Chapter 26: Learning to Optimize

The military meeting wrapped up an hour later. A bunch of people chimed in with updates, many of which were being revised on the fly, but all pointed out one key fact: shit was fucking grim.

The First Wave had been relatively tiny, but anybody who’d seen a Nemesis 1 thereafter could see the Nemesis 2’s, which meant most of the military was ready to intercede and help out. Combined firepower meant over 80% of the Nemesis 2’s were killed, though half of the exterminations resulted in casualties.

James also got a better sense of the US military’s overall plan. With the entire country essentially under attack, each military base was providing assistance to their local region, while the National Guard was then deployed to areas without close proximity to a fort or base.

Worse was the growing movement of people leaving the countryside for the larger cities. Unable to rank up due to low levels of Nemesis 1’s and terrified of not having a military presence on hand, entire communities were forming caravans and flooding the interstates and highways as they sought protection in numbers. This had begun a humanitarian disaster which only the sudden development of the Fabricator class had ameliorated.

Overwhelmed but alert, James left the meeting with Jessica, Mancini, and Serenity. They headed to the NYCEM cafeteria on the ground floor, and there grabbed coffees, Danishes, fruit cups, and yogurts.

“James, I don’t know if you want to hear it, but I want to apologize again,” began Mancini.

“You’re right, I don’t want to hear it.” James scrutinized his yogurt cup. Lingonberry. What the fuck was that? “We’re all doing our best. It’s called a learning curve. Next time we’ll do better.”

Mancini stared at his coffee cup. “Thanks, but I’m intolerant of fuckups, my own especially. My people have been drilled endlessly as to what to do in a situation like that, and it involves opening fire. We’re going to have to incorporate these new powers into tactics. We’ll do better.”

“I know. Jessica. Talk to me. What next?”

Jessica was scrolling on her tablet. “The mayor’s returned by helicopter to City Hall, but I managed to get his signature on some key papers by proxy through his assistant. That means we can now bullshit our way into building out the DRC.”

“What about Morgan?” James peeled open the yogurt cup suspiciously. “He going to want a say in all this?”

“I don’t think so. I’m emailing vague updates to his public-facing email address by accident, but he’s got enough on his hands with running the NYCEM.”

“So how do we do this? I don’t even know what we’re doing. Gathering a bunch of high-level folk and then - what?”

“First we need to vet them,” said Jessica coolly. “I had a document half-finished but, well. My thoughts were to provide three addresses where we have personnel on hand to verify powers and, assuming they can manifest one of the three Benedictions, we book them into a room at the Marriott two blocks south of the NYCEM.”

“The Marriott?” Serenity let out a low whistle. “Fancy.”

“I’ve appropriated funds from other departments,” said Jessica. “Cash isn’t a problem.”

“Wait, what?” James stared at her. “Appropriated?”

“There are billions in the NYC Rainy Day Fund. It’s brand new, a budgetary cushion made in 2021. It falls under the jurisdiction of the Office of the Comptroller, but it was opened two days ago to deal with the current crisis. I used my old clearance at the NYCEM to submit a requisition in Morgan’s name, and it was approved without question.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” said James. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Jessica took off her glasses. “What I’m saying is that the DRC is now sitting on $800,000 in discretionary funds, which currently only you, myself, and Commissioner Morgan can access.”

“Oh shit!” Serenity grinned and draped her arm over the back of her chair. “Do you have any idea how much fun we can have with that much money?”

“So we can afford rooms at the Marriott,” said James.

“Yes.” Jessica put her glasses back up. “I’ve reserved three floors. That’s approximately a hundred or so rooms, most capable of hosting two guests, so we’re good for the first two hundred applicants if we wish to consolidate their location.”

“OK, sure.:” James spooned some yogurt into his mouth. “So we vet them, register them, put them up in the Marriott, then what?”

“You should address them once we have a critical mass. The Marriott has suitable ball rooms. That’s what I’m working on now, what you need to bring up, how we should best organize them, and what duties we want to entrust them with.”

