Marcos's legs burned. Commander Erickson had set a brisk pace. She wasn't running, but she also wasn't checking if anyone was keeping up. Which was more than a little concerning, what with the regular rumbles of tunnel collapsing behind them. Marcos's leg deteriorated through the kilometer-long push, and the pain that had started as a dull ache had grown to a rippling fire. He was barely making pace; twice he had stumbled, and once would have fallen if not for a deft assist from Nakagawa. The tunnel had collapsed on their heels. It was hard to owe a man your life twice in an hour.

Marcos slammed nose first into Nakagawa's back, focused on putting one foot in front of the other he didn't notice the column halt. It was like hitting a lightly padded statue. A trickle of blood dripped out his nose. Nakagawa seemed not to notice.

Marcos couldn't see past Nakagawa's shoulders in the narrow tunnel, but the quality of the light had changed. The sound of boots marching had been replaced by dull metal clangs. Every few seconds the line would advanced, looked like they'd reached the end.

Marcos was uncomfortably aware of the precariousness of his situation. While walking through the tunnel they were invisible, no one could strike from above or the rear, and only Erickson knew where they would come out. Now that soldiers were exiting, the chance of discovery rose precipitously. Anyone still in this tunnel when the enemy arrived would be trapped, and Marcos was last in line.

Marcos reached the ladder after what seemed like an eternity of nervous waiting. The tunnel had slanted gradually upward over the march and brought them closer to the surface. Twelve steel loops set into a concrete wall served as an exit ladder through a hatch in the roof. Marcos barely made the climb, injuries and body armor dragging him down. He blinked as his eyes adjusted to sunlight and took stock of the surroundings.

The hatch opened into a small clearing containing three medium square tarps laid out in a triangle around the hole. The right tarp had already been removed, below it was a small pile of battery cubes. As he watched a few soldiers pulled away the left tarp, revealing a cache of black rectangles the size of card tables stacked two high and arrayed like flower petals around a central hub. Erickson walked to the center and began punching at a recessed terminal and swearing softly. After a few moments she motioned for everyone to gather around.

"This location was chosen for concealment, not defensibility. We will leave immediately. Each of these cases holds a Zero MZK tactical recon bike," gesturing to the black rectangles. "There should be 2 battery packs for each bike, but someone has obviously been here first, we only have juice to power six of them. You four," Erickson gestured to a group of soliders, "take the first four bikes and scout ahead. Keep in visual range of each other, but space yourselves out down the trail. And you two," gesturing to Marcos and Nakagawa, "will hang back and guard the rear. Marcos goes first, Nakagawa will bring up the rear. I'll stay with the main column. It's a 3km march to the Tatmadaw base along these back trails. If we keep our heads down we can reach safety in under an hour. Keep quiet and avoid comms. Now move out!"

Erickson keyed something on the console in front of her. The five top-most rectangles unfolded themselves into sleek black bikes, all high suspension and aggressive angles. The vanguard group grabbed their batteries and saddled up. In moments they were jetting off down the trail, silent but for the sound of tires on dirt. Nakagawa sat astride the fifth and walked it out of the hub.

The second layer of bikes unfolded, though at this point only one battery pack remained. Marcos dropped it into the slot under the nearest bike's seat. It powered up and paired instantly to his command glasses.

The soldiers on foot had already started off single-file down the trail. Marcos caught a strange nod from commander Erickson to Nakagawa as she turned to leave.

Nakagawa tapped out a cigarette while they waited for the troops to advance, an oddly rhythmic affair of small genuflections. He angled the pack in Marcos's direction, who shook his head. Nakagawa shrugged and returned the packet to his pocket with noticeably less ceremony. He seemed in no hurry to light the cigarette he'd so methodically extracted.

Marcos took a minute to familiarize himself with his ride, a high-end dirt bike with a few aftermarket features. The headlights could dim low as a candle or bright as a searchlight, or switch to infrared for covert night riding. Underneath the lights was a sensor package with processor. Marcos noted his command glasses had gained an overlay showing optimal bike paths with associated noise and speed ratings.

The final customization was a holster mounted on the right side, directly below the handlebars. Marcos grabbed the protruding pistol grip and pulled. The gun slid out smoothly while chambering a round. Cute. He returned the bullet to the clip and re-holstered the weapon. The last of the foot soldiers had disappeared down the trail, it was time to roll.

"I'm going," whispered Marcos, "give me five minutes then follow."

Nakagawa held up one finger. Wait. Marcos raised one eyebrow but obeyed.

Three explosions boomed in quick succession from up the path, close enough to feel the shockwave and hear the screams. There was a scattering of automatic weapon fire, then silence. Marcos checked for survivors through his glasses. The casualties were complete, no vitals reported.

Nakagawa finally lit his cigarette. "It appears our services are no longer needed." He was making no attempt to keep his voice down. "Another route would be best, I think."

"You knew about that ambush. How?" Marcos thought back to the overly precise handling of the cigarette packet. The bike pistol leapt into his hand. He leveled it squarely at Nakagawa's forehead. A helpful reticule overlay put the kill probability at 100%. For his part, Nakagawa sat impassive on his bike, cigarette dangling from a corner of his mouth, saying nothing.

"Erickson was right about a traitor. You saved me twice, I guess I owe you the chance to explain. Better start now. Give me one good reason not to pull this trigger."

"I can do better, I will give you three reasons. One: I am the only person who can get you out of this jungle alive. Two: your new employer is quite generous." Marcos received an alert that his account had just been credited several months worth of salary in untraceable corporate crypto. "And three: I have saved your life three times." A file transfer request popped up on Marcos's command glasses:

[BLACKMOUNTAIN CONFIDENTIAL] TERMINATION ORDER: MARCOS OLIVIERA

Accept | Reject

"Please review this document. I will keep my hands on the bicycle. I suggest you be quick, I do not trust our new allies in the jungle."