Henry Slesar

“ The physician shrugged. "Money doesn't buy health."
"Doesn't it?" The patient gave an abrupt laugh. "Money buys people, Dr. Rostov. It buys loyalty and disloyalty. It buys friends and sells enemies. All these are commodities, Doctor. I found that out—the hard way."
"Mr. Monk, you don't know what I'm telling you. Your heart action is unreliable, and no amount of dollars can bring it back to normal—"
The industrialist stood up. "You think the heart is incorruptible, eh?" He snorted. "Well, I think different. Someplace on earth there's a man or a method that can fix me up. ”

“ Monk," said the captain tersely.
"What do you mean by sorry?"
"I'm on a lifetime assignment here, and so are practically all the members of the Colony. It's a job that can barely be completed in a lifetime. And the economy we operate under doesn't call for money. Your dollars are so much excess baggage on Mars."
"What are you talking about?" Monk rasped. "I'm offering you a fortune. Money is money, you fool!" ”

“ He'd spend most of his time safely indoors, he promised himself, where he wouldn't need the cumbersome trappings of space clothing. His life had been an indoor affair anyway, back on Earth.
The passengers were led into the Quarantine Section, where they would spend their first three days on Mars.
It was a relief to Monk to shed the heavy space-suit in the air-filled room. And it was a revelation, for with helmet and boots removed, he found himself almost floating with each step he took, moving feather-light over the ground. ”

“ The Mars Colony lives on labor, and that's our first consideration. Courtesy comes about last on our list. We're in a battle here, twenty-four hours and thirty-seven minutes a day. We've got to fight to keep alive, and we've got to wrestle with a whole new planet if we want to unearth its secrets. Courtesy is a distinct privilege on Mars, Mr. Monk. ”

“ Monk? He said the same thing to his colonists that I'm going to say to you now. If you don't work—you don't eat."
"But what could I do? I'm no scientist. I'm no—"
"There's plenty to do," the captain interrupted. "And most of it is dirty, physical labor. We have a thousand minerologists, chemists, geologists, botanists, physicists, meteorologists, and a lot more technical people at work on this planet. They can use all the help they can get. Don't worry about that!"
"But I'm Fletcher Monk!" the industrialist said. ”

“ Christy smiled. "That's what we call the Space Station. We'll pick up some supplies and fuel there, and then we'll take off again. But you won't have to be concerned about the acceleration on the second blast-off. You can take that easily."
"Are you sure?" said Monk anxiously.
"Positive. There won't be any gravitational pull to overcome this time. You'll be fine."
"I appreciate this, Christy. I won't forget your help."
"That's okay, Mr. Wheeler. It makes my wife happy."
"Yes." Monk felt well enough now to give the pilot a sardonic smile. "She's a wonderful girl, Diana. A wonderful girl." ”

“ Monk grunted. "I'll keep it in mind," he said. "Now how about this fellow Forsch?"
"Maybe there's something there," said Horner. "He's a doctor, too. Handles most of the routine physicals. But I heard a rumor about some pretty unethical practices he was mixed up in before he took this job. There may be nothing to it, but if you could look into it—"
"I will," said Monk abruptly. He handed the paper over to the Spacelane employee. "Anybody else here you want to tell me about?"
Horner looked over the list.
"That's about it, I guess," he said. "Nobody here can do you any good. ”

“ He looked at the captain curiously. "Yet he wasn't assigned to any over-strenuous duties?"
"You know he wasn't," said the captain. "We don't want anybody to undertake work they can't handle. His labor was hardly physical. He worked in the geological and botanical groups, but not in the field. ”