Lyon's Legacy: Catalyst Chronicles, Book One

by sandra ulbrich almazan

* * *

  A few days later, the three of us made a trip to the TransAIDS Long-Term Care Facility where Mom had lived. We all brought our guitars; I also carried a yellow rose. Mom had been cremated to destroy the viruses in her body, but there was a special memorial for the TransAIDS patients on the grounds. The ashes of each victim were sealed in a compartment in a long, hollow wall, then they mortared a piece of black marble with the victim’s name, date of birth, and date of death over the compartment. The compartment locations were available online, but we chose to walk the wall and study all the names. It took a lot longer to find Mom, but it felt appropriate.

  Mom’s compartment was in the middle of the wall, about chest level for me. I traced my fingers over the engraved lettering. It was still hard to believe that I’d never have tea with her again. Dad leaned his head against her compartment for a long time, as if he were communicating with her. The marble was slick when I touched it again.

  After I laid my rose on the top of the wall, the three of us played Sean’s song.

  I don’t know if Mom still exists, but I like to think if her soul still lives somewhere, she heard us.

  * * *

  And so that brings me up to today, the day George and I get married. When I started making this holo, I didn’t realize I’d have so much to say. I’ll have to edit this down before I let Paul see it; there’s probably some things in here he doesn’t need to know about his mom! One of these days I’ll get around to it….

  Lizabeth and Olivia helped me finish getting ready; now they’re off getting dressed themselves, giving me a chance to make this last holo. They told me I look wonderful, but I think they’re just being nice. I might not be as huge as a whale yet, but my belly’s bigger than before.

  I’m still a little scared about getting married and having a baby, but at least I’m not alone anymore. I’ve got George, the most wonderful man in the world, and after what we’ve already been through, I know we’ll be able to handle marriage. I’ve got Dad and my new co-workers to turn to for advice. And this may sound odd, but I’ve got Great-Granddad on my side. None of this would have happened if I hadn’t met his alternate. Thanks, Sean, and I hope you and Great-Grandma Baby are together and happy.

  I’m trying to think of something to tell you, Paul, some words of wisdom to finish this off. They’re hard to find, though. I hope now that you know the truth of who you are and where you came from, you’re not angry with us for keeping it from you—for however long I managed it. I didn’t want you to go through what I did when I was growing up. You’ll always be compared to Sean, and there’s nothing either of us can do about that. But no matter what my uncle wants, you don’t have to do what he says. No matter what you do with your life, I’m sure you’ll do it well.

  And you’ll be loved, Paul. No matter what happens, both George and I will always love you. I promise you that.

  Dad’s limo has pulled up, all decorated with streamers. It’s time to go to the ceremony. But I just noticed something odd when I looked in the mirror, something so strange I have to record it.

  Maybe it’s the pregnancy, or more likely, the wedding outfit. But for once in my life, I don’t look like Great-Granddad at all.

  THE END

  Acknowledgements and Dedication

  Thanks to Aviva Rothschild and Susan Ryan for inspiring the original draft of this story with their own works.

  So many people critiqued different versions of this story that I’m not sure I remember them all. Some of the people who have helped me improve this story are Heather Barnes, Sam Butler, Susan Curnow, Heidi Garrett, Elizabeth Hull, Gregg Lipschik, Ian Morrison, Darrell Newton, Walter Williams, Ann Winter, and Zvi Zaks. With the exception of Heather Barnes, they were or are members of the Online Writing Workshop for SF, Fantasy, and Horror. If I’ve missed anyone, I apologize. Any errors in this book are my own.

  Lauren Sweet was both developmental editor and line/copyeditor, and Meghan Derico of Derico Photography designed the cover. Both of them did fantastic jobs.

  Special thanks go out to my husband, Eugene Almazan, and my son, Alex, for supporting me through the writing and publishing process.

  Finally, I would like to dedicate this novella to my writing mentor, Kathleen Massie-Ferch, who passed away in 2002.

  A Note from the Author

  Thank you for reading this story; I hope you enjoyed it. Please consider reviewing it on Amazon or telling your friends about it. Word-of-mouth is the best way for books to find new readers.

