitely impressive. But where, exactly, are you in the game? E-21? 22?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“C’mon, sir” the boy persisted. “You just called me out in front of the entire class. At least throw me one bone for my troubles. Seriously—gamer to gamer—where are you?”
Lee rolled his eyes and tossed his pen onto the podium. “We’ll begin E-42 tonight.”
With one sudden look at the garnet-stoned Florida State University class ring on his instructor’s right hand, the
“You kidding me?” the boy grunted, seemingly offended. “Zeus full-on mastered Alystierian code via beta site training before we even started the game. The guy’s like, untouchable! He’s the best MA hacker on the net!”
Lee flashed a tenuous smile. “With respect, sport, I can promise you he’s not. Anyway, tell Zeus there’s a secondary function in the computer core’s primary security mainframe that’ll allow him to trip an installation-wide lockdown. Mind you, that won’t buy much time—only 60 seconds or so—but it oughta be enough for you to make a break for your ship. He can access the command with the authorization code Alpha-Zulu-6-4-Charlie.”
Utterly beside himself, the boy sank back in his chair and rubbed his eyes to process what’d been said.
“Hey Dr. Summerston?” he wondered aloud. “You said your team used a different strategy to get out of the bunker, right?”
“That’s right.”
“Well, if you didn’t use the lockdown, how did you guys get out?”
Lee shrugged, having waited for this exact question. “I did a case study once about a small unit of British soldiers in World War II who found themselves in a similar situation. They were pinned down by the Nazis in a small village just outside of Vienna, and they were carryin’ intel that was absolutely vital to the Allies. Needless to say, they got out and I modeled a lot of my workup for E-9 off of their ideas.”
“And what did they do?”
Lee’s smile widened. “You can read about it for yourself. It’s on page 297 of that textbook you were just usin’ as a cover for your mag.”
****
The boy’s jaw dropped in amazement. It wasn’t like he’d never been called out by an instructor before, but never like this. Not only had this guy just busted him for reading a gaming mag in class, but then he’d completely trumped him on its contents? In what crazy parallel world does that even happen? Truth be told, his clan had been stumped on E-9 for nearly three weeks now, and here he was being walked through the solution by—of all people—his history professor?
Then again, the boy thought, the man’s outward appearance alone should’ve indicated that he wasn’t a total academic stiff. Fairly tall, with a stocky, medium build and slightly rugged features, he couldn’t be any more than 32 or 33 years old, tops. Plus from the looks of things, he was no stranger to a gym, or the beach for that matter, judging by his copper skin tone and the sun-streaks in his shaggy brown hair. Add all that to the mild southern accent in his husky voice, and whoever he was, he was a far cry from his fellow faculty members here at Layne, with their horn-rimmed glasses, tweed coats, and tobacco-stained teeth. On a related note, if the looks of the other students around him were any indication—particularly the huddle of girls down front who hadn’t stopped giggling since he walked in this morning—they apparently thought so too. Bottom line: this guy was alright and maybe because of that, this class wouldn’t suck so bad after all.
“So where are you?” the boy asked, unable to help himself.
“I’m sorry?” Lee replied, re-opening his lecture notes to continue.
“Which environment? I know you’re at least on E-15, which is definitely impressive. But where, exactly, are you in the game? E-21? 22?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“C’mon, sir” the boy persisted. “You just called me out in front of the entire class. At least throw me one bone for my troubles. Seriously—gamer to gamer—where are you?”
Lee rolled his eyes and tossed his pen onto the podium. “We’ll begin E-42 tonight.”
With one sudden look at the garnet-stoned Florida State University class ring on his instructor’s right hand, the
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