"Get these fuckin' things off me!" Quinlan Joy shouted in Galactic. The short Kaylin was in baggy black clothing and black boots. Their hood had been forced down to show the white fur of their head. Most of their face had no traces of hair but the long day had left them with a faint shadow of hair down each side of their face. Quinlin was struggling against the light blue binders that had been placed on them to get their hood up.
The Reltoan next to them had been gesturing wildly as they placed their hands in cuffs and took their personal items. The jostling irritated Quinlan even more, but they kept their mouth shut. The Quextil at the rear of the compartment was saying something and the Thrassian, Findlon, responded. Quinlan was busy eyeing the armored and armed guards that sat opposite the four of them on the other side of the compartment.. They looked over the guards, most likely Marsport police, and snarled, "Fuckin' fascist twats"
***
"Fascist twats" Quinlan said aloud. This got some chuckles and stifled laughs from his classmates. They were all in a large lecture hall. The hall was old and built in the style of old Kaylin architecture. The walls were stone. The floor and ceiling were reclaimed wood. The seats, which were on a slanted floor that was higher at the back, were made of wood with built-in desks for notes. The stone and wood allowed one to be heard with little effort. Quinlan knew this.
Up front, standing in front of the large monitor was the lecturer, Musa Utherr. Before being interrupted by Quinlan's outburst, they were covering the events of the Purge.That period in Galactic history where an unknown pathogen reduced a republic of one hundred trillion lives to forty trillion. Specifically he had been reviewing the GRC's response to the outbreak of the Purge Pathogen.
"Thank you for your input," he said with his ears flattened a little. He gestured with his hand to quell the laughter that threatened to erupt. "Not quite the response I was going for. Why? Why are they fascists?"
Quinlan wasn't expecting his quip to generate such a measured response or question. It didn't take them long to formulate an answer. "The bastards were murdering whole planets. They didn't know what the pathogen was, or is. They didn't know disease vectors. Just wholesale slaughter with only a whiff of a hope it might stop it. They could have tried quarantining the planets instead of destroying them. Fascist. Bastards."
"Yes, they could have tried less drastic options, but we have the benefit of hindsight. At the time they did not know how the pathogen spread or what it was. All was known was if one infected individual made it off world they would infect everyone else they came in contact with. One hundred percent transmission rate. One hundred percent infection rate. No natural immunity."
"If, as you suggested, they quarantined worlds, how do they keep people on the planet? Blockade? How many ships and personnel and other assets and resources would it take? Would they do it to every planet or just those that showed infection?" The lecturer asked his barrage of questions calmly. Quinlan felt frustration with an equal measure of embarrassment beginning to bubble in them.
"Those are questions the government should answer. After all, what is a central government for if not to deal with the tough, life threatening questions? Shouldn't they have strived to keep as many people alive as possible? Yes! It would have taken resources and will, and money, but wouldn't it be worth it? Only a fascist government sees something threatening and the first response is to burn it with fire." That response generated some more chuckles.
"Is it the role of the government? What other choices could have been made? Thank you for the questions. This helps to illustrate why we need to study history. So we understand what shaped our current society and to learn from our mistakes and triumphs. Unfortunately, that will have to wait until next time. Class dismissed," the lecturer said. As he was packing up his things to head to the next class, he gave Quinlan a slight nod and a smile.
Quinlan felt sullen. In their mind all the lecture had achieved was to reinforce the narrative that the state was always right. The state got to write the history and they did so to make it seem as if the state's choices were inevitable and good. How can a political body responsible for the deaths of trillions in the past three centuries be good?
Quinlan was becoming more and more dismayed with the pursuit of higher education. They found no new ideas, just old ones being regurgitated and presented as revolutionary. The only classes they enjoyed were given by the Information Systems department. At least in those classes they could practice their coding and spiking skills. While those classes also focused on what were called foundational skills, Quinlan was advanced enough that the lecturers, professors, and graduate students let them be.
Quinlan groaned as they stepped outside of the lecture hall. The sun was peaking through the clouds of a mild winter day. They responded by pulling their hood up to shield their eyes. Before them lay the central campus of Isooma University in the northern capital, Seekoomee Noona of Quamak. Quamak had been settled by the Council of Elders hundreds of years ago as an agricultural research station. As such its cities and towns used the architecture style of the Council of Elders. This meant that buildings blended in with the natural surroundings in order to have a minimal environmental impact. This meant Isooma's campus looked like a series of soft rolling hills with walking paths, natural and some made of concrete, under a forested canopy. The buildings were moistly under ground and met the surface just under the crest of the hills. Looking at the hills closely enough one could find skylights and other infrastructure that was necessary for the buildings, but it was all carefully blended into the natural surroundings.
