Chapter Eighteen - Courtesy - with Claws

Sagittarius, constellation of the Archer, and Aquila, constellation of the Eagle, had given the two Federation patrol cruisers their names. The Eagle was commanded by a tough Scotsman, and the Archer by a Frenchman.

Commander MacFife spoke through the communicator. "Switch bands to universal, lad. Me'n Galliene are goin' to talk this Connie into a braw mess. MacFife off."

Rip guessed that the two cruiser commanders had been in communication while enroute to the asteroid and had cooked up some kind of plan. He turned the band switch to the universal frequency with which all long-range communicators were equipped. Each of the earth groups had its own frequency, and so did the Martians and Jovians. But all could meet and talk on the universal band.

Special scrambling devices prevented eavesdropping on regular frequencies, so there was no danger that the Connie had overheard the plan. Rip wondered what it was. He knew the cruisers had to be careful not to cross the thin line that might lead to war.

The Sagittarius loomed closer, decelerating with a tremendous exhaust. The Connie couldn't have failed to see it, Rip knew. He was right. The Consops cruiser suddenly blasted more heavily, rushing in the direction away from the Federation ship. The direction was toward the asteroid.

And at the same moment, the Aquila flashed above the horizon, also decelerating. The Connie was caught squarely.

A suave voice spoke on the universal band. "This is Federation SCN Sagittarius, calling the Consolidation cruiser near the asteroid. Please reply."

Rip waited anxiously. The Connie would hear, because every control room monitored the universal band.

A heavy, reluctant voice replied after a pause of over a minute.

"This is Consolidation cruiser Sixteen. You are breaking the law, Sagittarius. Your missile ports are open and they are pointing at me. Close them at once or I will report this."

The suave voice with its hint of French accent replied, "Ah, my friend! Do not be alarmed. We have had a slight accident to our control circuit and the ports are jammed open. We are trying to repair the situation. But I assure you, we have only the friendliest of intentions."

The Connie demanded, "What do you want?"

The two friendly cruisers were within a few miles of the Connie now and their blasts were just strong enough to keep them edging closer, while counteracting the sun's pull.

The French spaceman spoke reassuringly. "My friend, we want only the courtesy of space to which the law entitles us. We have had an unfortunate accident to our astrogation instruments, and we wish to come aboard to compare them with yours."

Rip laughed outright. Every cruiser carried at least four full sets of instruments. There was as much chance of all of them being knocked off scale at once as there was of his biting a cruiser in half with bare teeth.

MacFife's voice came on the air. "Foster. Switch to Federation frequency."

Rip did so. "This is Foster, Commander."

"Lad, it's a pity for ye to miss the show. I'm sending a boat for ye."

"The sun will get it!" Rip exclaimed.

"Never fear, lad. It won't get this one. Now switch back to universal and listen in."

Rip did so in time to catch the Connie commander's voice. "... and I refuse to believe such a story! Great Cosmos, do you think I am a fool?"

The Sagittarius commander was right. Rip understood the strategy. Equipment sometimes did go out of operation in space, and Connies had no hesitation in asking Federation cruisers for help, or the other way around. Such help was always given, because no commander could be sure when he might need help himself.

"I agree," the Connie commander said with obvious reluctance. "You may send a boat."

MacFife's Scotch burr broke in. "Federation SCN Aquila to Consolidation Sixteen. Mister, my instruments are off scale, too. I'll just send them along to ye and ye can check them while ye're doing the Sagittarius!"

"I object!" the Connie bellowed.

"Come now," MacFife burred soothingly. "Checking a few instruments won't hurt ye."

A small rocket exhaust appeared, leaving the Aquila. The exhaust grew rapidly, more rapidly than that of any snapper-boat. Rip watched it, while keeping his ears tuned to the space conversation.

Koa tugged his arm. "See that, sir?"

Rip nodded.

"Surely sending boats is too much of a nuisance," the French commander said winningly. "We will come alongside."

"My friend, you have a suspicious mind," Galliene replied smoothly. "If you wish, arm your men. Ours will have no weapons. Train launchers on the valves so our men will be annihilated before they can board, if you see a single weapon."

This was going a little far, Rip thought, but it was not his affair and he didn't know exactly what MacFife and Galliene had in mind.

