“You Stuart?” the crewman asked as we set foot on the freighter.

“Yes,” I said. “Clark and Brenda.”

“Wait here,” he said.

My bride of two minutes gave my hand another squeeze. We’d already come so far, sixty light years from Earth and still another four hundred to go.

Another crewman came by, busy with something. “I’d step forward about two meters if I were you,” he warned. We did and the heavy space doors behind whined into motion, eventually sliding closed with a dull thud. A sigh escaped from the mechanism and several deep clunks shook at our feet.

“I guess we’re going,” I told Brenda.

The first crewman was back. He pointed at the small pile of our possessions someone had left piled on the deck. “These your things?”

“Yes.”

“I mean, this is all you have?”

“Yes,” I said, this time with a little less confidence.

The crewman shook his head in disgust.

“Wait here. Captain’s gonna love you two morons.”