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Feeling his weight return, Max stood, walked to the airlock, and took a deep breath.  “You’re on,” he said to himself, as he palmed the door mechanism.
    Both sets of inner doors slid open revealing the Cumberland’s Salute Deck, a small, square compartment holding six naval officers in white Dress Uniforms, an honor guard of six Union Marines in the emerald green of their service’s Dress Uniforms, the Boatswain in the scarlet Dress Uniform of a senior Naval Noncommissioned Officer, and one man in the plain black tunic and pants of an officer from the Union Military Intelligence Directorate.  Max took all of this in, without turning his head or showing any expression.
    Almost lightheaded from emotion, he took one precise step from the pod onto the deck—his first onto his new command—and paused, feet together, for a slow count of five as he heard both sets of doors close and the transferpod detach from the airlock behind him.  After that, he pivoted ninety degrees to his left so that he was facing aft and was looking directly at the Union “National” Flag and the Union Naval or “Admiralty” Flag standing next to one another on flagpoles against the left bulkhead just inside the hatch.  He briskly saluted them, then reversed the turn exactly to face an officer, a Lieutenant who apparently was the XO, standing in his path about a meter and a half inside the hatch.  Max brought himself into a second salute and held it.  “Permission to come aboard, sir.”
    The Lieutenant brought himself into a salute and held it while he said, “Permission granted, sir.  Welcome aboard.”  He snapped his hand back to his side.  A split second later, Max’s hand followed suit.  The Lieutenant then said “Attention on deck,” and pressed a key on his percom.  A chime sounded on the Salute Deck and throughout the ship, signaling that every word uttered in that compartment would be heard by all hands.
    Max reached into the inside pocket of his uniform tunic, the pocket made for precisely this purpose, and removed the formal Commanding Officer’s Warrant that had been delivered to him only a hour before.  He unfolded the document and read aloud in his best official voice:
    “By the Authority of the President, the Parliament, and the Senate of the Terran Union, and by directive of the Commissioners of the Admiralty, I hereby name, appoint, and constitute Lieutenant Commander Maxime Tindall Robichaux to hold and carry out the post of Master and Commander of the Union Space Ship Cumberland , Registry Number DPA 0004, the same being a vessel of war in the service of the Union Space Navy.  The said Maxime Tindall Robichaux is hereby required and directed forthwith to take charge and command of the aforementioned vessel, to obey all applicable laws, regulations, standing orders, and operational orders that shall issue from duly constituted authority from time to time, and to secure due obedience to the same from all persons lawfully under his command.  Let him answer to the contrary at his peril.  And, for all of the above and foregoing, let this be his warrant.  Given by my hand and seal this 21 st day of January in the year 2315, by Louis G. Hornmeyer, Vice Admiral, Commanding, Task Force Tango Delta.”
    As soon as the echo of the word “Delta” died, the Boatswain sounded two notes on his whistle and announced in a stentorian tone:  “ Cumberland , arriving.”
    “I relieve you, sir,” said Max to the Lieutenant in front of him.
    “I stand relieved,” he replied. 
    “It is with pleasure and pride that I accept the honor and responsibility of command of this fine vessel,” Max said, sounding anything but full of pleasure.  “I look forward to meeting all of you and, more important, to meeting and destroying the enemy.  Let the Officer of the Deck log the Change in Command.  All standing orders to remain in force until further notice.  That is all.”
    Max shook the Lieutenant’s hand firmly.