Lyon's Legacy: Catalyst Chronicles, Book One Read online

  I felt Paul flutter inside me for the first time. I put my hand over him, marveling at the movement. Don’t worry, son, I thought to him. Mommy’s going to make sure everything’s going to be all right.

  Mommy never was a good liar.

  Chapter Eleven

  A new wardrobe of maternity clothes waited for me in our Chicago hotel room. I’d had to borrow surgical scrubs while I was on the Sagan, and I was so sick of them I wanted to burn them. “I can’t wait to wear jeans again!” I said as I inspected them. The jeans were for the lab; I had ordered something more formal for the meeting with my old boss, World Music, and Uncle Jackass. I donned a pair of black maternity trousers, a black tunic, and a red blazer. I pulled my hair back from my face and secured it with a barrette. No more hiding who I was; let them see who they were dealing with.

  George nodded approval as he looked me up and down. He wore a navy blue suit, neatly pressed, unlike the wrinkled lab coat I was used to seeing him wear. The only piece of clothing he was wearing that wasn’t new was his DNA-patterned tie.

  “There’s just one thing missing.” He pulled a small box out of his bag and gave it to me. “I hope you like it.”

  I knew what it was—my real engagement ring—but that didn’t stop a thrill racing through me as I opened the box. A brilliant diamond, flanked by my birthstone emeralds, winked at me from a white gold setting. Simple, but it suited me. Plus it would last much longer than the tape ring George had given me.

  “It’s beautiful.” I carefully worked it onto my finger and put my arms around him. “I wish we could stay here instead.”

  “So do I,” he said, resting his head against mine. “But we can’t hide forever. Better to settle this now before Paul is born and they can take him from us.”

  “No! I won’t let them!”

  “Hush,” he said, stroking my hair. “It’s going to be all right.”

  Too bad my mixed-up hormones didn’t believe that.

  We arrived early at Golden Helix. Zoë waited in the reception room. This time, she wore yellow and black instead of pink and blue, and a guitar case rested by her chair. “Jo!” she said as she stood up and hugged me. “My, how you’ve changed.”

  “Yeah, I’m huge.”

  “You think you’re big now, just give yourself a couple of months.” She released me, then examined my face. “And how was it meeting Sean?”

  “Indescribable. I thought I knew him, but he constantly surprised me.” I smiled. “But worth it all the same.”

  “You’ll have to tell me every detail.” She picked up the guitar case. “I hope this isn’t presumptuous of me, but I thought you might be interested in this now.”

  I stared at it for several seconds. Even after playing with Sean, it still brought back bad memories. “I’m a geneticist, not a musician.”

  Some of her energy drained away. “I know you don’t want to play professionally, but what about as a hobby?”

  “We could play duets.” George half-smiled, making it hard for me to resist him.

  I put my hands in my pockets. “I can’t take yours,” I said to Zoë. “Don’t you play yourself?”

  “I used to, but after I got married and had kids, I never had the time. All it does these days is take up space. I had it tuned recently; it’s still in excellent condition. It just needs someone to play it.”

  “Well, if you put it that way…I accept.” She passed the case to me; it felt heavy—yet right—in my hands. “Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  George tried to take the guitar case from me, but I refused to let him carry it. Just because I was pregnant didn’t mean I was handicapped. Besides, I knew I’d get a reaction out of my uncle if he saw me with a guitar.

  He didn’t disappoint me. My uncle, Guzman, and a couple of suits from World Music were already seated, studying their handhelds. Uncle Jackass looked up as I entered; a smug smile spread over his face. “Welcome back, Joanna. Looks like the trip did you some good. So, are you finally ready to sign with World Music?”

  I set the guitar down. “Not in this universe or in any alternate one. I want to do research, not go on tour.”

  “You know how many other musicians out there would kill for what I offered you?”

  “Why didn’t you sponsor one of them? Or did you really think you could force me into the studio?”

  “What’s this about forcing you into the studio, Joanna?”

