Evan sat on a collapsed mound of soil, his XMR in his lap as he kept watch through the crenelations. The Trogs had been underground for a good hour now, and they still hadn’t come up yet. Sappers had been brought in to clear out more of the dragon’s teeth from the clearing, and the captured fort was surrounded by tanks, meaning that the Marines had little to do other than sit around now.
He noticed Jade approaching from the trench to his left, Evan popping open his visor to greet her. Foster and Collins were in her path, and she paused to talk to them as she passed by, but they made a show of ignoring her. She remained cheerful anyway, leaving them with a smile on her face, though Evan couldn’t hear the exchange.
“Nice to have a little downtime,” she said, taking a seat on the mound beside him. “The coast still clear?”
“I think the seventy-ton tanks have it covered,” he replied.
“You doing okay?” she asked, watching him with those expressive eyes. “After everything that’s happened, I thought that maybe…”
“Nah, I’m fine,” he replied. “I was scared that I’d freeze up when I saw a Drone again, but it felt pretty cathartic to be able to fight back. Lying there in the debris after they ambushed the convoy…I felt so powerless. I was just waiting to die. I guess I needed to be reminded of what it feels like to fight back, to win. Sorry,” he added, chuckling to himself. “I don’t know why I’m laying all of this on you. We only hung out that one time.”
“I suspect that Hernandez isn’t the best listener,” she replied, eliciting another chuckle from him. “Besides, I asked, didn’t I?”
“You did,” he conceded. “What about you? Does it weird you out, having to kill Bugs? I know you said that you consider them a separate species entirely, but they do look like you.”
“It’s what I was made for,” she replied with a shrug. “Conflict between hives is the driving force behind Betelgeusian evolution. It’s probably what propelled them into space, what made them the way they are. I guess what does weird me out is seeing a little piece of them in myself.”
“How so?” Evan asked.
“I’m a hybrid,” she began. “Part of me is like them, part of me is like you. If I had been born one generation earlier, I would have been entirely like them, just a cog in a machine.”
“Didn’t you tell me that Bugs are sentient?” Evan added.
“Ferals are sentient, sure,” she explained. “They’re thinking, feeling creatures, but they have very little agency. They’re given almost no opportunities to act of their own volition, and they’re not taught to think critically. I firmly believe that our heritage doesn’t make us who we are – our choices do. What are you if you can’t make any choices? A feral can never refuse an order, the concept wouldn’t even occur to them. They can never change, they can never become more than what they already are. I love that I have a purpose in life, that I was made for a reason, but I like that my choices make me a distinct person. I’m not just a Drone, I’m Jade, and there isn’t another Drone exactly like me. If I want to find my own purpose one day, I have that option. It’s up to me.”
“The more time I spend with you, the less I see you as a hybrid,” Evan added. “Like, you have four arms and a carapace, sure. Everything else about you is human, though. I guess that’s why they say that you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.”
“Thanks,” she replied with a smirk. “You would know, being a human.”
“It’s one of my few areas of expertise,” he joked, Jade’s feathery antennae wiggling in what might be amusement. “Being nice to people who don’t deserve it is a very human quality.”
“Why wouldn’t you deserve it?” she asked, cocking her head.
“No, I’m talking about Foster and Collins,” he explained with a nod in the direction of the two surly Marines. “Nobody would blame you if you gave them a piece of your mind, you know.”
“All it would take is one instance of me losing my cool and lashing out for them to label me as dangerous,” she replied. “I have to be on my best behavior at all times, even when people try to get a rise out of me, because giving them what they want only serves to confirm their biases.”
“Damn,” Evan muttered. “That has to get old fast. Maybe a perfect performance is expected of Jarilans, but we humans have to blow off steam every now and then.”
“I suppose,” she conceded. “That’s why there are bars on the carriers, right?”
“Right,” he replied with a smile. “You know, I’m happy to keep paying for peach schnapps in exchange for some good company.”
“You don’t have to bribe me if you want to hang out when we’re off-duty,” she replied, giving him an affectionate punch on the arm. “I do like peach schnapps, though.”
“Hey, we’ll have something to celebrate when we get back to the Omaha, right? Any day that ends with everyone still breathing is a good one.”
