"What is our velocity?" he asked. Temporarily he was baffled by the placid Cow's literal translation of his request as one for any actual velocity, since she had replied with a figure very close to their original orbital speed. "What is our velocity at right angles to original course?" he inquired.
And the Cow's reply came: "Two-o-o hundred and fifty-seven point seven six ce-entimeters per se-econd."
That should be about right for six hundred forty pounds of thrust for, say, six and a half hours; and the distance of the orbit shift was about right.
But the direction?
"Is Hot Rod pulling us north?" he asked.
"No-o-o," came the placid reply.
"If it's pulling us south, then why—" He stopped himself. Any "why" required inductive reasoning, and of that the Cow was not capable. Instead of asking why they were moving north with a south thrust, Mike broke his question into parts. He'd have to answer the "why" himself, he knew.
"Is Hot Rod pulling us south?" he asked.
"No-o-oo," came the answer.
This time he was more careful. "In which direction is the thrust on Hot Rod oriented?" he asked.