Holding the Line

The Ultramarine advance had been swift and decisive, yet the scale of the galaxy made a mockery of their efforts. No matter how many worlds they saved ever more were falling into silence.

Worse the enemies of man had rallied and adapted, the XIIIth Legion began to take serious losses. At Lorenthia the 4th 'Aurora' Chapter was beset by the Death Guard, their signature tanks and heavy artillery being corroded before their eyes by the God of Disease and Rot. The Space Marines were forced to abandon their vehicles and fight a gruelling insurgent campaign without hope of support or evacuation.

From the echoing ruins of the Interex poured the multitudes of the Mega-arachnids, spreading across the stars in deluge of chitin and claws. They were met by a company from the 22nd 'Nemesis' Chapter who greeted them with Rad-missiles and Phospex Bombs. Through callous ruthlessness they burned out the infestation and ended the threat forever though at the cost of two billion lives and a dozen worlds being poisoned forever.

On Pythos the Imperials army united to combat the endless hordes of Neverborn pouring forth. Eventually the Damnation Cache was closed by mysterious figures in silver armour but not before one million men and eight thousand Ultramarines were slaughtered.

Ultramar proved recruits as fast it was able and soon the XIIIth Legion accounted for more than half the loyalist Astartes in the Galaxy. But even this could barely keep pace with the staggering losses suffered in this grinding war of attrition. From every dark corner new enemies emerged and it seemed as if the galaxy itself had risen up to extinguish humanity. At the highest levels of the Imperial war machine it was becoming increasingly obvious that the Ultramarines alone could not save the galaxy.

But then that had never been Guilliman's intent.

Roboute Guilliman was more than a simple warrior; he was a statesman and knew well the value of propaganda. Thus he turned to the one asset he knew was untouched, the Astropathic networks of the Imperium.

These mystic savants could broadcast information across light years and still bound the crippled Imperium together. From the moment he committed his forces to battle Guilliman had ordered them to begin transmitting news of the Ultramarine's victories to every world and battlefront in the Imperium. He gave specific orders that these were not encrypted messages intended for governors and generals rather they were open broadcasts to be disseminated to every soldier, pilot and gunner in the Imperial army.

This was undoubtedly the most callous of manipulations: the most desperate of holding actions were portrayed as stoic defences, every ashen victory a glorious conquest. Every foe slain was heralded as a triumph for mankind, every metre taken lauded as a key stepping stone on the road to ultimate victory.

Constant missives of the Ultramarines actions were sent across the length and breadth of the galaxy and slowly the tales took on a life of their own. Around camp fires and huddled in crumbled ruins men told outlandish stories of the XIIIth Legion and every word was taken as gospel truth by those that heard them. In the minds of men the Space Marines went from being warrior giants to legendary demi-gods, shining angels whose bright wings carried swift death to the enemies of man. As the word spread ever further the armies of man began to rally, soldiers looking up from the ashes and seeing one last chance at glory, one final ray of hope.

Feuding regiments put aside their differences and stood shoulder to shoulder beneath the banners of Macragge. Retreating armies dung in their heels and held against impossible odds wherever the blue and gold arrived. And led by the sons of Ultramar mankind began fighting back against the doom overtaking them.

When the Word Bearers invaded Mordian the Imperial Army under General Contralis stood firm against the Traitors and their Daemonic armies. Across the midnight hives they fought back, never breaking, never ceasing to fight. On the steps of the Governor's Palace Contralis personally held the line with his men against the Word Bearers, refusing every entreaty to fall back. Through sheer bloody minded refusal to admit the possibility of defeat the Mordians held the Traitors' advance long enough for a coterie of Sanctioned Psykers to undo the Daemonic summoning spells and leave the Word Bearers no option but to retreat. Of the planetary population barely one in one thousand had survived the attack: Contralis claimed it was his highest honour to have served the Emperor so well.

When the Talestrians invaded Jorthan the sighting of a single Thunderhawk was enough for the feuding noble houses set aside a three thousand year old vendetta. They opened their armouries and storehouses to feed and outfit the armies of Houses they had been at war with mere days before and as one crushed the Xenos who profaned the Emperors domains. The fact that the sighting of the Thunderhawk was in truth a fabrication by the Administratum was carefully buried and those who knew quietly executed.

At the battle of the Kauros graveyard crews of heretic ships mutinied against their cruel enslavers and seized control of the gun decks of the traitor battleship 'Unending agony'. By the time their overlords had retaken the decks they had targeted and destroyed fifteen rebel frigates. The hole blown in their lines allowed Battlefleet Solar to bracket the fleet and obliterate the Traitors, the battleship's name proved a hollow boast as not one ship escaped.

On the Kallidus plateau the Tallarns refused the order to surrender and fought on for nineteen days and nights against the K'Nib without support or resupply. Their commander attributed their totally unexpected victory to the Emperor's benevolence that sustained his men better than food or water ever could.

Triumph followed triumph and soon the slightest rumour of an Ultramarines deployment was enough to change the course of whole wars. Veritable legions of routed men turning and charging back into hopelessly lost causes for now they could see the path to salvation, they could taste the victory.

Through the most desperate and stubborn of defences the Imperium had managed to hold the line. The blood of millions of martyrs had bought humanity a desperate moment of respite; the balance hung on the finest of scales and the slightest thing could tip it either way.