There was a disturbance further down the trench, Evan leaning past Jade to see that the Trog team had returned to the surface. He was shocked to see that their heavy armor plating was covered in plasma burns, crisscrossed with scoring from what might be knives or chitin blades. There wasn’t a man among them who had come out of those tunnels unscathed. The last two to emerge were dragging their fallen comrades behind them, a pair of limp bodies hooked to their belts via carabiners. It looked like they had marched all the way back to ground level while pulling them along like sleds. Even in the low gravity, that was a feat.
The nearby Marines rushed to help them, medics tending to the injured, but it looked futile from where Evan was standing. One of them had been crushed, only his suit keeping his broken body together. One of the medics asked a nearby Trog what had caused the injuries. The man lifted a gloved hand, hitting the panel on the side of his bulky helmet to raise his narrow visor, a pair of icy eyes peering out from beneath his sweat-drenched brow.
“They had a Warrior down there,” he replied. “Fucker slammed Larsen into the tunnel wall before we had a chance to fry it.”
“Couple of minutes on the clock, boss,” another member of the team added.
“Looks like they had a hell of a time down there,” Jade said, watching as some of them began to remove pieces of damaged armor. One of them raised a canteen to his lips, taking a long, deep draw from it.
“I wonder if this is standard fare,” Evan added.
“I’m surprised that a team so small could get the job done,” she replied. “We tried to develop strategies for tunnel clearing back on Jarilo, but it was a battle of attrition. We couldn’t figure out a way to do it without overwhelming numbers. Not to mention that there are security doors that have to be breached along the way, sections of tunnel that are flooded to prevent chemical attacks from spreading through the network, booby traps.”
The ground suddenly shook beneath them, more sections of the damaged crenelations collapsing as they were rattled loose. Evan reached out to grip Jade’s shoulder in alarm, releasing her when his mind caught up with his reflexes. That must be the explosive that the Trogs had planted. After a moment, the rumbling subsided, Evan and Jade exchanging a glance.
“I guess the job is done,” she said. “That must have been one hell of an explosion if we could feel it all the way up here.”
Evan’s helmet radio buzzed in his ear, Simmons’ voice coming through with a crackle.
“The weapons depot has been destroyed. Get back to the Puma, we’re heading out.”
“Sarge says we’re leaving,” he said, rising from his seat. He extended a hand to help Jade up, and she hesitated for a moment before taking it, almost as though it was a novel concept to her.
“We’re going back to the Omaha already?” she asked.
“Hit and run,” Evan replied. “That’s the plan, as I understand it. We hit their infrastructure hard and fast, then we bug out before they can muster a response. Gotta stay a step ahead of them if they outnumber us fifteen to one.”
They made their way back through the trench, the rest of the Marines leaving their posts, moving back to the IFVs. When Evan arrived, he saw that they were slowly driving back in the direction they had come, a team of sappers trying to dig out the two at the front of the pack that had plowed through the defensive wall. Delta-seventeen was one of them, soil covering its prow where it had smashed through the resin that covered the sloping structure, its wheels stuck in the mud that had resulted from the collapsed crenelations. The rest of the squad soon arrived, standing around as they watched the men dig.
“If we had a team of Workers, they could dig it out in a couple of minutes,” Jade lamented. She shrugged off her pack, holding it in her lower pair of arms as she rummaged inside with the upper pair, pulling out a collapsible shovel. “Come on,” she said, extending the tool as she turned to address her companions. “We all have shovels, so let’s help them out.”
Evan shrugged, reaching for his pack, Hernandez grumbling to himself as he did the same. Brooks and the rest of his friends joined in, as did the two Borealans, the felines digging with their massive hands instead of using the comparatively tiny shovels. Collins and Foster stood apart from the team, looking to Sergeant Simmons for confirmation.
“You heard her,” the sergeant chided, his tone shifting to that of a drill instructor. “Get to it, Marines!”
***
After digging out the IFV, they drove back to the clearing where they had originally touched down. The small command post and the four CIWS turrets had already been removed, leaving only indents in the underbrush where they had once been. The artillery company, too, had been evacuated prior to their return. There were several landers already loading Kodiaks, the tanks driving up the open ramps, locking into place on the trolleys that were waiting for them inside. The four downward-facing engines of the craft idled, creating waves across the low shrubs and bushes that dominated the staging area, Evan able to hear their roar even from inside the Puma.
