You could see Martin working together with several other scientists - two women and another one man just working on a marine animal research on a yacht.
Martin was dressed in a white T-shirt, dark blue jeans and black boots. He was also wearing a sweatshirt of his favorite color - blue this time light.
The blond was in charge of finding and making sure that the fish had not been extinct in the local waters. The rest of his academic team was one oceanographer, biologist, and the other man on the ship was a seasoned African-American naval captain who had previously served in the navy, making it a great candidate for University of Falcon City for scientific research of this type.
The young man was startled to hear the voice of one of his academic team girls.
"I got the fish!" the young biologist called enthusiastically, as if she were a fisherman.
Martin was in a bad mood after his last breakup, but his research associates, who in this case were from the same year as he did not show it.
He sighed and came to a dark-haired woman with brown-haired white-haired hair.
Martin came to her to be the only zoologist here to confirm that it was the kind they were looking for.
The girl was overly enthusiastic, and Martina was annoyed by the scream. He didn't want any "smart goat" to ruin his work.
There were clouds in the sky. It was overcast, so it was more cold and dark here at sea. In addition, a cold wind was blowing.
The fish had silver scales but there was a line of black scales from her nose to the back fin. It was quite large, but it was the kind they were looking for.
Martin sighed again. He was tired of the stereotypical work of a scientist who repeated himself here in Falcon City. Even more so after her breakup with a girl who has beaten him on his head that he is a romantic-artistic soul.
"It's the fish we're looking for here. It's blackfin tuna aka Thunnus Atlanticus. It was told by the line on her head and the typical shape of the tuna." said Martin, trying to keep the flapping fish on the plastic table on the left side of the ship.
However, he cursed briefly during that, because the tuna was large and quite powerful. In addition, Martin wanted to release the fish back to freedom. The tuna now reminded him of his self stuck in depression.
"Please hand me that damn chip before the fish runs!" yelled and the oceanographer, a girl with a round head and red hair found it and handed him the chip.
Suddenly, some force swept through his body with anger: he managed to hold the wet fish in place, though it slapped his tail in pain.
"So now you get this friend.." murmured to himself as he easily managed to attach the tracking chip to the tuna gills using violence.
The fish was even crazier than before, and Martin raised it with both hands, then threw the frightened animal back into the saltwater. There was a splash.
His gang rejoiced, but he didn't. Now there was a two-hour return trip to Falcon City.
Martin decided to go to the captain's cabin and pretend he didn't exist. Maybe get a little drunk.
"Damn.." Martin muttered to himself as he watched the sea waves.
He was back in Falcon City that evening, and Martin was packing his stuff in his backpack in his "office" sitting on a chair at his desk. Behind him you could see a white wall with posted pictures of nature. He had a pen on his desk and some papers.
You could tell he was both angry and depressed.
Though these things were only in his head, he thought he would buy some alcohol on his way home and be drunk in his room unless his younger brother made a noise with his visits.
He loved her, he really loved her.
To endure, he pulled one can of alcohol from his work backpack. He was about to open it, but he didn't open it when he heard the voice of one of his old acquaintances: the professor who taught him here at the university.
"Kratt, what happened to you?"
Martin immediately hid the can of alcohol, so his former class teacher wouldn't see him like that. Immediately the door to his "office" opened.
"Nothing associate professor, really nothing." Martin blurted out when a 60-year-old man with wrinkles and gray hair came into his official nest, formally dressed, almost as a clerk.
"You still haven't learned. You know how many times I told you that you can call me 'teacher'?"
Shortly thereafter, Martin answered as a former student.
"I'm sorry, teacher."
Associate professor looked at the young man, took a deep breath, and said:
"I have come to inform you that your first expedition awaits you in order to protect endangered species and their subsequent return to nature."
If Martin had the beer open and would have swollen before, he would probably spit it out because he only confusedly said; "Expedition?!"
"Yes, exactly, Martin. And I'll lead the expedition."
Martin got up from his chair and continued his questions in part with enthusiasm.
"Where will we go? And which animal species is involved?"
Associate professor reacted with humor because he gave his former student a colorful tourist flyer "Discover Africa!".
"To Africa? Aren't they fighting there now?" Martin smirked and he turned his look from a tourist flyer, which he held in right hand back to his former teacher.
"Yes, Africa is at war, but you're not going to fight with me."
Martin just swallowed, and began to shake a little, because he remembered the terrorist attack on the World Trade Center on September 11 last month.
He wasn't live at that, but the news was full of that. Associate professor continued telling him information.
"We will fly to the Democratic Republic of Congo. Plane will land in Mbuji-Maji and we travel to Bukavu between Rwandi and Burundi."
Martin swallowed again, but the associate professor continued.
"Our task will be to ensure that animals do not become victims of this human conflict. Particularly endangered species."
Martin swallowed for the third time and he asked again; "And will there be a guide or.. or just someone who knows?"
"The guide will be a man named Mwikiza. More about him in Mbuji-Maji."
Martin swallowed again for a few more and asked, "When will I leave with you?"
Associate professor took the leaflet back, looked into Martin's eyes and said, "The day after tomorrow."
For Martin it was more than enough information, so he decided to leave his "office".
Associate professor followed him as he left the room and walked his own way through the university corridors. Behind the windows, which had the exterior of the faculty instead of concrete walls, were in most cases a night city and darkness.
Martin returned home in a somewhat shocked mood. You could say that scared and excited at the same time.
Luckily, his younger brother Chris was in the dormitory, so he could enjoy the peace and rest from his sibling.
In his room, he left turned on only the lamp at his desk, which was behind his bed.
Lying in his underwear and white shirt lying on a bed covered with a duvet with blue geometric patterns held a pen and something that looked like a diary.
He felt a little better and even though he didn't say anything, you could see him smiling again after a long time.
He started writing. The work was called Song of Love and War. He smiled again and thought for a moment. After a few seconds he began to work on the first verses.
I was desperate,
part of my heart was gone.
But now,
I'm fighting in war!
Martin thought again. He wondered if he would write it as a sonnet or as one big poem. He finally decided that the first verse would be a sonnet. The beginning of the poetic work, complemented by his own drawings, which he creates from this moment until the end of his first expedition in Africa, specifically in Congo.
He started typing this start sonnet on.
I was torn apart,
then they called me.
I fight all the time,
until there is no feeling in me.
I'm in a bloody jungle,
bullets fly every step.
I'm lost in this tangle.
I hear screams,
animals also kill.
I'm lost in this bloody streams.
Martin read his sonnet and smiled. If his first expedition is somewhere where is fighting, why not include it in this sonnet in advance?
Martin hasn't finished yet. On the next blank page (it was a lined diary) he began drawing a picture of a lion jumping on a shooting shocked soldier in the savannah.
He took a deep breath. He felt a little better and was more happy to know that during his first expedition he would work on both poetry and illustration.
He got up from the bed and put the pen with his diary in his working backpack, which was placed on a chair at the desk in his room.
He lay back in bed and covered himself with the covers. He reached out to turn off the lamp and after a while began to fall asleep.