  I’d heard that voice recently, but not live; it was my dad’s. I turned my head and stared at him, not quite believing he was truly there. He must have come from his PR firm; he wore a gray suit, and he was wired with his handheld. His brown eyes were shadowed as he looked at me. I stared back. He hadn’t told me he would be here. Whose side was he taking, mine or Uncle Jackass’s?

  “How are you, honey?” Dad asked quietly.

  “Oh, Dad…” I used to think if I ever met my dad face-to-face, I’d curse him out. All the defiant speeches I’d rehearsed in my head now seemed petty. All I remembered was how good it had felt to reconnect with him after so many years.

  As I turned toward Dad, Guzman cleared his throat. “If we’re ready to get started....”

  No time for hugs now. George, Dad, and I took seats across from the others. Catherine came in with refreshments; I reluctantly chose a glass of cranberry juice over coffee. The social niceties over, we got down to business.

  Guzman spoke first, leaning forward and steepling his fingers. “Well, Jo, it’s obvious that you were successful in retrieving the alternate Sean Lyon’s DNA and that the doctors on board the Sagan were able to create a clone from the material. Congratulations. However, since you didn’t agree to become a surrogate mother prior to the pregnancy, the ownership of the child is murky.”

  George squeezed my hand before I could spout some foul language at him. Even forcing myself to count to five didn’t calm me. But I tried to keep my voice level as I said, “I didn’t think you could own a child.”

  Guzman narrowed his eyes. “This is a clone.”

  “He’s still a human being, subject to certain rights.”

  My dad cleared his throat. “Jack, isn’t there DNA left over? Why not go ahead and have another woman bear a second Sean clone?”

  I couldn’t hide my frown. Sure, that solution would spare Paul from Jack’s obsession, but then another innocent child would suffer instead. If that was Dad’s idea of helping, he should have stayed at his PR firm.

  As if that wasn’t bad enough, the businesspeople from World Music nodded. “The more, the merrier, like the Elvii twins we had created last year,” the man said. “Think what a draw we’d have if we had a group of Lyons!”

  Probably not much; my cousins had tried making an album together, but they quit halfway through. Zoë shook her head as if she agreed with me. “No, it would never work.” Her dangling earrings swung from side to side. “Sean had a dominant personality. His clones would never be able to work together; they wouldn’t mesh properly.”

  “Perhaps we could train them to play different genres of music,” the female suit said. “Or if they both grow up liking Sean’s music, we can encourage a rivalry between them. There are a lot of possibilities here.”

  Zoë leaned over to comment to her, and George whispered to me, “Would you accept that, Jo?”

  Before I could answer, Uncle Jackass stood, and everyone fell silent. “There’s no need for that.” He spoke slowly, as if each word had to fade away before he could pronounce the next one. “One clone of Sean is enough.” As he smiled at me, ice formed in my stomach. “Hers.”

  Fear melted in the need to protect my so-vulnerable child. I crossed my arms over my enlarged belly. “You’ll have to get through me first.”

  He stared at me for a moment, started to speak, then pressed his lips together. “As soon as the child is born—”

  “I expect to be millions of miles from Earth.”

  Jackass’s face grew red, but I played my trump card. “I h
ad to find a new job anyway, so I joined the genetics lab on the Sagan, where my fiancé works.”

  Uncle Jackass raised his eyebrows. “You’re going to take him into space! That’s insane! It’s not safe!”

  “Neither is Earth, Uncle. If you don’t believe me, ask my mother. Of course, you’ll have to hire a psychic first….”

  “Or I could just have you detained here.” Some of the anger had left his voice, but I knew he was more dangerous now than before. “You do have my personal property, after all.”

  Dad’s handheld suddenly sounded. “Excuse me,” he said, getting up. “It’ll only be a moment.” He left the room, shutting the door behind him.

  He couldn’t stop taking business calls during the most important meeting of my life. I wished I hadn’t bothered telling him about this.

  The female suit leaned forward. “Is this your fiancé? Are both of you planning to raise the child?”

  “Absolutely.” George rested his hand over mine.

