Frameshift

“What I did was wonderful,” said Klimus. “There hasn’t been a child like the infant specimen since the Stone Age.”

“Don’t call her ‘the infant specimen,’ damn it,” said Molly. “She’s my daughter.”

“Say that again,” said Klimus.

“Don’t try that — don’t you fucking dare to try that,” said Pierre. “Yes, we love Amanda — that has nothing to do with this.”

“It has everything to do with it,” said Klimus. “And it has to do with why you, Dr. Tardivel, shall now sit down and shut up.”

“I’m not going to shut up,” said Pierre. “I’m going to LBNL’s director, and to the police.”

“You shall do neither. You would have to explain the nature of your complaint — and that would mean revealing the nature of the child.” He turned to Molly. “Do you really want your daughter to be an object of great public attention, Ms. Bond?” Klimus’s expression was smug.

“You think that’s your ace in the hole, don’t you?” snapped Pierre.

“Well, you’re wrong. We’re prepared to tell the truth to anyone who can lock you up.”

“We’ll get you put in jail,” said Molly, “and then we’ll go to Canada and take new names — something I’m sure you know all about.”

Klimus didn’t blink. “I advise against such actions. If you have the best interests of the infant specimen—”

“I’ve had enough of you, you son of a bitch,” said Pierre. He reached for the phone, and pounded out the extension number for the office of LBNL’s director.

“That is your choice,” said Klimus with a shrug. “Of course, I should have thought you would want to avoid a custody battle—”

“Cust—” Molly’s eyes went wide. “You couldn’t do that.”

“The child is a clone, Dr. Bond. You may have brought the egg to term, but you aren’t the child’s biological mother; she is in fact not related to either of you by blood.”

“Hello?” said a male voice at the other end of the phone.

“Your choice, Tardivel,” said Klimus. “I am prepared to fight to the bitter end.”

Pierre glared at him, but replaced the handset on its cradle. “You could never win.”

“Couldn’t I? Amanda’s closest relative is Hapless Hannah — and Hannah’s remains are in the legal guardianship of the Institute of Human Origins, under an agreement with the government of Israel. Dr. Bond here is nothing but a surrogate — and the courts have traditionally conferred very few rights on such people.”

Molly turned to Pierre. “He can’t do that, can he? He can’t take Amanda away?”

“You bastard,” said Pierre to Klimus.

“Not me,” said Klimus, with a small shrug. “If anyone’s parentage is in question, it is Amanda.” He looked at each of them in turn. “Now, I believe I asked you how you knew the child was not yours. I expect an answer.” He reached for the phone. “Or perhaps I shall call the director. The sooner we start this legal battle, the sooner it will be resolved.”

Pierre yanked the phone away again.

“I see you now prefer this matter kept quiet,” said Klimus. “Very well; tell me how you discovered Amanda’s pedigree.”

Pierre’s face was flushed, and his fist was closing and opening in spasms. Molly said nothing.

“She is a very ugly child, you know,” said Klimus.

“Damn you — you are a monster,” said Molly. “She’s beautiful.”

Klimus didn’t seem to hear. He spoke in measured tones, looking at Molly, then Pierre. “Yes, we had Neanderthal DNA — but there were still many questions we couldn’t answer. Could Neanderthals talk, for instance.

There’s a huge debate over that in the anthropological community — you should hear Leakey and Johanson go on about it. Well, now we know. They could not speak aloud; they probably had their own very efficient sign language instead. We’ll want to see if Amanda picks up Ameslan faster than normal. Perhaps she’s hardwired in some way that we aren’t to communicate by signing.

“And the biggest question of all: are they the same species as us? That is, was Neanderthal man Homo sapiens neanderthalensis — just a subspecies, capable of producing fertile offspring with a modern human?

Or were they something else entirely — Homo neanderthalensis, a different species altogether, perhaps able to have a sterile child with a modern human, just as a horse and a donkey can produce a mule, but incapable of producing offspring that can breed. Well, as soon as Amanda enters puberty we’ll be able to find that out.”

“Fuck you,” said Molly.

Klimus nodded. “That would be one option.”

Molly lunged with her arms outstretched, ready to kill. Pierre moved in, grabbing his wife, holding her back. “Not now,” he said to her.