_The line between noble dreams and madness is thin, and
loneliness can push men past it...._
Onward sped the _Wanderer_, onward through cold, silent infinity, on and
on, an insignificant pencil of silver lost in the terrible, brooding
blackness.
But even more awful than the blackness was the loneliness of the six men
who inhabited the silver rocket. They moved in loneliness as fish move
in water. Their lives revolved in loneliness as planets revolve in space
and time. They bore their loneliness like a shroud, and it was as much a
part of them as sight in their eyes. Loneliness was both their brother
and their god.
Yet, like a tiny flame in the darkness, there was hope, a savage,
desperate hope that grew with the passing of each day, each month, and
each year.
And at last....
"Lord," breathed Captain Sam Wiley.