The Aquila's boat arrived with astonishing speed. Rip saw it flash in the sunlight and knew he had never seen one like it before. It was a perfect globe, about 20 feet in diameter. Blast holes covered the globe at intervals of six feet.

The boat settled to the asteroid and a new voice called over the helmet circuit, "Where's Foster? Show an exhaust! We're in a rush."

Rip ordered, "Take over, Koa. I'll be back."

"Yessir."

He hurried to the boat and stood there, bewildered. He didn't know how to get in.

"Up here," the voice called. He looked up and saw a hatch. He jumped and a space-clad figure pulled him inside. The door shut and the boat blasted off. Acceleration shoved him backward, but the spaceman snapped a line to his belt, then motioned him to a seat. Rip pulled himself up the line and got into the seat, snapping the harness in place.

"I'm Hawkins, senior space officer," the spaceman said. "Welcome, Foster. We've been losing weight wondering if we'd get here in time."

"I was never so glad to see spacemen in my life," Rip said truthfully. "What kind of craft is this, sir?"

"Experimental," the space officer answered. "It has a number, but we call it the ball-bat because it's shaped like a ball and goes like a bat. We were about to take off for some test runs around the space platform when we got a hurry call to come here. The Aquila has two of these. If they prove out, they'll replace the snapper-boats. More power, greater maneuverability, heavier weapons, and they carry more men."

There was only the officer and a pilot, but Rip saw positions for several others.

He looked out through the port and saw the two Federation cruisers closing in on the Connie. Apparently the Connie commander had agreed to let the cruisers come alongside.

The ball-bat blasted to the Aquila, paused at an open port, then slid inside. The valve was shut before Rip could unbuckle his harness. Air flooded into the chamber and the lights flicked on. The space officer gave Rip a hand out of the harness, and the young Planeteer went through the hatch to the deck.

"Hurry, lad," he greeted Rip. "I'm MacFife. Get out of that suit quick, because ye don't want to miss what's aboot to happen." With his own hands he unlocked the complicated belt with its gadgets and equipment, disconnected the communicator and ventilator, and then unfastened the lock clips that held top and bottom of the suit together.

Rip slipped the upper part over his head and stepped out of the bottom. "Thanks, Commander. I'm one grateful Planeteer, believe me!"

"Come on. We'll hurry right across ship to the opposite valve. Lad, I've a son in the Planeteers and he's just about your own age. He's on Ganymede. He and the others will be proud of what ye've done."

MacFife was pulling himself along rapidly by the convenient handholds. Rip followed, his breathing a little rapid in the heavier air of the ship. He followed the Scottish commander through the maze of passages that crossed the ship and stopped at a valve where spacemen were waiting. With them was an officer who carried a big case.

"The instruments," MacFife said, pointing. "We've tinkered with them a bit just to make it look real."

"But why do you want to board the Connie?" Rip asked curiously.

MacFife's eye closed in a wink. "Ye'll see."

There was a slight bump as the cruiser touched the Connie. The waiting group recovered balance and faced the valve. Rip knew that spacemen in the inner lock were making fast to the Connie cruiser, setting up the airtight seal.

It wasn't long before a bell sounded and a spaceman opened the inner valve. Two men in space suits were waiting, and beyond them the outer valve was joined by a tube to the outer valve of the Connie ship. Rip stared at the Connie spacemen in their red tunics and gray trousers. One, a scowling officer with two pistols in his belt, stepped forward.

Rip noted that the other Connies were heavy with weapons, too. None of his group had any.

"I'm the commander," the scowling Connie said. "Bring your instruments in quickly. We will check them, then you get out."

"Ye're no verra friendly," MacFife said, his burr even more pronounced. He led Rip and the officer with the instruments into the Connie ship.

A handsome Federation spaceman with a mustache, the first Rip had ever seen, stepped into the room from a passageway on the opposite side. The spaceman bowed with exquisite grace. "I have the honor of making myself known," he proclaimed. "Commander Rémy Galliene of the Sagittarius."

The Connie commander grunted. He was afraid, Rip realized. The Connie suspected a trick, and he had no idea of what it might be.

Rip looked him over with interest. This was the man who had been willing to burn his own spacemen back at the asteroid belt.

Galliene saw Rip's black uniform and hurried to shake his hand. "So this is the young lieutenant who is responsible! Lieutenant, today the spacemen honor the Planeteers because of you. Most days we fight each other, but today we fight together, eh? I am glad to meet you!"

