On the bridge of the Ubiquitous Justice, the mood was tense.

Justinius stood, comfortably relaxed in his matte-grey power armour. The hum of the integrated reactor unit could be faintly felt through the soles of his boots, and the vibration felt vaguely reassuring.

A few feet away, the other admirals stood circled around a central holo-lithic display. Justinius knew them all well. G'Nax of the Huronal Conclave, Davrin of the Hetrion Empire, and Al Enui of the Dalian Federation.

Each was imperious, regal, and haughty in their own unique alien way. In truth, Justinius had great respect for each as a commander. He had personally seen each of them win fraught battles, utilising skillful strategy, artful manoeuvre and genius planning. On his tour with the federation, as the first Terran commander of the Galactic Committee, he had been in awe of these alien warlords.

Despite this, he now saw, in these dark hours, what none of these beings were.

Warriors.

Red lights flashed above bridge consoles, and the lights dimmed to emergency only.

A bridge ensign was the first to break the eerie silence.

"I have emergence signature. Harbinger-class displacement."

G'Nax turned his black eyes to the crew-member. "Put it up on main display, please."

G'Nax was as cool and collected as ever, but Justinius thought he sensed something under that exterior. A tingle in the back of his skull whispered it to him.

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It was fear.

The display between the admirals flickered, and a representation of a ship appeared. The vessel was enormous according to the scan returns, a void-black behemoth, covered in long, fang-like protuberances. Under the main run of the vessel, these protuberances aligned in a long ridge that reminded Justinius of a shark fin.

Admiral Davrin look to G'Nax, who nodded to him. Davrin cleared his throat noisily, and raised his thin imperious voice.

"Weapons, full charge on the plasma coilgun."

An bridge member called back. "Ready!"

"Fire."

On the main display, a flash of violet cracked outward like lightning and struck the enemy vessel. The display blurred and distorted as it tried to render the energy discharge.

A brief cheer went up from the crew, until the sensors ensign spoke up. "No effect on target sir. Power signature is still stable."

As the display resolved, Al Enui strode forward to the gunnery station.

Unlike the others admirals, his voice was not calm. He rose his voice in a strident warcry.

"Full Battery! Send them to hell!"

The ensign didn't reply, but the emergency light dimmed and the bridge thrummed with the noise of repeated coilgun discharges.

Justinius activated his helmet comm, linked privately to his regiment commander.

"Marcus, are the men ready?"

His earpiece buzzed the response, "We're ready. Give the order at your leisure."

On the bridge, the three admirals were having a terse exchange. On the main display, the enemy warship was bearing down.

There was pointing and gesticulating. Raised voices and accusations.

It wasn't their fault, the war had been going bad for months. It was exactly that circumstance that had four commanders sharing the bridge of a single warship. Now, with their backs against a wall and a final failure rolling down on them, they were cracking.

Justinius loudly cleared his throat.

Reminded of his presence, the three admirals stopped and turned to him. He didn't speak, he simply laid his hand on the pommel of his sheathed blade, and raised one eyebrow.

The three admirals looked at one another cautiously.

The human commander spoke, "I need your assent please. This doctrine hasn't yet been committee approved."

The three aliens eyed him warily. He knew their reservations. Fear of humanity had only grown of recent years, manifesting as a fear of barbarians, a fear of the blood-drunk savages. He knew that privately, the Galactic Committee bemoaned the necessity of having humans involved in their conflicts. They feared the undignified race would slip the leash.

The alien admirals simply nodded.

Justinius smiled as he drew his helmet over his head, and he saw the aliens dismay grow into distaste.

"Marcus, we're going in. Teleport jump authorized."

"About bloody time".