"Oh you are so intelligent to reason that!" Morguma marveled. "This pretty planet of Avignon is the reservation we have set aside for all space work. All of our ships are built there and all are based there!"

O'Dea tracked down a likely looking asteroid.

"How come?" he asked.

"We Centaurs are a delicate sensitive people! We love the beautiful things of life, and dislike such noisy greasy articles as space ships. So a few years ago it was decided to remove all the dirty factories from our home planets. Now the only craft that disturb the peace of our people on the main planets of Centauri are the rockets that transport materials and workers to and from Avignon!"

"There's something wrong there." O'Dea centered his instrument on the asteroid. "You seem to be happy enough. And the other workers on Avignon—they didn't seem to be disgusted by the dirt and noise."

"Oh, I am ecstatic!" Morguma raved. "It is my aptitude! Rocket fuel is my life blood! There are those among us who have a love for this noisy distasteful life of space!"

"Sounds logical," O'Dea murmured. "Some humans enjoy doing the dirty work that nauseates the average person ... unpleasant, but necessary. As for that remark about rocket fuel's being your life blood, Morguma, I happen to know it's true!"

He chuckled at the look of discomfiture that spread over Morguma's features. The quintol that was a part of rocket fuel was the equivalent of alcohol to the metabolism of the Centaurs. Several times he had seen Morguma take a quick pull from a small bottle he kept in his leathery garment—the Centaur version of a hip flask.

Morguma changed the subject as O'Dea's throaty chuckle continued. He pointed to the grayish speck in the telescope.

"Oh a remarkable find! A lump of solid carbon dioxide, and of such a size! Oh how fortunate we are to have such fortunate fortune!"

Their vessel closed in on the chunk of almost pure carbon dioxide, a piece larger than the ship. Under the Centaur's directions, O'Dea fed out the seizure beams. He watched the rough mass become gradually rigid, fixed in space relative to them.

That seizure beam would interest Earth's scientists. But Earth was trillions of miles away.

Morguma clapped his paws 

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