
Seth has been trying to cut some semblance of order to his razed hair with some surgical scissors. "How long have the survey team been away? I hate to put a damper on things but wouldn't they have returned by now if they couldn't get a message through?" He looks in a mirror and scowls at himself, "I look just the same, only with shorter hair." He puts the plasma-fried bits of hair in the bin. "And if Boss can identify me, Bob Dylan, he ought to be able to spot the aliens when they creep up on us. I wonder why he didn't spot anything unusual happening at the Alpha Base."