On The Sixth Day

[Hunter Matheson 0]

On The Sixth Day

Kal Matheson

 

She had that look. The look they gave you just before the turd hit the fan. It said any number of things, all meaning you’d better backup and regroup or forever regret it.

 

Kal’s mother had it. His sister had it. Syl had it. And… yeah, Lt Poldara had it. Or so he figured. He didn’t have the guts right now to take a look.

 

So what started it? Kal wasn’t sure, but he thought it could have been his simple question, “We're going to be overlapping Einstein's Charlie grid, ma'am. Is that going to be a problem?”

 

It was innocent enough. Routine. After all, bumpin’ into another ‘Fleet ship on a grid sweep just didn’t look all that good on a resume, especially if the ship was smaller and pretty much defenseless. Well, defenseless in relation to Challenger.

 

“Only if we can't turn up something to embarrass them with,” she replied. Cutting. Edgy. A jolt that gave him a wake-up call. Lit up a neon sign that said, “Don’t mess with the El Tee at science. She might rearrange your chromosomes.”

 

Finally, he chanced a peek in her direction, and… there it was. That look in her eyes, the overall expression of a big cat on the prowl, that far away from her prey. Hungry. Dangerous. Gettin’ ready to pounce from her hide in the sword grass. Except the El Tee wasn’t hiding. She wasn’t that kind. Her look of pointed determination said it all.

 

His eyes diverted to the helm/navigation console as a “Yes, ma’am,” accompanied his tentative crooked grin, all the time wondering was that for me? Something I said? Something I did... anything?

 

———-

 

“Dad?” Kal paused, leaning on the pitchfork to wipe the sweat from his brow with a dusty forearm.

 

“Yes, Son?” His dad didn’t miss a beat, just kept on pitchin’ into the mow.

 

Kal looked around for any sign of his sister before asking, “What’s up with Sam?”

 

This time his dad paused, but only briefly before heaving another load up to the rafters. “She’s got that look again?”

 

“Yes, sir. I’m not sure what I did, but….” He shook his head and studied the floor a bit.

 

“Well, Son, she’s a woman.”

 

Kal looked up, waiting. His dad continued working. “I got that, Dad. I just don’t get…” he waved a hand, “...what I did. Can’t figure it out.”

 

“You’re trying to figure it out?” His dad scoffed into a hearty laugh, then drove the pitchfork into the wooden barn floor, leaned on the handle, and pulled a hanky from his back pocket to wipe his brow. “Son, it’s this way,“ he began, jabbing the hanky back into his pocket.

 

“On the first day, God created the heavens and the earth. Along about the sixth day, he created man. You. And me. Then he got this notion about creating a mate, and he created woman. Now, that word — woman — is supposed to mean ‘a help meet,’ a companion, a partner. Well, that she is, Son, but there’s something else in that word.”

 

Now Kal was really confused, with that huh? look all over his face that spilled down his whole body.

 

“Hunter Kal Matheson,” his dad sighed and jerked the pitchfork into his firm grip, “there’s a reason God named her woman. It’s a warnin’, Son! Whoa, man! Don’t ever try to figure it out; it’ll drive you nuts. Just watch your back for a couple days. Now get back to work.”