wouldn't be sorry to leave it. Ever since his stroll on the deck the night before, not to mention his disastrous visit to the aloft con, he'd felt himself to be persona non grata and had studiously avoided bumping into any of the senior officers. Even Petty Officer Kazinski had looked at him like a bad-luck charm. When the accident had happened, he'd done everything he could think of for Lieutenant Healey helping her down the ladder like a fireman�which meant staying on the outside and one step below her�then going back up top to try to remove the dead albatross and somehow seal the conning tower window. But there wasn't much he could do�the bird's body was so tightly wedged into the broken window, with the edge of the Kent screen slicing into its breast like a scalpel, that he decided it was best to leave it where it was. At least that way there was something to keep the battering waves from flooding the con again.
No, he wouldn't be sorry to leave the boat and get to Point Ad�lie. That's where he could begin his work in earnest.
After the tarp was removed, Michael, who'd been on a pretty fair number of helicopters in his time, could see that it was one of the Dolphin class, a sturdy, twin-engined, single-rotor chopper that was routinely used for missions like drug interdiction, ice patrol, and search and rescue. Like the ship they were on, the helicopter was painted red, a common safety measure in icy climes where a spot of color could make all the difference between discovery� and survival�and being lost forever. As he looked on, several seamen began to run fuel lines and prepare the craft for departure; acouple of others began to off-load some crates. They reminded him of a pit crew at a NASCAR race, each one of them going about his business with practiced hands and almost no words exchanged. He collected his camera gear and went back down to his cabin.
Darryl was slumped on the edge of his bunk, gnawing on a protein bar.
�Why don't you go to the mess?� Michael said, stuffing his shaving kit into his duffel, �and get something warm? They've got sloppy joes going.�
�Can't,� Darryl replied.
�You can't make it?� Michael said. �I could go get you one.�
�Can't, because I don't eat meat.�
Michael stopped packing.
�You haven't noticed?� Darryl said.
And now that Michael thought about it, it struck him that no, he hadn't ever seen Darryl eat any meat. Lots of fruits and veggies, tons of bread, cheese, crackers, corn chowder, cherry pie, spinach souffl�. But no burgers or pork chops or fried chicken.
�For how long?�
�Ever since college, when I majored in biology.�
�What's that got to do with it?� Michael asked.
�Everything,� Darryl said, rolling the foil down another inch on the protein bar. �Once I started to study life in earnest�in all its countless permutations and manifestations�and I saw that all of it, no matter how large or how small, had one thing in common, I couldn't find it in my heart to interfere anymore.�
Michael thought he got it. �You mean the urge to live?�
Darryl nodded. �Every species, from the blue whale to the fruit fly, will struggle, with every fiber of its being, to preserve its own existence. And the more I studied them, even the single-celled diatoms, the more beautiful they all appeared to me. Life is a miracle�an absolute fucking miracle�in every form it takes, and I just never felt right again about taking any of it unnecessarily.�
While Michael was not about to give up his baby back ribs or his porterhouse steaks, he did understand Darryl's point of view. But there was one thing he didn't get.
�So why haven't you mentioned it before? In the Officers� Mess,or the wardroom? They could have made you vegetarian plates or something.�
Darryl gave him a long look. �Do you know what sailors, and military types in general, think of
No, he wouldn't be sorry to leave the boat and get to Point Ad�lie. That's where he could begin his work in earnest.
After the tarp was removed, Michael, who'd been on a pretty fair number of helicopters in his time, could see that it was one of the Dolphin class, a sturdy, twin-engined, single-rotor chopper that was routinely used for missions like drug interdiction, ice patrol, and search and rescue. Like the ship they were on, the helicopter was painted red, a common safety measure in icy climes where a spot of color could make all the difference between discovery� and survival�and being lost forever. As he looked on, several seamen began to run fuel lines and prepare the craft for departure; acouple of others began to off-load some crates. They reminded him of a pit crew at a NASCAR race, each one of them going about his business with practiced hands and almost no words exchanged. He collected his camera gear and went back down to his cabin.
Darryl was slumped on the edge of his bunk, gnawing on a protein bar.
�Why don't you go to the mess?� Michael said, stuffing his shaving kit into his duffel, �and get something warm? They've got sloppy joes going.�
�Can't,� Darryl replied.
�You can't make it?� Michael said. �I could go get you one.�
�Can't, because I don't eat meat.�
Michael stopped packing.
�You haven't noticed?� Darryl said.
And now that Michael thought about it, it struck him that no, he hadn't ever seen Darryl eat any meat. Lots of fruits and veggies, tons of bread, cheese, crackers, corn chowder, cherry pie, spinach souffl�. But no burgers or pork chops or fried chicken.
�For how long?�
�Ever since college, when I majored in biology.�
�What's that got to do with it?� Michael asked.
�Everything,� Darryl said, rolling the foil down another inch on the protein bar. �Once I started to study life in earnest�in all its countless permutations and manifestations�and I saw that all of it, no matter how large or how small, had one thing in common, I couldn't find it in my heart to interfere anymore.�
Michael thought he got it. �You mean the urge to live?�
Darryl nodded. �Every species, from the blue whale to the fruit fly, will struggle, with every fiber of its being, to preserve its own existence. And the more I studied them, even the single-celled diatoms, the more beautiful they all appeared to me. Life is a miracle�an absolute fucking miracle�in every form it takes, and I just never felt right again about taking any of it unnecessarily.�
While Michael was not about to give up his baby back ribs or his porterhouse steaks, he did understand Darryl's point of view. But there was one thing he didn't get.
�So why haven't you mentioned it before? In the Officers� Mess,or the wardroom? They could have made you vegetarian plates or something.�
Darryl gave him a long look. �Do you know what sailors, and military types in general, think of
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