The Weekly Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 3283 by Angharad Copyright© 2021 Angharad

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This is a work of fiction any mention of real people, places or institutions is purely coincidental and does not imply that they are as suggested in the story.
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Easter was over and we had students returning if they had practical studies to continue, which meant that Debbie, one of my lecturers - you'll remember she toughed it out with the press for being transgender - was pleased we had the new microscopes for her series of dissection classes. She'd been with us ever since and become a regular part of the team - except she didn't do dissections.

"But, Cathy, I told you I never did any of this for my degree."

"Not even at A-level?"

"No, I bribed someone to do it for me."

"Careful, you're getting mightily close to admitting you got your qualifications by deception."

"It wasn't a huge part of the course, was only worth about 10% of the mark."

"Right, get John to show you what you're doing and to assist you with your classes, but next year, you'd better be up for it properly."

She went rather red and swallowed hard. "Or what?"

"I'll do them and make you do all the shit stuff no one else will do?"

"Like playing with otter poo?"

"Not if I'm available, I love identifying fish bones, same with small mammal bones and barn owl pellets."

"What you enjoy playing with shit and bird vomit?"

"Yeah, it's really relaxing."

"What? Making your eyes hurt looking through a microscope?"

"It's more fun than lecturing to a hundred sleeping students."

"That surprises me," she replied.

"Why?"

"I thought you enjoyed teaching, you always create such a buzz in your students. I'm half surprised they haven't kidnapped me so that you'd have to take my classes."

"Don't give them ideas."

"I thought that was the whole point of higher education."

"Nah, that's only what we tell them. It's all lies."

"Cathy, if anyone else said that, I'd possibly believe them, but not coming from you."

"Damn, I thought I had you fooled then."

"Sorry, I'm too stupid."

"How are things with John?" their romance had more on and offs than London Underground.

"Okay at the moment, he's good between the sheets, so keeps me happy."

"TMI," I said pretending to be shocked, "what did you want anyway?"

"Are we still on for sewing on Friday evening?"

"As far as I know, Danny and Trish are looking forward to it and I think Cindy might be coming as well."

"Cor, a real trans-coven."

"Eh?"

"Well, all of us are transwomen."

"Are you implying, Real women don't do sewing?"

"Oops," she turned a nice shade of pillar box red, any brighter and she'd stop the traffic. "That wasn't my meaning."

"I'm sure it wasn't and besides four of us have GRP certificates and birth certificates saying we're female."

"Okay, it was a wrong thing to say. I apologise, besides I think of you as a real female and Trish and Danielle are so lovely, especially Danielle, she's a real beauty."

"Yeah, she turned out quite well, wonder what the next one will be like?"

"What?" she gasped.

"Well, I run a factory for turning boys into girls, didn't you know?"

She looked genuinely shocked.

"I was joking, but I have been accused of it several times."

"I suppose you do have quite a cluster at your house."

"Only because no one else would take children who were different. Trish went to two or three potential adoptees until they learned she was biologically a boy. They brought her back the same day on one occasion."

"I suppose some people are looking for perfection."

"If they are they demonstrate they have none in themselves and project their inadequacies on others."

"Hadn't thought of it before, I s'pose it mucks up their image of 2.4 kids somewhat."

"You two still talking?" quipped Diane coming back into the office.

"We're having a discussion on the best way to slice up rats." She turned up her nose at my suggestion.

"Did you see the palaeontology department got a mention for their study of pterosaur beaks or something?"

"It was necks, Diane."

"I was close," she muttered, then she said, "What's up with my computer?"

"I don't know, what is up with your computer?"

"Can't get on the internet."

"Go on the university intranet and ask someone from IT to have a look at it."

"Is yours okay?"

"It was earlier, hang on I shall take a look." I played with the laptop and discovered I couldn't access the internet either. "Broadband is down by the look of it," I called to her.

"We're under cyberattack," she called to me, "they've breached the firewall so the university has closed the broadband to everyone."

"Give them a ring and check that it's not a hoax by some disgruntled student."

"But the message on the screen says it's a genuine attack."

"Anyone can put one of those up." I dismissed her message, I know that Trish could certainly do one and Sammi could play with their whole system and occasionally has to sort something out for me.

I went and made us all a cup of tea while Diane spoke to IT. As I put a mug on her desk, she stated. "It's genuine all right, probably Russian in origin."

"Yeah, usually is or China."

"Why did they pick on us? Don't they know how much work I have to do?"

"Probably for two reasons. The first is if it's China, they want technology secrets and to see what contracts we have which they can infiltrate. If it's Putin and his cronies, they're looking to take over our system to use it to infiltrate or hack something much more important, possibly somewhere with defence contracts."

"Really? They are that devious?"

"Yep, my daughter, Sammi, spends half her life trying to keep the Russians out of the bank system. So far she has managed to do so."

"Gosh, are all your girls clever?"

"Trish is very clever as you know, Sammi is up there with her. If they start talking computers, I have no idea what they're on about."

"C'mon, Cathy, you're pretty bright, too," urged Debbie.

"Not in their league." I was quite happy to admit they were especially clever and that I wasn't.

"Yeah, but without your help, they wouldn't have made it, would they? You have special skills too, caring for people in trouble, advising and protecting them. They may be as bright as mercury vapour lamps but they don't have your mothering ones and I know which I'd rather have." Debbie declared this in a way that implied we'd know what she meant.

"Get me, Professor Gemmell, will you, Diane?"

My phone rang and I picked it up, "Hello, George, how is it going?"

"I haven't really got time to talk, Cathy, it's pretty bloody and if we don't find out what's going on very soon, we're going to be in serious trouble, our firewall was breached."

"Shall I see if my Sammi could offer some advice?"

"That's not the one who dropped out of the MSc course here, was it?"

"George, she did a doctorate at Imperial."

"So?"

"She teaches at Cambridge as a visiting reader and advises GCHQ on cybersecurity."

"Glad she's doing quite well, Cathy."

"Quite well? She's probably the leading expert in cybersecurity in Britain if not Europe, she runs the cybersecurity system for High Street Banks."

"I think we'll manage, but thanks anyway."

"George, I'll give you two hours, if we're not sorted by then, I'm going to the vice -chancellor."

"You can't threaten me, Cathy, I don't report to you."

"Two hours, George."

I finished my tea and Debbie finally went to annoy someone else. I then called Sammi. I had to wait for her to call me back.

She did an hour later, "Sorry, Mummy, only just got the message you wanted to speak to me."

"Okay, girl, I know how busy you are. We have a situation..."

"What has Trish done now?" she chuckled at me.

"No this is a real one, we're under cyberattack and they breached our firewall."

"Oh, not good."

"No, I can't order the book I wanted."

"Ha-ha, use your phone but don't go near the university server."

"I can wait until I get home. Look, if they need some help, could you?"

"I don't know, Mummy, Gemmell doesn't like me and I think he's a halfwit."

"Compared to you, so am I."

"Yeah, but at least you compensate by being an angel, he has no redeeming features whatsoever."

"No, I suppose a non-functioning arsehole doesn't, does it? It's like they performed a colostomy on him and took away most of his brain and his personality."

She laughed, "Hey that's really good, Mummy, a walking colostomy bag -- yeah, that's how I'll see him in future, full of shit."

"So would you help?"

"For you, Mummy, anything. Let me know when you need the cavalry."

"Thank you my darling." I rang off at least assured we had a fallback strategy when I went to dinner with the Vice-Chancellor, who happens to be her grandfather and my father. It pays to have friends in high places.