  The two suits from World Music placed their handhelds next to each other and typed for several minutes. Everyone else in the room, including me, watched them. Finally, the woman looked up. “Well, we think the child should be raised in a nuclear family. If he has a stable, happy childhood, he’ll be more likely to write upbeat songs, the kind that get good play on HitNet.”

  I wondered where they got that idea from, but if it meant I’d get to keep Paul, I wasn’t going to argue.

  Uncle Jackass shook his head. “If we take the child immediately after he’s born, he’ll never know the difference. With all my resources, I can give little Sean much more than you ever will, Jo. Don’t you think that’s best? And if you’re going to practice science, a child would just be a distraction.”

  I resisted the temptation to tell him my son’s real name. “I’m his mother; I’ll do whatever’s necessary to raise him.” I glanced back at the door; it was still shut. Damn it, why did Dad have to get that call? Wasn’t he here to support me?

  Uncle Jackass looked smug. “I’m the head of the family; I have the controlling interest and the final say. I vote we continue with the original plans and let me raise Sean’s clone.”

  Well, voting was better than threats, but it was one vote for me, one against. And my former boss got to cast the deciding vote. George tightened his grip on my hand.

  Guzman cleared his throat. “As the representative of Golden Helix—”

  I heard the door open. “Who represents Golden Helix?” my dad asked.

  Annoyance crossed Guzman’s face. “As the president of Golden Helix, I do, Mr. Lyon.”

  “But aren’t you required to do what your stockholders tell you to do?”

  “We normally don’t seek input from the stockholders for day-to-day advice on how to run our projects; they don’t need their Net connections slowed by such details. There aren’t any stockholders or proxies present, anyway.”

  “Really?” Dad raised his eyebrows. “That’s funny; I’m a stockholder. As a matter of fact, as of two minutes ago, I own nearly thirty-five percent of GH.”

  Uncle Jackass’s face turned first red, then pale. He worked his jaw for several seconds before he managed to get out, “So that’s why you’re here, Ian. You’re a filthy bastard, you know that?”

  “You’re not exactly a clean old man yourself, Jack. But frankly, this isn’t my type of investment. I think it’s more appropriate for someone with a science background…like, say, my daughter here.” Dad removed a stylus from his handheld and scrawled a large signature across the screen. He tapped a few buttons. “There you go, Joanna. Congratulations twice over, for your wedding, and the baby, and a belated happy birthday, and…and happy everything.”

  My handheld chimed. I turned it towards George so we could look at it together. There it was, an account with nearly 40,000 shares of GH, all in my name. I checked the current stock market price and did a doubletake. I’d be able to buy a hell of a lot of diapers with those credits.

  “Thirty-five percent isn’t a controlling interest,” Guzman said. He sounded like he was being strangled. Too bad he was right; strangling him sounded very tempting.

  “I know that,” Dad said. “That’s why I had my firm send statements to the stockholders I couldn’t persuade to sell. We were able to get some of them to send me proxies specifically for this issue. Altogether, Joanna and I have voting rights for fifty-five percent of GH stock.” He winked at me. “So, Joanna, how are we voting?”

  I took a deep breath and looked straight at Uncle Jackass. “I’m keeping Paul, of course.”

  “Paul? You’re naming him Paul? Sean wouldn’t approve!”

  “How would you know? You never met him!”

  We locked stares again. The only sound in the room was the faint hum from the air conditioner. I tried to outlast Uncle Jackass, but I couldn’t. For a few milliseconds, there was something not right in those familiar eyes, a menace more frightening for coming from him. It came and went so quickly that I doubt anyone else caught it. But I did, and it made me squeeze George’s hand. “It’s all right,” he whispered, a puzzled expression on his face. “You won.”

  I knew the war wasn’t over.

  Uncle Jackass sounded normal when he finally responded. “Maybe this is for the best in the long run. I still think you should stay on Earth with the child, Jo.”

  “But my new job and fiancé are on the Sagan.”