“She makes me feel tired,” said Serenity picking up another Danish. “Girl, what do you do for fun?”

“Stoichiometry,” said Jessica with a straight face. “I’m joking. Obviously. Now, something we have to consider is that we can’t remain a Brooklyn organization. We have five boroughs to cover, which means establishing satellite branches as soon as we have a grasp on a central agency. I want to take a page from the NYPD and establish a central command, complete with a call-in station, operators, and if possible some helicopters so we can deploy reinforcements as needed. The streets are still impassable, but -”

“Helicopters?” said James. “Killer Eggs?”

“Hardly,” said Jessica. “Be realistic. I’m thinking of using the state of martial law to confiscate some news helicopters. I’m trying to get several helicopter charter services involved, but they’re not answering their phones.”

“OK. Satellite offices, helicopters, central command.” James tried to keep it all straight. “This all sounds good.”

“I wish we had more people like you in CentCom,” said Mancini, relaxing at last. “This is impressive.”

“The world is about to end,” said Jessica impatiently. “If there was ever a time to bring our A-game, it’s now. Sergeant, do you think you could help us set up our command center? The NYPD is overwhelmed, and we need technical expertise today, not next week.”

“I can escalate your request, sure,” said Mancini. “Fortunately, Major Hackworth is notorious for breaking protocol when he sees the value in getting immediate results. It’s why he’s not been promoted higher. He’s got a history of excelling while pissing off the brass, who give him medals and then refuse to promote him further.”

“My kind of guy,” said James.

“And he thinks highly of you, so there’s a high chance he’ll speak in your favor to the right people. I’ll need more details on what you’re asking for, specifically, though.”

“I’ve only had time to do some quick brainstorming,” said Jessica, tapping away and then leaning back when she reached the right data. “We’ll need a station for each borough, along with access to satellites for live maps and communications. Radios for each member, location trackers, generators in case we lose power, instructors to get us up to speed, along with anything else your experts think would benefit us.”

“Got it.” Mancini leaned over to read the list. “You basically want an ASOCC system, Area Security Operations Command and Control. It’s what we use, and police departments have adapted for their own operations.”

“Go on,” said Jessica, eyes gleaming.

“I’m no expert, but it’s an interactive system that gives real-time situational awareness. Like what you were asking for, with live streams of maps and photographs, collaboration capability with other agencies, the display of force deployment, and so on. It’s used by cops to connect their control centers with the boroughs, as well as connecting regionally and nationally.”

“Yes,” breathed Jessica. “Precisely. We need an ASOCC.”

“Damn girl,” said Serenity. “You look like you’re ready to go.”

“There’s no time to modify it in any way,” said Mancini. “I’m guessing we’d need to staff it with folks who already know their way around the military version. But that should be doable if the brass thinks it worthwhile. You have a location for this yet?”

“No.” Jessica sat back. “Haven’t tackled that yet. Though I’m thinking we just claim one of the ballrooms at the Marriott and make it ours.”

“Why not here?” asked Serenity. “It’s close to the Marriott, plus doesn’t it have all the tech we’d already need?”

“It does,” said Jessica. “But we’d be watched by everybody, our choices second guessed, and much more likely to come under Morgan’s scrutiny. I want to be out of sight, out of mind so we can do whatever needs doing.”

“Makes sense,” said Serenity, then yawned. “Oh man. I’m beat. I haven’t been up this late sober in decades. We going to continue talking shop? Should I use my Aeviternum point?”

“I think we’re about done for now,” said James. “But I’m still flying high on Aeviternum. I’m going to spend my five points and hit the streets.”

Serenity took a bite of her Danish. “Check in on the Nemeses? Cool. I’m down. Can we hit Herman’s on the way:”

“That’s not a good idea,” said Mancini. “Unless we all come with you. Those Nemesis 2’s are too much for a single person, even with your stats.”

“Then come on down to China Town,” said Serenity. “You guys are pretty chill. We can hang.”

“Only if we spend our Aeviternum,” said Mancini. “Which is an option. Though after what happened to James, I’m loath to spend them and lose the healing option.”

