THICKER THAN WATER

by Alfred D. Byrd

	This story came to me as I was driving home in pouring rain to Lexington, 

Kentucky, from Context I in Columbus, Ohio.  The immediate inspiration for the story 

was the comment "gift of a leech" that Helen Davis wrote in a corner of her notebook 

while I was sitting beside her in a program, headed by C. J. Cherryh, on trading with 

alien cultures.  I absolve Helen, C. J. Cherryh, Context, and the rain from any further 

connection with what follows.

	Captain Brunner snarled as he stormed into the storeroom of the Kismet.  Ever since he 

had learned that his tiny command was the only one in position to make first contact with the 

S'tharn vessel whose signals had just been detected, his voyage had been snakebitten.  First, the 

diversion itself had cost his ship time, fuel, and cargo.  Next, just hours ago, his drunken excuse 

for an engineer had managed to get caught in an emergency pressure bulkhead that he had been 

trying to repair. Even now the medical officer was laboring feverishly in the tiny sick bay to

reattach the engineer's right arm. Finally, just as the ship had reached the rendezvous point,

Blevins, the stores officer, had informed him that, because of a clerical error, the items in the

gift package for the S'tharns had been reshelved, and would the Captain please report to the

storeroom to identify them?

	Captain Brunner stopped in front of Blevins, glared at him, and relished seeing him blanch 

and quiver.  "You can just thank your lucky star, Mister, that the S'tharns are waiting, and I 

don't have time to give you the dressing down you deserve.  Now, where's the container for 

the gifts?"

	Blevins gulped.  "Er, ah, I think it got put back into the stern hold --"

	"Then get it, man!  Don't you realize we have a diplomatic crisis on our hands?  Now 

move!"

	Blevins moved.

	Muttering, Captain Brunner pawed his way through rows of shelves.  "Biologicals, 

pharmaceuticals, and medical supplies," he said to himself.  A strange list, but that was what 

Deep Space Affairs had ordered him to send.  Apparently the biochemistry of the S'tharns was 

like that of human beings -- though how Deep Space Affairs had learned that little piece of 

information was more than he could understand.  Captain Brunner snorted.  It was a rare day 

when Deep Space Affairs could even learn where its collective backside was.

	He flung down an armload of boxes on a table next to the entranceway and frowned.  

What was keeping that numbskull Blevins?

	The intercom chimed.  "Captain Brunner, we're picking up a transmission from the 

S'tharn vessel," the first mate's voice called out.

	Captain Brunner glanced around.  He caught sight of a viewscreen at the far end of the 

room.  "Right, Mister Manning.  Pipe it down here."

	He reached the viewscreen just as it flared to life.  The images that met his vision twisted 

his brain.  In a violet-tinged light that at first hurt his eyes, shapes moved about:  tapering 

conical shapes, ringed near the summit with a circle of four eyes on short, twisting stalks, and 

sprouting a cluster of tentacles beneath each eye.  Across the aliens' skins patterns flowed like 

colors in a film of oil.  From the speaker came hootings and shrill whistles, interspersed with 

rumbles and chitterings, from which Captain Blevins could resolve only something that sounded 

remotely like the word S'tharn.  So that's where Deep Space Affairs came up with that name, 

he thought.  For all they know, it could mean, "Hey, do you guys have any spare fuel?"

	Just then footsteps sounded in the corridor.  That nitwit Blevins at last, he thought.  Then 

he heard a shriek --

	"What in the world is that used for, Doctor Kawamura?" Crewperson Mallory's shrill 

voice called out.

	 Captain Brunner relaxed and returned his attention to the viewscreen.

	"Ah, we use these in reattaching severed limbs, Ms. Mallory.  They are quite helpful in 

reducing swelling due to bleeding in the tissues --"

	"You mean you stick something like that on someone?"

	"Well, not this particular thing, Ms. Mallory.  I brought more to surgery than I needed --"

	"Well, I don't care if it is useful -- just keep it away from me!"

	"I am on my way to return it to the storeroom now, Ms. Mallory."

	Still held by fascinated repulsion to the viewscreen, Captain Brunner heard someone 

enter.  "Ah, how unfortunate," he heard Doctor Kawamura murmur.  "Someone has moved 

everything around.  I'll have to set this here till I --"

	The intercom chimed again.  "Doctor Kawamura, the patient's blood pressure is 

dropping!" Nurse Jenkins called out.

	"I am on my way!" Doctor Kawamura called back.

	Captain Brunner continued to stare at the viewscreen.  There were three of the S'tharns, 

he realized now, and he was beginning to see individual differences among them.  The first 

seemed somehow slumped; its tendrils quivered, and its skin-patterns seemed duller than those 

of the others.  The second was tall and robust, and seemed to ripple and bulge with energy.  

And the third -- Captain Brunner scratched his head -- seemed, somehow -- well, beautiful.  

Its cerulean eyes stood on slender stalks, and its tendrils were long and delicate.  It had a deep 

constriction beneath its ring of tendril clusters and moved in graceful, swirling patterns.

