They were kids with personality problems, so
they joined tough gangs, living only to fight
and kill. Society had to find a way to correct—
The Vicious Delinquents
By Mark Reinsberg
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy
October 1958
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Two or three things worried me on my trip back to the hideout. So my astrogation was sloppy and I kept losing Jupiter's shadow.
First, there was the showdown with Naomi over who would lead the Callisto gang. This meant another degravity fight with python whips and steel claws. Having just gotten rid of the old battle scars on my cheek, shoulder and breast, I wasn't so eager to have my title back on the same disfiguring terms.
On the other hand, wouldn't the girls take it as a sign of cowardice if I tried to settle peaceably for second in command?
Next, I kept thinking about the money I'd taken from my parents the day before. What amazed me was how they could be so stupid as to believe I would go to Mars and enroll in that technical school. Two thousand solars was just enough to buy this sweet secondhand 2064 model Spacer coupe. The gals in our ordnance crew would rig it up with missile launchers, turn it into a killer, flagship of our fleet.
But just now my ship was unarmed, defenseless. And as I approached our base on airless, rocky Callisto I again had the feeling I was being followed, trailed in space.