  I am an independent SF/fantasy writer. Here are some of my other works:

  The Book of Beasts (fantasy, short story)--Jonur, a biology student at the University of Selath, doesn't believe in demons or magic. He thinks there's a rational explanation why almost nothing lives in the area around Lake Forsaken. As he and his partner collect samples from the area, they become sick themselves. Then Jonur encounters a foreign girl with a stranger book. She claims the area is poisoned and that Jonur and his partner are now affected. However, she plans to use her book to create an animal that can neutralize the poison. Who is this girl? Can she and Jonur work together to fulfill her plan, or will she let him die?

  Silver Rain (fantasy, short story)--Every spring, Marthe's town is covered with illusions by silver rain, but she's the only one who can't see them. When a handsome poet shares his verses with her, she learns to appreciate beauty. However, everyone else stares at her poet as if they know something she doesn't. What is truth and what is illusion, and will Marthe learn the difference between them before she loses her lover?

  Letters to Psyche (fantasy, short story)-- When the Greek god Cupid visits Verona, he foresees no problems uniting the Montague and Capulet families. But when Elisabeth Capulet and Giovanni Montague's love ends in tragedy, Elisabeth places a powerful curse not on just the families, but Cupid himself. Unable to visit his wife Psyche, he sends her letters detailing his efforts to undo the curse. Can the two of them save another generation of lovers, or will Cupid and Psyche be forever parted?

  Please check out my website, my blog, or my Facebook fan page to find out when I release new titles. You can also sign up for my mailing list to get one of my short stories free!

  For more in the Catalyst Chronicles series, please check out the following excerpts from “The Mommy Clone,” a short story set between Lyon’s Legacy and Twinned Universes, and Twinned Universes, the second book in the Catalyst Chronicles series.

  Thanks again.

  Sandra Ulbrich Almazan

  Bonus Material: “The Mommy Clone” Sample!

  All Joanna wants to do is entertain her children for a couple of hours while her husband is busy. The multi-story bouncy house promises to be fun, but someone else stalks them, someone wearing Joanna's face. Will Joanna escape with both children, or will her son fall prey to the Mommy Clone?

  It was the largest bouncy house in the world. Five stories high, each level—all with unique themes—strong enough to support parents along with their kids. Jo’s dad had recommended it as something Paul and Cassie would enjoy. How often did two spaceship-bound kids get the chance to experience something dedicated to childhood? But as Jo stared at the entrance, thronged with families, its gaudy colors reminded her of a clown: cheerful but menacing.

  It has to be fine, she reassured herself. I wasn’t expecting it to be this big. It would be so easy for the kids to get lost or separated, and here on Earth they could disappear, never to be found....

  Cassie dropped her stuffed dinosaur and wailed. As Jo retrieved it, Paul, already set to make her worst fears come true, sprinted for the entrance.

  “Paul, come back here! We haven’t paid yet!”

  He ignored her. Time to use the Mommy Voice. “Paul Lyon Harrison, get back here before I count to three, or we’re leaving! One...two....”

  He circled back, gazing up at her with a smile and soulful blue eyes. Sean’s eyes. Even at five, Paul possessed their legendary ancestor’s cockiness. Jo had known Sean’s clone would be dif
ficult, but she hadn’t expected him to be so rebellious so soon. Why had she ever thought herself capable of raising him?

  Because Uncle Jackass could never love Paul for who he is, only for whom he’s cloned from. Only yesterday at their annual, carefully supervised meeting, Uncle Jack kept quietly referring to Paul as “the project,” staring at him like he was the one thing all his credits couldn’t buy. Jo ground her teeth together. Her uncle might have made Paul’s existence possible by sponsoring her trip to Sean’s universe, but she’d been the one to nurture Paul into his own independent person. And she’d give everything to keep him that way.

  Pushing down an urge to squeeze her son—she couldn’t mix affection with discipline—Jo told him, “Take off your shoes and put them in the cubby, please.” She kicked off her own, then knelt to assist Cassie.

