But the Centaurs evidently had perfected asteroid navigation; and when they saw several pieces of matter that were about to strike them deflected, they stopped worrying.
O'Dea manned a board lined with instruments the Centaurs had installed. They were simple to operate. He merely moved a telescope lens until a piece of cosmic scrap was in the cross hair, then he read a dial. The telescope was synchronized with a Centaur version of a spectroscope, and its reading was given in figures on the dial.
He felt the Centaur looking over his shoulder, checking up on him, so he had to do his work properly. Not that it made much difference. Whether he and Hawthorne played the game was of little importance as far as the Centaur's plans went, except that the creatures liked the symbolism created by having two humans work on the project.
"Morguma," he said. "Those spaceships on Avignon can't all be engaged in this work. There are types there that can be of no use."
"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!"