by Harry Warner
Produced by Greg Weeks, Graeme Mackreth and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
Greg tried desperately to find an illegal method of joining his family on Mars; for the law said that no healthy man could land on a--
CANCER WORLD
_By_
_Harry Warner, Jr._
"We won the Patagonian trust case," Greg Marson's jubilant tones filledthe apartment--the hall in which he stood, the automatic kitchen in therear, the living quarters, bedroom and nursery in between.
But no one replied. Greg let his bulging, expensive briefcase slip tothe floor, strode through the empty hall, poked his head into thekitchen, then entered the nursery.
Dennis dashed to his father on two-year-old legs, and baby Phyllisgurgled twice in her pen. Greg wrinkled his nose in puzzlement, thenpunched the babyviewer.
"You can cut service," he told the girl whose blonde head appeared onthe screen.
She nodded, counted on her fingers, and said: "That will be seven hoursof viewing. No extras. The children behaved beautifully."
The screen darkened. Greg stared foolishly at it, then turned to Dennis.
"Where'd your mother go?"
Dennis smiled vaguely, and began to tinker with his molecule builder.Phyllis gurgled again.
Greg looked at the remains of the lunch that had hopped automaticallyfrom its can at noon, and the lowered reservoir of milk in the baby'sfeeder. Dora obviously hadn't been there since morning, and she didn'tlike to trust the babyview service so long. It was Wednesday, and bridgeclub was Tuesday. They'd subscribed to the telebuying service, so Dorahadn't gone shopping for months. The new baby wasn't due for fivemonths, so a hurry-up trip to a doctor was unlikely....
The front door screeched, its bad hinge audible in the nursery, andGreg relaxed. "I'm back here, Dora," he called, and headed for the hall,closing the nursery door behind him.
Greg saw the policeman before he saw Dora. She was being lead toward theliving room sofa, her face white, her coat soiled.
"What's wrong?" Greg rushed forward.
"You're Marson? Relax. Your wife just got excited for a minute. Lots ofthem try what she did. We won't hold it against her."
Dora pressed close to Greg, her head pushing against his chest, her bodytrembling. Reproachfully, the policeman was saying:
"You should have stayed home on her check day. If she could have reachedyou when she heard the news--" He brushed invisible specks from hisspotless uniform and walked out of the apartment.
Greg led his wife to the sofa and sank down beside her. Check day. Hestared at her with disbelief.
"I'm sorry," she said in a whisper, not looking at him. "You never couldremember anniversaries or dates, and I didn't want to worry you." Shestarted to quiver again.
"How bad is it?" Greg fought for words, blinking to try to drive awaythe haze before his eyes.
"It isn't serious at all," she said, raising her head and looking at himfor the first time. "They said that the operation will take only a fewminutes. They said cancer wouldn't ever be dangerous if they alwaysfound it as quickly as this time. We--I'm really very lucky, they said."
"But you should have told me that this was your check day. I was worriedabout the Patagonian case, and I just--"
Then Greg stared straight at his wife, trying to pierce the strangenessthat covered her eyes. He realized in a flood of terror the fullimplications of this day.
"Dora--do they let you have the child if you're pregnant when they findcancer? I don't remember...."
* * * * *
She sat erect and pushed the hair away from her eyes, suddenly thestronger of the two. "Of course, I can have the child," she said. "Andplease don't worry about today. I was silly, and fainted when theybrought in the report, and when I came to I tried to pretend that I'dsuffered amnesia. It was foolish because they could have identified mefrom their records, but they told me that lots of women get the sameidea, so maybe I'm not so terrible after all."
Dennis wailed from the nursery and Phyllis' thin cry joined his."They're lonely," Dora said. "I'll go and see--"
"Wait. You didn't make a decision?"
"Of course I did." She smiled palely. "I reserved passage."
"But you can't go away! What would I do without you and the kids?"
"Don't shout so. You'll frighten them. And stop thinking about yourself.You know I'd be willing to undergo sterilization. But we can't inflictit on the kids when they're still too young to decide for themselves."
"I'll find some way out. There must be someone who'd be willing to bebought--"
"Don't talk that way," she tried to laugh. "After all, you've alwayssaid you'd like to have the children see another planet."
Greg sat down again and covered his face with his hands. "Don't saythat, Dora. Sure, I'd like to take my family to Venus if they everopened it up for colonization. But that's a fine planet. Mars is hell,and the law says I can't go with you or the kids."
"That's exactly right. The law says that we're breeding a cancer-freerace of humans on Earth by sending to Mars all the people who prove tobe susceptible."
Greg shook his head. "That plan wasn't set up just to breed out cancerprones. It was partly to keep Earth from starvation when overpopulationbecame an impossible problem. It isn't really a moral issue. Look, youcan probably cancel your passage, and we can arrange sterilization. Thekids will approve when they grow up."
Now it was Dora who held Greg close. "I don't want to leave you," shesaid desperately, "but there's nothing else to do. You know theCarstairs, and the Andresens. The same thing happened to both of thosegirls. They talked it over with their husbands and decided onsterilization, and the Andresens broke up the next year and Mrs.Carstairs is in a mental home...."
Greg was silent for a moment. Then he looked at her.
"When do you leave?"
The children wailed again. "I won't be here next Wednesday," she aroseand walked unsteadily toward the nursery.
* * * * *
Greg drove the next morning through narrow streets and backed his carinto a parking space close to his destination. He sat for a moment,frowning at the antiquated, dirty buildings, half-residential,half-business. Then he left the car and walked up the half-dozen unevenstone steps to Modern Laboratories.
Behind the small front office, Modern Laboratories contained an arrayof testtubes, some sluggish guinea pigs, and dusty bottles. A man whoGreg knew must be Dr. Haskett stood in front of the bottles and lookeddubiously at him.
"My contact told me to say that I need altitude shots," Greg said. "Healso told me to say that I've heard of your success in transplantations."
"Sit down."
Greg found a stool, and looked unhappily at the grimy fingernails of Dr.Haskett which were now tapping the sink's edge. "Did your friend explainhow much it will cost?"
"The check's written." Greg handed it over. "It's dated ahead. I canstop payment if you don't do what you promise. And secrecy is important.My wife doesn't know what I'm doing."
"Marta," Dr. Haskett called. A girl from the front office came into thelaboratory, and in bored fashion pulled a soiled white robe over herstreet dress.
"Lie down here." Dr. Haskett shoved two tables together to provide alarge, flat surface, and Marta shoved home the lock on the single doorleading out of the room. "But sign this release, first. And undress. Youprefer intravenous anaesthesia, I suppose?"
"There's not much risk?" Greg asked, his perspiring fingers slipping ashe tried to unknot his tie. "Not much risk that you'll fail to make good... a good transplantation?"
"I guarantee that part of it," Dr. Haskett said, opening a case andwithdrawing instruments. "The only risk lies in the dange
r that it willgrow too fast in six months."
"I won't give it a chance. My wife gets sent to Mars next week. I'mgoing to ask for a special check and get myself sent aboard the sameship with her. I know the right people."
Marta laughed openly. Dr. Haskett shot a glare in her direction, thenlooked calculatingly at Greg.
"You're talking like a child," he said. "If I implant cancerous tissuein your body, you can't submit to a check for at least six months. Theexaminers would find the scars of the
