On a position where shelling had left only half a flagpole standing, a brand-new Aquila banner, flecked with mud, was laboriously raised. It snapped in the wind that smelled of burning.
Exhausted soldiers leaned against the shattered breastwork, drinking water, dressing wounds, and counting their dwindling Ammunition.
A brief respite.
Leki leaned against the cold sandbags and tilted his head back, draining the last of the lukewarm water from his canteen.
Just then, he caught something unusual in the sky from the corner of his eye.
It was neither the enemy's purple lightning nor burning wreckage.
Dozens of blazing streaks, trailing long tails of plasma exhaust, pierced the low clouds at an almost vertical angle like divine punishment, hurtling toward their sector...
Or rather, toward the entire Norman Defense Zone.
"Drop Pods! They're our Drop Pods!" a sharp-eyed Observer was the first to shout.
In an instant, hoarse cheers erupted across the dispirited position, the cries of men who had escaped death.
"Space Marines! They're Space Marines!"
Hope surged like a shot of adrenaline into the hearts of these Mortals on the verge of collapse.
Through the exhaust trails, their markings were faintly visible: alternating patterns of white and red.
Those were the colors of the Fifth Legion, the White Scars.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Heavy impacts rang out one after another, shaking the ground.
The Drop Pods slammed into the earth, throwing dust dozens of meters into the air.
Then, with a hiss of hydraulics, their doors burst outward. Towering white-and-red figures sprang out like tigers released from cages, swift and orderly, immediately securing advantageous positions around them with movements as fluid as machinery.
The warrior at their head stood out.
He was slightly taller than the other Space Marines, his armor more elaborately decorated, with a prominent wolf's head