The gailang gas hung in low soft waves over the motley crowd of the tiny, hidden gailang den. Laughter rose hysterically from the trio of women slummers, as the gas tore their natural reserves and modesty into shreds. A scarred space-pirate drooled over a handful of Martian moon-diamonds, the disruptor gun handy to his gnarled fist. The gas-tender, his flat nose buried in a tiny mask, watched the crowd of inscrutable eyes, his hands flickering, now and then, over the pet-cock studded panel befor