Hello readers! I don't know exactly where I'm going with this story, but it's not going to be too terribly epic. Maybe a few chapters at most.
So, if you came up and told me last week that I'd be writing District 9 fanfiction, I would have said "Fuck off!"
But here I am... and it's fookin' addicting too!
Tell me what you think and if I should continue!
Gregor
CHAPTER ONE
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Three years. Three years he had waited, with nothing to hold on to except a destroyed shack and a promise. Christopher's promise. How Wikus had managed to survive was still a mystery even to him. Although he was definitely fed his fill of poetic justice, seeing and experiencing first hand the mistreatment and oppression of a race that was not so different from his own. Or what used to be his own.
Wikus had learned over the years to keep his mouth shut. Talk less, listen more. He had definitely become disgusted by his race. He wasn't sure if he ever wanted to go back to being human. Fleshy little meat sacks with Napoleon complexes, running around with their cars and their guns. So dirty. Wikus always felt an itch deep between his chest plates whenever he thought of retransforming back into a human. An itch he didn't want to scratch.
So three years, to the day. He had kept track. He used marker after marker to mark the days on the side of his once clean, white District 10 tent. Did he expect Christopher to return at exactly the same time he had left? What if he didn't return at all? What if he hadn't made it?
It was a particularly muggy day. The recent rainfall made the air hang thick with humidity causing Wikus's joints to become sticky and difficult to move. He sat in his small tent on a makeshift chair composed of scrap metal and ripped pillows, watching as other prawns milled about lazily. A small book lay in his lap. He still enjoyed reading, even if the guards would often laugh at him and take his books away. He always managed to find more. Wikus let out a heaving sigh, moving down onto the dirt floor, stretching out on the cool surface to try and sooth his achy joints. That's when he felt it. It was the slightest vibration, but it was there. His antennae swiveled about madly as he practically leapt out of his tent, running at break-neck speed towards the center of the slum. Other prawns began to follow after him. Their collective feet pounding into the ground gave the illusion of an oncoming stampede.
Wikus finally skidded to a halt in the middle of the dry, muddy circle of tents, his golden eyes turned skyward as others behind him did the same. They stood like statues, in hushed anticipation. He almost felt tears escape. There were ships, not one, but two. A loud, rumbling cry irrupted from the crowd of prawns, surely heard for miles around. The ships slowly glided to a stop over District 10, sending down a dozen or more ships to the surface of the planet.
Of course, the military would have none of this. There were soon tanks, trucks, and more guns than you can shake a hindquarter at. However, once they were in the vicinity of the ships, they found their weapons inoperable. Having no other plan, the men lined the sides of the slum, simply watching as regal looking aliens appeared from the landing ships, dressed in vibrant colors according to their rank. Their exoskeletons appeared to be iridescent in the sun as they began to swiftly move trough the dull and dirtied crowd. The joy was overwhelming. Prawns were clinging to one another, clicking happily. They were soon shuffled two by two into the ships.
Wikus felt like a sardine inside to cool, metal interior of the ship. It rocked and swayed as it transported him and 49 others up to the mothership. A prawn he came to know as Landon stood beside and chattered excitedly about what it was like back on their home planet and how Wikus was sure to like it. Suddenly, a lump developed in Wikus's gut. He was leaving Earth. He was leaving everything familiar to him to go somewhere unimaginable. What if he couldn't even find Christopher in this massive crowd? He voiced his despair to Landon who quickly reassured him that Christopher would not forget him and that their race is very organized, unlike humans.
Landon was definitely right. As they exited the ship, they were filed into what looked like an airport security system. Each prawn was shuffled through a metallic archway as official looking prawns sat behind a holographic computer screen, ushering each through. There was a separate line for prawns born on earth. Soon, it was Wikus's turn to pass beneath the arch. As he did, the computer made a funny chirping noise, commands were shouted into communicators, and before Wikus knew what was happening, he was being whisked down a long, brightly lit hallway by two prawns dressed in sharp, black vests.