The remaining vehicles established a secure perimeter as the fleet of landers came and went. Eventually, there were only five vehicles left on the ground – Delta-seventeen, three other Pumas, and one of the Kodiaks.
“Our ride should be arriving right about now,” Simmons said, checking his wrist display idly as they waited in the IFV’s troop bay. Even watched the sky through the external cameras, admiring the flowing auroras and the swirling bands of cloud that streaked across the face of the gas giant. A glow of flame appeared as one of the landers descended, still baked by the heat of reentry.
It quickly grew larger, its engines burning as it decelerated, the other four vehicles appearing behind it like falling stars. As it came to a hover, one of the Pumas pulling away from the other vehicles in preparation for loading, the routine maneuver was interrupted.
A missile streaked out from between the trees at the edge of the clearing, sailing straight over the vehicles on a plume of chemical flame. The lead lander emitted a shower of bright flares, pulling up violently, its engines struggling to move its bulk. The projectile veered away as it chased one of the heat signatures, exploding into a ball of green plasma, the blast close enough to rock the vehicle. When the smoke cleared, it was left relatively unscathed, a black smear covering the heat tiles on its forward left engine housing. Its boosters burned brighter as it began to rise again, drifting away across the canopy, popping another stream of flares that sent a second missile streaking wide.
“Fuck!” Simmons growled, putting a finger to his ear. “The landers are taking fire – they’re bugging out!”
“I thought we killed ‘em all?” Hernandez protested, lifting his rifle from the rack beside his seat. “The fort was a ghost town when we left!”
“The bastards must have been hiding in the woods, biding their time,” Brooks replied. “They probably knew they couldn’t take the whole company, so they waited until there were only a few vehicles left on the ground.”
“Can’t be a large force if that’s the case,” Jade added. “Maybe they saw the assault on the fort and withdrew.”
“I’ll bet they have standing orders to attack targets of opportunity,” Evan said, terminating the external camera feed. “They know the logistical challenges of invading a planet – they’ve done it themselves – and they’ll know that even small losses will whittle us down.”
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“I’ve called in CAS support, but they’re a good fifteen minutes out,” Simmons said as he rose from his seat. He switched off the safety on his rifle, then turned his helmeted head in the direction of the cab. “Driver, get that ramp open! We’re going to hold those fuckers off until support arrives.”
“On our own!?” Collins protested. “There are only five vehicles on the ground!”
“You got another suggestion?” Simmons snarled, marching over to the Marine. He reached down with one hand, holding his rifle in the other, unfastening the man’s harness. He gripped him by one of the straps on his chest rig, hauling him out of his seat. “Get your ass out there, Marine! I see so much as a scratch on my Puma, I’m holding you personally responsible.”
Sunlight bled into the bay as the ramp opened, the team piling out, their boots and claws thundering on the metal. They took cover behind the IFV relative to where the missile had come from, Evan noting that Jade had opened the slots on her helmet and was shaking out her antennae like a woman might shake out her hair.
The four IFVs had formed a kind of crescent-shaped barrier, parked nose to tail in the open field. The Kodiak rolled up to their left, keeping its forward armor towards the trees, its long canon rotating into place. The other squads had dismounted along with them and were taking cover behind their vehicles.
A helmeted head appeared from the cupola atop the Kodiak’s turret, staying behind the ring of reinforced glass as he peered out at the rest of the company. He switched to the local channel, Evan hearing his voice come through on the radio.
“Get some mortars into that treeline, flush the fuckers out!”
With most of Delta off the ground, it seemed that the tank commander had the highest rank, which put him in charge.
The Pumas began to fire into the forest, their shells shaking the branches as they exploded above the treetops, showering the area below with molten shrapnel. They followed up with suppressive fire from their railguns, cutting through the stout trunks like buzz saws. The tank rocked on its tracks as it fired a HE shell into the trees, flames and shrapnel toppling them, the mortar that was mounted on the commander’s blister joining the rest. The two gun pods hooked up to the attachment points to either side of the turret opened up shortly after, Evan marveling at the amount of tungsten the thing could throw downrange. The company pulverized the area, but without knowing exactly where the missiles had been fired from, it was little more than a delaying tactic.
As he put his back to the IFV, Evan saw that Jade was peering intently into the trees to their right. Her antennae were waving in the breeze, her eyes narrowing. Judging by the direction the smoke was drifting, the wind was coming from that direction.
