When they landed after their flight training, the troops were in good spirits. Mike had to bark a few times to get them back in line so that he could formally dismiss them to dinner. They didn't seem to mind his brusque manner. The former military and law enforcement folk accepted strict leadership as a necessity in an organization, of course. But in the aftermath of their public flight, the civilians ate up the rough treatment like it was a game they enjoyed. That would do for now, though at some point he would have to convince them it wasn't a game. Maybe before that point he could institute a mentorship program to spread some professionalism through the organization. Best to run that idea by the boss before he took any action.

Dinner was burritos from Chipotle, which Srinivas had picked up after buying a laptop. The meal went over well, in part because in addition to good food, they had adequate plates and even drinks besides the water fountain. Mike grabbed a chicken and a steak burrito, then forced himself to take a bottle of water instead of the soft drinks available. He sat down with Srinivas, Varanelli, Jimmy, and Cassandane, who were nearly finished with their meal. Jimmy pointed at the animated conversations happening around them. "Is the sudden boost in morale because you took them flying or because you didn't handle the food order?"

"Ha ha, Jimmy. Sounds like it's to my credit either way."

"My credit," Srinivas said. "It was my credit card buying food and laptop."

"As I said, you will be reimbursed for that," Jimmy said. "Just like I will be reimbursed for making the initial minimum deposit to open a bank account. Speaking of which, I need Mike and Sam to visit the bank tomorrow to put them on the joint account. We can't put Cassandane onto it until she becomes a legal resident with a tax ID."

"Put Kendra on it as well," Cassandane said.

"Sure thing," Jimmy said. "So how's the burritos, Mike?"

"Delicious," he said.

"Did you know that's not chicken?"

Mike frowned at his burrito. "What is it?"

"Fake meat. It fooled me too," Jimmy said. "This crazy lady is going to turn us all into vegans."

"Hey, maybe we can get PETA to donate some money our way," Mike said.

"I'll put that into the budget."

Mike nodded at Varanelli. "How was administrative work?"

"We're an absolute mess, Mike," she said. "And you need to turn over any money you still have from Marius."

He pulled out the last of the cash and tossed it onto the table. "It was never all that much."

"Which is why we are funding the EDA from our members," Varanelli muttered.

"Turn in receipts," Jimmy said. "Reimbursements will happen."

"Eventually," Varanelli said.

"So boss, any chance we can give the troops some personal time tonight? I can fly people back to my place for showers. I think Sam and Jess need new clothes, so authorizing a shopping excursion might make sense."

"I will allow it," Cassandane said.

"Hey, guys," Jimmy said, "who is that?"

Mike turned in time to see a strange man peek inside dressed in a suit and carrying a briefcase. The table cleared in seconds as everyone scrambled to intercept the man, whose hands were now raising in a gesture of surrender even as he flashed a disarming smile. "Excuse me for my intrusion," he said.

"How did you get in here?"

The man shrugged off Mike's question. "Allow me to introduce myself. I'm William Struthers. I wanted to stop by to say an unofficial hello on behalf of the Canadian government. We're very intrigued by the Earth Defense Army and would like the opportunity to work together in the future."

"Is Canadian a foreign nation?"

"Canada is the country to the north, boss. They speak the same language and are liked by pretty much everyone. At least outside of hockey season."

The Canadian's smile grew bigger. "Are you a Penguins fan?"

"I'm not big on most sports. UFC is more my kind of thing."

"Then are you a fan of Georges St-Pierre? We could probably introduce you."

Mike shook his head. "Maybe you bribed someone to get in the building, but you're not going to get far with me."

"No bribes," the man said. "just tokens of appreciation." He pulled something from his pocket and held it out. "Prepaid gift cards. You can use them anywhere just like you would a credit card. This stack is worth five thousand dollars all together." When no one reached out a hand to take it, he bent over to place it on the floor. "I'll just leave these. They're a gift. No strings attached. Though I would be very interested in setting up a formal meeting to discuss getting a deal like you have with the United States."

Jimmy exploded. "How do you know about that?"

"Twitter."

A collective groan came from the group. Varanelli cleared her throat. "Imperator? Your calendar is open tomorrow morning. Would you like me to schedule something?"

Cassandane's steady gaze pierced the genial veil of the Canadian. "Will your country formally recognize the authority of the EDA?"

"That's certainly something we can talk about. It might take some doing. Your organization is an unusual case."

"That is a prerequisite of any training deal. Sergeant Varanelli, please exchange contact information with William Struthers. You can arrange for him to meet with me once he has the proper assurances from his superiors. I expect you to be invited the next time we see each other." Cassandane stared the man down as he hurriedly exchanged phone numbers with Varanelli, then attempted to shake hands with everyone before a not-so-subtle kinetic push sent him retreating.

Jimmy swooped down to pick up the prepaid cards the moment the man was out of sight. "We're using these," he said. No one disagreed.

Mike called together everyone to set up a shower run and a shopping run. For the next few hours, he was a taxi service. The silver lining of his labor was the much needed shower that he received. When everyone was once more safely in their headquarters, Cassandane started the senior leader meeting. This time, in addition to Cassandane, him, Sam, and Jimmy, they also had Varanelli.

A somewhat boring presentation from Jimmy stated the obvious fact that they were broke, needed more money, and could potentially make a whole lot of it if they played their cards right. After that, Varanelli brought up the matter of ordering uniforms, which couldn't happen until someone decided what their uniform was. That conversation lasted a lot longer than Mike thought it needed to. Especially since they finally settled on black military cargo pants, matching black cargo jacket, white undershirts and socks, and some form of plain boots.

"And the final topic for tonight is the issue of classifying knowledge," Cassandane said. "I want us to start with a simple four tier system. Unclassified knowledge. Outer circle knowledge. Inner circle knowledge. And Innermost circle knowledge. Outer circle is the designation for knowledge we teach students who are not part of the EDA organization. Inner circle knowlege will be taught to our members once they have demonstrated sufficient mastery of the basis and proven themselves unlikely to defect. Innermost circle knowledge will constitute secrets we strictly control.

"Given that structure, I wish to establish the techniques that will be classified as innermost circle. Advanced corona wrestling is the first. While we can classify knowledge of the loop and open dimensions as inner circle, the specific methods we use to establish dominance will not be taught to anyone not specifically approved by me. The second technique is metabolic hacking."

Sam, who until this point had been playing around on her new cellphone, perked up. "Is that the ATP thing?"

"Correct," Cassandane said.

"Did you figure out if Marius did the same thing?"

"Marius did something far less intelligent. He was turning carbon dioxide into methane by releasing oxygen and binding available hydrogen to it."

Varanelli, taking notes, looked up. "So is that a innermost circle technique, too?"

"The methane trick is not a technique we will ever teach. Methane may not be toxic, but at some concentration I imagine it would have deadly consequences." Cassandane waited until Varanelli had scratched out the line in her notes before continuing. "The third technique on the list is mental agents. For the moment, those are the only three things considered secret even within the organization."

"What is a mental agent?" Jimmy had his hands behind his head and was leaning back in his chair.

"Mind control," Mike said.

Jimmy's chair almost toppled over. "Damn."