by Dorian Dawes
“Are you in trouble?” Ms. Artul said.
Talisha fought back the instinct to turn on her heels and leave. “Mom, I found one of the Valran Temples.” She held her helmet in front, revealing its new shape and color.
The older woman stood, stunned. She stumbled forward, taking the helmet in her shaking hands. The cigarette fell out her mouth and rolled against the metal grating.
“This is not my helmet,” Ms. Artul murmured to herself. Her eyes darted sharply. “What happened? What did you do?”
Talisha pressed closer. “Can I come inside and talk?”
THEY SAT AT a small round table in the kitchen. Talisha felt waves of memories wash over her as she stared at the hideous yellow wallpaper. It’d been six years since she’d stepped foot in this house. Everything looked exactly the same.
“How are things?” Talisha asked.
She removed her arm cannon and placed it on the table. Ms. Artul turned around, holding a pink tea kettle with both hands. Her eyes fell across the weapon and she made a pained grimace, almost like she hated even seeing the thing. Ms. Artul avoided touching it as she poured the tea.
“I can complain,” Ms. Artul said, taking a seat across from her. “But I won’t. Worst thing is the politicians on this planet are talking about raising the costs of healthcare insurance. I won’t be able to afford to take care of these kids if that happens, even with the money you’ve been sending in.”
“Why do they want to jack the prices again?” Talisha said, brow furrowed. She took a sip of tea and nearly choked. Still too strong, just like her mother.
“New Prime Minister,” Ms. Artul said and rolled her eyes. “They want to expand military defenses. You know why of course, they’re taking bribes from the weapons manufacturers. Anyway, you were going to give me an explanation about this armor.”
Talisha rattled off the entire story, including the conflict between the IGF and the Plymouth Corporation. Her mother’s eyes widened as she spoke of her psychic visions within the Valran Temple. For a few brief moments, the years melted from her face.
“I wish I could’ve seen that, Sam.” Ms. Artul leaned back in her chair. “I always thought there was more to the Valran, but you were the one who finally found it.”
Talisha flinched at hearing that name. She struggled to ignore it. “Do you know Commander Mattu?”
Ms. Artul’s face darkened. Her eyes flicked daggers in her daughter’s direction. “He’s a child killer. He’s why I quit the game.”
“Is he my father?”
There was a painful silence. “Yes. How’d you find out?”
“He told me, but I had my suspicions soon as he mentioned you.”
“You’re a lot alike,” Ms. Artul said, her shoulders looking suddenly weary. “Not the bad parts. You got all your worst bits from me.”
Talisha scoffed. “Charming, Mom.”
“Don’t be an ass, you know what I meant.” Ms. Artul sighed. “He’s a brilliant tactician. I mean truly brilliant. One of the sharpest minds in the galaxy. He knew things his superiors didn’t and railed against them, only ever acquiescing if they forced his hand.”
Talisha lowered her eyes, her fingers drumming along the warm surface of the ceramic mug. “He died in the temple. I don’t think he was a bad man.”
Ms. Artul turned her face away, clutching a hand over her mouth. “Is that why you came here? To make me feel guilty.”
“Damn it, Mom.” Talisha groaned. “I’m not here to attack or hurt you. It’s not always about you. I just…I thought if what he said about your relationship was true, you ought to know what happened.”
“You’re right.” Ms. Artul clinked her cup hard against the table, causing tea to spill over the edges of the cup and splash against the tablecloth. “I’m just an asshole. I’m the bad guy. Always have been.”
“You’re not bad,” Talisha said. “You and Mattu were similar. Flawed people who did some horrible things. You hung up your armor when you realized that.”
Ms. Artul’s eyes glassed over. She stared at the ceiling and sniffed. “I freaked out when you wanted to take my name at the start of your transition. I’d spent so many years trying to turn you into me, and too late I was afraid that I’d succeeded.”
“You know that’s not why I’m trans right?” Talisha gave her a sideways glance.
Ms. Artul nodded. “I know. I know. That’d be weird.”
“All right. Good.” Talisha took a deep breath and leaned forward. She fixed her eyes on the brown stain spreading across the tablecloth. “I took your name ’cause you were my hero.”
“Damn it, kid.” Ms. Artul stood and turned her back. She tapped her fingers against the edge of the counter. “You can still change your name, y’know. Find a better hero. There’s better women out there.”
“Not many who can own up to their mistakes and try to give back to the world,” Talisha said, rising from her seat. “You’re doing okay. I’m proud of you.”
Talisha watched her mother’s hands clench into fists, and then Ms. Artul collapsed into tears. Talisha rushed forward, meeting her with open arms. They held each other for a solid minute, sobbing into each other’s shoulders. The walls they’d erected around their hearts faltered, then crumbled.
“You are so much better than I ever was,” Ms. Artul whispered. “I love you.”
Talisha clung to her tightly. “I love you too, Mom.”
About the Author
Dorian Dawes is a self-described social justice witch and full-time gender disaster who never grew out of their goth phase. In addition to fiction, they have also written for tabletop rpgs and several published essays on feminism and LGBT issues. When not writing they can be found playing video games and plotting the revolution of the proletariat.
Website: www.patreon.com/doriandawes
Facebook: www.facebook.com/DorianDawes
Twitter: @RealDorianDawes
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