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." "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."…
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