"Should do what?" O'Dea wondered.
"That big rock ahead should be a good farewell gift to the Centaurs. We'll fly over their camp, and—"
A knowing smile was on Hawthorne's lips as he nosed up on a tiny asteroid. When they came close enough, the asteroid proved to be bigger than the ship.
Gradually, they trapped it in the seizure beams. Hawthorne fought grimly against inertia. The asteroid began to pull ahead of its orbit, and finally it was under full control of their engines.
Space was clear all the way back to Avignon. No Centaur ships were off the ground—there was nothing to challenge them. Hawthorne blasted straight for the valley of Centaur ships.
The motors strained, overheated, with the huge asteroid they lugged. When they entered the atmosphere, the vessel dropped almost like a dead weight.
O'Dea looked worried.
"That big factory, Paul. That's the best objective, and you're way off from it. Bear right—"
"Small game!" Hawthorne leered, a superior smile on his lips. "Just do what I said—keep your fingers one inch above the release key and push down fast when I give the word!"