Several days later, just as everyone thought the expedition would become mired in a prolonged stalemate, an even more astonishing order came from the bridge of the flagship, the Blade of Sorrow.
"Soldiers of the Imperium, this is Lord General Gage."
Amplified through the Auspex arrays, the general's voice echoed across every deck and through every ruin. Loud and resolute, it carried an unquestionable authority that instantly dispelled the despondency hanging in the air.
"By the sacred decree of Living Saint Saul," Gage paused, seemingly giving everyone time to absorb his words, "in view of the stalemate at the front, and to prepare for the arrival of reinforcements from Terra on an unprecedented scale, the Saint has decided to return personally to Dal'yth Prime, which is now entirely under our control."
"The Saint will personally oversee the expansion of the logistics base, ensuring that every bolt round and every canister of promethium reaches the front in time. He will depart aboard the fast frigate Swift Spear in one standard Terran hour."
The news was like a potent Combat Stimulant injected straight into the heart of the Expeditionary Force.
Reinforcements! Vast reinforcements! Those words exploded in the soldiers' minds. It meant they were no longer an isolated force stranded far from home, that the High Lords of Terra had not forgotten them, and that final victory would surely belong to the sacred Imperium of Man!
More importantly, the Saint was going to oversee logistics himself. In the soldiers' simple understanding, this demonstrated not only a commander's foresight, but also how deeply he valued the life of every rank-and-file soldier. For a time, irrepressible cheers and prayers rang out across the once lifeless planet.
"Praise the Emperor! Praise the Saint!"
Amid a thunderous chorus of blessings, the frigate Swift Spear slowly pulled