Quinlan had seen it their whole life and mostly disregarded it. To them it was all background noise easily filtered out visually. Doors were in logical places and the buildings seemed so glaringly obvious that they were poor attempts to blend into nature. All of it was colored by their grey mood. They saw none of the wonder as they walked back to their rooms. Under this 100-year old tree. Through this door. Avoid the lift since there would be too many people in a tight space. Down these stairs. Down this hall. Scan the card. Open the door. Shut the door. Now they were safe.
As with most students Quinlan's rooms consisted of a small bathroom and a main room with a kitchenette, desk, and a sleeping area. It was a safe space. An environment completely, well mostly, in their control. As such they had turned it into a dark cave where they could shut out the world. The skylight that brought in the sun had been covered and the lights were on low; just bright enough to keep from bumping into things.
A sense of relief flowed through Quinlan as they took their hood down. The black nostrils on their short pink muzzle flared as they took in another calming breath. Their large orange, almond shaped eyes briefly took in the room. Then their hands, the back of which were covered in short, dense tan hair, reached up and scratched at the similarly short, dense white hair on their head and neck. Their pointed ears on the side of their hear twitched slightly as they listened to the familiar sounds of this safe haven.
They moved hastily to the desk and managed to deftly take their shoes off in the process. Once at the desk Quinlan ejected the data wafer from their handheld, which was the brain and memory of the device, and plugged it into the desktop. Now they could use the whole surface of the desk as a display or the built in holographic interface and have access to all of their data. They opted for the holographic interface as they would be mainly reading. The dark colors of the interface popped into being as the computer started.
Quinlan flicked through email, and school related messages not really interested in digesting more dogma. Their messaging app popped up a notification. They almost dismissed it until they noticed the handle, halt.set.fire.
How was your day, halt texted.
More indoctrination. More dogma, Quinlan texted back as errArena.trash.
Why are you even in those classes? At that school? You are smarter than all of them and a sP1k3r like you is already better than all of them combined, commented halt. Despite themselves Quinlan smiled a little.
Halt, where else can I get access to all these wonderful toys? They joked. What else am I to do, halt? Without a degree my chances of getting a job in cybersecurity is about null.
Arena! You know better! Info sec was started by sP1k3rS who, after using their dark powers, decided to sucker cash out the ones they had targeted. That's how info sec and cyber sec start! Halt admonished in glowing letters floating above the desk. Quinlan thought about it. Maybe they could go private. Except there was one glaring problem.
Nice! sarcasm! Think about it! You have hated the indoctrination you've had to go through since setting foot on that campus. Mandatory education classes. Getting marked down for writing the truth. Mandatory 'team' building to further indoc you for office work. It's all shit.
You, me, necr0, genFail and fAe could start our own info sec business. If we need funds… well we got the skills to secure, inSecure, that also. Halt ended the message with a series of icons that meant they were serious but being light hearted. Quinlan wasn't sure. It did ring as a good idea. They were getting very disillusioned with public education.
Term is over in a 25-day. Then maybe.
Maybe then we can entertain his idea.
Just maybe what they needed was some time off.
***
The next few ten-days were like walking through mud for Quinlan. They attended classes less and less. Took the exams when required and was managing to pass, but the average grade was dwindling. Their program counselor along with concerned lecturers and professors reached out. They wanted to know if everything was okay. Was there something they could do to help reinvigorate Quinlan's interests?
Quinlan just played it off. Said everything was okay. Intoned and heavily suggested they were just tired because it was the end of a term. Then with just five days left in the term they met with Lecturer Musa Utherr at a local tea shop. The tea shop was a quaint isolated building under a flowered hill. The rumor was that Leaves of Isooma had been here longer than the university.
Inside, the lighting was cozy yet not too dim. The seating areas were separated from the bar and main room by columns and arches. The tables were old wood tops worn smooth by decades, if not centuries, of use. The tables were low to fit Kaylin anatomy and the seats were mats upon which were pillows. Customers sipped hot tea and politely kept their conversations low.
"I'll be honest, I miss the fervor you brought to class at the beginning of the term. You would provide an interesting counterpoint to historical events we would discuss, " Musa said with concern after they ordered and observed the cultural niceties.
"Yeah. Well," responded Quinlan dejectedly. "What's the point? It is history, nothing I say can change it."
"Understanding history is understanding the present. It helps us to understand ourselves and how we got here. Part of that understanding is analysis. Part of analysis is making sure you are looking at the events of the past thoroughly and one way to do that is to apply… unorthodox… view points," countered Musa. "That's where your very vocal view point came in. It helped everyone else think about the events of the past and how they could apply to our present."
