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There is no translation for the human word “Knight”.
Story by Primarch-Amaranth
Original story: https://www.reddit.com/r/HFY/comments/1byl6dl/there_is_no_translation_for_the_human_word_knight/
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There is no translation for the human word “Knight”.
Text
I’m sure you all have seen the casualty rates the Confederation has endured in every confrontation with the Xilax. The numbers haunt me still. Entire Army Groups were gone in a matter of scant hours, overwhelmed and torn apart. Armor divisions disintegrated by bio-titan weaponry, our garrisons ground to bloody chunks by relentless advances of their warrior-forms, and our fleets gutted and torn to scrap metal on the orbit of every world we defended by fleets that darkened the stars and clogged the sky.
The Xilax do not bargain, and do not engage in diplomacy other than the absolute surrender of the invaded species. They harvest the biological material of the living to create more of their own. They are monstrous and engage in any type of warfare that might provide a tactical advantage. They feel no fear, but they understand it well enough to abuse psychotropic gas, terror tactics and the targeting of civilians and the wounded for maximum psychological effect.
When we were told a new race, humanity, would join the fray, we were all less than enthusiastic. What was one young race more to throw to the meat grinder of war? A few more ships to buy ourselves some extra minutes for the evacuation of civilians and wounded? Barrack talk is corrosive when morale is low. We began to wager on how long would mankind stand and fight before running scared back to their home system and awaiting extermination, how many hundreds of thousands they would waste in this hopeless war.
The bets were as depressing as our chances of making it to the next day.
And then they came.
The Xilax threw their first ground assault over Covernicus, and the 17th Army Group was ordered to win time, to delay them by any means necessary. We had been given human reinforcements, who called themselves, the ‘Fifth Order’, whatever that meant. Apparently, they had a seasoned commander from the last inter-human war of unification. We couldn’t care less. Well, I am sure the Xilax cared even less. At first, that is.
If any of you has been lucky to never see those thrice-cursed bastards go to war, I bless your minds, my kinsmen. The Xilax are unnatural. While our current investigations point to them being a heavily genetically modified race from before the foundation of the Confederation, we didn’t know, nor care, of their origins that day. They swarmed with their infantry, fear-inducing bio-forms of flesh and bone created from every biological form they killed, captured and harvested, with graphed weapons and enhanced and modified for war
Behind them, came their spider tanks and heavy super-heavy armor that crushed the ground on grav-engines. Their lightest armor dwarfed our heaviest. Their bio-titans could take battalions by themselves, and their ships would lay brutal orbital fire, uncaring of friendly fire or civilian casualties. To them, we were more flesh to harvest for them to create new warrior-forms for war.
And so they came. Firing corrosive bolts of acid that ate tanks and bunkers, beams of catalytic energy to melt and bubble flesh and bone. And then, they came with sharp and blunt appendixes, made from bio-enhanced bone, like saws, blades, spikes and mauls, to butcher, kill, harvest, and feed.
I had seen enough friends die to know how dangerous, how unattainable the defense was. Still, twenty million life forms counted on us holding the line. So we tried.
I swear to you, we did try.
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