Once Sam's students had been delivered to her, Mike went next door to the secure part of headquarters. Varanelli and Jimmy sat with their heads together at what was either the reception area or the night watch station, depending on the hour. Based on the scraps of conversation he overheard walking past them, they were still trying to figure out how to set up the payroll software to do direct deposit. The two of them had not been happy to learn that Srinivas would not be available to assist them with their technology questions.

He stepped inside the large instruction room, a mirror image of the room on the public side that Sam had taken for her class. The troops without teaching or administrative duties were lounging about and bullshitting. Mike fought down the urge to join them for some downtime. He wasn't one of the guys any longer. He'd jumped up to a real leadership role and that meant he didn't have the luxury of chilling out until an authority figure appeared to assign duties. Now he was the authority figure who ruined all the fun. The elevation of his status stirred mixed feelings in him. Pride, of course, knowing that he had finally progressed in his life. But also a morose nostalgia knowing he had lost that sense of comradery when he assumed the role of the boss's enforcer.

"What is this sight that offends my eyes? It looks like soldiers lounging around at seven in the morning," he said.

Spencer hopped to her feet. "What's the plan for this morning, Centurion?"

"In case it wasn't obvious," Mike said, "the eight of us are the operations team. The training team and administrative team are up and running, so I'm able to focus more of my attention to getting us combat ready. Before I throw us into all that, do any of you have questions for me? I haven't had much opportunity to solicit feedback prior to now. We've just been powering forward. This is our team here, so I will make time to give you what answers I have." Mike went silent then.

Cop Cody spoke first. "Mike, I'm all in on our mission. I mean that. I just don't see where I fit into this with my talent profile. I'm a teleotic, so I'm not going to be flying in formation with the rest of you."

"That's a great question, Cody," Mike said. "You and Jess don't have the kinetic talent, so you will be carried if we need to fly you somewhere. That doesn't mean you don't have a combat role. There is a bit of a rock-paper-scissors thing with the talents. A kinetic mops the floor with a noetic, because they can do a brain push or toss a car on them. A good enough teleotic is mostly safe against a kinetic, though, if they can harden themselves enough. The kinetic, on the other hand, better not get too close or he'll have himself broken by a destructive pattern. The noetics are the real problem for a teleotic like you, Cody. They can hit you with a meme blast to soften you up and kill you with their bare hands.

"Now, we are going to build your resistance to meme blasts to minimize that risk. Same for everyone. As for your particular role, I see you holding ground and providing life saving medical treatment. You're like mounted calvary and a medic rolled into one. Matter of fact, we need to provide you some biology lessons. McGreary is a nurse, I'm going to request he teach an evening class on the basics of human anatomy for those of us with the teleotic talent."

Tracy stood up. "So are we local to Pittsburgh, or we working throughout the whole country, or the whole world?"

"That's the question I wish I knew the answer to," Mike said. "Right now we're just a seed of the organization we are going to grow into. We obviously can't protect the entire world with just the eight of us. If I had to guess, though, I would put money on us traveling to anywhere Nallit's folks raise hell."

Joe raised a hand. "I'm a little concerned about going into battle without the teleotic talent."

Mike rolled his eyes dramatically. "I know, Joe, you got a bad headache and only got the kinetic and noetic talents out of the deal." Scattered laughter met his words.

"Ha ha ha. Anyway, I do think it is an issue for anyone who can't harden their skin. You can fly into battle as a one man army, but the rest of us are vulnerable in one way or another."

"So one option we have there is to invest in protective gear. Vests and helmets to cover the most critical areas. We have teleotic healers to handle minor injuries. I will have us running drills to triage the wounded."

"This isn't a question," Jess said, "but flying across the country with a motorcycle helmet was a lot more comfortable than without. And it looked twenty percent cooler."

"Well, we can't save the world without looking fashionable," Mike said. "Anything else that needs addressed? This is your big chance to delay training."

Woodrow cleared his throat. "So not really a combat question. I just wanted to know if we could do something about my bladder. My joints don't hurt any more, but I still have to get up three or four times a night."

"Oh my god, what are we going to do with this man," Tracy said.

"We can talk to McGreary to come up with ideas on that one. Are there any questions not related to private medical issues?"

"I have one," Woodrow said. "When are we getting paid? My kids put a freeze on my bank account, so I can't get to my social security money."

"I can't even guess on that one. They're still trying to figure out how to use the software. You will get all the money owed to you . . . eventually. Classes are being booked and paid for in advance, so we have the funds. If you need a cash advance, just talk to Jimmy. As for your bank account, you have to talk to your bank or your kids."

Woodrow folded his arms and scowled. "The hell would I talk to them for? Do you know how many times they came to visit me in that home? Once, if you count the day they moved me in. They took my house, my car, and all my savings to live it up while they dumped me in assisted living. I wrote them out of my will and I do not regret it. All my money goes to the humane society when I die."

"Humane society? Woodrow, I think I might actually approve of something that came out of your mouth," Tracy said.

"My son is extremely allergic to cats. He might die of an aneurism when my will is read."

Tracy laughed. "Maybe I spoke too soon."

"Does anyone besides Woodrow have a question? Last chance."

Smith stood to speak. "Do we have some kind of retirement option? I ignited, so I only have ten years of talent in me. I'd like to think I have options at the end of that time."

Mike let out a breath. "I don't know, Smith. But we definitely need to take care of you. Take care of anyone who fights for us. I promise I will advocate on this issue. Starting at tonight's senior leader meeting."