The Lonely OnesBy Edward W. LudwigIllustrated by PAUL ORBAN
The line between noble dreams and madness isthin, and loneliness can push men past it....
Onward sped the Wanderer, onwardthrough cold, silent infinity, onand on, an insignificant pencilof silver lost in the terrible,brooding blackness.
But even more awful than theblackness was the loneliness of thesix men who inhabited the silverrocket. They moved in loneliness asfish move in water. Their lives revolvedin loneliness as planets revolvein space and time. They boretheir loneliness like a shroud, andit was as much a part of them assight in their eyes. Loneliness wasboth their brother and their god.
Yet, like a tiny flame in the darkness,there was hope, a savage, desperatehope that grew with thepassing of each day, each month,and each year.
And at last....
"Lord," breathed Captain SamWiley.
Lieutenant Gunderson nodded."It's a big one, isn't it?"
"It's a big one," repeated CaptainWiley.
They stared at the image in theWanderer's forward visi-screen, atthe great, shining gray ball. Theystared hard, for it was like an enchanted,God-given fruit handedthem on a star-flecked platter ofmidnight. It was like the answer toa thousand prayers, a shining symbolof hope which could mean theend of loneliness.
"It's ten times as big as Earth,"mused Lieutenant Gunderson. "Doyou think this'll be it, Captain?"
"I'm afraid to think."
A thoughtful silence.
"Captain."
"Yes?"
"Do you hear my heart pounding?"
Captain Wiley smiled. "No. No,of course not."
"It seems like everybody shouldbe hearing it. But we shouldn't getexcited, should we? We mustn'thope too hard." He bit his lip."But there should be life there,don't you think, Captain?"
"There may be."
"Nine years, Captain. Think ofit. It's taken us nine years to gethere. There's got to be life."
"Prepare for deceleration, Lieutenant."
Lieutenant Gunderson's tall,slim body sagged for an instant.Then his eyes brightened.
"Yes, sir!"
Captain Sam Wiley continuedto stare at the beautiful grayglobe in the visi-screen. He was notlike Gunderson, with boyish eagernessand anxiety flowing out of himin a ceaseless babble. His emotionwas as great, or greater, but it wasimprisoned within him, like swirling,foaming liquid inside a corkedjug.
It wouldn't do to encourage themen too much.