"And I'm glad to meet you, sir," Rip returned. He liked the twinkle in the Frenchman's eye. He would have given a lot to know what scheme Galliene and MacFife had cooked up.

The Connie had overheard Galliene's greeting. He glared at Rip. The Frenchman saw the look and smiled happily. "Ah, you do not know each other? Commander, I have the honor to make known Lieutenant Foster of the Federation Special Order Squadrons. He is in command on the asteroid."

The Connie blurted, "So! I send boats to help you and you fire on them!"

MacFife coughed to cover up a chuckle. Galliene hid a smile by stroking his mustache.

The Connie commander growled, "And I suppose it was accident that you took my men prisoner?"

"Prisoner?" Rip looked bewildered. "We took no prisoners. When your boats arrived, the men asked if they might not join us. They claimed refuge, which we had to give them under interplanetary law."

"I will take them back," the Connie stated.

"You will not," Galliene replied with equal positiveness. "The law is very clear, my friend. Your men may return willingly, but you cannot force them. When we reach Terra we will give them a choice. Those who wish to return to the Consolidation will be given transportation to the nearest border."

The Connie commander motioned to a heavily armed officer. "Take their instruments. Check them quickly." He put his lips together in a straight line and stared at the Federation men. They stared back with equal coldness. Around them, Connie spacemen with wooden, expressionless faces waited without moving.

The minutes ticked by. Rip wondered again what kind of plan MacFife and Galliene had. When would the excitement start?

Additional minutes passed and the officer returned with the cases. Wordlessly he handed them to Galliene and MacFife. The Connie commander snapped, "There. Now get out of my ship."

Galliene bowed. "You have been a most courteous and gracious host," he said. "Your conversation has been stimulating, inspiring, and informative. Our profound thanks."

He shook hands with Rip and MacFife, bowed to the Connie commander again, and went out the way he had come. There wasn't anything to say after the Frenchman's sarcastic farewell speech. MacFife, Rip, and the officer with the instruments went back through the valves into their own ship.

Once inside, MacFife called, "Come with me. Hurry." He led the way through passages and up ladders to the very top of the ship, to the hatch where the astrogators took their star sights. The protective shield of nuclite had been rolled back and they could see into space through the clear vision port.

Rip and MacFife hurried to the side where they were connected to the Connie. Rip looked down along the length of the ship. The valve connection was in the middle of each ship, at the point of greatest diameter. From that point each ship grew more slender.

"Watch," MacFife said.

There were similar tubes on the Connie's stern, Rip knew. He wondered what they had to do with the plan.

MacFife walked to a wall communicator. "Follow instructions."

He turned to Rip. "Remember, lad. The Sagittarius is on the other side of the Connie, about to do the same thing."

Rip waited in silence, wondering.

Then the voice horn called, "Valve closed!"

A second voice yelled, "Blast!"

A tremor jarred its way through the entire ship, making the deck throb under Rip's feet. He saw that the ship's nose had swung away from the Connie. What in space—

"Blast!"

The nose swung into the Connie again with a jar that sent Rip sliding into the clear plastic of the astrodome. His nose jammed into the plastic but he didn't even wince, because he saw the Connie's steering tubes buckle under the Aquila's sudden shove.

And suddenly the picture was clear. The two Federation cruisers hadn't cared about getting into the Connie ship. They had only wanted an excuse to tie up to it so they could do what had just been done.

They had sheared off the enemy's steering tubes, first at the stern, then at the bow, leaving him helpless, able to go only forward or back in the direction in which he happened to be pointing!

MacFife had a broad grin on his face. As Rip started to speak, he held up his hand and pointed at a wall speaker.

The Connie commander came on the circuit. He screamed, "You planned that! You—you—" He subsided into his own language.

Galliene's voice spoke soothingly. "But my dear commander! How can I apologize enough? Believe me, the man responsible will be reward—I mean, the man responsible will be disciplined. You may rest assured of it. How unfortunate! I am overcome with shame. A terrible accident! Terrible."

MacFife picked up a microphone. "Same here, Connie. A terrible accident. Aye, the man who did it will hear from me."

"It was no accident," the Connie screamed.