	The tendrils of the three S'tharns kept playing over banks and banks of incomprehensible 

controls.  From time to time smaller, obviously mechanical replicas of the S'tharns moved into 

and out of the field of view to bring objects or take them away.  Deep Space Affairs had 

speculated that the S'tharns had lived with automated servants so long that they had lost the 

habit of physical labor.

	Captain Brunner pressed the intercom button.  "Mister Manning, do you have any idea of 

what those aliens are trying to say?"

	"I can't make heads or tails of it, Captain.  I was hoping you could tell me."

	Captain Brunner chuckled.  "Right, Mister Manning.  Carry on.."

	Footsteps sounded again.  "Sorry I took so long, Captain," Blevins said.  "I'd forgotten 

where I'd stowed it --"

	Captain Brunner could not tear his eyes from the viewscreen.  "I don't have time for your 

excuses, Mister!  Just start packing the stuff on the table!"

	There was a long silence; then Blevins said, "All the stuff on the table, Captain?"

	"Yes!  Now quit wasting time, Mister!  Our friends out there aren't getting any younger."

	"Aye, aye, Captain."  Blevings still sounded doubtful, but he made satisfying sounds of 

activity.  After a commendably short time, he reported, "The package is ready, Captain."

	"Good!  Now cycle it through the airlock and let our friends out there decide if they like 

it!"

	A few minutes later Captain Brunner heard the deep hum of the airlock.  The view on the 

viewscreen changed to show the gleaming sphere of the S'tharn vessel.  A tiny white chest --

the gift package -- floated towards it.  Grapples extended from the alien vessel's hull . . .

#

	Attached to one wall of a tiny, sealed aquarium in the gift package, a long-deprived leech 

thirsted for its next meal . . .

#

	"Dear me, I am just not sure of what to make of any of these objects," Kwini cooed.

	"It is a right strange assortment, Miss Kwini," K'rtis agreed.

	"What ever shall we do with this collection, Father?" Kwini asked.  "I positively cannot 

see a use for any of it."

	Old Kan'r scratched an eyestalk with a tendril.  "Still, we must accept it, my dear girl, 

and send a gift in return.  To do otherwise would surely offend our visitors."

	"Yes, Miss Kwini, your father does have your family honor to think of," K'rtis said 

sententiously.

	"But look at that thing in the tank, K'rtis!  It is long and dark and slimy -- I declare I have 

never seen anything so disgusting in all my life!"

	"I quite agree with you, Miss Kwini.  It certainly does not seem a sight for a fair young 

lady's eyes."

	Kwini leaned forwards over the tiny tank.  "Still, I suppose that if the aliens sent it, it must 

be something valuable."  Her tendrils explored the outside of the tank, and the lid popped open.  

"Perhaps it will not feel as disgusting as it looks --"

	She dipped a tentative tendril in the tank . . .

#

	Sudden vibrations alerted the leech to an intruder; chemical gradients spread across its 

skin.  Neurons fired; a conensus was reached.  Food!  Food at last!  Long dormant reflexes 

awoke . . .

#

	"E-eek!  It attacked me!"  Kwini flung her tendrils about; a long, dark shape remained 

attached to one.  "Oh, I cannot get it off.  Oh, someone do help me!"

	"Hold still, Miss Kwini; I shall assist you!"  K'rtis's strong tendrils wrapped around his 

lady-love's assailant.  "Ugh, slimy little beast!  It seems to have a firm grip on you -- ah, here 

it comes!"

	The creature tore away, leaving a ring of alien flesh embedded in Kwini's fair tendril.  Red 

fluid welled out.

	"A hematophage!" Old Kan'r exclaimed, his patterns rippling with ultimate horror.

	K'rtis flung the offensive creature against the main viewscreen.  "Those unspeakable 

scoundrels!  How dare they send such an abomination to endanger the flower of our 

womanhood?"

	Old Kan'r nodded.  "You are right, K'rtis.  We must give these scoundrels a lesson they 

will never forget . . ."

#

	Captain Brunner resumed his seat on the bridge.  "Any change in status, Mister Manning?"

	"Not since you left the storeroom, Captain."  The first mate grinned at him.  "But I'll bet 

we'll be getting their response any minute now."

	Captain Brunner nodded and turned his attnetion to the main viewscreen.  There was 

movement on the alien vessel:  a panel was retracting, and a long antenna, circled at intervals 

with spheres, was beginning to extrude.

	"See, what did I tell you, Captain?"

	The tip of the antenna started to glow.  Captain Brunner frowned.  "What do you make of 

that, Mister Manning?"

	"I don't know, Captain.  Some kind of projector, perhaps?"

	Captain Brunner reached a decision.  "Navigator!  Full power to the --"

	The main viewscreen blazed with unbearable light.  The hull burst inward and then 

outward in a shower of fire . . .

#

	Kwini gazed in satisfaction at the burning ball, once an alien ship.  "That will teach them," 

she said, "not to offend a S'tharn belle!"	

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