“The truth is we don’t have time.” James stood. “Sure, the military’s going to be gathering intel, but I refuse to just sit around waiting.”

“Early bird catches the Nemesis 2,” said Serenity, also standing. “I don’t need to spend my point. We swing by Herman’s, I’ll do a line and be good till dawn. Then I’ll spend my point just before it regenerates, clean out my system, and we can go look for breakfast.”

Jessica arched an eyebrow. “That’s… a creative if alarming use of Aeviternum.”

“That’s what I used to have on my business card,” said Serenity. “Creative but alarming. Just kidding. I never had business cards.”

“Give me half an hour?” asked Mancini. “I need to confer with Hackworth about the ASOCC and I know he’ll want to confer. Meet you in the lobby?”

James checked his watch. It was just past one in the morning. “Sure. 1:30 it is.”

Mancini rose, took his empty fruit cup and left.

Serenity sat down again. “What are we going to do for thirty?”

“I have plenty with which to keep myself busy,” said Jessica, opening her laptop.

“Ms. Miles,” said Serenity sweetly. “I find myself in need of, oh, $2,000 dollars for DRC purposes. Could you -”

“Declined.”

“Declined my ass. You even sound like an ATM.”

“Beeeeep,” said Jessica calmly, focused on the screen.

“Look, I just want to get a little -”

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“Beep.”

“Stop beeping at me -”

“Beep.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, James, she’s a fucking child -”

“Beeeeeeeeeeeeep.”

James sat again and laughed. “Looks like she’s got your number.”

“Well, I’m filing a complaint.” Serenity crossed her arms, then cracked a huge yawn. “Oh man. I’m going to go find some good coffee. Coming?”

“Go ahead. I’m going to think on my point expenditure.”

Serenity propped her chin on the base of her palm as she leaned forward. “What are your stats again?”

James shared the numbers.

“So sick.”

“James.” Jessica had looked up from her laptop. “Why do you keep placing all your points into one stat? You only need to hit thresholds.”

James hesitated. “What? How so? If I want to get stronger, I just go all out in Strength.”

“The military guidance pointed out that optimal point expenditure involves hitting key thresholds, like 5’s, 15’s or 25’s for physical stats, or every 5 points for aura. With your current array you could place 4 in Strength to hit 15 and gain a 2-point boost to Power, and then place your remaining point in Agility, bringing it to 5, and gain another boost for Speed. Or you could place 3 in Aura to bring it to 35 and raise your Aura Strength to 6, and then place 1 in Agility, and keep the remaining point in reserve.”

“Huh.” James stared at his sheet. “But Arete 32 is more powerful than 30. Why wouldn’t I want that extra strength?”

“Because while you’re right, you have to balance the benefit those extra 2 points in Arete convey compared to raising your Agility 5 and gaining 2 points of speed. Those 2 points effectively earn you 3 when spent right.”

A lightbulb went off in James’s mind. “Ohhh. Shit. I’ve been doing this wrong.”

“Not wrong. Just not optimally.” Jessica smiled at him. “Happy spending.” And looked back at her laptop.

“She freaks me out,” said Serenity in her normal tone of voice. “People shouldn’t be that smart. I bet she was real popular at parties.”

“I never went to parties,” said Jessica calmly, typing.

“No shit. You, what, spent your nights in the library?”

“Sometimes, sure. Interning, doing independent research, as well as traveling whenever I could.”

Serenity frowned. “You have an answer to everything?”

“No. But I’m good at getting answers when the question interests me.”

“Fuck. Fine.” Serenity turned back to James. “She freaks me out.”

James snorted. “I’m going to go Arete 35, Agility 5, get the bonus and bank the remaining point. I felt that lack of speed and coordination when I went up against the Nemesis 2. Felt like I was a crazy hobo swinging a frying pan at a hallucination.”

“You are a crazy hobo,” said Serenity, and leaned in to ruffle his hand. “And the Deputy Commissioner of the dorks.”

James raised an eyebrow.

“Dorks. Department of Ranking Citizens. Dorks.”

