Everything old was new again. She realized that now.

“I love tanks,” Cleff announced to the world at large.

“So you have said ma’am.” Puta responded from over by the planning table. “Repeatedly.”

Cleff didn’t care. She’d say it as many times as she felt like. Though, being the magnanimous commanding officer that she was, she resisted the urge to announce her love for vehicular combat again quite so soon after the most recent reconfirmation. Instead, her eyes roamed over the holographic display in front of her.

The collection of icons representing her regiment had pushed far ahead of those representing her allies, while those representing the enemy had been scattered in all directions.

And as much as she’d like to put that result down to her superior strategic acumen, as well as the skills of her soldiers, she knew that most of the credit for her achievements were the result of a dire mismatch in equipment.

In short, the Roaches just didn’t have an answer to her heavy armor and were still reeling from their presence on the battlefield.

Certainly, they might have been able to concoct such a response - if she had given them the opportunity to regroup, re-arm and formulate a strategy to do so.

…But she hadn’t.

Since the very first engagement, she’d pushed her regiment to the limits in the name of keeping the Roaches off guard. Driving them before her like a herd of Kell before a swarm of hunters, while using her exos to chase down and eliminate any that tried to scatter away from the main force.

Certainly, she didn’t have the entirety of the Roach presence on Raknos-Three caught in her proverbial net – that would be absurd - but it was a significant portion of the enemy’s forces. Significant enough that the Roach command element couldn’t afford to let them be overrun and wiped-out without being rendered strategically defunct.

Which was why they’d been facing increasingly desperate rear-guard actions from the enemy, as more enemy troops redeployed to her theater from across the planet, before subsequently being thrown at her in a desperate attempt to slow her down and give the main enemy force some breathing room.

Something she resolutely refused to allow to happen.

As evidenced by the slight lethargy and fatigue in the eyes of her officers as they shuffled around the room.

Not the Humans though, she noted as she glanced at her guards, standing tall in and proud in each corner of the room. The aliens are still looking as fresh as ever.

Goddess, in some ways they seemed more energetic than when the regiment had started, the constant stream of victories they’d achieved buoying regimental morale to greater and greater heights.

Not even the regiment’s first casualties had managed to make a long-term dent in it. Even if it did seem to remove the illusion of invincibility many of her boots had wrapped around themselves.

Which was good. Bravery without temperance was just foolishness.

Still, newfound caution notwithstanding, the Humans just didn’t stop.

So long as they got some food, some sleep and… a not inconsiderable amount of anti-bruise cream and supplements, they’d just keep going. Through the wind. Through the rain. During the day. At night. So long as the regiment continued to operate in shifts, it honestly seems like they’d be able operate for months before the regiment’s functionality was severely affected.

Though, apparently, appearances could be deceiving.

According to her newest advisor, cracks in the facade would start becoming obvious in just a week. At which point morale would plummet and possibly deadly mistakes would start becoming a lot more commonplace.

And I’m not inclined to ignore his advice, she thought, glancing at the one Human in the room that wasn’t standing. This ‘Dobry’ hasn’t steered us wrong thus far.

Where before, the aged Human male had been Friska’s advisor alone, he had since become a staple presence in her command level meetings. Because Cleff wasn’t ashamed to admit that a lot of her successes thus far in this campaign had come about as a result of the occasional softly spoken word from the alien male.

Because despite the fact that the Roaches were being driven before her, they had made some reasonably effective attempts at knocking out her vehicles.

Mines. Infantry swarms. Even a pit-trap.

All strategies that Dobry had warned her of in advance.

Admittedly, those general warnings shouldn’t have been enough to keep those assaults from being totally ineffective, but combined with the relatively unobstructed terrain, and a hefty dose of luck, they’d thus far come out relatively unscathed. Which wasn’t totally absurd, given that the bare rock of Raknos-Three presented little in the way of cover or concealment, for troops, traps, or mines.

It was rather hard to conceal a mine when every patch of sand or soil for miles around had been eroded by wind and rain centuries ago, leaving little but bare rock. Not impossible, but damnably difficult.

