Morguma's eyes rolled piously—and, chuckled. He displayed his teeth in a friendly smile.
"And you two—oh you favorite sons of fortune! We shall allow you to help us in this gesture of interstellar good will! In your ship you may aid in securing the necessary elements from our asteroid belt!"
"In our ship—" O'Dea looked hopeful. "Oh, sure, we'll be glad to help. We'll go out right after it's patched up and loaded with fuel—"
"Of course," gurgled Morguma, "I should be overjoyed to enjoy your charming company; therefore I shall accompany you. Also, it is not necessary to give you more than enough fuel to reach the asteroid belt and come back here!"
"I knew there was a catch," O'Dea grumbled. "What do we do now, Paul?"
"You can do anything you please," Hawthorne snapped. "I've had enough!"
The heavy framed spaceman hurled himself at the grinning Centaur. A fraction of a second later O'Dea followed suit. Before they could cross the few feet that separated Morguma from them, the shock guns of the guards barked. The two men sprawled forward unconscious at the feet of the still grinning alien.
O'Dea whirled—to face a lifted shock gun.