The Chronicles of James Hope
'I mean you can't say they don't look like that...that's what they look like right, they look like prawns'
*
Early Days
When a documentary camera crew came to our station, asking us for our views on the local non-human population of Johannesburg I said the above quote as I felt there was a definite ring of truth to it.
They call me Police Lieutenant Jimmy round here, but my full name is James Peter Hope and I am a cop working for the specialist Alien Crimes Unit (ACU) of the Johannesburg Metro Police Service, based out of the Newlands police station.
The ACU was actually created by the city in the wake of increasing crime and problematic relations, instigated by the arrival of a large extraterrestrial migrant population in 1982. As the years went on ordinary police and civil defence organisations simply could not cope with the increased volume of disorder and so the city set out to create an elite force designed to deal solely with migrant-related problems.
Prior to joining the ACU I had served time as a patrol officer on the streets and so knew them well. Before '82 the city had only a small number of 'foreign' migrants, mostly fleeing from wars in neighbouring Zimbabwe or Mozambique.
Apartheid was in full swing then and life for the African population had been difficult.
I had many encounters with these newcomers when executing my duties, with crimes ranging from people trafficking to gun running and with a bit of 'muti' thrown in for good measure. What is known as 'muti' is the belief in traditional African medicines, often practiced by so called witch doctors. It makes use of natural products to treat a range of ailments, in theory anyway. But in Johannesburg and elsewhere, these practices were corrupted and the widespread belief that body parts, animal or human, could be used in the practice then took hold. A series of gruesome murders with a distinctly muti flavour shook the city in the summer of '81.
All of this was nothing compared to what happened to the city in the following year. I was a young rookie cop the day a vast space ship sunk out of the hazy gloom above the city and hovered to a standstill. My partner and I couldn't believe our eyes; we had been carrying out a traffic stop when the driver looked beyond us and pointed to the sky, mouth agape. I thought he was pissed but then I looked up too...
It was a huge silver coloured saucer, the likes of which you might read in an Isaac Asimov book or witness in a bad science fiction movie. But at the same time it was also unlike anything you might see, all industrial looking. Then a loud blast of some kind told us the vessel had ceased operation, like a mechanical death knell broadcast across the land.
Pandemonium had broken out all over the city, with the roads grid locked and the usual religious nuts telling us the end of the world had arrived. Many people now thought of War of the Worlds and things like that. But that only happened in movies didn't it? Unfazed and always a professional, I let the driver go telling him an alien invasion (should it occur) would not get him off the charge of speeding! There were panicked calls of 'green men sightings' flooding the switchboards. But the truth is absolutely NOTHING happened then and for several weeks afterward. Puzzled, the city fathers scratched their heads.
What were we to do? They all asked.
I carried on as normal, trying to keep the streets of Johannesburg safe, day and night. The drive by shootings didn't stop, nor the auto accidents or the drug dealing. But this craft continued to bother most people, what was going on here, they wanted to know. You couldn't look up without seeing it, day after day, week after week. Would a death ray wipe out the city or was it a vanguard for a larger invasion force? Imaginations ran wild and the government was ominously silent. The talking heads speculated and the city fathers finally tried to communicate with radio signals and flashing lights. But there was nothing, no response and no indication that anything was up there at all. On and on this went for months, on the TV, in the papers...the thing even became a bit of a tourist attraction! I was unsure what could be going on but I too was curious to know.
Then the government announced the military would go up there and literally cut into the thing to see what was inside.
For a few tense days the city watched and waited, enthralled. But what we found was beyond any of our comprehension: there weren't any shiny robots or giant homicidal brains inside but a million insect like beings, malnourished, living in poverty and altogether dying. It was a shocking thing to see on our TV screens and wasn't what we had dreamed about 'first contact' being like. It was unbelievable even for a cop like me, who should be used to seeing unusual things!
In time they were brought down to the surface, blinking in confusion and very much lost. They were probably asking as much about this strange new place as we had been about what was home for them. The media looked on in wonder, beaming the images around the world of these strange creatures living here on Earth. A tent city, provided by a number of benevolent organisations, immediately grew up around the ship. The refugees were welcomed by us with open arms; fed, re homed and treated (as much as we could) by medical personnel. But we simply didn't have a clue where to start. There didn't seem to be any leaders or representatives who we could deal with as ambassadors. It's as if all of these guys were loaded aboard the ship like cattle and the thing set on auto pilot...