The only exception to the ‘open-ground rule’ were the planet’s many caves, but they were simple enough to either bypass or scout-out in advance when the regiment encountered them.

“Wonder of wonders, it seems we might actually have this all wrapped up within the next month,” Friska noted, looking up from the display.

“Perhaps,” Dobry allowed, his own eyes roaming over the icons. “Perhaps not.”

“Speak when-” Gremp started to snap at the male, before Cleff raised her hand to silence the ornery Captain.

As was quickly becoming a habit in these meetings.

If Gremp had been dismissive of the tank regiment before they’d arrived on Raknos, that ambivalence had turned into full blown disdain over the last few weeks of fighting.

Which was only to be expected, really, Cleff thought, watching her subordinate glare at the tanker even as her mouth slammed shut. Exo pilots are a prideful bunch at the best of times, and Gremp’s a perfect example of the breed.

In Cleff’s eyes, it would be a lot stranger if the Exo-Captain and her company hadn’t kicked up a fuss about being displaced by the tankers as the regiment’s main striking arm. The Colonel didn’t need to be a mind reader to know that the Captain – and the woman’s subordinates – thought the act of running down foes that had been broken by tank assault was beneath them.

Unfortunately for her, Cleff wasn’t a politically-minded officer. She wouldn’t compromise the performance of her regiment just to salve a few exo-jocks' egos. Especially now that they were so close to the endgame.

“Continue Meritorious-Sergeant,” Cleff instructed.

Nodding, as if he were utterly unbothered by Gremp’s little outburst, the man continued. “Our tanks have surprised them. Of that there is no doubt. Faced with an opponent they cannot easily damage, it does not surprise me that they choose to give ground in favor of buying time for a response.” He gestured to the scattered icons. “My question, is where is that response? Even if they sought to hide it, we should have seen some small indications by now.”

Gremp huffed. “Or you’re giving them too much credit, and they’re just fleeing as fast as they possibly can. Desperate to outrun Imperial justice.”

Dobry nodded. “Not an unreasonable course, Captain. From a reasonable opponent, at least. But from what you and others have described to me, these Roaches are seldom reasonable.”

Friska leaned forward, shooting a quick glare at her fellow Captain before she spoke. “I can’t argue that. Roaches don’t give up easily. Tanks or not, the behavior they’re showing now...It’s almost meek.”

Dobry frowned. “Charging tanks en-masse is meek?”

Friska shrugged. “For Roaches? Yes.”

Silence reigned in the MCV as everyone present ruminated over the mass of icons floating in the air before them.

In the end though, it was Cleff who broke the silence. “Well, if they are planning something, I can’t see it from here.” She drummed her fingers on the display, her talons making a clicking sound as they tapped against the glass. “To that end, there’s little we can do beyond keep our eyes open and our antennae high. If they do try to flee, it won't work out well for them.”

She gestured and the display zoomed out, displaying an image of the continent, the airspace above, and a number of new icons contained within. “The 198th now has the second landing zone secured, and while the Roaches still have access to the final funnel, we still have ships in orbit.” She leaned back, grinning. “Ships that are probably itching to shoot something given that they’ve been forced to sit on their ass for the last two months.”

Satisfied as a number of nods went out around the room, Cleff continued.

“Now, as far as our next objective is concerned, we’re in luck. We originally hadn’t intended it as such, but it fit our current needs nicely. Mining Site Five is the center of the mining nexus and thus the most heavily industrialized area. As such, it makes for a convenient stopping point for us to finally set up a semi-permanent base of operations and allow our people to rest.”

Friska stared up at the 3D blueprint of the facility that now floated in the air. “I’d hardly call it an opportunity for rest if we have to defend the place from attack.”

Cleff shrugged. “Unfortunately, it’s the best opportunity we’ve got. We can’t afford to cede the initiative by retreating, and we don’t have the manpower to cycle our troops out. Instead, our people will just have to settle for the opportunity to get out of the rain for a few days while sleeping in real beds. Plus, assuming the Roaches haven’t wrecked the place, the facility’s dorms should have a number of amenities available. Meanwhile, we repair and rearm the vehicles.”

