Lyon's Legacy: Catalyst Chronicles, Book One

by sandra ulbrich almazan

  “Ferdie got a message from him. He wants us to compare a DNA sample from the other universe with one he provided.” His eyes told me nothing about what he was feeling, but I braced myself for the worst. George didn’t yell at me, but his voice grew more intense as he asked, “Are you supposed to get a DNA sample from Sean?”

  If I spoke, I’d lose control. I nodded instead.

  “For what, cloning?” Now, an edge of anger sharpened George’s voice. “You can’t ask Sean for permission; it’s against the travelers’ rules. And then you’re going to make that clone grow up to be another Sean, no matter what the kid wants? You’re the last person I thought would agree to that!”

  I dug my nails into my palms. “No!” My voice came out ragged. “I won’t let that happen.”

  “You won’t have a choice, Joanna. The travelers won’t let you back onboard without the right DNA sample. And once it’s out of your hands....”

  I glared at George. “If you hate the idea so much, you stop it.”

  “What do you want me to do, tamper with Sean’s DNA? That would be unethical.”

  “Worse than creating a clone for my uncle?”

  His mouth narrowed. “It doesn’t matter. The whole project is questionable, and I don’t want to be associated with it in any way.”

  I was surprised by how much that stung me. Did that mean he’d quit seeing me?

  “I signed up for this mission to stop my uncle, not help him.” Now I straightened up, drawing on my ever-present anger to support me. At least that wouldn’t turn against me. “But if that’s too unethical for you, then...then...go to hell.”

  I dashed out of the lab, closer to tears than I’d been in a long time. But I couldn’t let them win either.

  Perhaps that would be the only victory I’d get.

  * * *

  We passed through the wormhole that evening. Maybe it was the magnetic shields turned on for the crossing, or maybe it was just lying strapped into my cot, staring at the ceiling with nothing to do but think about my fight with George, but I had a strange dream. I dreamed I was Great-Granddad, playing a family concert in front of Grandpa John, Uncle Jackass and his family, and my parents. Only problem was I’d forgotten how to play the guitar; I couldn’t even remember what song I was supposed to sing. I stood there, trying to fake something, until Uncle Jackass called out, “You’re not Sean! You’re a failure!” They pelted me with anything they could throw.

  I woke up to find myself covered in a barrage of clothing and other items I’d forgotten to secure. My sheets stank of sweat.

  * * *

  “Jo,” Lizabeth said to me one evening as I was clearing my lab bench before dinner, “can I talk to you for a second?”

  Funny how no one ever asks this when they have something good to say—or when you have a good excuse for refusing. I stalled by placing my beakers one at the time in the dishwasher.

  She followed me over. “Look, I know I don’t know much about guys, but....”

  “But what?”

  “Did you and George have a fight lately?”

  I cautiously glanced at her. “Did he say something?”

  “No, but he didn’t have to. It’s obvious by the way you two are avoiding each other. Everyone in the lab can tell something’s off.”

  Great. Were they going to kick me out of here? Pluckenreck would be happy if I had more prep time for the mission, but I had enough on my mind these days without thinking about Sean.

  Lizabeth dragged a couple of chairs over and claimed one. I climbed into the other, glancing around to make sure the beeps and chimes from the instruments were part of their normal functions, not someone fiddling around with them.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.

  I shook my head.

  She sighed. “How much do you know about George?”

  That was easier. “Well, he likes music, he’s sweet and thoughtful, he can be funny—when he’s not being stubborn.”

  “Because you never are.”

  “Guilty as charged.” I spoke lightly, but I could still feel my cheeks grow warm.

  “Did George ever tell you why he’s on the Sagan, not back on Earth?”

  “I always thought it was a great honor to be part of this mission.”

  Lizabeth grinned. “Yeah, I think so too. Who knows, someday we may discover something completely new, not just a copycat universe. That’s what I’m staking my Nobel hopes on. But George thinks if we make a major discovery, it would erase the problems he had back at his postdoc lab.”

