Jack rolled out of Kurt’s growtent in the morning, face red and blistered like a bad sunburn.

“Damn it, Kurt! Why didn’t you tell me your lamps are hotter than the surface of Mercury?”

Kurt shrugged, sipping black coffee from a chipped mug. “I did. You were just too busy ‘testing the air circulation.’”

Jack groaned, staring at his reflection in a cracked mirror. “I can’t show up like this. I look like a radioactive tomato.” He shoved a folder into Kurt’s hands. “You go. Tell them I’ll ‘arrive later.’ Read my notes. Don’t screw this up.”

Kurt grinned ear to ear. “Relax, General. I was born for this.”

---

The Meeting

At the rented conference hall, the recruits trickled in one by one — scientists, pilots, demolitions experts, even Daisy and Annabelle gliding in like they’d just walked off a film set. They expected NASA professionalism. They got… Kurt.

He stormed onto the stage like a rock star, waving his arms like he was summoning lightning.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” he shouted, eyes wide. “The future of humanity depends on YOU. Mars is calling! The aliens are watching! And I am your prophet of photosynthesis!”

Confused applause.

Professor Gupta raised a hand. “Sir, could you explain the—”

“YES!” Kurt thundered. “Quantum socks are the key! Without warm feet, there is no quantum field stability. Next question.”

Roxy Miller frowned. “What’s the weapons budget?”

Kurt slammed his fist on the podium. “Unlimited! But only if you buy them through Kurt.com. Lowest prices, fastest shipping, guaranteed survival!”

The crowd blinked. Then murmurs spread. Unlimited budget?

Annabelle tilted her head. “What about… salary?”

Kurt beamed. “Better than NASA. Better than Hollywood. Each mission completed earns double. Leverage, bonuses, hazard pay, AND free samples from Kurt.com. Imagine Amazon, but paranoid.”

The room erupted. Laughter, clapping, even cheers.

By the end, recruits were leaning forward, hanging on every bizarre answer. Kurt had promised half-truths, smoked logic, and impossible perks — but somehow, they loved it.

---

Back at the growtent, Jack scrolled through his phone, stunned. “You… didn’t screw it up?”

Kurt smirked, lighting another joint. “Screw it up? General, I just built us a cult.”

Jack rolled out of Kurt’s growtent in the morning, face red and blistered like a bad sunburn.

“Damn it, Kurt! Why didn’t you tell me your lamps are hotter than the surface of Mercury?”

Kurt shrugged, sipping black coffee from a chipped mug. “I did. You were just too busy ‘testing the air circulation.’”

Jack groaned, staring at his reflection in a cracked mirror. “I can’t show up like this. I look like a radioactive tomato.” He shoved a folder into Kurt’s hands. “You go. Tell them I’ll ‘arrive later.’ Read my notes. Don’t screw this up.”

Kurt grinned ear to ear. “Relax, General. I was born for this.”

---

The Meeting

At the rented conference hall, the recruits trickled in one by one — scientists, pilots, demolitions experts, even Daisy and Annabelle gliding in like they’d just walked off a film set. They expected NASA professionalism. They got… Kurt.

He stormed onto the stage like a rock star, waving his arms like he was summoning lightning.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” he shouted, eyes wide. “The future of humanity depends on YOU. Mars is calling! The aliens are watching! And I am your prophet of photosynthesis!”

Confused applause.

Professor Gupta raised a hand. “Sir, could you explain the—”

“YES!” Kurt thundered. “Quantum socks are the key! Without warm feet, there is no quantum field stability. Next question.”

Roxy Miller frowned. “What’s the weapons budget?”

Kurt slammed his fist on the podium. “Unlimited! But only if you buy them through Kurt.com. Lowest prices, fastest shipping, guaranteed survival!”

The crowd blinked. Then murmurs spread. Unlimited budget?

Annabelle tilted her head. “What about… salary?”

Kurt beamed. “Better than NASA. Better than Hollywood. Each mission completed earns double. Leverage, bonuses, hazard pay, AND free samples from Kurt.com. Imagine Amazon, but paranoid.”

The room erupted. Laughter, clapping, even cheers.

By the end, recruits were leaning forward, hanging on every bizarre answer. Kurt had promised half-truths, smoked logic, and impossible perks — but somehow, they loved it.

---

Back at the growtent, Jack scrolled through his phone, stunned. “You… didn’t screw it up?”

Kurt smirked, lighting another joint. “Screw it up? General, I just built us a cult.”