Chapter 25: The Big Guns

James took his seat. The vibe was different from last time, with less people both in the chairs and on the monitors. Folks were quieter, most not making eye contact, the strain and exhaustion and quiet desperation obvious.

He glanced at the monitors. No Department of Defense.

The mayor arrived late, sweeping in with an entourage that fanned out to take chairs or move to the wall as he sat at the head of the table. He looked waxen, his eyes glazed, his hair greasy, his clothing rumpled.

It was like they’d called in the mayor’s understudy to come play his role at four in the morning.

“Hello!” The mayor flashed his signature blinding smile. “Here we are again. Show of hands who’s tired of meetings? Or the apocalypse? The thing about the apocalypse is that it’s the end, but it doesn’t end fast enough, am I right? Hour after hour, it just keeps on going. Well.” He sat up straight, fussed with his pencil and papers. “So does the New York City local government. Kudos, everyone, for not dying. Speaking of which, Mr. Kelly! Very not dead despite our first documented brush with the new Nemesis. Thoughts? And prayers? No, just thoughts for now, haha.”

James didn’t answer at once. He felt like an old, worn rock upon which the mayor’s frenetic wave had just crashed and then washed away. Looking into the man’s eyes, James thought he saw fear and panic and guilt and horror. The man was barely holding on.

Time for some judicious words.

“First, I want to thank the mayor for the leadership he’s shown so far. It’s a thankless task to be in charge when everything is going to hell, but Mayor Liu has held firm and taken the punches. Thank you, mayor.”

“Let’s hear it for the mayor,” said Liu, turning from one side to the other to encourage clapping with his own. “No, but seriously, thank you James. I appreciate the kind words. I will say…” He paused dramatically. “That it’s not been… fun. But that’s why I ran for office, right? Well, no, not in hopes of leading us through a demon apocalypse, don’t quote me on that, but to - anyways. Enough about me! James. You were saying.”

“Nemesis 2 is serious trouble. It represents a massive escalation of Nemesis 1. With a prepared fireteam and Serenity, and with three of us augmented by Smite, we were barely able to drop them. Regular folks with regular guns are going to be toast. Which is why I accepted the office of Deputy Commissioner of the Department of Ranking Citizens under Commissioner Morgan.”

“Yes!” Mayor Liu stood up and eagerly led the applause. “Score one for the good guys!” He sat down abruptly. “These new powers we’re being gifted? Earning? They’re obviously the only way to meet fire with fire. Don’t get me wrong, Colonel -” The mayor turned to one of the monitors where a grizzled man was watching impassively. “I love a good .50 cal as much as the next guy, but this Smite action? Reminds me of this Holy Paladin I leveled to 50 back in the day.” He turned and grinned at James. “Gimme that smite, am I right? So, go on. You were telling us how fucked we are.”

“Only if we don’t act fast.” James spoke slowly, trying to ground the meeting around the mayor’s manic energy. “As Deputy Commissioner, I’d like to work with Major Hackworth and the military in helping set up new and improved clearance zones to deal with this threat. Of course I wanted to run this past you first to make sure we were on the same page.”

“Same page, yes.” The mayor leaned back. “I’ve seen footage of the Fourth Wave debacle.” He raised both hands and leaned forward suddenly. “Not blaming anyone. We’re all doing our best. But it’s not a good look when thousands die crushed against tanks on live TV. Just kidding. But I’m serious. We need to avoid that at all costs. What are you thinking?”

James glanced sidelong at Hackworth. “I’d like to set up a breakout session with the major to discuss exactly that, Mr. Mayor. I know there are lots of other things to discuss, but for now I think that needs to be our first priority.”

“Great. Love it. Breakout sessions is what I used to call my make out sessions back in high school. I was born for this job.” He grinned at everyone, stood up. “I think I need to go think things over. Keep me in the loop?”

Several officials looked pained, opening their mouths to speak, then sat back, defeated, as the mayor swept back out of the room.

Mr. Iverness rose to his feet. “Mr. Kelly, I feel that it’s incumbent upon me to remind you that you do not have carte blanche to do as you please.”

Serenity twirled a pencil she’d stolen from somewhere around her fingers. “Don’t the CIA deal with outside problems, like where best to set up a black camp in a third world country? How’s this your business?”

Mr. Iverness glared at Serenity with cold anger. “The CIA is the collecting house for all the intelligence agencies. It is our responsibility to collate the President’s daily briefing, and with all our energies now directed inward, we are putting our considerable resources toward aiding the domestic situation. So what happens here is now very much my concern.”

“Thank you, Mr. Iverness.” James stood, his voice carefully formal. “I appreciate your oversight. Major Hackworth?”

“Colonel, I’ll send you an invite to the breakout session,” said Hackworth. “It’ll be just a minute.”

“Very well, Major.” The colonel logged off.

