"Gonna get the mosh wonnerful piesh of d'lightful oshy--oshygen you ever shaw!" he announced. "There'sh shtupendous piesh. Oh I am rap--rapshurous!" "It's only a piece of pumice!" O'Dea insisted. "Itsh oshygen! Lovely beaut'ful delecbub--delect'ble oshygen!" Morguma staggered toward them. "Put sheizure beam on lovely oshygen!" The seizures clamped on the stone as O'Dea shrugged and threw out the beams. Morguma took another long nip and let his eyes swim into focus on the dials. He looked hurt. "Not oshygen? Not lovely oshygen? Oh I am eshcruchiated!" The creature sobbed and took another drink. He staggered back and fell into his chair, where he fell into a weeping spree, his head buried in his hands. O'Dea glanced swiftly. His elbow dug into Hawthorne's ribs. Hawthorne nodded. They quietly picked up the wrenches they had kept nearby; started toward Morguma. One on each side, they moved cautiously. Silently they moved forward until they came within striking distance. Hawthorne waved O'Dea back, gesturing to his own powerful right arm. O'Dea nodded, poised his weapon for the follow up swing. Hawthorne raised the wrench. And then Morguma's whip flicked out. * * * * * Hawthorne's eyes remained fastened to his empty hand as the wrench clattered into a corner. Again the snap of Centaur leather, and O'Dea's weapon joined the other. The two men stood foolishly, like a pair of boys caught stealing apples. Morguma spoke: "Oh you bad bad people! Go back to control board; let poor Morguma alone. Oh I am deshicated to think you would do thish to poor old frien' Morguma!" They slunk back to their posts. O'Dea raised his helpless eyes to the portrait above the controls. "What can I do, Mercedes?" he whispered. "The guy is stiffer than King Tut and still you can't beat him!" They avoided each other's eyes. Each knew what the other was thinking. Defeat meant that the Centaur had won. There would be no warning to Earth. Avignon would become a planet of slave humans, blindly following the skillful teachings of the Centaurs. They would infiltrate Earth, tear down from within.... Generations would be required, but the Centaurs had time. They thought in long term strategy. Hawthorne was staring unbelievingly through the telescope. His trembling fingers closed on O'Dea's arm. "Let go, you ape--" O'Dea stopped, impelled by the smoldering hope in the eyes that warned him to silence. He glanced swiftly to be sure that Morguma was still hunched stupidly in his chair, then followed Hawthorne's gaze. He gasped at what they saw. In their line of vision was a mass that looked like twisted wire, coiled up in a planless tangle. O'Dea leaned forward, stared without belief. "Our fuel," he breathed. "If we can get hold of that--" Hawthorne waved him frantically, silently, to the seizure beams. O'Dea tiptoed to the levers, waited with one eye on Morguma while Hawthorne crept up on the precious fuel.