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Mother Says

Querl visits his mother. This benefits no one. ___________________________________________

“Hello, mother.” The woman on the other side of the blue-tinted force field looks up. She has not changed much since the last time Querl saw her, tall and wiry with long blonde hair cascading around a face he can’t help but pick out every similarity in. She’s holding a prison-issued holopad, the kind the warden swears can’t be connected to any off-world network or used for anything illegal or improper, yet in her thin, sallow hands it looks as much a weapon as any blade or blaster, capable of wrecking as much havoc as she ever could with her freedom intact. He makes a mental note to question the warden about it later, to ask why someone like her, like them, is allowed near a device like that.

“Querl,” she says, her mouth twisting into a toothy replica of a smile. Her eyes remain fixed on him, still and cold, enough to send a chill up his spine. “I’m so glad you could come.”

“What do you want?” Querl crosses his arms, shifting from one foot to the other. He’d felt utterly confident when he’d first received her correspondence and had to justify the visit to his deeply sceptical friends, but as he stands there in front of her — awash in the reality of her presence — he doesn’t feel so confident anymore. What had seemed like a reasonable request at the time now feels like just another stupid, emotional mistake. He’s made a lot of those recently.

One of his thought tracks recalls those dreams he used to have as a child, the ones where she didn’t leave. Or the ones where she’d show up out of the blue to save him. In those dreams she was kind and caring, she’d listen and encourage him and smile ever so sweetly even though he could never quite focus on her face. He’d hated waking up from those dreams then, because waking up meant facing the reality of her absence. This feels like waking up.

“Is that any way to talk to your mother?” she asks, snapping him back to reality. “Now, I was reading the news the other day and came across this fascinating article about you and one of your little hero friends,” she continues, still smiling, but it’s the smile of someone who only knows how to go through the motions. Speaking in a noticeably higher voice than during their last meeting she lets it rise and fall like every word and sentence has been rehearsed a thousand times over. It itches at the back of his mind like a scabbing wound. He wonders why she cares.

“I fail to see how that requires my presence here.” As much as it had surprised him to find out that she was allowed to send messages — that she’d finally decided to do so now, after so long — he had figured she must have something important to say if she went through the trouble of doing so.

“Should your own mommy have to deign herself to reading meritless magazines to know what you are, what do the Terrans you love so much call it… up to?” Despite her well-practised enunciation the words roll off her tongue awkwardly, like someone has made last minute edits to her carefully practised script. He wants to tell himself that that’s good, that maybe she’s trying to improve and change, but it makes his skin crawl.

“Again, what do you want? You said it was urgent, and your sudden interest in my life could hardly be classified as such.”

She continues as if he’d said nothing at all.

"This friend of yours is human, is he not? How long do they live — one, two hundred years?” she says. ”Don't you think you’re being awfully selfish, stealing his entire life away while you give him only a fragment of yours? Remaining young and reckless as he grows weak and frail by your side, unable to live a normal human life because of you?" She rearranges her face into a mockery of concern. "Is that what he deserves?"

Querl grits his teeth, his hands curling into fists at his sides. Anger flares in his chest, hot and acidic. What an idiot he has been. Again. Of course she doesn’t have an actual reason to see him. This is just another game to her, a new angle to sow her misery. All she’s ever wanted from him has been for her benefit, there’s no reason for that to have changed now. The only logical decision would be to walk away and leave her alone with her poisonous words, to cut her out of his life once and for all and never come running at her call again.

He steps forward.

"As if you care."

She stands. Even now she towers above him, forcing him to tilt his head back to meet her gaze, no less imposing behind a force field and clad in prison greys. Her eyes narrow until the concern has been replaced by a sneer, but even that seems like a strange emotion to her, like something she’s heard about and only vaguely knows how to articulate.

"You care. You're as addled by your emotions as all the other mindless beings out there," she says. “And you know that my assessment is correct. You will outlive your friends and then there’ll be no one left to care for you and your fragile mind. And they will all suffer for it, as you walk alongside them and show them what the universe has denied them.”