The Colonel looked up. “To that end, Avilla?”

Immediately the plant woman stepped forward, and started to outline facilities that would need to be captured as intact as possible. Mostly the garage bays and generators.

Cleff wasn’t really listening though. She already knew it all, having been the one to outline the plan. Instead she leaned back in her seat, satisfied at how the campaign was going.

One final push and then we can take a well deserved rest, she thought. Because no one will be able to deny our success if we manage to grab Mining Site Five.

As the main nexus of all mining facilities on the continent, any force that held the massive complex essentially had free-run of the entire continent.

Once the Terran 1st had it, Cleff’s position would be assured, and she could lie back and let her two incompetent peers and their equally incompetent Marines be the ones to handle clean up.

Yes, things are coming together nicely.

----------

Jason was in a cave. And he was in a boat. And that boat was on a river. And that river was also in a cave. A very wet cave. That was also dark. Pitch black even.

And he had no idea where he was going.

Which was why, he liked to think, it said a lot about his life that he was eminently glad to be here. In this very dark, wet, and confusing cave system.

Because if he was here, it meant he wasn’t part of the final push for the nearby mining complex. Because, as unpleasant as cold wet caves could be, they still beat active battlefields.

Marginally, he thought as he heard, more than saw something large splash through the pitch-black water to their right.

“Was that a shark!?” Nora’s voice came through the comms, sounding more than just a little spooked.

“I’ve no idea,” Jason responded blandly, drumming his fingers lightly against the side of the small wooden canoe. “What did it look like?”

“Like a shark!” the normally calm Norwegian woman responded, a hint of panic in her tone. “Crossed with an eel! And an alligator.”

To Jason’s mind, that didn’t sound much like a shark at all.

Then again, he hadn’t seen it. Though, to be fair, he doubted Nora had seen much of this mysterious eel-gator either. It was very dark after all, and while the night vision setting on their helmets was pretty good, it did still need some light to work with.

Of which there was very little in this subterranean cavern. At best, he could make out vague outlines.

“I’d try not to think about it,” he said.

“It was bigger than the boat, Jason!”

“As I said. Try not to think about it.”

Like he was doing.

Instead he looked over to their ‘guide’. The blue-skinned Ufrian was standing at the back of the boat and carefully steering them through the labyrinthine tunnels using a long stick. An act that looked easier than it sounded, given that the current didn’t appear that strong.

It’s a bit like being on one of those gondolas they have in Venice, he thought.

Yes. He was on a gondola. In Venice. Not in a cave. About to be eaten by an eel-shark. Being guided by an ancient warrior woman with blue skin who was navigating via echolocation.

“Do you think we might have an opportunity to hunt this creature? After the negotiations are finished.”

Of course, Yaro had to go and ruin that brief illusion.

“I don’t think so,” he said. “We’re here to get our Target Designator back and make it clear to the Ufrians that should this occur again, there’ll be consequences.”

Cleff and the other officers had been more or less content to ignore the natives' constant thievery. While it had been annoying, it wasn't severe enough of a problem to warrant any real response beyond informing the Marines to watch their pockets when the locals were around.

Waking up to discover a crate containing a Target Designator, along with other bits of miscellaneous equipment, was missing was a step too far, though.

The Private responsible for that oversight is going to be scrubbing toilets for the rest of his career, if he isn’t brought up on charges, Jason thought.

Whatever. It didn’t really matter to him. His only job was to recover the item in question.

Not that it had originally been his job. Avilla had originally been tasked with recovering the lost equipment. Something the plant woman had responded to by rounding up a number of Marines in preparation for an honest-to-god raid on the nearby Ufrian camp.

Which had seemed like a shitshow waiting to happen to him.

So he had made the mistake of being the one to suggest an alternative. A reasonable alternative that wouldn’t see a lot of people dead.

And nothing he’d seen in the last hour of travel had changed his mind on his approach being the correct one – except perhaps for the fact that doing so was what had caused him to end up down here.

