Charlie and the others had been fortunate enough not to board the Lunar-class Cruiser torn apart by the daemonic Titan.
Amid the chaos, they had squeezed aboard a Rogue Trader's freighter, an old but still sturdy transport ship whose hull was covered in welded patches and signs of repainting.
It lacked the imposing silhouette of an Imperial warship, but nimbly threaded its way through this war-ravaged star cluster, avoiding the lines of fire in every combat zone before finally landing on Macragge with a low rumble.
The moment the hatch opened, a gust carrying the smells of machine oil and disinfectant washed over them.
Macragge, the capital world of Ultramar, had now fallen under the shadow of war as well.
Armed transport craft patrolled the skies, and the low reports of antiaircraft guns being test-fired sounded in the distance. Few civilians could be seen on the streets; only squads of fully armed mortal soldiers of Ultramar were rapidly redeploying.
This place had already become a vast fortress poised for battle.
Charlie was the first to leave the cargo hold. He jumped from the boarding ramp onto the ground, then raised his head and surveyed his surroundings.
His gaze lingered briefly on the defensive works and military installations before settling on the figures waiting directly ahead.
At their head stood an Ultramarines Space Marine clad in pale blue power armour.
His power armour differed greatly from the standard pattern worn by ordinary Space Marines, with more gold ornamentation and engravings spreading along the edges of his pauldrons and breastplate.
A massive power axe was strapped to his back. A faint halo of energy shimmered over its blade, reflecting a keen glare in the sunlight that was painful to look at.
He stood like a steel pillar driven into the ground. Even