"Yeah. Well. Glad I could be a useful tool for indoctrination," Quinlan smirked as they said it to emphasize the sarcasm. Musa just sipped his tea and took a penetrating look at Quinlan. Their hood was up as usual, but their shoulders were slumped. Their arms were on the table and it seemed they could barely hold up the torso they were attached to.
"Ya, know," Musa's demeanor became more casual, more relaxed. "When I was doing my studies there came a time where I felt like I was stuck. Mired down by expectations and responsibility. I almost quit. Instead I took a year off. I spent my time traveling and really just recharging. Before I knew it I was ready and eager to get back to my studies and even went on to graduate school." Quinlan's posture lifted as he listened to the description of a year off. The hood slid slightly backwards to reveal their full muzzle. They even took a sip of their tea which had largely been ignored.
"A year off? You can do that?" they asked carefully as if it might be some kind of trick.
"Sure, "Musa said with a smile. He was glad to have made a dent in the gloom that had been surrounding Quinlan. "Your credits are good for 10 years. You can even hold your spot if you let the university know in advance. Is that something you'd be interested in?" Musa was almost beaming, glad to have had an answer for Quinlan's woes.
"Am I obligated to come back after a year? What if I decide continuing my education isn't something I want to do?" Quinlan could already see the plan halt had suggested solidifying.
"No, you're not required to return after a year. You just need to let admin know that you are taking a year off so they hold your spot in your program. If you decide not to return you would just notify admin again so they can close your spot. Even then the only consequence would be if you change your mind, and want to come back, you would need to re-apply," Musa said, taken slightly aback by the intensity and interest Quinlan was exhibiting.
""Is it really that easy?" Quinlan asked dubiously. Could it really be this effortless? Could it be this close?
"Yes, it is." responded Musa. He felt the rush of satisfaction and elation that he could help bring Quinlan out of their sulk. Before they could relish the feeling Quinlan was standing and making a move to leave.
"Thank you, sir. Thank you for the tea. I… I need to go." They said hurriedly as they gathered their bag and pulled the hood of their garment down to cover their face. Musa barely had time to utter his response before Quinlan was out the door of the cafe.
"You're welcome" Musa said to no one and finished his tea.
***
As the term wound down, Quinlan spent most of it preparing for their year off. They had discovered that Humans called it a gap year. Well, they intended to make it quite a large gap.
Quinlan had notified the administration that they intended to take a year off after the term was done. The green and white, scaled skinned Nel ari they had talked to seemed to handle the request as if it was an everyday occurrence. It took barely 5 minutes before the gap year was noted in their file and they were done.
Next Quinlan and halt went about recruiting the others into their spiker collective. Necr0 and genFail were up for anything and the prospect of the cybersecurity challenges and making money had them signing on before halt had finished the pitch. fAe took a little longer. She was worried about the legal ramifications.
"Just to be clear, the goal of this is to form a cybersec firm?" fAe said in slightly accented galactic during the video call with Quinlan and halt. All three had their video feeds off which was normal. The video call just made it easier to talk and share information if needed.
"Yes. We would sell our services to companies, small ones at first, to help them secure their information systems and networks," halt said. Quinlan was still not used to how he sounded. Perfect galactic with no hint of the typical Core World erudite accent.
"And where are our starting funds coming from?" fAe asked suspiciously.
"Well…" hesitated halt.
"Well, that is a grey area," interjected Quinlan. "None of us are independently wealthy, unless someone is keeping that a secret. So, we will need to use our skills to secure some seed financing." They tried to put a smile in their voice hoping it helped convince fAe.
"So, we will use our spiking skills to get some fundage," fAe voice seemed more relaxed as she said this. "Well, good. I was afraid you two had gone pure white hat and… boring. I just didn't want to peddle my skills for the benefit of some white shirts. I need some nefarious shit to keep my skills sharp." Quinlan laughed. Partly due to the release of stress from fAe seeming to be on board and partly because they genuinely found the statement funny.
"So you're good?" asked halt as he seeked clarification.
"I'm good. Just needed to verify that we wouldn't be total good guys. Let's be big damn grey hats," fAe said in agreement and finished it off with a laugh. Her laugh was pure joy to Quinlan. The rest of the conversation turned to catching up on the latest attempts to access information systems illegally. The three of them also decided that in order for this venture to work all five of them needed to meet in person. Halt mentioned that he had already secured an office/warehouse in Marsport. He volunteered that as a meeting place since it was as close to neutral territory as possible. Now they all had to get there.