  This was something George had never even hinted at. “What problems?”

  She bit her lip. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything, but if you search his records, you’ll find it anyway. The professor he was working with took some of George’s data for a journal article and altered it without his permission.”

  I sucked in my breath. “No wonder he’s so worried about ethics.”

  Lizabeth raised a finely arched eyebrow. “You mean your argument wasn’t personal? It had something to do with the lab?”

  “Not exactly.”

  She stared at me, the expression in her green eyes neutral. “Then about your mission to clone your ancestor?”

  “You know about that?” My voice came out squeaky, making me wince.

  “Of course, Jo. All genetic samples come through here, so we get briefed on what to expect.”

  I worried for a moment if she was going to think I’d purposely lied about mission instead of refusing to talk about it. But she simply shrugged. “Personally, I think it’s a waste of time trying to make another Sean Lyon, but if your rich uncle wants to throw a few million credits our way, I’m not going to complain. Why send you, though? You don’t seem to care about Sean.”

  “I don’t.” I got up to start the dishwasher. “But I’m a victim of Jackass’s credits too.”

  “Ah.”

  It was hard to read what she meant by that one syllable. Was she indifferent, or disappointed in me? I swallowed and wished I’d never set foot in the genetics lab. Sabotage was easier to contemplate when you didn’t know the people who would be affected by your actions.

  For a couple of minutes, the only sound in the lab was the dishwasher starting its cycle. Lizabeth put the chairs back and turned off all the equipment not in use. “Well, I hope you and George can work things out. Only a couple more weeks until you visit the other Earth. Are you excited about that, at least?”

  I wasn’t in the mood to be excited over anything.

  After she left, I reviewed George’s biography on the Sagan’s personnel roster, then cross-checked records on the institutions where he’d studied. I did find a reference to a professor being dismissed from a university for falsifying data, but there were no mentions of George in the article. I’d have to wait until the return leg of the trip, when we were closer to Earth, to dig deeper.

  Or I could just ask George himself. I gritted my teeth. Why hadn’t he told me about this himself, if it was so important to him? But how could I approach him without revealing Lizabeth had shared his secret? And would this make any difference in how he viewed my mission—and me?

  My handheld dinged with a message. “Ms. Lyon, please report to the mess hall for a TwenCen presentation.”

  George and I were going to have to go a little longer without talking to each other, but we were due for a long conversation.

  * * *

  “Hurry up, Ms. Lyon,” Pluckenreck said as she grabbed my arm. Her spectacles slipped off her nose as she tried to pull me towards the shuttle. “We can’t miss our launch window.”

  We’d come as close to the other Earth as we dared. TwenCen tech was puny compared to what we had, but it was still capable of picking up signals from the Sagan. A smaller shuttle, though, would have a better chance of approaching the other Earth undetected. All the other travelers were already on board, but I was waiting to see if George would show up. Since our argument, we only talked to each other in the lab,
and then only when it was necessary.

  It doesn’t matter if he comes or not. We had some fun times, but it wasn’t anything special. I couldn’t even lie to myself; I turned my head as soon as I heard him call my name from the doorway.

  “George!” I twisted out of Pluckenreck’s grip.

  “Ms. Lyon, we have two minutes before they depressurize the shuttle bay,” Pluckenreck said.

  She intended to hurry me into the shuttle, but I chose to interpret her words as giving me a minute thirty seconds with George. Now I wished we hadn’t wasted the time we’d had together earlier. Slipping out of my pumps, I sprinted across the cold metal deck to him. The floor was so smooth that when I tried to stop, I slid into him instead. He caught me, and I put my arms around him. “I’m sorry I swore at you,” I whispered into his ear. I didn’t have time to pussyfoot around. “Lizabeth told me about that cheating prof of yours. This isn’t like that....”

  “I know; you were right. I’m sorry for what I said too.” He squeezed me tight. “We’ll talk about the...project when you return. And mine. Just come back safely. I know you don’t like your famous ancestor, but try not to kill him. You’ll ruin the travelers’ timeline.”