"Ah," Galliene replied, "but you cannot prove otherwise. Commander, do you realize what this means? You are helpless. Interplanetary law says that a helpless spaceship must be salvaged and taken in tow by the nearest cruiser, no matter what its nationality. We will do this jointly, the Aquila and the Sagittarius. We will take turns towing you, my friend. We will haul you to Terra like any other piece of space junk."

MacFife could remain quiet no longer. "Yes, mister. And that's no' the end o' it. We will collect the salvage fee. One half the value of the salvaged vessel. Aye! My men will like that, since we share and share alike on salvage. Now put out a cable from your nose tube. I'll take ye in tow first."

He cut the communicator off, and met Rip's grin.

The two spacemen had figured out the one way to repay the Connie for his attempts on the asteroid. They couldn't fire on him, but they could fake an "accident" that would cripple him and cost Consops millions of dollars in salvage fees.

Nor would Consops refuse to pay. Salvage law was clear. Whoever performed the salvage was not required to turn the ship back to its owners until the fee had been paid, in whatever currency he cared to specify.

And there was another angle. The cruisers would tow the Connie into the Federation spaceport in New Mexico. If past experience was any indication, the Connie would lose about half its crew—perhaps more. They would claim sanctuary in the Federation.

Rip shook hands solemnly with the grinning Scotchman. It would be a long time before Consops tried space piracy again.

He put an arm around Rip's shoulders. "While I'm in a givin' mood, which is not the way of us Scots, is there anything ye'd like?"

Rip could think of only one thing. "A hot shower. For me and my men. And will you take the prisoners off our hands?"

"Yes to both. Anything else?"

"We'll need some rocket fuel. Terra says we have to correct course. Also, we'll need a nuclear charge to throw us into a braking ellipse. And we need a new landing boat. The sun baked the equipment out of ours."

MacFife nodded. "So be it. I'll send men to the asteroid to bring back the prisoners and your Planeteers." He smiled. "We'll let yon rock go by itself while hot showers and a good meal are had by all. It's the least of what ye've earned."

Rip started to thank the Scot, but his stomach suddenly turned over and black dizziness flooded in on him. He heard MacFife's sudden exclamation, felt hands on him.

White light blinded him. He shook his head and tried to keep his stomach from acting up. A voice asked, "Were you shielded from those nuclear blasts?"

"When was that? The exact time?"

Rip tried to remember. He felt horrible. "It was twenty-three-oh-five."

"Bad," the voice said. "He must have taken enough roentgens of gamma and neutrons to reach or exceed the median-lethal dose."

Rip found his voice again. "Santos," he said urgently. "On the asteroid. He got it, too. The rest were shielded. Get him. Quick!"

MacFife snapped orders. The ball-bat would have Santos in the ship within minutes. Being sick in a space suit was about the most unpleasant thing that could happen to anyone.

A hypospray tingled against Rip's arm. The drug penetrated, caught a quick lift to all parts of his body through his bloodstream. Consciousness slid away.

Chapter Nineteen - Spacefall

Rip was never more eloquent. He argued, he begged, and he wheedled.

The Aquila's chief physician listened with polite interest, but he shook his head. "Lieutenant, you simply are not aware of the close call you've had. Another two hours without treatment and we might not have been able to save you."

"I appreciate that," Rip assured him. "But I'm fine now, sir."

"You are not fine. You are anything but fine. We've loaded you with antibiotics and blood cell regenerator, and we've given you a total transfusion. You feel fine, but you're not."

The doctor looked at Rip's red hair. "That's a fine thatch of hair you have. In a week or two it will be gone and you'll have no more hair than an egg. A well person doesn't lose hair."

The ship's radiation safety officer had put both Rip's and Santos's dosimeters into his measuring equipment. They had taken over a hundred roentgens of hard radiation above the tolerance limit. This was the result of being caught unshielded when the last nuclear charge went off.

"Sir," Rip pleaded, "you can load us with suppressives. It's only a few days more before we reach Terra. You can keep us going until then. We'll both turn in for full treatment as soon as we get to the space platform. But we have to finish the job, can't you see that, sir?"

The doctor shook his head. "You're a fool, even for a Planeteer. Before you get over this you'll be sicker than you've ever been. You have a month in bed waiting for you. If I let you go back to the asteroid, I'll only be delaying the time when you start full treatment."

"But the delay won't hurt if you inject us with suppressives, will it?" Rip asked quickly. "Don't they keep the sickness checked?"

