Mike followed Snookums and Leda Crannon down the companionway.
“What did you do today, honey?” asked Leda.
“Mostly I answered questions for Dr. Fitzhugh,” said Snookums. “He asked me thirty-eight questions. He said I was a great help. I’m nice, too.”
“Sure you are, darling,” said Miss Crannon.
“Ye gods,” muttered Mike the Angel.
“What’s the trouble, Commander?” the girl asked, widening her blue eyes.
“Nothing,” said Mike the Angel, looking at her innocently with eyes that were equally blue. “Not a single solitary thing. Snookums is a sweet little tyke, isn’t he?”
Leda Crannon gave him a glorious smile. “I think so. And a lot of fun, too.”
Very seriously, Mike patted Snookums on his shiny steel skull. “How old are you, little boy?”
Leda Crannon’s eyes narrowed, but Mike pretended not to notice while Snookums said: “Eight years, two months, one day, seven hours, thirty-three minutes and—ten seconds. But I am not a little boy. I am a robot.”