“You smell something?” he asked.
“Sarge!” she said, waving to get Simmons’ attention. “Picking up something to the North! Pheromones on the wind!”
“Damn it, they’re flanking!” He waved to the IFV, gesturing to the treeline. “Driver, move up to cover that angle! We have to put something between us and them!”
The team jogged out of the way as the vehicle rumbled to life, turning as it backed up, its honeycomb tires tearing up the undergrowth. It was on the rightmost end of the line, forming an L-shape to protect their flank.
Almost as soon as it had rolled to a stop, a barrage of plasma fire poured from the trees, impacting the far side of the IFV. It was small-arms fire, potentially deadly to the Marines, but it barely charred the vehicle’s thick armor plating. The trap had been cleverly baited, and if Jade hadn’t been there to sniff them out, the Bugs would have caught them out in the open.
The IFV fired back at them, the tank commander ordering the rest of the vehicles to focus their attention in that direction.
“Form a square!” the tank commander ordered. “I want a vehicle facing in each direction in case there are more of them. Space yourselves out, don’t bunch up. You know how much the roaches like indirect fire.”
The IFVs maneuvered again, setting up maybe ten meters apart, extending their defensive barriers to cover more angles. The Marines hunkered down behind them, weathering more incoming fire from the forest. Evan felt like a cowboy taking refuge in a circle of wagons, bursts of gunfire coming from seemingly every direction now.
“How long until that goddamned Penguin gets here?” Brooks grunted, popping up to fire off a few shots into the trees.
“Another ten minutes, maybe longer,” Simmons replied. “Keep firing! We have to keep them suppressed!”
“Aw, shit!” Hernandez exclaimed. “Big fucker, three o’clock!”
Evan followed where he was pointing to see a large, camouflaged mass come lumbering out of the trees. It was a Warrior, the thick layers of armored carapace unmistakable, its crab-like claws swinging at its sides. There was what looked like a plasma weapon built into one of them, a mass of electronics intertwined with its flesh and chitin. From over its shoulder protruded a long tube, the Warrior lowering its stance as it aimed it at the vehicles.
It was some kind of recoilless rifle, a bright puff of propellant gas erupting from the far end as it fired, the projectile streaking across the clearing. It was aimed straight at the nearest IFV. Before Evan had even had time to blink, the far side of the Puma exploded outwards. It wasn’t an impact – it was the reactive armor system, a cloud of shrapnel spewing forth to intercept the missile. It couldn’t defend the vehicle against magnetically-contained plasma, but it could stop a physical projectile in its tracks. The remnants of the weapon hit the hull, bouncing off it harmlessly, Evan watching as the cloud of smoke rolled away across the underbrush.
The Warrior raised its gun arm, bolts of green electricity crackling between the prongs of its claws. It let loose a ball of plasma the size of a basketball, the crackling sphere of energy blazing towards the IFV. This time, it bit into the armor like acid, the ceramic tiles slagging under its immense heat. They sagged inward, leaving a jagged hole with edges that glowed like lava.
The vehicles were firing back now, the thirty-millimeter railguns turning on it. It staggered under their assault, the slugs tearing holes in its carapace, blowing out chunks of pale flesh. It was being taken apart where it stood, but its myriad redundant systems and backups kept it combat-effective for a few seconds longer. The Warrior managed to get off a second shot, this one splashing against the blister of the target Puma, the metal and polymer that made up the railgun barrel melting like a candle. Evan had to duck as flecks of molten metal showered the defenders, feeling one of the droplets impact his helmet.
The Kodiak’s turret finished rotating, the tank rocking back as it fired its main gun. The HE round caught the Warrior dead center, lifting it off the ground, the delayed explosion ripping its thorax open. Gore rained all around it as its ruined body fell, a secondary explosion caused by a ruptured plasma tank igniting the nearby foliage.
It wasn’t over yet, a barrage of grenades arcing towards them from the trees. Evan braced himself for the explosions, but they landed short of the IFVs, plumes of obscuring smoke pouring from them. It quickly filled the air, the wind carrying the thick haze towards the defenders, washing over them like a mist rolling in from the sea.