"Yes, for a maximum of about ten days. Then they no longer have sufficient effect and you come down with it."

"But it won't take ten days," Rip pointed out. "It will only take a couple, and it won't hurt us."

MacFife had arrived to hear the last exchange. He nodded sympathetically. "Doctor, I can appreciate how the lad feels. He started something and he wants to finish it. If y'can let him, safely, I think ye should."

The doctor shrugged. "I can let him. There's a nine to one chance it will do him no harm. But the one chance is what I don't like."

"I'll know it if the suppressives start to wear off, won't I?" Rip asked.

"You certainly will. You'll get weaker rapidly."

"How rapidly?"

"Perhaps six hours. Perhaps more."

Rip nodded. "That's what I thought. Doctor, we're less than six hours from Terra by ship. If the stuff wears off, we can be in the hospital within a couple of hours. Once we go into a braking ellipse, we can reach a hospital in less than an hour by snapper-boat."

"Let him go," MacFife said.

The doctor wasn't happy about it, but he had run out of arguments. "All right, Commander. If you'll assume responsibility for getting him off the asteroid and into a Terra or space platform hospital in time."

"I'll do that," MacFife assured him. "Now get your hyposprays and fill him full of that stuff you use. The corporal, too."

"Sergeant," Rip corrected. His first action on getting back to the asteroid would be to recommend Santos's promotion to Terra base. He intended to recommend Kemp for corporal, too. He was sure the Planeteers at Terra would make the promotions.

The two Federation cruisers were still holding course along with the asteroid, the Connie cruiser between them.

Within an hour, Rip and Santos, both in false good health thanks to medical magic, were on their way back to the asteroid in a ball-bat boat.

The reason could only be guessed. The blast probably had opened a fault in the crystal, allowing the explosion to escape partially in the wrong direction.

Once the course was corrected, Rip calculated the position for the final nuclear charge. When the asteroid reached the correct position relative to earth, the charge would not only change its course but slow its speed somewhat. The asteroid would go around the earth in a series of ever-tightening ellipses, using Terra's gravity, plus rocket fuel, to slow it down to the right orbital speed.

When it reached the proper position, tubes of rocket fuel would change the course again, putting it into an orbit around the earth close to the space platform. It wasn't practical to take the thorium rock in for a landing. They would lose control and the asteroid would flame to earth like the greatest meteor ever to hit the planet.

Putting the asteroid into an orbit around earth was actually the most delicate part of the whole trip, but Rip wasn't worried. He had the facilities of Terra base within easy reach by communicator. He dictated his data and let them do the mathematics on the giant electronic computers.

Landing craft and snapper-boats swarmed to meet them and within an hour after their arrival the Planeteers were surrounded by spacemen, cadets from the platform, and officers and men wearing Planeteer black.

A cadet approached Rip and looked at him with awe. "Sir, I don't know how you ever did it!"

And Rip, his eyes on the great curve of earth, answered casually, "There's one thing every space-chick has to learn if he's going to be a Planeteer. There's always a way to do anything. To be a Planeteer you have to be able to figure out the way."

A new voice said, "Now that's real wisdom!"

Rip turned quickly and looked through a helmet at the grinning face of Major Joe Barris.

Barris spoke as though to himself, but Rip turned red as his hair. "Funny how fast a man ages in space," the Planeteer major remarked. "Take Foster. A few weeks ago he was just a cadet, a raw recruit who had never met high vack. Now he's talking like the grandfather of all space. I don't know how the Special Order Squadrons ever got along before he became an officer."

Rip had been feeling a little too proud of himself.

"It's good to get back," Rip said.

Chapter Twenty - On the Platform

There were two things Rip could see from his hospital bed on the space platform. One was the great curve of earth. He was anxious to get out of the hospital and back to Terra.

The second thing was the asteroid. Spacemen were at work on it, slowly cutting it to pieces. The pieces were small enough to be carried back to earth in supply rockets. It would be a long time before the asteroid was completely cut up and transported to Terra base.

Sergeant-major Koa came into the hospital ward and sat on Rip's bed. The plastifoam mattress compressed under his weight. "How are you feeling, sir?"

"Pretty good," Rip replied. The worst of the radiation sickness was over and he was mending fast. Here and there were little blood stains just below the surface of his skin, and he had no more hair than a plastic ball. Otherwise he looked normal. The stains would go away and his hair would grow back within a matter of weeks.