His jaw aches, his body so tense it feels like it could snap. He imagines throwing himself against the forcefield, futilely pounding his fists into it until she stops talking. Pushing down the bile and urge to yell he forces his voice to remain steady, speaking in short and clipped words.

"Why did you ask me to come here?" he says.

"Sweetheart, mommy only wanted to make sure you're not getting in over your head." Once again her voice is saccharine, the very model of a doting mother’s voice.

He slams his fist against the force field. It makes contact with a dull thud and a jolt of pain that shoots out of his hand and into his arm. She doesn’t even flinch.

"Grife! Cut it out! We both know this is just another one of your acts. You’ve never given a nass about me unless it was for your own benefit.”

"You wound me,” she says, while actually sprocking pouting down at him like an insolent toddler. “Is it so impossible that I've changed, been reformed by the exquisite medical staff on this planetoid? Do you truly believe me incapable of that?"

“Yes! You've had two decades to learn to care and you told me you did everything in your power to achieve that before trying to kill me, why the nass would this be it? What could a pack of prison psychiatrists possibly have to say that you haven’t heard before?”

“Things and people change, Querl, you of all people should know that. You haven’t always been like this, have you?” For a second he hesitates, which is all his mind needs to catch up with him. The sudden burst of anger drains out of him like air through a compromised hull and he inches back from the force field, crossing his arms again once he comes to a stop. Had he not struggled for years himself, dealing with his feelings and trauma and the anomaly and implants and all that came with it? He’d become better with time, why couldn’t she?

“I know I have not been the best mommy to you, but I can assure you that being coupled with a human will only lead to suffering. I have had short-lived companions before, most of them did not see any longtime benefits from our relationship.” As she speaks her shoulders start to slump and she turns away from him, letting her hair obscure her face. Despite her stature she looks small. Small and lonely.

He hesitates before speaking. “I thought you said you couldn’t feel love.”

“I can’t, but they did. And it did them no favours.” She sighs heavily. “But I suppose all children need to make their own mistakes, even if they’re foolish ones.”

Querl inches backwards. This new side of her unnerves him, but as much as he rakes his mind for an explanation — desperately tries to look to her voice or demeanour for any sign of one — he comes up empty-handed. Where she’d been forward and mocking and saccharine before she’s now demure and small, a lonely woman in a restrictive prison cell. He doesn’t know if that’s the real her. If there’s any version of her that is truly real.

“I need to leave,” he mumbles.

“Thank you for visiting, sweetheart, I do get so lonely down here.” She blinks, her eyes still devoid of something. Querl retreats out the door, sighing in relief as the lock engages behind him.

------------------------------

Her words cling to him as he leaves, echoing through most of his thought tracks as he desperately tries to make sense of them. Any thought of speaking to the warden has been left behind for another day. He needs to leave. Needs to get home.

Even as he settles into a seat in the Takron Galtos shuttle, huddled in a too large coat with the hood pulled up to cover most of his face, lest he be recognised, he can’t get them out of his head. It’s not like he didn’t know. He’d always known, it just hadn’t mattered at first and then things had progressed so quickly and it had never come up. And it had been so easy not to think about it, to push any thought of age and life away, to just look at the next experiment or the next life or death situation or the next sweet moment of kisses stolen away between missions and work. Of Lyle’s warm hands against his face and of feeling like he finally belonged somewhere, too drunk on life to realise that it couldn’t last forever.

He used to think he’d die long before his ageing became an issue. His caretakers would tell him that people hated his family for what they’d done, that the galaxy was full of people who longed for the blood of a dead Brainiac on their hands, if only for a small piece of vengeance. He’d long ago accepted that as his end, that someone would eventually catch up to him. Even as he ventured out into the world and discovered its indifference he still held on to that belief. In recent years — after being lost and losing so much — he’d started to believe that he would in all likelihood die during a mission. The idea that he might die of old age had seemed preposterous.