“Smokescreen!” Jade yelled, Evan having a hard time seeing her despite the Jarilan being in arm’s reach of him. He might have lost her if not for the blue icon that hovered over her head. “This is why they attacked from upwind!”
“Thermals, thermals!” Simmons shouted over the radio.
Evan was way ahead of him, lifting a hand to the touch panel on the side of his helmet, switching his visor to thermal imaging mode. The smoke was cleared away, the ghostly, white figures of his team taking its place. He peeked up over the IFV’s deployable barrier, catching a brief glimpse of a horde of Drones sprinting across the clearing towards them before a barrage of plasma forced him back down.
“They can see through the smoke too!” he warned.
“Get some fire on them!” Simmons ordered, raising his rifle over the wall to take pot shots. “Don’t let them close in!”
“God damn it!” Hernandez exclaimed. “Why is it always us?”
The other squads were repositioning now, the vehicles training their guns on the approaching Bugs. There must have been three dozen of them, the insects laying down suppressive fire to cover their advance, one group stopping to shoot as the others moved in a leapfrogging motion. They were doing a good job of keeping the Marines pinned, but there was nothing they could do about the vehicles.
The IFVs opened up, their MGLs raining down on the clearing, the explosions tossing the Bugs around like dolls. The Kodiak joined in, firing a canister round that cleaved through an entire squad of the things, practically vaporizing them with what amounted to hypervelocity buckshot.
With the suppressive fire petering out, the Marines joined in, rising to fire their XRMs over the barriers. The Bugs stood out against the black backdrop in white, making them easy targets, Evan shouldering his weapon as he trained his sights on one of them. He pulled the trigger, watching the splatter of fluids sail through the air as he caught one in the shoulder, knocking it to the ground like it had been hit with a sledgehammer. They were being cut down under the sustained gunfire, the smoking craters that covered the clearing glowing as hot and as bright as the bodies.
Despite the carnage, a handful of Bugs made it close enough that the other vehicles couldn’t fire on them without the danger of hitting their allies. With their IFV’s blister disabled, the squad was the only thing holding them off. Evan felt his rifle kick into his shoulder as he fired in full-auto, the white shapes blurring together into a formless mass as they neared.
“Pull back!” Simmons ordered, the team retreating from the safety of the wall as the last three surviving Drones vaulted over it. Borzka skewered one of them on his bayonet, the forward momentum of the charging insect driving the blade clean through it, the growling Borealan raising it into the air as it flailed its limbs.
Another was gunned down as McKay and Garcia turned their guns on it, the slugs sparking against the inside of the barrier as they overpenetrated. The creature stumbled forward a few paces, almost like it hadn’t realized that it was dead yet, then toppled over into the mud.
The third one leapt from the top of the wall, using it for leverage, landing on top of Collins. The Marine yelled in alarm as he was dragged to the ground, the Drone pinning him in the dirt, unsheathing a long blade with alarming speed. Before anyone else had the time to react, Jade sprang into action, tackling it like a linebacker. She knocked it off Collins, who scrambled out of the way as the two insects rolled around in the mud, grappling with their four arms. Evan trained his rifle on the pair, but he couldn’t get a clean shot, cursing into his helmet as they fought. They were moving so quickly, so violently, their jerking motions nothing like that of a mammalian creature.
The Drone’s serrated mandibles opened like jaws in a silent war cry as it rolled on top of Jade, raising its long, chitinous blade above its helmeted head. It prepared to plunge the weapon into her chest, but she caught its forearm in her upper hands as it brought the blade down, stopping its sharp point a hair’s breadth from her thorax. With her lower arms, she reached for her handgun, pulling the XMH from its holster on her hip. She fired, but faster than Evan’s eyes could track, the Drone swept it aside to send the shot wide. It gripped the contours of her shell with its two remaining hands, pulling itself into her, the extra leverage forcing the blade into her mud-caked chest piece. It sank a good inch, Jade letting out a yell of primal frustration as the thing clung to her like a spider.
There was a flash of movement, Tatzi darting in from behind them. She tossed her XMR aside, reaching out with her massive, furry hands. They were large enough to encompass the thing’s helmet, which was exactly what she did, her sharp claws sinking into its face as she tore it off the struggling Jarilan. With a sound more like a roaring lioness than a battle cry, she drew the writhing insect back as though she was about to throw it, turning towards the IFV. She slammed the unfortunate Drone’s head into the hull like she was trying to push it straight through the armor, her bicep bulging beneath her pressure suit, helmet and carapace alike crumpling like foil beneath her hand. Its body slumped to the ground, leaving a smear of off-green gore down the side of the vehicle, Tatzi shaking off the fragments of shell that clung to her matted fur.
