Outside Saturn

By ROBERT ERNEST GILBERT
Illustrated by RICHARD KLUGA
Gangsters were out of date, and the ice-sweeper was an unlikely thing to steal. But Vicenzo was a streak, so what else could Henry do?
CHAPTER I
Aziz ripped the radio from Henry's spacesuit and carefully resealed the panel. Dis'll be the weldin' of ya, kid, Aziz said, crinkling his round, sallow face in an attempt to smile. Yer name'll be in ever' yap—in our orbit, dat is.
But what— Henry tried to say.
No doubt at all, Vicenzo agreed, cleverly shorting Henry's drive tube.
I don't— Henry said.
Vicenzo figured it right, kid, Aziz said. He gestured with powerful arms too long for his short body. Ya'll hit dat ole sweeper square on the bulb. Vicenzo's a streak.
I'm a genius, Vicenzo admitted. He smoothed the black bangs covering his forehead to the eyebrows, and he fingered the pointed sideburns reaching to his chin. You jump into space, Henry, and then we'll increase velocity and sink into the Rings.
Aziz begged, Do us a blazer, kid. We won't go far. Too low on fuel. He lowered the helmet over Henry's bushy, blond hair and ruddy face and clamped it shut.
Vicenzo and Aziz left Henry in the airvalve and closed the inner door. When the valve emptied to vacuum, Henry reluctantly lowered the outer door and stepped to the magnetized platform.