"Blaine Lee Pardoe - BattleTech - MechWarrior - Dark Age 14 - Target of Opportunity" - читать интересную книгу автора (Pardoe Blaine Lee)

traffic.
Precentor Buhl allowed himself a low chuckle. “No, Tucker. This assignment is not piloting a cubicle.
Have you heard of the planet Wyatt?”
Tucker shook his head.
“I’m not surprised. Strangely enough, the virus that took down the network had a subroutine that deleted
Wyatt from most online atlases and star charts. Wyatt is in Prefecture VIII. Like most of the Inner
Sphere, its HPG was rendered inoperative on Gray Monday. The core of their transmitter was burned
out, so we sent a replacement. When it was installed, the HPG could transmit again, but it began to send
the same message over and over, millions of times, overloading the receiving network for a few
seconds-then the core fried.”
Tucker’s eyes widened. “Just like what happened on Gray Monday.”
“We tried to shut it down, but we were too late. We could find no reason that the core should have
failed-no reason at all.”
Tucker’s face tightened as he thought. Assuming that the HPG crash was intentional, then the new core
should have solved Wyatt’s problem. The message cascade was an anomaly. Immediately, curiosity
overwhelmed his intention to maintain a reserved attitude in the interview.
“I’d start by going over the transmission log, including all subbinary feeds.”
Precentor Buhl leaned back in his seat and steepled his hands in front of him. “I can have that arranged.
May I assume that you are interested in the position, even though I haven’t told you about the job?”
Tucker nodded once and let a small, excited grin light his face. His mind was saying, “Are you kidding?”
but out loud he said only, “Sounds like a real interesting opportunity.”
“It is,” Buhl replied. “It surely is. Welcome to the project.”
Tucker rose, shaking his new boss’s hand. “Then the position’s mine?”
“Yes.”
“I can’t wait to tell my father,” Tucker replied.
“The replacement HPG core for Wyatt has already been loaded aboard the DropShipDivine Breeze . It
departs in two days. I’ve taken the liberty of sending the background data covering the HPG issues on
Wyatt to a secured directory in the ship’s computer, encoded to your access. In the meantime, I suggest
you pack and get your personal affairs in order-see your family and friends.” He slid a small noteputer
across the desktop. The younger man glanced at it. The tiny screen displayed his transfer orders and the
itinerary for theDivine Breeze -all filled out and processed.
Tucker was stunned for a full thirty seconds. He knew his mouth was hanging open, but he struggled to
find words. “How did you know I’d want the position, sir?”
The precentor smiled. “You don’t reach my level in a complex organization like ComStar without
knowing something about people, Mr. Harwell.” He gestured to the door. “Good luck.”

The precentor sat quietly at his desk for a full two minutes, waiting for the knock at the door. When it
came, Malcolm Buhl said only, “Enter,” and a lithe, stunning woman in her early forties, dressed in a
tight-fitting black suit and tie, walked into the office and took a seat across from her manager. She held a
noteputer.Am I her manager or her keeper? Buhl wondered.
“I assume,” she began, leaning back in the chair and brushing lint off of her lapel, “that you were able to
secure Harwell for the task?”
“Of course,” Buhl replied. “I trust that you’re not surprised?”
“By you, never,” Precentor Svetlana Kerr replied, looking straight at Buhl. “Does he know what he’s up
against?”
The older man shook his balding head. “No. Some of it is in the briefing, and I’ll also speak with him
while he’s in transit to the JumpShip. I intend to downplay the political issues at first, because I want his
focus to be on fixing that HPG.”
Kerr’s face seemed to sour. “Blasted Republic. At least with Exarch Redburn in power we knew what
we were dealing with.”