A whole bunch of people were staring at James, clearly intent on waylaying him, but then Jessica was there, running interference with a brilliantly cutting smile, guiding him out, shutting down questions politely, promising to get people on James’s calendar, and in moments he was out of the meeting room, hustling down another corridor, and entering a smaller chamber.

Just an oval table and monitors on one wall. Major Hackworth set his hat down and pulled out a chair next to Mancini. Another military guy was already there, his chest colorful with ribbons, his face square and jowly like a hound’s. But his gaze was cool and inquiring like those of a card sharp, and when they shook James felt calluses and a deep strength that indicated this guy was no pencil pusher.

“Major Castle, James Kelly, Serenity,” Major Hackworth said.

“Kelly.” The major frowned at him for a moment, then nodded. Did the same to Serenity and sat.

An assistant was busy typing at a laptop, and the monitors started to come to life. First appeared the colonel, but then other individuals appeared, ranging from other obviously important commanding officers to views of similar meeting rooms where groups in military fatigues sat before laptops.

Hackworth made introductions. Colonel Hopkins, CO of Fort Hamilton. Lieutenant Colonel Simpson, CO of the 152nd Brigade Engineer Battalion. Colonel Gross out of Fort Meade, commander of the Army Field Support Center. There was a guy from the NSA, a lady from the CIA, and then dozens of specialists whose names James didn’t catch.

Colonel Simpson kicked things off.

“All right people, let’s keep this efficient.” He sounded so world weary that his voice barely rose from a monotone. “Mills, go ahead with your report and analysis.”

An individual from one of the team rooms leaned forward. “Thank you, Colonel. This situation is evolving live, but reports coming in from across the country indicate that Nemesis 2 differs from the first iteration in several key and surprising ways.

“First, the obvious. We’ve reviewed footage of over a dozen kills and it’s clear that they are resistant to regular firepower, but not immune. They are effectively protected by NIJ Level 3+ Body Armor. Our NATO 556 rounds were slowed but not completely stopped; we just saw six soldiers in Anchorage drop a Nemesis 2 without the benefit of Smite, but it took concentrated fire. Nobody was injured. Now, against Smite enhanced ammunition they benefit from at most NIJ Level 2 to no protection at all, depending on the personal statistics in play. Thus the conclusion is clear: Nemesis 2 is best dealt with by soldiers who have reached Level 5 and chosen the Smite ability.”

Nods all around.

“Second,” continued Mills, “we’ve observed marked differences in behavior patterns on the part of Nemesis 2. Those who are immediately fired upon, which has been four fifths of documented cases thus far, have reacted with aggression. However, we have several cases where the Nemesis 2 retreated from the summoning locale when left alone.”

This caused a stir.

“We can confirm this,” said the NSA guy. “We’ve observed seven different incidents where the Nemesis 2 did not harm civilians from the First Wave.”

“Why?” The colonel’s voice sounded only wearier. “They’re here to kill us, are they not? Kelly’s Monitor called this a ‘Winnowing’. How in tarnation are they going to winnow us if they walk away?”

“We don’t know, sir,” said Mills.

A third person spoke up, a lady from a private office. “I’m Executive Director Sanchez, CIA Collection Analysis Strategies & Advanced Analytics. We’ve been monitoring foreign channels and have assembled a preliminary theorem. Stepping back from the Nemesis 1 situation, we have seventeen documented cases worldwide of Monitors approaching individuals and engaging them in conversation. This indicates that some members of the enemy are intelligent and capable of planning, and that thus Nemesis 2 might be capable of the same. We don’t have enough evidence yet to guess as to their goals but given the sixteen-day delay till Nemesis 3, we can anticipate that their willingness to not engage and heightened intelligence and power indicate a project of some kind, something more long term then simple attrition of our ranks.

“Second, the fact that we have been notified of these ‘Pits’ and given three months to prepare indicates that if this enemy wished to annihilate us, they could have perhaps simply opened the Pits immediately, catching us flat footed and massacred us. The very term, ‘winnowing’, indicates a reduction process. This is corroborated by the language used by the Monitors. The enemy does not wish to simply extinguish our species; rather, they seem intent on preparing us for the opening of the Pits. If that is the case, then the behavior of the Nemesis 2 must be analyzed in that light. Whatever their goal, it will be to prepare us in some fashion for what’s to come, though I would go so far to as hazard that the nature of this preparation will be unpleasant in the extreme.”

“Thank you, Executive Director,” said the colonel. “Mills, anything else you want to add?”

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“Just a cautionary note. Of the thirty-seven cases we’ve already analyzed, we’ve seen the highest success rates from the teams that had a spread of Benedictions. Those who relied on firepower and Smite alone were effective but took losses. The teams who erected Shields of Faith and deployed Blessings before the engagement took slightly longer to defeat the enemy but suffered less casualties overall.”

James glanced at Mancini, who was staring fixedly ahead.

“Thus we’re revising our guidelines on optimal squad specialization. We hope to have these ready to go out as soon as we review a few more case files.”

