Holy shite on a fook sandwich, man. I have typed up three new first chapters of three new fics in two days. I am a beast. So, this new D-9 fic started out as plotless prawn pr0n, but somehow it mutated into an actual story! Please review; it keeps the voices in my head happy.

The Basic Plot So Far: At the last second, Chris decides to use the fuel he has to cure Wikus instead of making him wait three years (How? You ask. I DON'T KNOW, HE'S A MAGICAL SCIENCE-PRAWN.) Of course, this means that Chris doesn't get to leave Earth. Also unfortunately, Wikus can't just waltz on out of District 9 (the whole "District 10"thing got postponed for a while because MNU was still searching for Wikus), so he can't go home. He stays with Christopher and Oliver (and continues to be an ungrateful bastard) for two years.

Unteeeeellll…..

"Mr. Wikus, wake up! Wake up!" The kid's rainforest frog voice shattered the human's tranquil darkness. He groaned and rolled over on his cot.

"Fook, kid, how many times've I told you not to-"

"Wikus, you need to hide," Christopher's deeper, sterner clicks came from somewhere by the door. "Quickly."

"What?" Wikus sat up blearily. "What is it?"

The alien peeked swiftly through the shabby curtains he'd put up a while ago. "MNU operatives and soldiers are stopping at all the houses. I feared it was another raid, but my neighbor says that your company has finally given up on finding you and decided to go ahead with the relocation."

"Not 'my' company. Not anymore," he rubbed his eyes, then froze. "Wait. Relocation? To District 10?"

"Yes."

"Fook," his eyes grew wide. "That's not good. Fook. They'll find me."

Christopher turned to meet his gaze, looking unfathomable and exhausted, and Wikus wondered if he'd been up all night again, keeping watch over the human. "We will think of… something. Now, you must hide. They're almost here." He crouched and opened the hatch that led to the dormant ship.

Wikus obediently dropped down into the hole, muttering something along the lines of, "Fooking prawn, think of something quick."

Standing in the blue-lit shadows of the vessel, the human heard the front door open, heard Christopher clack out a polite greeting. He heard the MNU worker (a woman's voice, that's odd, she sounds familiar) respond in kind.

"Hullo, Mr. Johnson. I'm from MNU; I'm here to serve an eviction notice." She spoke in the same tone that all operatives had been trained to use, loud and clear and cheery, as if they were speaking to a slightly deaf child. Something was off about her voice, though. She sounded… edgy, almost brisk, like she didn't really think Chris was as stupid as he was supposed to be.

Wikus strained to hear better. Who was she? She sounded so…

The mystery woman continued. "In two days, MNU will be moving all of you to a new home. District 10."

"Two days," Christopher said dully, and Wikus could almost hear the sag in the prawn's shoulders.

"Here," the woman offered. "Have a pamphlet. See? It's got pictures."

"I have one already," the alien replied tiredly.

The operative persisted, her tone becoming even stranger, laced with some unidentifiable undertone. "No, you should take this one; it's newer. It's got better pictures. Take it, please."

Chris must have caught some hint or seen something in her face, for he accepted the brochure without further protest. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Be sure to look over it, Mr. Johnson. Goodbye." With that, the odd female and her silent escorts departed.

Wikus heard the door close and, after a moment, Christopher's voice announcing, "They're gone. You can come back up; you should see this."

Curious and confused, the human pushed the trapdoor open and climbed out. "What was wrong with her? She sounded a bit on the turn. Who was she? And what was so fooking important about a pamphlet?"

To answer the barrage of questions, the prawn held out the folded paper he'd been given.

Wikus took the brochure and stared at it.

"But it's the same," he protested. "it's the same stupid thing ass before; why would-"

"Open it," Chris suggested.

Frowning, the ex-operative thumbed back the cover page of the glossy paper. Inside was a note, scrawled in familiar handwriting across an image of idyllic tents.

Wikus—

I can't explain right now, but I'm going to help you and your prawn friend escape before MNU moves everyone to District 10. Be at the west side of the fence, by the broken bulldozer, at 2am tonight. Please trust me. I want to help.

--Tania

"It is very likely a trap," Christopher said after allowing Wikus a moment of shocked silence. "Then again, I don't know her as you do. Would she be the type to arrange or agree to such a thing?"

"No," Wikus said automatically, then sighed. "I-I don't know. Maybe. But, I mean, what choices've we got? We either go tonight and maybe get killed, or we wait for MNU to evict everyone and definitely get killed." He paused in consideration. "Probably dissected first, actually."

"Charming," Chris clicked wryly. "So you feel that we should trust your wife's offer."

My wife. The sudden realization dawned that Wikus hadn't thought of Tania as his wife, hadn't thought of her at all, really, since that night when he and Christopher…

He shook himself. "Yeah. Yeah, I think it's probably our best shot."

Chris looked at him consideringly for a beat, then nodded in agreement.

"Tonight it is, then."