Money. Quinlan needed money. It would take a sizable sum to buy passage on a starliner. Not to mention that it would take at least two hops. The first one would be from Quamak to the heart of the Council of Elders, Kaylin Tor in the Kaylin Mu system. The second would be from Kaylin Tor to Mars. That would be a one way trip of fifty days. They would also be out of communication for most of it as they traveled in interstellar space. That thought caused them a little bit of panic. Their life is so intertwined with information systems and communications that it felt like someone would be taking away their sight or hearing or both.
Quinlan fought down the panic and focused on getting funds. Then they realized they didn't need funds. They needed passage on a star ship that was going to Kaylin Tor and then Mars. Maybe there was a way to use their skills to book passage. Maybe they could use the facilities here on campus. Quinlan set to work.
It took most of the next ten days with a few near misses, but they managed to book passage on a bulk freighter, The Pale Kwikix, for the first leg of the journey. The cargo ship was looking for passengers on its journey back to its home port to help offset the cost. Quinlan had used their skills to get added to the passenger manifest for free, and had also secured a solo cabin. If it proved to be a good trip they would make sure to leave a gratuity to help offset their stolen passage.
For the leg of the journey from Kaylin Tor to Mars, Quinlan used their skills to secure discount codes so that they could use their own funds to book passage on the Eye of Sol. Pride of the Red Sky Star Lines. Since they were using their own money Quinlan made sure to take a small interior cabin.
Luckily there was free public transit from the campus to the shuttle port where they would board one of the small orbital craft that flew from the surface of Quamak to the space station. From the space station they would directly board The Pale Kwikix and their journey would begin. All said it would cost Quinlan less than three thousand syntuls to fly from their little research colony to the metropolis of Marsport.
Quinlan was due to depart in a few days and would be the one who was traveling the longest. During the next 50 days each individual had been given a task to build a legitimate portfolio that could be used for clients. Documenting how they would test for vulnerabilities and their knowledge of potential intrusion methods. Of course some of that would be a fiction as they were all guilty of spiking; illegal access to information systems. They were sure all of them were creative enough to come up with ways to spin it so it seemed as ethical spiking.
Quinlan spent their last few days before departure making sure they had all they would need for the trip. They also took an inventory of items that would need replacing before the 50 days of the trip were over and before the year off ended. Finally they were boarding the small shuttle to the space station. Their adventure had begun.
***
Twenty-five days on The Pale Kwikix were more pleasant than Quinlan expected. The passengers, Quinlan and three others, were restricted to their quarters, the small galley, and the bathrooms. This suited them since they had no desire to make friends or be overly social. Quinlan adapted a nocturnal schedule. They would sleep during the ship's day time, when it was the busiest. They would emerge from their quarters during the night cycle. Usually no one was around but the few encounters required nothing more than a nod, a grunt, or a very short greeting.
After their arrival at Keeangir Ata, the main space station around Kaylin Tor, Quinlan hurriedly logged on to the local communication network. As expected they were flooded with messages from the other four. Wishes of safe travel, questions on how to handle certain parts of the portfolio, and the newer messages were farewells as the others began their own journeys.
Barely looking up they answered the questions, posted their own well wishes, and updated the group on their status. As they were typing away to a query by necr0 on how to present their own spiking as intrusion testing, Quinlan narrowly avoided a Council of Elders welcoming committee. Since the introduction of the humans to the galaxy they welcome committees had become known as bomb squadrons. THis was because one of the cultural traditions of the Council of Elders was hugging unexpectedly and enthusiastically. Hug bombing some in the Solar Alliance had called it.
Quinlan definitely did not unwanted physical attention. They ducked out of the way but still had to shrug off a hand or two on their shoulders before they got away. Hurriedly they made their way to seats in a lounge area by the boarding gate for the Eye of Sol.
"Fucking welcome committee," they cursed in Galactic. "Fuckin' hug bombing twats!" That last part was in English. They hadn't noticed that they had sat down next to a Thrassian.
"Are you from the Council of Elders?" the elderly Thrassian asked.
"No!" they exclaimed, almost shouting."I ain't no Corey bitch. I grew up free." They said with a pride that surprised Quinlan themself. Looking over to the Thrassian they notice a glimmer of surprise then their eyes and mouth softened into a smile. Finally Quinlan took a good look at the Thrassian that was their seat mate.
The Thrassian, for Quinalna the broader nose and brow ridge made them certain they were not human, was dressed in browns. Black business shirt with an open collar was under a brown vest. The slacks were also brown as were the shoes. Somehow he made it all look casual as if they wore this every day. That and their demeanor remind Quinlan of a professor or lecturer.