In the meantime I was pulled off regular duties in the beginning to reinforce the police presence in the camp and prevent any outbreaks of trouble. I felt fearful not of the beings themselves, but for other things they might bring such as extraterrestrial viruses. Still they were fascinating to us; tall, gangly and looking every inch like a cross between a lobster and a grasshopper. So the nick name 'prawn' was quickly coined (actually derived from a king cricket species called the Park Town Prawn) But once they began to get a grip of themselves and recover from their ordeal, trouble set in. It was low level at first, consisting of disputes about dwellings or food allowances. They had literally come here with nothing and so grew very protective of what we had given them. Often it was the same group of aliens fighting day after day, beating down those who nevertheless seemed to be quite submissive each time and then taking their property. This got people thinking that there may be a hierarchy of sorts in operation, with a group of higher ranking individuals always vying for dominance over the rest, like a pride of lions. The behaviour that seemed similar to animals became a much used analogy in our understanding of their culture.
But things gradually grew worse. The beings seemed unable to be reasoned with or understand the law and often resorted to violence first to solve problems. A group of these prawns had killed and eaten an aid worker, causing outrage in the human population. Soon after we had to draft in the army to begin reigning in some of this behaviour but the prawns operated with impunity. Scientists studying the refugees out in the field seemed to think they were part of some sort of 'hive' (like bees or ants), but without any obvious sort of 'queen' to assert discipline and control.
'Great, a saucer full of undisciplined alien teenagers lands in Johannesburg!' I remember one of my supervisors saying at the time.
But it was no laughing matter for us.
Why Are They Here Again?
This was the most important question on everybody's lips and would come up time and time again. Early attempts to communicate with the prawns had been crude, I witnessed pictures and words being drawn in the sand and it was understood that the prawns seemed to use a lot of simple gestures to communicate.
Where have you come from?
Why are you here?
Do you seek assistance to return home?
The aliens didn't seem to have the answers we were looking for. But it could be that they simply didn't know what had happened either. Patrolling the camp was a fascinating experience for a young human like me as I was often followed by groups of what appeared to be children, playfully tugging at my legs and running away. It was like living in a science fiction movie but it was nevertheless all too real.
Not so unlike us after all then.
The adults took an intense interest in my clothing and pointed to their 'naked' torsos. So they wanted some togs eh? How would we get stuff to fit you, I thought? My gun too, usually holstered, drew a lot of attention with many of the adults making a grab for my weapon on some occasions. I shouted them off and they fled. It was probably a complete misunderstanding I chided myself. No matter, I had a job to do and no one but NO ONE got hold of my service weapon!
Then the carcasses began piling up, small time at first with rodents and cats but then dogs, goats and even cattle had been dragged away from nearby fields. It seemed the beings used these animals for food but the half rotten corpses stank to high hell and we couldn't let this unhygienic practice go on. There was a near riot the day clean up teams went round the camp, taking away the detritus. Aliens blocked our way with exotic looking weapons, firing off these lasers as a warning. We tried using tear gas to disperse the mobs but this only seemed to enrage them further. Rubber bullets simply bounced off their exoskeletons and so one day the inevitable happened...A trigger happy cop had shot dead one of the rioters and the aliens went on the most violent rampage yet, overturning our cars and setting fire to the aid tents.
A dozen aid workers and even more aliens were killed. It seemed we couldn't keep control of the population so more stringent measures would be proposed to deal with them.
Difficult Times
A new organisation, christened Multinational United, stepped up to the plate and announced it would be taking over the 'alien issue' and begin running the refugee camp with immediate effect. It was quasi-military in nature, most of us hadn't even heard of this company before now. Gradually the police presence in the camp was wound down and on the day we left I watched as prefabricated shacks and other building materials began arriving on the site. Barbed wire also started going up around the camp, as did watchtowers and other security measures. Many thought this seemed a slightly ominous sign of things to come but it nevertheless reflected the increasingly militarised manner we had of dealing with the aliens.
Meanwhile I had returned to active duty on the streets but the aliens were still free to move about the city at will. I lost count how many times I picked up rogue prawns for interfering with traffic, running around the freeways and fighting on the buses. All of this paled into comparison when a series of high profile murders linked to the aliens occurred in the city. Fed a nightly diet of bad press about the newcomers, it was inevitable that human feelings seemed to erupt into anger at those individuals living and working outside the original camp. Bloody reprisal killings started in earnest.
So it was that relations between the species rapidly deteriorated.
How had it come to this?
Had simple cultural misunderstandings gone too far?
Meanwhile we would be caught in the middle, incurring our own losses. My original patrol partner had been killed by one those prawn-operated directed energy weapons.
Enough was enough the people said and so the city authorised the creation of the ACU.
Busting a Savage
Stanley Ackerman was who we were looking for, the rather incongruously named alien who was believed to have murdered my former partner.