  I let out a short laugh at that, the first time I’d laughed since I’d heard about Mom.

  George and I kissed, but it felt like it hardly started before the computer announced, “One minute to commencement of shuttle bay depressurization. Fifty-nine, fifty-eight....”

  As much as I wanted more time with George, I had to leave. No one else was in the shuttle bay. I squeezed him one last time and whispered, “I love you.”

  “I love you too, Jo.” He kissed me again, then released me. “But you’d better hurry!”

  I ran as fast as I could without risking a fall. My pumps weren’t where I’d left them. Panic flared within me, but I didn’t dare stop to look for them. I dashed inside the shuttle with less than thirty seconds left. The door slid shut, cutting off my last glimpse of George. A silent, thin-lipped Pluckenreck glared at me through her glasses, but a few of the other travelers applauded. Winnie waved my pumps over her head; relieved, I dropped into the empty seat next to her.

  “Now, remember, travelers,” Pluckenreck said, clutching her spectacles as the shuttle accelerated out of the bay and into space. “While you’re on alt-Earth, always stay within your assumed identities; in fact, it wouldn’t hurt to start using them here.” That wouldn’t be much of a problem for me; I got to keep my name. “And please remember to be extremely cautious about what you do or say. We’re still not sure how this timeline differs from ours, or what a careless slip of the tongue might change.”

  She continued to lecture us all the way down to alt-Earth, repeating points she’d said in our shipboard classes. After a while, I tuned her out to think about George. Even after that fight, he still loved me? Could we have a future after this trip? How could we make that work when he was stationed on the Sagan and I lived on Earth? It would be easier for him to return to Earth than for me to get a permanent position on the spaceship, but I didn’t want to ask it of him.

  We landed in a cold, dark desert. I didn’t have time to appreciate the clean air or the myriad of stars—and the invisible Sagan—above us before they brought us underground into what had been an abandoned mining tunnel, now dug out, reinforced, and partitioned into rooms. Winnie and I, along with half a dozen other female travelers, were shown to a long room with rows of cots where we could sleep until morning. We chatted for a while about our initial impressions, but we didn’t have much to discuss yet. Still, I stared at the ceiling for a long time, listening to faint snoring from the woman next to me, as I realized soon I would encounter Sean. Not the world-famous musician my uncle idolized, not the ancestor who’d ignored his first son by his longtime girlfriend and overcompensated with his second son and only wife, but a guy my age who wasn’t known outside of a few Chicago clubs. How bizarre to think of him as a human being, not some larger-than-life legend overshadowing everything I was. How was I supposed to tell him off when he hadn’t done anything yet and I wasn’t supposed to reveal his future? What was he really going to be like?

  Suddenly I had a feeling maybe I didn’t know as much about Sean as I thought I did.

  After breakfast—fresh fruit and real eggs tasted decadent after months of the Sagan’s supplies—Pluckenreck shoved my luggage, tickets, and purse of money at me, then ushered me into a car along with a few other travelers. We were all silent as we headed for the airport, staring out the windows at the other Earth. The desert gradually gave way to small towns.

  “Well, so far, it’s not much different from home,” I said. A couple of the travelers smiled, but no one seemed inclined to talk.

  At the airport, Pluckenreck took each traveler aside to guide them to their gates and give them last-minute advice. She left me until last.

  “Now remember, Ms. Lyon; maintain your cover. Don’t tell him when you’re from. And don’t forget,” she narrowed her eyes, “that DNA sample is your ticket back onto the Sagan. Your uncle doesn’t want you returning home without it.”

  So, George was right; even though Jackass was in another universe, he was still trying to control me. I forced a tight smile. “I understand.” If only I understood how to thwart him without stranding myself in this world. “You know, we never went over how I’m supposed to introduce myself to Sean.”

  She looked scornfully at me. “You’re his cousin.”

  “But why am I meeting him?”

