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The Complete Saga of Don Hargreaves

Page 38

by Festus Pragnell


  “Oh, I don’t want a medal.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I want a promise.”

  “A promise? What for?”

  “A promise that you will not pull my mustache again.”

  Usulor blinked.

  “Oh, but really! Do you object to that? A little harmless fun—”

  “If you tried it you would not think so.”

  “But really! Well I will try it. You pull my mustache,” said Usulor, boldly.

  “Do you mean it?” Dattease could hardly believe it.

  “Sure.”

  “And you won’t do anything about it?”

  “Of course not.”

  With a gleam of happiness in his eye, the general took hold of the Emperor’s mustache. And he pulled. He put a lot of painful memories into that pull. He might have been training for a tug-of-war match. Usulor was pulled right off his feet and clutched the general’s middle to save himself.

  “My word, Dattease,” as he wiped the tears from his eyes, “I had no idea how it hurt. From now on I promise. No more mustache-pulling.”

  AS THE general went away, as happy as a schoolboy, Usulor turned to Adam Link. All this time poor Adam had been standing quite still, waiting for somebody to speak to him.

  “Thank you for your help, robot. When will you be going back to Earth?”

  “You want to get rid of me already?” clicked Adam.

  “Well, er. Mars is a planet of human beings. A tin man would rather out of place here. Don’t you think?”

  “I understand,” said Adam. “Earth would not accept me as a human. And neither will Mars. I am not wanted anywhere. Yet, had you said the word I would have captured that other pirate ship for you and the lifeboat Belangor escaped in.” Somehow, even his mechanical voice sounded sad.

  “No doubt,” said Usulor briskly. “But we can get on quite well as we are. I’ll arrange a farewell ceremony.”

  “I must go back,” said Adam, sadly. “Back to Eve Link, the only person who understands me. My back is beginning to ache. That screw in my liver has worked loose again. Only she can take me apart with real loving care and put it right again.”

  “Exactly, Adam,” I said. “You have a screw loose in your liver. I heard once of a robot who had a screw loose in his head. Suppose you ever got a screw loose in your head. Think what might happen. That is why nobody can ever really trust you.”

  “I suppose not,” said Adam. And wiped two large drops of oil from his eye-lenses with a piece of rag.

  So, very soon after, Adam Link cleaned up his paint, checked up his wires and joints, set his little reaction motor going again and rose up through the thin air of the upper level caverns of Mars out through the great hole out into space, back to Earth.

  And, well, let me see. Is there anything else I have to tell you? Oh, yes, that new vitamin. The doctors say it does an awful lot of good if you take to it slowly. Usulor and the others took to it too suddenly. Didn’t give their insides a chance.

  Well, I am not going to test it. Their say-so is good enough for me. Do you want any?

 

 

 


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