"Stars thinned out and drew together. Stars, like luminous lice crawling on the black body of eternity...."
... Velocity and acceleration needles met in the center of the gauge. No change in the relation of the ship to anything was apparent, and none would be. Out of the warp, the ship hung, unmoving, in a vastness of dark. Even the galaxies showed but faintly in the visiplates. Destination was the spiral M31 in Andromeda, but the rest of Andromeda lay far behind, and a faint smudge ahead seemed as far away as the home galaxy, which was exactly the case.
Venture IV had reached the halfway point, with three quarters of a million light-years of loneliness in either direction. Poets and writers have called it the point of no return, when a ship has reached a point in its voyage where the distance back is as far as that still ahead.
"Well, this is it," said Charters wearily. "We'll have to decide now whether to go back ... or, if we think we can make it, push on ahead."
Charters was captain pro tem, though, on a technical ship, space formalities and titles were phantoms.
Braun was unimpressed. "All right, it's the raw end of nowhere. And we're here. What does it prove?"
Charters gave him a friendly slap.
"It proves one thing. That we can make it—next time. We could have made it this time if we'd known what to expect. We'll go back with our report, and the next ship will get there. And make it back to tell about it. We could get there, this time—but not back. Sure, we're all disappointed. But don't take it so hard. We haven't really failed. We've made it easier to get the job done. Next time."
"Yes," agreed Braun bitterly. "The job will be done. But not by us. We'll be too old before another ship is ready. And by the time the analysts are through with this one, it will be junk. Just like us."