Koa looked out at the asteroid. "I sort of hate to see that rock cut up. There isn't much about a chunk of thorium to get sentimental over, but after fighting for it the way we did, it doesn't seem right to cut it into blocks."

"I know how you feel," Rip admitted, "but after all, that's what we brought it back for."

He studied Koa's brown face. The big Hawaiian had something on his mind. "Got vack worms chewing at you?" he asked. Vack worms were a spaceman's equivalent of "the blues."

"Not exactly, sir. I happened to overhear the doctor talking today. You're due for a leave in a week."

"That's good news!" Rip exclaimed. "You're not unhappy about it, are you?"

Koa shrugged. "We were all hoping we'd be together on our next assignment. The gang liked serving under you. But we're overdue for shipment to somewhere, and if you take eight weeks' leave, we'll be gone by the time you come back to the platform."

"I liked serving with all of you, too." Rip replied. "I watched the way you all behaved when the space-flap was getting tough and it made me proud to be a Planeteer."

Major Joe Barris came in. He was carrying an envelope in his hand.

"No, Major," Koa replied. "We're just passing the time. Want me to leave?"

"Stay here," Barris said. "This concerns you, too. I've been reassigned. My eight years on the platform are up, and that's all an instructor gets. Now I'm off for space on another job."

Rip knew that instructors were assigned for eight-year periods. And he knew that the major's specialty was the Planeteer science of exploration. Barris's specialty required him to be an expert in biology, zoology, anthropology, navigation and astrogation, and in land fighting. Not to mention a half dozen other lesser things. Only ten Planeteers rated expert in exploration and all were captains or majors.

"Where are you going?" Rip asked. "Off to explore something?"

"That's it." Major Barris smiled. "Remember once I said that when they gave me the job of cleaning up the goopies on Ganymede I'd ask for you as a platoon leader?"

Rip stared. "Don't tell me that's your assignment!"

"Almost. Tell me, would you recommend any more of your men for promotion? I'll need a new sergeant and two more corporals."

Rip thought it over. "Koa can check me on this. I'd suggest making Pederson a sergeant and Dowst and Dominico corporals. Kemp and Santos already have promotions."

"That would be my choice, too," Koa agreed.

"Fine." Barris tapped the envelope. "I'll correct the orders in here and recommend the promotions. We'll get sixteen new recruits from the graduating class at Luna and that will complete the platoon I'm supposed to organize. Two full platoons are waiting, and the new platoon will give me a full-strength squadron. Except for new officers. How about Flip Villa for a platoon commander, Rip?"

Rip knew the Mexican officer was among the best of his own graduating class. "I have to admit prejudice," he warned. "Flip is a pal of mine. But I don't think you could do better." His curiosity got the best of him and he asked, "Can you tell me what this is all about?"

Joe Barris reached over and rubbed Rip's bald head. "By the time fur grows back on that irradiated dome of yours, I'll be on my way with Koa, Pederson, and the new recruits. Santos and the rest of your crew will report to Terra base. Flip Villa will join them there. You'll be on earth-leave for eight weeks, but it will take about that much time for Flip and the men to assemble the supplies and equipment we'll need."

He picked a paper from the sheaf and waved it at Rip. "This is for you, Lieutenant Foster." He read, "Foster, R.I.P., Lieutenant, SOS. Serial seven-nine-four-three. Authorized eight weeks' earth-leave upon discharge from hospital. Upon completion of leave subject officer will report to Terra base for transportation to SOS Seven on Ganymede."

Joe Barris handed Rip his new orders. "You'll be on the same ship with Flip Villa and your men. Flip will be another of my platoon leaders. I'll be waiting for you on Ganymede. The moons of Jupiter will be our home for quite a while, Rip. Our first assignment is to explore Callisto from pole to pole."

Rip didn't know what to say. To serve under Barris, to have his own men in a regular squadron platoon, to have Flip Villa in the same outfit, and to be assigned to exploration duty—dirtiest but most exciting of all Planeteer jobs—it was just too much. He couldn't say anything. He could only grin.

Major Joe Barris looked at Rip's shiny head and chuckled. "From what I hear of Callisto, we're in for a rough time. Your hair will probably grow back just in time to turn gray!"