  Paul obeyed the first part of her instructions, then said, “I can’t reach that high.”

  “I know you can. The chocolate chip cookies in Grandpa’s pantry were up much higher.”

  “I had to get the cookies,” he stated matter-of-factly. “I didn’t want the ice cream. It was vanilla, and I hate vanilla.”

  Poor kid; he was still upset that his childhood sweetheart had thrown ice cream at him during his birthday party. It was sad and funny at the same time, but he’d get over it someday. “Yes, but you should have asked first instead of just taking them....”

  Cassie had taken advantage of the distraction to wander off. Panic clenched Jo as she searched for her. What if she got lost, or hurt, or...? Her heart resumed beating when she saw her three-year-old daughter pressed up against a counter filled with candy and cheap toys. “Me want!” Cassie protested as Jo dragged her back to where she’d left Paul.

  “Not now, Sweetie.”

  Fortunately, Cassie’s temperament was mellower than her brother’s, and she settled down. Somehow Jo managed to wrangle both children to the ticket booth and trade an obscene amount of credits for three matching paper bracelets.

  What a low-tech security system. There’s got to be a better way to keep families together in this madhouse. She wished George had been able to come with her instead of meeting with his relatives to discuss how to care for his parents. If she’d gone with him, both children would have been bored into trouble before ten minutes passed. Cassie and Paul were better off coming here instead, even if she had to handle two children by herself in such a crowded place. She hoped they’d be too exhausted to act up during her meeting with the lab supply rep later.

  I’m too used to knowing everyone on the Sagan by sight. No child molesters or kidnappers can come near here without setting off an alarm. We’ll be fine...I hope.

  Still, she couldn’t help but grasp both children’s hands tightly as they passed through a tunnel to the play area.

  Find the rest of the story at Amazon!

  Bonus Material: Twinned Universes Sample

  Paul Harrison always wanted to play Hamlet, but he never expected he’d live the role first.

  In the aftermath of a family tragedy on 21st century Earth, Paul discovers he’s the clone of Sean Lyon, his great-great-grandfather and a famous TwenCen musician. Suspecting his mother’s death was no accident, Paul comes up with a plan to trick the answers out of the great-uncle who had him cloned. But in order to make his plan work, Paul needs help from Sean himself—and Sean’s time is running out in the TwenCen universe next door. Although Paul’s family lives on the spaceship that travels between the universes, he’s never been allowed on TwenCen Earth. Now, with the help of his friends, his disguise-creating holoprojectors, and a quantum quirk, Paul must make his way to Sean while evading other time travelers who fear he’ll change the history of the TwenCen universe. If Paul is to achieve justice, he must not only risk his own life, but the wormhole connecting the universes. “To be or not to be” was a simple question in comparison....

  Chapter One

  Paul was heading upstairs to his parents’ hotel suite so he could prepare for his matinee performance when a nondescript person accosted him in front of the vators. The stranger held up his handheld as if he were comparing Paul to a holo—or taking one. “Kid, are you Paul Harrison?”

  Paul halted. “Yeah, why?” Was he being scouted by a talent agency or a director? Hope soared, then was dashed as he took in the stranger’s delivery uniform and the long, rectangular package under his arm. Unless the stranger was undercover, Paul wasn’t about to be discovered.

  “Here.” The delivery person thrust the package at him so fast Paul had to accept it in self-defense. “You’re supposed to give it directly to Dr. Joanna Lyon Harrison.”

  “For Mom?” The white box bore no address labels. “Who’s this from?”

  The guy shrugged. “I was just told to give this to Paul Harrison and tell him to give it directly to Dr. Joanna Harrison. I’m done here.”

  “Wait! What’s inside?”

  The stranger turned away before Paul had a chance to study his face. He glanced at the mirrored walls, trying to catch a last glimpse, but the delivery person darted between hotel guests and disappeared.

  Paul stared at the box in his hands. Why make him give it to his mother when it would be easier to have the hotel staff bring it up to their suite? And what kind of courier service used unlabeled boxes and didn’t make the recipient leave a thumbscan on the receipt? Earth customs couldn’t have grown that lax since his last visit here, could they?

