Death was Jaro Moynahan's stock in trade, and every planet had known his touch. But now, on Mercury, he was selling his guns into the weirdest of all his exploits--gambling his life against the soft touch of a woman's lips. On the stage of _Mercury Sam's Garden_, a tight-frocked, limber-hipped, red-head was singing "_The Lady from Mars_." The song was a rollicking, ribald ditty, a favorite of the planters and miners, the space pilots and army officers who frequented the garden. The girl rendered it with such gusto that the audience burst into a roar of applause.…
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