First of all, while the Ufrians were primitive, they weren’t stupid. Their campsite outside the Imperial camp was an illusion. Little more than a forward base for the warriors to stay at. The real home of the local clan - where the elderly, men, and children lived – was underground.

In the tunnels.

Tunnels that apparently had eel-gators in them, in addition to being partially underwater and riddled with twists and turns. Jason didn’t doubt for one minute that, despite all their technical advantages, attempting to send a task force down here would have been a nightmare. Even ignoring the Ufrians, it would be all too easy for Marines to either get lost in the darkness or swept away by the deceptively strong current.

And if you factor in the Ufrians… he thought.

While he didn’t know how many modern weapons the local clan had access to, he knew they’d definitely break out all of them in defense of their home. And while the regiment had come a long way in the months since it had touched down on Raknos-Three, he still didn’t think they’d fare amazingly well against dedicated tunnel fighters.

Especially when most of the regiment’s NCOs were Shil’vati, who did not handle tunnels well. At all.

“Peh,” Yaro chuffed from behind him, no doubt annoyed at being denied the opportunity to hunt a new brand of dangerous animal. Instead of contradicting him though, she reverted back to a topic she’d been arguing with him about all morning. “I still don’t see why we should negotiate with these blue thieves.”

Under different circumstances, he might have cringed at the insult being directed at the clan of their guide, but their helmets kept their conversation strictly between the three of them.

“It’s easier,” he sighed, tired of the same old argument.

“It shows weakness!”

Jason turned to stare at his lover incredulously. “We’re a modern military. They’re a band of spear-wielding primitives. If we can’t show a little patience and magnanimity with them, who the fuck can we show it to?”

“Magnanimity should be shared with the honorable,” Yaro sniffed. “Something these ‘Ufrians’ have shown to be anything but.”

Jason shook his head, before glancing over to Nora for support. Unfortunately for him, the Scandinavian woman was still staring out at the waters around them. Likely for gator-sharks.

Which, admittedly, was probably a better use of all of their time than arguing about the merits of soft vs hard diplomacy.

“Any luck contacting command?” he instead prompted.

The woman jolted slightly at being addressed, before shaking her head.

“No. Too much rock for the signal to get through,” she responded, ignorant of the way her sudden motion had drawn the eyes of their guide.

…Which was kind of understandable, given that from her perspective, the occupants of her boat had suddenly started shifting about and staring at one another at random.

Jason’s lips quirked at the thought for a moment, before he turned his mind back to the task at hand. “Well, we figured this would happen before we came in.” He shrugged. “I guess we’re on our own for now.”

Despite that, he wasn’t too worried. While a large task force might get cut to pieces down in these dark tunnels, he was reasonably sure he, Yaro and Nora wouldn’t have too much trouble retracing their steps.

Especially given that his suit had been mapping the entire route over here. Glancing up at his HUD, he could see a clear path leading back to the surface.

A little underhanded perhaps, given that the Ufrians were unknowingly leading the Imperium right to their home, but those were the breaks.

While he was in favor of going the diplomatic route first, that didn’t mean he was ignorant to the fact that sometimes force was required if both parties were unable to compromise. And the Imperium couldn’t compromise on this. They needed that Target Designator back.

Sure, the thing was essentially worthless in the ion-laden atmosphere of Raknos-Three, but that didn’t mean they could afford to let people steal valuable military equipment.

He was drawn from his thoughts by a sudden light that reflected off Yaro’s helmet. Curious, he turned to locate the source, even as Yaro and Nora’s helmets turned to track something over his shoulder.

At first, he was fairly blinded by the light as he shifted around in his seat - then his suit's sensors compensated.

And he froze.

It wasn’t a village. It was more of a town – albeit a small one.

But that wasn’t what was important.

No, what really drew Jason’s eyes was that the entire thing was floating. Built from what looked like dozens of barges tied together, the Ufrian town covered the entire expanse of the massive cavern it was located within.

Well, that’s certainly something, Jason thought, as his eyes took in the sight, aided by the dozens - if not hundreds! - of tiny lights that lit up the buildings and ‘streets’ of the settlement. I guess my Venice comparison wasn’t so far off after all…