ased another
question for the Cow.

"Exactly how much thrust is being exerted on that point?" he asked.

The computer reeled off a string of numbers so fast that he missed
them, and was still going into the far decimal places when Mike said:

"Whoa! Approximate number of pounds, please."

"A-approximately six hundred forty. You-u didn't specify the limits
o-of a-accuracy tha-at you-u wanted." The burred tone was still
complacent.

"Just what acceleration has that given us?" asked Mike, still looking
at the Confusor. "Approximately," he added quickly.

"Present a-acceleration is a-approximately eight point nine five
ti-imes te-en to the mi-inus third ce-entimeters per se-econd per
se-econd. I ca-an ca-arry that to-o-o several mo-ore de-ecimal
pla-aces if you-u wi-ish."

"No, thanks, I think you've told me enough."

Mike stood up.

This, he thought, needs Ishie. And coffee, he told himself as a second
thought.

And then as a third thought, he turned back to his secret vocoder
panel, and said: "The information you have just given me is to be
regarded as top secret and not to be discussed except over this
channel and by my direct order. Absolutely nothing that would give any
one a clue to the fact that there is a method of acceleration aboard.
Understood?"

"Ye-es, Mah-ike."

"O.K."

Mike switched off the vocoder, flipped his intercom to the temporary
galley in the morgue, and ordered two breakfasts readied. Then he set
off for the morgue.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

Mike Blackhawk located Dr. Y. Chi Tung's hammock, and nudged the
scientist unceremoniously. The small physicist awoke and attempted to
sit up in one gesture; bumped his head on the hammock above, and laid
back down just as suddenly.

"Come on down to engineering will you Ishie?" The request was spoken
softly.

"Hokey, dokey," said Ishie and crawled out of the narrow aperture with
the agility of a monkey.

Gesturing to the other to follow him, Mike led the way to the galley
first, where the two picked up the readied breakfast and took them to
Mike's quarters.

The "cups" of coffee were squeeze bottles; the trays were soft
plastic packages, similar to the boil-in-the-bag containers of frozen
food that had been common on Earth for some time.

Mike hesitated at the entrance to his engineering quarters,
considering whether to shut the bulkhead, but discarded the idea as
being more of an attention-getter than a seal for secrecy. H