  “That’s up to the individual traveler to decide.”

  “How come no one told me that sooner?”

  “We covered it at the very first session, the one you missed.” She smirked. How could she keep taking that mix-up so personally? “If you don’t have a plan by now, Ms. Lyon, you’d better think fast. Good luck.”

  She turned on her high heels and strode off for the exit. “Fuck you too, bitch,” I whispered.

  I decided not to worry about meeting Sean for now and focus on catching my flight. I was a little worried about my documents, but the clerk accepted them without question. No one worried about terrorism in these times. I found another surprise at the bottom of my purse: an audiorecorder. Did they expect me to bring back music too? Too bad I couldn’t bring Sean himself back for Uncle Jackass; he’d probably hand over all of his credits to hear one note from Sean’s lips.

  I was too tired to people-watch, so I bought a zine at a kiosk. The paper pages felt flimsy, like they would tear if I touched them, and there was no way to block all the silly ads on every page—the zine was more ads than articles. Even the articles were stupid, full of nothing but advice on men. I looked for something that would help me with George, but there was nothing. Besides, I already knew I had to solve my Lyon problem before tackling my Harrison problem.

  I was so tired I slept most of the flight to Chicago, despite the uncomfortable seat. The closer I got to Great-Granddad, the more I wondered if this really was a good idea. It didn’t seem right to clone him without his permission, but I couldn’t ask for it without giving myself away.

  It was mid-afternoon in Chicago when we arrived, windy and much colder than I expected. I stopped into the women’s restroom to inspect myself. All the practice wearing skirts and sweaters was paying off; I looked halfway presentable. I straightened my stockings, retied the long pink scarf restraining my hair, and buttoned up my coat. Then I hailed a taxi to take me to Sean Franklin Lyon.

  Chapter Five

  As the taxi took me from Midway Airport to Morgan Park, the South Side neighborhood where Sean lived with his grandmother, I gawked at the city like a tourist. This Chicago was much different from the one I knew. Even though this city was younger than mine, the buildings seemed older, built out of brick and steel instead of reinforced plastic and glass. The cars were bigger, noisier, and dirtier. The people seemed odd in their similarity; the men all wore suits, and the women dresses. There wasn’t much variety in their skin tones or hairst
yles. Ethnic stores and restaurants were hard to spot. Chicago neighborhoods weren’t as diverse in this time as they were in mine, so that made sense.

  After a while, I leaned back against the patched seat to figure out how to approach Sean. How could I tell him I was a cousin he’d never heard of and make him believe me? Maybe I could pretend I was new to Chicago; I could tell him that I was looking for a job. Or graduate school; I was applying to one of the colleges in Chicago. Which ones were around during the TwenCen? The only one I could think of was the University of Chicago. They still did research there in my time; I hoped they did so now.

  We finally arrived in the Morgan Park neighborhood. Despite the cold, children jumped rope or played games on the sidewalk. They eyed me curiously as I stepped out of the cab in front of Sean’s house. It looked just like any other one on the block. This neighborhood had been bombed out before I was born, so I’d never seen it. The rose bushes Sean’s Grandpa Patrick had planted under the windows were brown in the late fall, but I’d read about how Sean used to play in front of them when he was a boy.

  I took a deep breath as I faced the house. Time to see if my unplanned plan would work. I wished I had a letter of introduction or some other way to convince Sean’s grandmother I was a relative. All I had to rely on were my looks—and my memory. I hoped I had all my ancestors correctly linked.

  I dragged my suitcase over the steps and knocked on the door. As I waited for someone to answer, I wiped my sweaty palms on my coat. Sean’s grandmother, his mother’s mom, opened the door partway. She looked a little younger than she did in the 2-D pictures I’d seen of her. Her hair was more gray than dark brown. Her plain blue dress did little to accent her features, but even though her mouth was sternly closed, I could see a few faint laugh lines at the corners.

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Murphy.” I smiled as politely as I knew how. “I’m Joanna Lyon, Sean’s cousin.”