Querl sighs and stares out the darkened window at the endless expanse of stars outside the shuttle. Perhaps she, despite her behaviour and everything she’s done, is right. Perhaps it is selfish to expect a human to live with someone so different, who can offer so little in return for a lifetime of commitment. His own experience with Coluan ageing is theoretical at best; he doesn’t know how his mental development will compare to a human, but he won’t grow old alongside them, that much is clear. Perhaps they will get another ten years together, maybe twenty. But eventually they’ll grow old, and he simply won’t. At least not for many centuries. Those who are simply his friends can presumably handle it well enough, distance themselves as needed and not be too affected by his perceived immaturity. But it would be irresponsible to put that burden on his partner. He knows it would. Querl knows he shouldn’t make his life difficult and what is making him live according to the standards of an entirely alien species, if not difficult?

The trip home feels endless, ships crawling across the stars as they slowly bring him closer to Earth. To home. He switches from the Takron Galtos shuttle to an uncomfortably crowded express ship to the inner Centaurus Arm, then to a local shuttle to Earth. It’s beyond late when he finally arrives on Legion World, and his body aches with exhaustion. But all through the journey his conversation with his mother reverberates through his mind, and he makes a decision.

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Querl flings his coat onto the lone armchair in the living area of his quarters. It doesn’t add noticeably to the already messy state of the room, every flat surface littered with papers and holopads and mechanical parts and more or less abandoned projects he neither can nor wants to think about at that moment. He’ll deal with it later. Tomorrow. He has to do this while he’s still determined, before he can convince himself to keep living selfishly.

The door to the sleeping quarters slides open with a low hiss, revealing a considerably cleaner and sparsely lit room. Lyle is sitting cross-legged on his bed, dressed in a loose black bathroom Querl doesn’t remember owning with his still wet hair brushed back from his forehead. An abandoned holopad lies next to him on the bed, but he’s looking at Querl, smiling sweetly as his dark eyes glitter fondly. There’s a warm beauty to him that it took Querl far too long to notice, but it feels like it’s all he’s seen these last few months. The idea of losing it again makes him want to abandon every thought of doing what’s right, to instead lie down next to him on the bed and dive right back into being selfish and self-fulfilled. But Lyle deserves better.

“You’re back. How did it go?” Despite Lyle’s smile there’s a wrinkle of worry between his eyebrows and a tightness in his eyes. Querl swallows through a suddenly too dry throat, trying to keep his own face and voice from betraying him.

“She didn’t want anything of importance. I should have expected as much.” Lyle eyes him warily and Querl can only hope his suspicion stems from his, and Ayla and Gates’, general disapproval of the trip.

“Figures,” he eventually says, pushing his holopad fully out of the way and stretching out his arms over his head. “And could have told you as much. But I’m glad it wasn’t anything serious, at least.” Lyle pushes himself off the bed and closes the gap between them in one swift movement, standing so close that Querl imagines he can feel the heat radiating off of him. He cups Querl’s cheek with one hand, gently rubbing a calloused thumb over his cheekbone. It’s warm and intoxicating and Querl tilts his head, lets himself indulge in the touch just one last time before grabbing Lyle’s hand and pulling it away. He takes a step back, remembering the door only as his back hits it.

Lyle blinks.

“Querl?” he asks, the worry on his face deepening. Querl steels himself and tries to concentrate on the thoughts that have been swirling in his mind since his conversation with his mother. He pushes away any thought of Lyle’s warmth, and of the guilt his expression makes him feel.

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea for us to keep doing this,” he says, voice strained.

“I- what? What this?” Lyle says.

“This, well, us.” Querl points between them, his hand numb. “It might be better for both of us if we just… if we just don’t.”

“How is that better?” Lyle steps back, face hardening. A treacherous part of Querl whispers that there’s still time to take it back, that he can lie his way out of this. He knows he shouldn’t.