Quinlan was keenly aware of the silence after their prideful outburst. Quinlan had also further signaled they didn't want to talk by pulling their hood down and pulling their knees to their chest. For a while the silence was welcome. Then a strange, foreign feeling began to invade their quiet solitude. They began to wonder how their outburst made the Thrassian feel. They weren't un-empathetic, but normally how others reacted to them never lingered on their mind.
"Hey! Old one!" Quinlan said after a while.
"Yes?" The Thrassian said in a calm and pleasing tone.
"Sorry about my outburst earlier." Quinlan said softer, quieter that they had been talking.
"Thank you for the apology, it isn't needed. I can understand and empathize with the pride of those who grew up in the Fringe feel." the Thrassian answered. "'Understanding is best between friends and family' said Teluma Gynt." This lost Quinlan for a few seconds as they tilted their head in confusion. "It means.. Well never mind what it means. My name is Amdifynir Findlon." He extended his hand in the universal sign of greetings and peace.
Quinlan extended their tan furred hand and hesitantly shook the offered hand. "Quinlan Joy, they them," they said.
"He him" Findlon said as his right hand touched his chest.
"So now that we know each other's name we can be friendly and reach understanding," Quinlan stated, showing off just a little.
"Yes. You do understand," Findlon said with a smile on his lips and surprise in his voice. "Forgive me. As an Old One and lecturer I have grown accustomed to others not knowing what I am talking about." He said with a slight bow of the head. Quinlan chuckled slightly. They knew many professors, lecturers and teachers who weren't so self aware.
The conversation continued for a few more minutes. It was pleasant enough but eventually Quinlan felt embarrassed which led to them curling back into a ball. The rest of the wait to board was suffered in silence.
***
Quinlan headed from the arrival gate to their destination gate with their head down. They hadn't even bothered to access their handheld to check messages. They were just glad to be off that large and noisy ship. The last twenty-five days had come close to torture for Quinlan. Too many people. Too much noise. Just too much everything. Even during the ship's night, Quinlan's preferred time to be awake, it was crowded. It had been very hard to dodge and avoid others. Luckily they had spent most of the time in their quarters working on the portfolio and ordering room service.
As they cleared the arrival gate on the space station, Mars One, they found a quiet place to wait out the layover before the shuttle would take them down to the surface and Marsport. Annoyingly their handheld began buzzing. With a slight growl they pulled it out of the oversized pocket. On it was a message to report to the Red Sky Star Lines kiosk next to gate B5. Grumbling, they headed towards the gate and the kiosk.
When they got to the kiosk there was a Thrassian or human and a grey feathered Quextil in front of them. Then it dawned on Quinlan that the one in front was Findlon. This was the first time they had seen them since their encounter before boarding the Eye of Sol. Shortly after getting in line a blue skinned Reltoan got in line behind them. Oddly, they noticed, there was no one else in line or around their gate.
Special Upgrade my ass, thought Quinlan as they took a seat in the lounge area next to gate B5. Quinlan took a seat that was well away from the others. It didn't keep them from being noticed.
"Quinlan Joy? Did you get the special upgrade as well?" asked Findlon. Quinlan responded by raising their hand with their palm perpendicular to the floor and quickly raised it up. The gesture was meant to be rude and convey to the other party to go away. Findlon seemed to understand and the conversation died before it began.
After that Quinlan focused on checking the messages that had piled up during this second leg of the journey. Again they were mostly updates and check-ins. They got on the message group and let the group know they had arrived at Mars One but were being delayed by a special upgrade. At least the delay wouldn't be long nor would it make them the last one to arrive.
When it was time to board the tram to the shuttle, Quinlan tucked in behind the Reltoan and boarded. The tram was lush and not an ordinary tram, but Quinlan hardly noticed. Their head was down as they worked on their handheld. They barely noticed when the tram stopped and it was time to exit to board the shuttle.
The shuttle was even better looking inside than the tram had been. Still Quinlan remained unimpressed. They were so close to starting their new life that the excitement blotted out everything else. They were so filled with anticipation that time seemed to move at a glacial rate.
It took too long for the shuttle to fly down the gravity well. Too long to taxi then dock. The time it was taking was becoming excruciating.
When the shuttle's cabin door finally opened, Quinlan bolted to be the first down the tube. They didn't notice the silence. They only were aware of the door at the end that would open unto their new life. As they opened the door they noticed a wall of individuals in black armor with lights and weapons pointed at them. Stunned it took a few moments for what was happening to register. As they were about to expel an obscenity laced triad in English they were bodily grabbed and lifted through the hatch. Their hands were put in cuffs and their hood was forcibly pulled back. Lastly they were forced into a waiting police tram.