“Thank you,” said Snookums. His treads whirred, he turned as though on a pivot, whizzed to the door, opened it, and was gone.
Mike the Angel stared at the door as though trying to see beyond it, into the depths of the robot’s brain itself.
“Now just what was that all about?” he asked aloud.
In the padded silence of the stateroom, there wasn’t even an echo to answer him.
14
Mike the Angel spent the next three days in a pale blue funk which he struggled valiantly against, at least to prevent it from becoming a deep blue.
There was something wrong aboard the Brainchild, and Mike simply couldn’t quite figure what it was. He found that he wasn’t the only one who had been asked peculiar questions by Snookums. The little robot seemed to have developed a sudden penchant for asking seemingly inane questions.
Lieutenant Keku reported with a grin that Snookums had asked him if he knew who Commander Gabriel really was.