Rough hands hauled Marcos out of the light. Next came the reassuring CLUNK of the blast doors sealing and he breathed a sigh of relief. His back ached in multiple places where the armor had taken the rat shots, but his head was intact; the decoy camo had done its job.

"Stand. We must move." The voice was unfamiliar.

"Thank you for grabbing me, thought I was a gonner."

"The door must be clear to close. Easier to pull you inside than to push you out."

In the flat affect of ghost speech Marcos couldn't tell if the last was intended as a joke. Maybe better not to know; Blackmountain was famous for hiring ruthless mercenaries, not comedians. Humor and compassion weren't disqualifying traits per se, but they'd have to be offset with some damn fine marksmanship if you wanted to make hazard pay.

The rescuer offered out his right hand as an assist. Marcos clasped it awkwardly with his left and pulled himself to standing. His other arm was still useless from the shoulder dislocation.

The man's breast patch read "Officer Nakagawa." He was a full head shorter than Marcos, lean and sinewy. As with Marcos, the man's buzz cut revealed a small command implant nodule located above the right ear. His face was narrow and severe, age indeterminate. Acne scars mottled his cheeks, almost an affectation in this era of cheap cosmetic resurfacing. The eyes were alert, radiating a cold, calculating intellect. Marcos revised his assessment: not a joke.

Nakagawa's active camouflage was malfunctioning, his uniform still displaying the default jungle pattern, rather than the shifting organic forms that could fool a gun rat. He'd run a real risk standing near that door. Why? "Officer Nakagawa, your camo-"

"Come. We must get below." As if to emphasize the point a mortar impact rattled the dome, shaking loose a hail of fine particles. The lights flickered ominously.

Marcos stumbled - his recent tumbles had reopened shrapnel wound, wet blood ran down his leg. "Took a frag on the way in, you got a patch?"

"Wait." Nakagawa strode over to a medic station and grabbed a pair of portable kits. He tossed one to Marcos, then pulled out a field dressing and a syringe from the second.

"What's that?"

"Stimulants and pain killers. You'll like it." Nakagawa smiled as he jabbed the needle in. The effect was immediate; Marcos didn't feel good exactly, but the leg was holding weight and he was ready to move. Nakagawa slapped on the bandage and turned back into the compound.

Marcos clipped the spare medikit to his belt and hurried to follow. The two of them headed to the nearest of Central's four spiral staircases and made a hasty descent, the rattle of explosions egging them on.

"How many of the others made it here?" queried Marcos.

"Soldiers? From the first ring, all forty. From the second, eighteen. From the third, just you. No civvies, too slow."

Marcos wasn't surprised at the losses. The strike had been swift and well planned. He retrieved his muddy command glasses from his pocket and scraped enough muck off to check in on his squad. The picture was grim: Seven of the nine were dead, and an eighth was bleeding out. Only Ignatius was still combat ready. He'd holed up in the canteen out in the third ring. That far out of position, there was nothing Marcos could do for him. He sent a quick instruction: "Base compromised, gun rats filling the perimeter. Stay indoors and await retrieval."

"Affirmative" came the flat response.

They reached the bottom of the stairwell, the thumps from the shelling above fainter but no less regular. The stairs ended in a short hallway running into a heavy steel door crowned with an efficient looking gun turret. Nakagawa gestured for Marcos to enter, then closed the door behind them. He gave a few spins to a wheel mechanism embedded in the door, engaging a series of thick latch rods. Apparently Marcos was to be the last one in.

"You may now join the briefing." Nakagawa extended a comm link and Marcos blinked acceptance through his glasses. While he was distracted getting the connection set up, Nakagawa grabbed Marcos's right wrist and swung it back over his head. With a surge of pain and another pop Marcos felt his shoulder re-socket. He glared at Nakagawa, who only shrugged. Then Commander Erickson's voice filled Marcos's head as he shuffled into a room marked "Conference A".

"- drones are out of rockets and the resupply chutes are inoperable. What defenses we had are all destroyed or irrelevant. Between three and five thousand PASDs have fanned out over the compound. Non-combatant casualties in the outer two rings are likely to be total, certainly over eight hundred.

Remaining at this location is untenable. Dome integrity is falling rapidly, and we can expect the upper floor to be compromised within minutes, at which point the swarm will move in. This floor is safe from shelling by conventional ordinance, but the bunker door will fall to sapper bots. Optimistically, we have under an hour before the door turret is overrun and this bunker breached. We can try to fight them in the halls, but given their use of autonomous ordinance I don't like our chances.

The other Blackmountain deployments in the region are in process of drawing down - the high priority alert I issued was to coordinate our own immediate withdrawal, this insurgent action caught us flat footed. All Blackmountain units have orders to leave immediately and at all costs. We will not receive reinforcements.

Our aircraft were demolished by mortar fire. There is a military outpost two kilometers north co-operated by the Tatmadaw and China. They refuse to enter an active arena, but are willing to negotiate our use of their airfield for evacuation to Hanoi. First we'll have to get there.

Units Alpha, Beta, Delta, Gamma, you are tasked with planning our exit strategy. I've sent you an inventory of ordinance here in the bunker. You have twenty minutes. Remaining units will join me in Conference B for decommissioning sensitive assets. Dismissed."

The commander left through a rear door leading deeper into the bunker, not waiting for questions. "Conference B" turned out to be munitions storage. Marcos followed, along with about 20 other men, including Nakagawa. Once they were all inside the commander closed the door and spun another wheel, locking it as well. She motioned the group to gather round and spoke in a low whisper.

"Our network may be compromised. Stay off the ghost comm and keep your voice low - the soldiers on the other side of this door are not to be trusted. The assault must have been an inside job, and those men were all safely in the inner rings when the attack came. You lot at least were out there with the mortars. That doesn't put you above suspicion, but I don't have time for an inquest. Know though that if you cross me I will see you dead."

The commander opened a bank of nearby arms cabinets, handing out rifles and flashbangs to anyone who hadn't arrived armed. She dumped the remaining contents of the last locker on the floor, then unscrewed four bolts from the back wall and pulled the whole panel away. Behind lay a dimly lit corridor that stretched into the distance.

"This tunnel does not appear on any map. It leads to an unmarked hatch in the jungle one kilometer west of here. Each 20 meter section will collapse in on itself thirty seconds after I pass. Try not to fall behind."