I studied his mug shot from one of his earlier arrests. He had been previously picked up interfering with motor vehicles and carrying a 'prohibited alien armament' with him in the street. He stared at the camera, snarling and fluttering those ghastly tendrils at the photographer. Duck egg blue in colour with splotches of yellow and brown, Ackerman stood out like a sore thumb amongst his contemporaries in the slum. It looked like he had been involved in a paint shop explosion! But we weren't going to pick him up there; it was too dangerous and we would be outnumbered and outgunned! So it seems our Stanley was a bit of a rogue with a lengthy arrest record, including many counts of violence against the police and humans in general. Meanwhile some years had passed since MNU took over the running of what was now known as District 9. The problems connected to the slum however continued in abundance. I lost count of how many meetings we had with senior MNU figures about our concerns at the running of the camp, we stated that crime seemed almost unchecked within District 9. If it did not happen within the boundary fence, MNU were not interested and said the problem passed to us then.
Too right it bloody did!
'Take a good look at this guy boys and girls because this is the guy we believe killed Tony Freeman' our commanding officer began.
Murmurs went around the room.
Freeman, my former partner, seemed strange to be the subject of our first case.
'I know they all look the same boss but this guy should be easy to track down' said one of the new guys.
'Confidence, I like that!' replied the boss.
'Intelligence tells us that Ackerman the prawn hangs out around Lone Hill and Fairways Park, here and here'
He pointed to a large map of the city hanging on the wall. I took down notes and made a rough sketch of the area. Leanne Bozeman was my new partner in the ACU, a lively former traffic cop who had opted for something better and found that certain 'something' in busting bad prawns. She took notes as well, also drawing a crude picture of a prawn.
'He has a sizable gang of fellow bad ass aliens he hangs out with but we don't know what we are facing here. Presume he will be armed and dangerous though, which means taking the heaviest weaponry you can carry'
I asked what back up we would have.
'We are the ACU son and so we deal with the alien bad boys all by ourselves remember'
Great, this was shaping up to be a sack of shit already. Leanne agreed with me. We loaded up our unmarked Mercedes squad car after picking up our body armour and weapons from the armoury. Then we headed out.
Three vehicles full of the finest cops in town!
Traffic was light and we hit Fairways Park pretty quickly. A large and spread out suburb of Johannesburg, Fairways could once have been called affluent but the criminal fraternity in the city contrived to change this. They set themselves up in the large gated houses and took over the myriad selection of golf clubs nearby. A large park dominated the middle of the suburb and it was here we started our search for Ackerman. Any prawn would stand out here, but Stan Ackerman would be something else entirely! But he was nowhere to be seen and a sweep of the whole area threw up no sign of them.
'Guess its Lone Hill then next eh partner?'
'Yeah, you ready to do this?' I said to Leanne.
'Sure Jimmy, I mean I want to nail Freeman's killer but I haven't really had much to do with prawns and stuff you know…'
'And it scares you right?'
'Yeah, I mean they don't work like us…we don't know how they think or are going to react'
'Well they are primarily violent beings like animals' I said 'so don't give them an inch!'
'Okay, thanks Jimmy'
As the name suggested, Lone Hill stood out on a promontory above the city. It was a primarily industrial area with many storage units and with abandoned factories galore. It also acted as a hideout for all manner of criminals, alien and human! An air unit performed a circuit of Lone Hill and saw smoke coming from a spot in amongst the abandoned buildings, and directed us there.
'All set?' I asked Leanne.
'You bet partner'
The smoke came from a braai (or barbecue) being operated by a group of aliens. Ackerman was among the prawns.
I expect they were cooking road kill or dogs they had found somewhere.
'What do you want asshole? Fuck off!' said one of the aliens as we approached.
'Now that wasn't very pleasant' said Leanne.
By now we had a basic understanding of their language through the clicks, grunts and chirps that made up some sort of vocabulary.
'We are from the ACU and we want Ackerman so stand down all of you!'
We now had weapons drawn while approaching the group.
'What is 'ACU'?'
'The Alien Crimes Unit so fucking put up your hands prawn!' shouted Leanne, surprising us.
As we thought might happen none of them complied and all seemed to be laughing at us. I recognised Ackerman skulking around behind the braai. The prawns couldn't possibly hide anything on their bodies and I saw he had a weapon.
'Stanley Ackerman, drop the gun and surrender!'
But the 'chef' behind the barbecue had other ideas. He pulled out an energy weapon from nowhere and let off a burst at us.
