Even Cato Sicarius's face beneath his helmet turned utterly grave when he heard the figure "over a thousand."
Over a thousand Death Guard. This was more than a number—it represented an entire grand company, perhaps even a warband's worth of troops. Even the Ultramarines Chapter at full strength had only a thousand Adeptus Astartes. And now, the Second Company at his side was hopelessly outnumbered.
That meant that whichever direction he took the Second Company to reinforce, they might encounter an equal number of Fallen Space Marines, or even more.
Mobile defense— Sicarius bitterly rejected the plan in his mind. When floodwaters surged in from every direction at once, plugging leaks became meaningless, because the dam itself was collapsing. He could not rely on mobility to overcome such overwhelming numbers. Once bogged down, the Second Company would melt away like snowflakes in sunlight.
Sicarius turned to the mortal corps commander and asked gravely, "Against an offensive of this scale, how long are you confident you can hold?"
The commander's face was bloodless, but his gaze was hard as steel.
"This isn't a question of how confident I am, or how long I want to hold, Captain," the commander said, shaking his head, his voice carrying the resolve of a man prepared to die. "High Command's orders are to hold for one month. So whatever the cost, even if we have to bite them with our teeth or pile up our own corpses, I will do everything in my power to pin the Death Guard here for a month!"
Looking at the mortal before him, Sicarius seemed, for a fleeting moment, to see those mortal heroes who had fought beside him on Plantem—
those brave souls.
"Very good." Sicarius nodded. "Then I will hold here alongside you. Just as you did