  I’d better check what’s inside before giving it to Mom. It could be dangerous.

  The box was loosely secured, as if the sender wanted him to open it—or someone had already tampered with it. Maybe it would be better to leave it alone.

  “Hold the vator, Paul. What do you have there?”

  He looked up as his mom approached. Her mouth was set in a frown, but dealing with Paul’s great-uncle would upset anyone sane enough not to be obsessed with TwenCen ancestor musicians. “Someone gave this to me for you.” He stared down at it again. “But it wasn’t a normal delivery service.”

  She raised her eyebrows as she examined the box. Then she took her research-grade handheld out of her purse and waved it over the package. “No explosives, no microbial contamination. I guess we can look at it. Let’s take it to the suite first.”

  Once inside their top-floor suite, Mom brought the box into the head—or rather, the bathroom, as it was called on Earth. Paul watched from the hall as she turned the fan on, grabbed a towel, and used that to lift the lid off the box. The exhaust pulled a sickly-sweet scent into the air.

  “I’ve never seen anything like this.” Mom showed him a dozen blue-purple roses. “Is this a joke? There’s a note.” She bent her head to read it; long black hair, mixed with a few strands of gray, hung over her face. “Can you believe it? Whoever sent this wants me to gene-tweak the roses so they’re completely blue.”

  “Are you going to?”

  She snorted. “Hell, no. Not when they present their projects like this.” She took a bottle of booze from the minibar and drenched the flowers in so much alcohol the box warped. “Call room service and have someone take this away. Have them bring extra trash bags.”

  As Paul made the request, Mom sneezed. A moment later, he did too.

  * * *

  A week later, during the matinee performance of Hamlet, Paul shivered as he sat with King Claudius’s court during the play scene. He wasn’t getting sick again, was he? He’d recovered much faster than Mom and Cass had. Even RhinRid hadn’t been very helpful with this cold. Mom was still too sick to come to the theater, even though the small speaking part Paul had this season was his most important role with this professional troupe so far. Although the director, Ramirez, generally forbade recording performances, she’d made an exception today so Paul would be able to show his family his key scene later. He sat up straighter. Still two more acts before he got to speak. If his cold was making a comeback, he’d better take some medicine as soon as he left the stage, or else he’d cough or sneeze over other a
ctors’ lines.

  Once he exited with the rest of the king’s court, Paul headed to the greenroom down the hall. Crew members dashing around and setting up for the next scene made the backstage area an obstacle course. As he reached the hallway, a costume programmer yanked him off to the side.

  “You’re Paul Harrison, right?” she asked. “Your sister’s at the stage door. She says there’s a family emergency.”

  He removed his face mesh. The holoprojector’s lining was sweaty, but the other side still displayed a stage-perfect version of his own face. “Just her? What’s wrong?”

  “She was too upset to say.”

  Frowning, Paul sprinted down the narrow corridor between the dressing rooms to the back of the theater. Cass peered through the security window. Mascara was streaked across her face, and auburn hair tumbled around her head. After he let her in, she clung to him so tightly her jacket became entangled in his costume holoprojectors.

  “What’s wrong, Sis?” He strained his ears to follow the onstage dialogue. “Where’s Dad?”

  She looked up at him, her blue eyes glistening. “Mom’s in the hospital.”

  It took a few seconds for her words to sink in. Mom often joked that her only risk factor for a heart attack was two teenage kids. Even though she’d been feverish and tired and had trouble keeping her food down, that hadn’t stopped her from teleconferencing with colleagues or ordering personal supplies for their next year in space on the Sagan. How could she be in the hospital? “What happened?”

  Cass released him. “She was talking to the aunts when she said she had trouble catching her breath. Then she crumpled to the floor and passed out. When Dad couldn’t rouse her, he called an ambulance. He called the theater too, but he couldn’t get through to a live person. The ushers wouldn’t let me in or even take a message to you during the performance, so I came back here and pounded on the door.”