He was left shivering and alone in a sterile looking room with high ceilings and metal walls. He moved to sit at the table that was in the center of the room. The chairs were made to accommodate prawn anatomy. It was a rather nice treat, for something so simple. As soon as he had sat, the doors on the other side of the room slid open, revealing a tall, lanky prawn dressed in golden yellow. His eyes were wide, intelligent, and strikingly blue. Wikus knew those eyes.
"Little one?" he croaked nervously. Oliver's expression was that of elation.
"So it is you!? Wikus!" he chirped happily, striding over. His voice had become much deeper, though not as deep as Christopher's or his own. Wikus stood up only to find himself in an awkward embrace that he had little time to prepare for.
"You look excellent!" Oliver commented, pulling away to scan Wikus up and down. Wikus felt suddenly self-conscious beneath the inquisitive eyes of the younger prawn.
"Thank you, I guess." He clicked out, diverting his eyes. Oliver just smiled, putting a long arm around Wikus's shoulders and leading him towards the door.
"Come, let us get you cleaned and clothed. Father is very anxious to see you."
Wikus had a hard time concentrating through the whole cleaning process. It was difficult to get all the mud and grime out from in between his plated. All he could think about was the fact that Christopher was looking forward to seeing him. "No, not looking forward to it, you overzealous old cricket." Wikus scolded internally. "Just anxious… whatever the fook that means." After finishing up the tedious process of cleaning and clothing himself in clothes designed to fit the prawn's unique anatomy, Wikus was escorted by Oliver down a long series of halls to one of the main control decks. The doors slid open to a room buzzing with computers giving off a blue light that reflected off the walls. His eyes found Christopher who immediately strode over to him with a grace only he could possess.
"Wikus." He rumbled.
"Christopher." Wikus clicked back, wringing his hands nervously. Christopher reached down to take his left hand, gingerly inspecting his thumb, or lack there of. For the second time that day, he was pulled into an awkward embrace he wasn't quite prepared for.
"I am relived." He exhaled. "I worried about you."
"Constantly." Oliver added, earning a glare from his father. He quickly hurried off to busy himself with some task.
"Come." Christopher said sternly, causing Wikus to jump a little. "I will show you the ship. It's new." He said, a hint of pride in his voice. Wikus followed in suit, a little closer than necessary. The only feeling he could describe at the moment was relief; relief that he was finally with someone familiar, someone who knew what he had been through.
After a brief tour of the ship, Wikus was, once again, amazed at the sheer scale as well as design of the ship. Any notion of prawns being dull or unintelligent had left his mind long ago, however this simply solidified it. What an amazing race of creatures.
"It is beautiful." Wikus commented, gazing out over one of the bridges that arched over the main command deck. Christopher studied him thoughtfully.
"You are merely a shadow of the man I left on Earth three years ago." He stated matter-o-factly. Wikus shrugged, turning to look Christopher in the eyes. Those huge, all-knowing eyes.
"Three years can change a man." He replied.
"For the better?" Christopher inquired, shifting slightly. Wikus paused before answering.
"Yes, I would say so."
After a hearty dinner or a variety of tasty, alien meats, Christopher led Wikus to private quarters where he would be staying for the remainder of the trip.
"First and foremost I want you to get some rest. This is mine and Oliver's private quarter, but I had an extra pod moved in here for you.
"Thank you so much, Christopher. You don't know how much it means to me." Wikus began, but Christopher held up a hand.
"We owe you." He replied, smiling in the way only prawns could smile. "Tomorrow we can talk of your retransformation."
Wikus felt his insides turn to stone at the mention.
"Uh…uhhh…." He began nervously, trying to think of something to say. Christopher looked at him inquisitively.
"You do not have to make a decision right now, Wikus." He replied gently, as if reading his mind. "Please sleep on it." He motioned towards the sleeping pod. Wikus merely nodded. Stepping forward, Wikus initiated his third prawn embrace for the day, this time fully ready for it. Christopher accepted the contact willingly, moving his hands across Wikus's spiked back soothingly.
"Do not worry. You are in good hands now." He rumbled into the side of Wikus's neck. Wikus felt a fluttering sensation bubble up inside his chest. He was not ashamed.
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