“Very good. Now -”

James felt his brow prickle with sweat. Even now, after all the days of fire and blood, he felt distinctly uneasy inserting himself into such conversations. What the fuck did he have to contribute compared to these top-level analysts?

But he forced himself to speak up regardless. “Colonel? Speaking of personal statistics, I have some new data to share.”

The colonel pursed his lips, momentarily annoyed at being interrupted, but James held his stare stoically till the man nodded. “Proceed, Kelly.”

“I ranked up to what should have been Level 10, but instead am now a Level 1 Supplicant.”

The reaction was immediate. Everybody, including Serenity and Mancini, gaped at him.

“Supplicant?” Hackworth’s tone was eager. “Hurry up, man. What else?”

“I’ve got a choice of three more Benedictions, which are listed as my second step in determining a class.”

Mills had stood up and come close to the camera, his eyes wide. “Second step? At least nine classes then, unless these options converge.”

“The options are Dark Vision, Sacred Strike, and Deadeye.”

Again, a wave of conversation arose, people turning to confer, and it took a few minutes for people to settle.

Executive Director Sanchez was busy typing and looking off screen, but she spoke with fierce focus. “Deadeye is informal North American slang for an excellent marksman. That would seem to indicate a martial progression that specializes in firearms or ranged weapons, which would make Sacred Strike perhaps more focused on hand-to-hand combat, or the use of regular weapons.”

“A strike force is an armed force equipped to deliver a strong offensive or retaliatory blow,” said Hackworth. “But that would indicate a larger force, not just an individual.”

“Whereas our NV33’s provide up to 24 hours of night vision. Makes Dark Vision less of an appealing option,” said Mills.

“Anything else, Kelly?” demanded the colonel.

“I have five unspent points. I haven’t yet decided how to use them but seeing as my Level 5 aura only ashed the exterior of the Nemesis 2, I might work on raising that. One other note: I used an Aeviternum point to recover from the injury the Nemesis 2 gave me, and, well, now I feel great.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” said the colonel, clearly ready to move on.

“My point, sir, is that I have two more left. In about eight hours when I start to tire, I could use a second for a complete refresh. Then dawn will hit, and I’ll get all my spent points back. With three points I could tap one every eight hours to never need to sleep while remaining on top of my game.”

That got the colonel’s attention.

“Outstanding,” said Hackworth. “That would effectively double if not triple our combat output.”

“And ability to plan, analyze, and react,” said Sanchez. “An Aeviternum point costs 5 unspent points. Is that still the case as a Supplicant?”

“I - actually, I haven’t checked. One second.” James summoned his statistics and focused on the Aeviternum.

“Well shit,” he said. “It’s gotten more expensive. Now it’s ten.”

“Damn,” said Hackworth. “We’ve not prioritized those points so far, which means we’ll need to direct our people to buy them while they’re cheap.”

“Maybe, maybe, maybe,” said Mills, moving back to his desk. “Everything has an opportunity cost, sir. We all begin with one dot. That’s something. We’ll add this data to our analysis and will include it in the guidelines we’ll be sending out soon.”

“Thank you, Mr. Kelly,” said the colonel. “Now. Let’s talk about clearance zones. We need to avoid the national clusterfuck that was the Fourth Wave, and our job is made more complicated for having lost the ability to delay with the acknowledgement request. Thoughts?”

“Sir,” said James, tone heavy as he realized how dangerous his suggestion could prove. “If I may?”

“Go ahead, Mr. Kelly.”

“Given what we’ve learned here, I’m now of the opinion now that we should opt for short term gains over possible long-term hardship. Right now it’s really hard to put these fuckers down without a SAW amped up by Smite. And we’ve got no control over when they appear. Which means come the Fourth Wave, what, hundreds of thousands will show up all at once? If we gather people into big crowds, that’s just…”

James trailed off, trying to envision the final stand he’d taken part in on the morning of the Fourth Wave, but with the ten thousand gremlins replaced by Nemesis 2’s.

Executive Director Sanchez finally tore her gaze from her laptop to stare right into the camera. “What are you suggesting, Mr. Kelly?”

“That we just let ‘em go, then level up as many people as possible and go after them.”

Sanchez took off her glasses. “You realize that may be exactly what they desire? That the reason they are this dangerous and tough to kill is precisely so that we leave them alone to accomplish their goals?”

“Yeah.” James felt a wave of heavy despair wash over him. It wasn’t born of fatigue, but just a crushing sense of… being the fuck out of options. “You’re probably right. But we don’t have the time or means to handle hundreds of thousands of these guys all at once. I think we need to figure out what it is they’re doing, where they’re going, and then call in the big guns to handle them.”

For the first time Major Castle spoke, his quiet and hard. “The big guns?”

“Yeah. Fighter jets with missiles. That kind of shit. I may be out of line here, but if hundreds of thousands of those bastards get together, we’ll never kill them with SAWs or .50 calibers. We’re gonna need to carpet bomb them back to hell.”

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