“I don’t think our species’ ageing processes are compatible. Your lifespan will only last about an eighth to a fourth of mine and-”

“So, you want to break up with me, right now, because I’ll die in a hundred years or so and that’ll make you sad?” Lyle sounds, for lack of a better description, unimpressed. There’s not much worry left in his expression now.

“It’s not that,” Querl says, defensively holding up his hands in front of himself. “Being with me won’t be like being with another human. I’m not going to age alongside you and go through regular human life events with you.”

“Merde. Yeah, thanks, I know.” Lyle sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose. “You can be so dense, do you know that?”

“I’m no-”

"Yes, yes you are. Do you think dating for half a year means we have to spend our entire lives together now?” Lyle doesn’t wait for him to answer. “And I sprocking know. It’s not some big dark secret you’ve been keeping from me, it’s literally Xenobiology 101.”

“Ah.”

“Ah indeed.” Lyle rolls his eyes. “Where did you get this nass from?”

What just minutes before had seemed like logical reasoning lies irreparably shattered in Querl’s mind, a mess of thoughts and ideas that for some reason seemed so orderly before. But right here, right now, in the soft light of his room and with an angry Lyle standing right in front of him, they only seem utterly thoughtless.

“Querl?” Lyle says, slightly louder and with a deep note of irritation.

“My mother…” Querl admits, glancing down and away from Lyle, unable to keep looking at him as the reality of the situation catches up to him. The tips of his ears burn and he swallows dryly as a tense silence stretches out between them.

“Cool,” Lyle eventually says, voice strung tight. “And why have you been taking relationship advice from your mother who, need I remind you, tried to murder you for fun?”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“It sure sounded like that!”

“Well, it wasn’t. Her actions don’t discredit everything she says, particularly not if she’s simply stating an objective fact.”

Lyle sighs.

“Look at me,” he says, voice sharp. Even though his stomach churns with anticipation of what he’ll face, Querl obliges. “Thanks,“ Lyle continues. ”You’ve got to stop acting like you know better than everyone else. People make their own decisions for their own reasons, you can’t make them for them and act like that’s for the greater good. And you especially can’t act like that because your unstable mum got into your head about something.”

“The thought had occurred to me before she mentioned it.”

“But you didn’t act on it before she said something. And, you know, you could just have brought it up like a normal person. It wouldn’t have been so hard to ask if I’d thought about it too, but instead you decided to be some kind of noble hero and try to break up with me for my own good.” If there’s one thing Querl doesn’t know it’s people. People are annoying and fraught with unstable emotions that threaten to spill over at any moment, there are few if any rules that govern their behaviour. Or at least so it seems, save for moments like this, when Lyle explains them with such ease that they might as well be second degree equations. It’s one of his many gifts, and perhaps the one that truly sets them apart. Querl resents it, at times. Times like these.

“Well?” Another flare of irritation.

“I suppose you’re correct…” Querl bites his lip. He didn’t do anything wrong. Except he did. But saying those two words still feels like admitting undeserved defeat. “I’m sorry.” He hates apologising. He’s not supposed to be wrong.

“Thanks, love the sincerity. Are you even taking this seriously?” He’s seen Lyle angry and irritated before, he’s even yelled at him at times. But this feels different, like there’s something unspoken hanging in the air between them, an electric current that makes his skin prickle.

“I am.”

“Uhu, and you still want to break up with me?” Lyle says, voice so calm and steady despite the edge in his words, sharp like a razor ready to cut.

“I didn’t want to break up with you in the first place.” Did he? No, he didn’t, he just had to, he only wanted what was best for them both. For Lyle.

“Could have fooled me. Actually, you know what, we’re done here. Be alone, if that’s what you want.” Just as quickly as he’d approached Querl he turns around, grabs his holopad and pushes back past him out of the room. For a moment their eyes meet and linger, Lyle’s still narrowed and glinting with suppressed anger. Querl isn’t sure what his own face says in return. Then the door slides shut behind him, and Querl is left alone.

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