Saints Amongst Men

Prologue.

Dear Reader,

This is not a book that has a happy ending. Nor is it a book about heroes and saints. It is not a book about needless acts of selflessness and modesty. It is not a book about honour.
This is a tale of ordinary men, living ordinary lives and committing ordinary sins. It is a book about being human, I guess.
Many will consider these pages to be the scribblings and dribble of a crazed old man with nothing but silence for company. Perhaps you will too?

I am no linguist or accomplished author, but a sailor. I have travelled amongst the stars for all my days, even as my final hours draw near. The characters here were my friends, acquaintances and enemies. Do not get attached to any, for their paths have already been tread, and as such there is little you or I can do to change them. Some live, others die. A lucky few die quickly.
In this age there is no glory to be found in travelling into space. Everything out there is out there to bring misery to all.
I remember an old saying, from a film in times past. People would say that, in space, no one can hear you scream. Oh, if only this were true. My ears have long since given up their function to the hoarse groans and wails of the dying. Too many times I have had to endure the shrieks of fellow men as they are taken so abruptly from this world.

Even as I weave these lines upon this paper, I see the blood running in great streams from my hands. Time and time again have I had to give into the animal within us all. I convince myself that I could have once been a hero. I know that, as I recite my encounters within this book, I shall weep when I notice the times that I cowered like a child. There are no Saints amongst Men.

There is no such thing as honour. There are no such things as Heroes or Saints.

There are no such things as Happy Endings.