Evan rushed to Jade’s side, the broken tip of the Drone’s blade still embedded in her chest.
“Are you alright?” he demanded, kneeling beside her. He lifted her head out of the mud, Jade blinking back at him through her visor.
“I’m good,” she replied, her face plates shifting into a smile. “Didn’t go all the way through.”
“Oh, r-right,” he stammered. He took her hand, helping her up, Jade trying to brush the mud off her carapace. “Not again,” she groaned, touching a finger against the broken blade that jutted from her chest. “I just replaced this…”
As the smoke began to clear, the familiar sound of an engine echoed across the forest, Evan glancing up to see a Penguin swooping over the treetops. It came in for a low pass, strafing the trees beyond with a stream of gunfire, pulling up to leave a trail of destruction in its wake.
“Not picking up any targets,” Brooks said, ducking back behind the wall to reload. He dropped his empty magazine, slamming in a fresh one. “Did we get ‘em all?”
“There are too many bodies for me to pick out live ones,” Jade added. “All I smell is burnt meat.”
“They are routed,” Tatzi snarled, baring her sharp teeth. “They attack by surprise and still fail.”
“Are you guys good in there?” Simmons asked, banging on the hull of the IFV with his fist. Whatever reply he got seemed to satisfy him.
Evan heard the tank commander’s voice come through again, turning to see him rising from his cupola. The Kodiak’s barrel was still hot, the air above its protective shroud shimmering like a mirage.
“All clear. The landers are coming back, so get ready to load up. Let’s get the hell out of here before the noise attracts more of them.”
The Penguin circled slowly overhead, keeping watch as the bulky landers returned, putting down nearby. Though damaged, Delta-seventeen was still operational, Evan eyeing the slagged hole in its left side as he jogged along beside it. The Kodiak would be the last to board, keeping its guns trained on the forest beyond the cratered clearing as the IFVs drove up the waiting ramps. The squad waited until seventeen was safely secured in its trolley before following behind it, the crew piling out of the hatch on the roof, joining the Marines as they strapped into their seats. The loading ramp began to close, Evan feeling the deck shake beneath his feet, the lander rising into the air. He gripped the armrests of his crash couch, feeling turbulence buffet him, his tension subsiding the higher they climbed. Finally, the shaking ceased, letting him know that they were safely in orbit.
“Why do these roaches have such a fuckin’ boner for us?” Hernandez asked, relieved laughter coming from the rest of the team. Even Foster and Collins joined in, Evan hearing snippets of their chuckling over the radio. “We always seem to end up in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“I don’t know if we’re lucky or unlucky,” Donovan sighed, Brooks giving him a nudge with his elbow.
“We’re a Ghost Company,” he said. “Luckiest unlucky sons of bitches in the Navy.”
***
The lander docked with the Omaha’s stern gate, the damaged IFV sliding out onto the rails in the garage, joining the rest of the fleet. Every vehicle was caked in dirt and mud now, many sporting burn marks on their armor where plasma had struck them, mechanics washing them off with hoses that descended from the ceiling. Seventeen had taken the most damage by far, a team of concerned engineers jogging over to examine the jagged hole in its hull.
“That’s gonna take a while to buff out,” Simmons muttered as he appraised the Puma. “I’ll ask the L.T, but we’re short on vehicles as it is, and I don’t think we’ll be seeing any more action until they fix this. You’re all dismissed until further notice.”
The squad began to make their way deeper into the garage, but Simmons called after them, listing off Jade’s serial number to get her attention. She turned to face him, sliding off her helmet, her feathery antennae waving in the air.
“Jade, wasn’t it?” Simmons asked. “You did good down there. If you hadn’t sniffed out that flanking maneuver, that fight could have gone very differently. Keep it up.”
“Thank you, sir,” she replied with a nod.
“Now, go get some R&R,” he added, addressing the rest of the squad. “I have a feeling this campaign isn’t going to let up any time soon, so make sure you celebrate the small victories while you can.”