The Three Thieves of Japetus

Murder is always a cold-blooded crime any way you look at it. But for outright cruelty an barbarism there was no equal to the actions of—
They sat huddled together in the tiny space-survival unit, watching the big rocket freighter draw closer to their drifting position off Saturn.
Jake moistened his thin purple lips and clenched the radiophone tighter. Hello, freighter! he repeated. We're survivors of a shipwreck. Can you pick us up? Please answer. His voice grew more urgent. Please pick us up! Our air supply is failing!
Matt shook his thick black head of hair. If they fall for this, they're stupider than I gave them credit for. His hand rubbed the gun hidden beneath his shirt.
A fierce cone of light flared in the freighter's forward rockets, brighter for an instant than the sun's remote disc.
They are falling for it, Matt, Henry exclaimed. A wide grin spread over his pudgy baby-face. They're slowing down.
The radio receiver came to life. Hello, survivors. We hear your message and are adjusting course to pick you up. Stand by.
Jake turned to his cohorts, a triumphant glint in his pale grey eyes. I knew they would. What were you guys worried about?
They don't like to, said Matt. Costs them time.
Space law says they have to, said Henry.
Space law! echoed Matt. There isn't a space patrol within two hundred million miles.
Gosh, it's a big ship, said Henry. Wonder what's in its cargo?