  “Then how am I supposed to see…Paul?” His mouth puckered as if he found my son’s name distasteful.

  “I’m sure Jo will let you see him whenever she returns to Earth,” Dad said. “Right?”

  “Sure.” The Sagan only returned to Earth every twelve to fifteen months, so Jackass wouldn’t have much influence. I felt it was wise to give him a peace offering, though. I pulled out a copy of the concert I’d attended and slid it across the polished oak table. “In the meantime, here’s something you’ll like, Uncle Jack. It’s Sean playing at the White Knight, a performance that never got recorded here.”

  He snatched the disc and tucked it inside his suit jacket, then rose. “Don’t forget to message me about developments, Joanna.” He stalked out of the room without saying another word.

  The suits followed him. Zoë smiled and turned to me. “Congratulations, Jo. I like the name. Can I see baby Paul next year?”

  “For personal or professional reasons?” I smiled back. “We’ll be happy to have you.”

  After she left, Guzman shuffled toward me. “Ms. Lyon, about your stock...”

  “Yeah?”

  “You weren’t planning to keep it, were you?”

  “Hell, yeah.” I got guilty pleasure out of seeing him wince. “And I’ll be reading the annual report quite closely, I promise.”

  He left quickly. I wondered what he was going to tell people.

  Only George, Dad, and I were left. “So, Joanna,” Dad said, “like your present?”

  I looked back at him. “I can’t thank you enough for helping me keep Paul, Dad, but…” I stared again at my handheld, at the amount of money Dad had just given me. “I really could have used this in college.”

  His eyes widened. “I thought you wanted to do it all on your own.”

  “How could I, when we’re too fucking rich for me to get financial aid? Didn’t you care at all what I wanted to do with my life, Dad?”

  “Jack said he was taking care of everything for you and Cassie…”

  “Yeah, well, he took care of Mom, but not me. Guess he thought it unnatural for a Lyon to do something else besides sing. Why didn’t you check on us yourself?”

  “Did Cassie ever pass on my birthday or Christmas messages?”

  “What messages?”

  “The ones I sent you every year when you were still a child. I wasn’t allowed to contact you directly, you see. That’s why Jack was supposed to be the go-between.”

  I froze. “Mom never said anything...” I whispered. Why had she blocked him? Had she been vindictive, or had she do
ne it with the best of intentions? There was more to my parents than I’d thought, more than I’d ever know now with one dead.

  Dad sighed as he looked at me. “I should have made more of an effort to contact you once you turned eighteen, Joanna, but it seemed you’d never forgiven me for leaving your mother. I’m really sorry about everything.”

  I glanced away. “I guess it’s my fault too. I never listened to your side of the story when you and Mom got divorced.”

  “Well, if we’re both at fault…” Dad suddenly grasped my arm, making me look at him. Looking in my eyes, he sang the lines from Sean’s song:

  Can’t you forgive me,

  And never more roam?

  He didn’t sound as grieved as Sean had at the performance, but I had to dig my nails into my skin to keep from crying again. One look at my dad’s face, and I flung myself into his arms for a hug. We stayed like that long enough for Paul to kick inside me.

  Dad pulled away and looked down at my belly, eyes wide with delight. “I felt him! I felt my grandchild move!”

  I grinned. “Yeah, he thinks I’m a punching bag.” I hesitated. “Maybe I can forgive you, Dad, but I can’t stay. I have to keep Paul and my uncle separated as much as possible.”

  He sighed. “That’s probably wise. But I hate to lose you so soon after connecting with you again.”

  “If you message me, I’ll answer. And we can visit when we return to Earth.”

  “Something to look forward to.” Dad turned to George. “You take good care of my daughter and grandson when you’re out there in space.”

  “Don’t worry, sir.” George’s face was as solemn as a promise, but he winked at me before continuing, “Jo can take care of herself—as long as she’s not wearing high heels.”

  “Sounds like there’s a story behind that.” Dad offered me his arm. “Why don’t you two tell me about it over lunch?”

  We left together for a long-overdue family reunion.