7/6/47 AC (Old Earth year 2106), Terra Nova, Balboa Colony
"Tanks? Are you sure, Pedro? Tanks?"
"Jefe," Pedro answered, half offended, "you know something big as a house that still moves and has a gun even bigger 'roun' then my dick; you let me know."
"Shit. Tanks." Belisario paused, then said, "Sorry, Pedro. It isn't that I didn't believe you. It's that I didn't want to believe you. Shit. How the hell do we fight tanks?"
Pedro shrugged and answered, "We no fight, jefe. We stay the fuck away. They only three of them, anyway. Or maybe four; Pedro not sure."
Belisario shook his head. "Easy to say, Pedro. It's not that easy to do. I don't know much about tanks but I do know that they can go a lot of places you wouldn't expect. They can also move faster in anything but the thickest jungle than we can on horseback. And, then, where the tanks really can't go the helicopters we both saw can."
"They got airplanes, too, jefe."