Jessica glared at her. “It’s the DRC.”

“Keep telling yourself that, hon.” Serenity leaned back, inordinately pleased with herself. “It’s really the perfect name.”

Jessica looked mortified.

“It’s fine,” said James. “Don’t worry about it. We got bigger problems.” And he spent the points. “Done. Now to pick a Benediction.”

“Not much of a choice for you, hon.” Serenity reached over to take his yogurt cup. “You’re not handy with a gun, so Deadeye is out, and Dark Vision we can compensate for with night vision goggles. I think you gotta go Sacred Strike.”

“Yeah,” said James. “Plus that sounds right up my alley. Minus the Sacred part.”

“Heathen,” said Serenity.

James chose the Benediction, and as before the knowledge of what it did filled his mind, rising from the depths of his memory as if it were something from his childhood he’d forgotten only to recall upon tasting a bite of madeleine dipped in tea.

If Smite imbued whatever weapon or body part he chose to attack with in holy fire, making it more lethal against demons and bypassing some of their natural protection, then Sacred Strike allowed him to unleash a blast of holy light that could do two things: hit a foe within close range with a devastating attack that consumed much more of his Arete than Smite did, or heal a human by a commensurate amount.

“Holy shit,” said James, realizing too late the irony of his words. “Sacred Strike is awesome. It allows me to heal.”

And for some reason those words unlocked something within him a kernel of tightly wound pain that he hadn’t known was there, had lived with so long that it had become a part of him. Heat washed through his chest which grew tight, making it hard to breathe, and his eyes prickled with tears.

Serenity’s concern was immediate. “James? What is it?”

He stood abruptly, extended a hand to keep them both back, then strode away, fighting for breath, clenching his jaw, wrestling with the bittersweet pain and remorse and guilt and anguish that was washing through him.

He reached the wall and stopped before the cafeteria, staring blindly out at the avenue beyond, fighting for calm, to understand what had just happened to him.

Healing. His whole life he’d wanted to help others, to make things better, but his lack of book smarts had made being a doctor impossible, and in the end he’d chosen to be an EMT. He’d loved his job, but always felt a pang of helplessness and frustration whenever they’d arrive at the hospital and hand the patient over to the staff.

Always felt a desire to have done more.

And then - when - when Laney and the girls - when they had -

He clenched his jaw tight and squeezed his eyes shut, willing the pain back down, his whole body alive with pain and rage, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

When they had - and he hadn’t been able to - he’d been too late, but even if he’d been there -

“Fuck,” he rasped, leaning against the wall. He’d not had an attack like this in years.

“James?” Serenity’s voice was hesitant, nervous.

“I’m fine,” he growled out, head lowered, one hand clutching at the pain in his chest, the other thrust against the wall.

This wasn’t the time. He needed to be strong now. He had to keep his shit together. He had to… he…

James forced his breath to slow. Inhale for four seconds, exhale for four. Cleared his mind and thought of nothing. Waited. Breathed.

A hand touched his shoulder. “Whatever it is,” whispered Serenity. “You’re not alone, yeah?”

He wanted to snap at her, to bark that in the way that mattered he’d be alone for the rest of his life, but he caught the words in time.

He turned and forced a smile. “Thanks. Just… old memories. The new Benediction triggered some… pain.”

“No kidding.” She searched his face, looking for clues. “I’m not stranger to that funhouse myself. Want to get some fresh air? No need to talk.”

“Sure.” He felt wrung out, like an old dish cloth. “Fresh air would be good.”

Jessica was watching, alarmed, so he gave her a wave. She raised her hand, clearly not comforted, but there was only so much he could give right now.

Serenity slipped her arm through his own and together they quit the cafeteria, heading out the front doors to stand in the bitter cold night air.

James closed his eyes and raised his face to the night sky. He might look solid, but he knew a thousand hairline fractures ran through his soul. One blow at the right place and he’d just fall apart. Sacred Strike had come close.

But he’d keep it together. He’d not fall apart.

Too many people were counting on him not to have the luxury.

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