The trip back to Sol took two weeks aboard the Ubiquitous Justice.

The ship had been heavily damaged in its last encounter, and it made dock at one of the many Jovian orbital shipyards that orbited Jupiter. The yards bristled with activity. Sleek, long, alien vessels moored alongside their bulky human counterparts. It had been years since Justinius had been back to Sol, but it seemed to him that there were far more human ships than usual. Amongst the vessels he spied new and unfamiliar human designs that incorporated many of the design features of other species.

Something was clearly afoot. For the first time in years, humanity was building new ships, ramping up to a new stage in the conflict.

After first contact with the Galactic Committee, humanity had agreed to suspend any active military build-up while its membership was considered. In return the Committee had ensured their protection, and had agreed to a non-aggression pact between humanity and all committee members.

It wasn’t simply that the skies of the solar system were cluttered with ships. Humanity had pulled almost all of their fleets home during this interstitial period, skeptical of their new alien comrades. In the time since the non-aggression pact, it was not unusual for there to be thrice-fold the number of Committee vessels as human ones around the homeworld.

That had always seemed like a reasonable balance to Justinius. Humans were Galaxy-wide considered to be supreme in matters of warfare, despite their technological shortcomings. Justinius reckoned that a single vessel stocked with human warriors, could be the equal to four or five times the number of their alien counterparts. It wasn’t that humans possessed any advanced stratagems or miraculous weapons, it was simply that where the many alien species of the galaxy conducted warfare as a science, or as a form of art, humans practiced it the same way they practiced breathing.

Humans were tenacious, ruthless, and most of all, they possessed an instinct and drive for conflict that no other species could match. In his tenure with the fleet, Justinius had quickly learned that no troops of any other species possessed the drive his men did in terms of violence. It was common for other species to conduct the business of war coldly and by rote.

His men loved it.

They would face dangers no other species would endure, and commit themselves to battle without reserve or doubt. It wasn’t that humans were suicidal or bloodthirsty, it was simply that for the human warrior battle was an experience unmatched.

Departing from the Ubiquitous Justice, Justinius and his Executive Officer Marcus boarded the Jovian shipbuilding station Alpha-12.

As docking limb’s decompression doors hissed open, Justinius found himself faced by General Caecilius. Caecilius was the supreme military commander for humanity in the Home Theatre. In this role he also served as the chief contact for the Galactic Committee when it came to all matters military.

Justinius and Marcus saluted in unison, and stepped through the hatchway.

The general tucked his cap under his arm and strolled up to meet them.

“Good to see you Justinius, and you too Marcus.” The general spoke softly.

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He was an unremarkable man to look at. Approaching sixty, with snow-white hair barely clinging to his scalp, he would not have been out of place at a marketplace dirt-side, haggling for the best prices on root vegetables.

Justinius knew better. Caecilius was a seasoned veteran, and had seen more conflict in his years than nearly any other human alive. Justinius liked him immensely, and over their shared history, they had developed an easygoing rapport.

“Always a pleasure to see you sir. Apologies for not coming back to visit more often, work has been fairly busy.”

The general laughed, and gestured for the two warriors to walk with him.

Strolling through the busy corridors of the station, the general continued.

“I have been quite despondent in your absence Justinius, I must admit.” The elderly man joked, “You promised you would write.”

Justinius simply smirked. “Well I’m back now, Sir. For whatever this meeting is about.”

The general chuckled, and stepped through a hatchway into a service elevator.

“Don’t worry Justinius, it’s not a medal ceremony. I know how much you hate those. Look out this way.”

As the elevator trundled downwards it slid along a long vertical viewing window, showing the wide expanse of ships docked in orbit above the curving, turbulent surface of Jupiter. Amongst the ship’s assembled there, one stood out to Justinius.

The general, seeing his expression, spoke in a hushed whisper.

“She’s really something isn’t she.”

The ship was two kilometers from flaring engine cones to blocky prow. Matte-grey and angular, the ship was the largest human vessel Justinius had ever seen. He spied non-standard engine flares, and hidden along the panels of the vessel, recessed shield generators.

A group of tug boats were laser etching a name into the side of the vessel.

Man’s Righteous Fury

Justinius turned to the general, who looked out over the shipyard.

“Sir?” was all Justinius could manage.

The general turned to the warrior.

“Two years ago, in secret, the committee signed a variation to the non-aggression pact. They agreed to allow us to begin ship-building again, so long as we promised to allow the committee to make use of them.”

“We are going to turn over human vessels to the committee?” Justinius couldn’t believe the arrogance of the thought.

Caecilius shook his head. “That’s what they thought they were getting, but in truth, the writing was on the wall for the Committee’s war. We held off completing the vessels until we could leverage their desperation.”

Again, Justinius was stunned.

The general continued, “Three weeks ago, the Committee took a vote. The contents of that vote have not been made public yet, but I think you can guess what it was on.”

“Membership.”

“Just so.” The general agreed, “Two days after that vote, the fleet's engineers began approving the new vessels for service. You’re here to take the command of the Fury.”

The view disappeared as the elevator slowed to a stop. The door slid open with a thunk, and revealed a flight deck. Sitting on the launch pad, a transport gun-ship, resplendent in red and gold sat at idle, its ramp lowered.

Inscribed in gold filigree on the side of the ship, were the words Man’s Righteous Fury, and beneath it, the symbol of the 1st Terran Company.

The general turned to Justinius and extended his hand.

“Congratulations Justinius.”

In the general’s palm a small box was opened, containing the crossed saber and star insignia of a rear admiral.

“Thank you sir.”