We ducked for cover, firing. Leanne dropped the 'chef' and the others quickly thought better of fucking with us. That meant straight away we had five aliens in custody and being frisked down. Meanwhile I had shouted for covering fire and bolted after Ackerman. Like some sort of alien kangaroo he hopped ahead of me in great big strides. Luckily his weapon was terrestrial in nature, some sort of assault rifle and Stanley couldn't shoot for shit. But that didn't make him any less dangerous.
Out of breath and cursing, I lost him in amongst the empty warehouses.
'Where is he?' I shouted down the radio as Leanne caught me up.
'We have him heading south and making for the Western Bypass' came back the air unit observer.
'District 9 is that way isn't it?' Leanne said rhetorically.
Ackerman had made it all the way across the northern fringe of the city and entered District 9.
Even though it wasn't technically our jurisdiction we had to pursue our subject inside.
But first we had to get in...
'I am telling you man we are pursuing a murder suspect, a COP murdering suspect and we need to get past you'
'District 9 is the territory of Multinational United and therefore all non-humans are the property of…'
This asshole MNU guard was preventing us going through; despite the fact we were cops. A standoff threatened to develop until one of our senior officers stepped in. I drove the Mercedes in, guided by the air ship. God this place had changed since I was last here, now it was a complete shithole, the very definition of a slum! Miles and miles of rundown shacks and waste and even worse looking prawns! Some of them spat at us as we drove past or throw varying objects our way.
'My god look at this place' said Leanne.
'I know makes you wonder what we have to complain about'
'Suspect has holed up in a shack two blocks from you, the one with the chairs outside and all the scattered car parts' our faithful observer told us.
'Got it, thanks'
He had led us right to him but I suspected a trap. The shack, brown in colour with corrugated roof, looked like every other shack round here. Except inside this one a cop killer was lurking. We went round the back and on the count of three, smashed in the door. Immediately I saw Ackerman…sitting on a sofa and holding a beer in his three fingered claws, his rifle discarded on the floor.
He had been waiting for us and a black viscous gunk had coated the floor; it was blood, alien blood.
'On your feet scum bag we are taking you in!' I yelled.
Still he laughed at us in that muted way prawns often did.
Was this particular ET crazy?
'Silly humans' I heard him say as he put his arms up.
We marched him outside and got him on his knees, cuffing his claws together.
'Yeah we got you now!' I told him, giving him an almighty whack round the head with the butt of my shotgun.
But he barely flinched and his head was like granite.
'Leave him alone you human shits' I heard something say nearby.
'Hey fuck off, this is police business…you want me to run you in too prawn?'
'It is human business, watch them'
Part of me hated the fact I could understand these things, ignorance is bliss and all that. But the department had made us take basic language courses so we could get a grip on what they would be saying. I turned my attention back to our prisoner. He seemed to be enjoying the whole experience, what with a captive audience and all.
'That was fun, now what? Are you just going to shoot me now' Ackerman asked.
'We are arresting you for the murder of Tony Freeman and taking your scaly ass in!'
'Stupid human shit, fuck your laws' he spat with narrowing eyes 'what can you do to me?' he sneered.
Good point I thought as more prawns gathered round and where the fuck was MNU anyway?
'You are outnumbered and your stupid pitiful guns won't help you'
Some of the alien crowd had those dreaded energy weapons on show, trying to intimidate us.
It was working so I lowered my gun, watching the snarling prawns get closer like somethin out of a bad B-movie.
'Stay back!' I screamed.
Ackerman laughed again.
'You are so afraid aren't you little man? You KNOW we can tear you to pieces in the blink of an eye! I see you have a nice juicy human girl too…'
I looked at Stanley then at each of the prawns before finally settling on Leanne. Each of them had white stencilled names and numbers on their heads.
John, Clive, Peter, Max…
Each of these growling aliens had HUMAN names but they were nothing LIKE us. Now I really felt afraid. For a minute I thought about letting Ackerman go to spare us, but I knew that would not make a difference. Then at last an MNU battalion turned up to break up the gathering. We took Ackerman to Newlands in a specially adapted prisoner transport vehicle with heavy duty iron cages inside.
He was jeered and stared at as he was led inside the custody suite.
'Get that fucking prawn out of here!' the other prisoners yelled at him.
He snarled back at them.
I quipped at him then.
'Not so tough now are you Stan?'
'I could still rip you apart fucking human, NEVER forget that! I still might get the chance yet...'
Our captain came down to see us after we got him in a cell.
'Good work Jimmy, I hear you had to get this guy out of District 9 though?
'Yeah they weren't the most cooperative I have known, the place is really locked down though like it is their own private playground or something…'
'Christ knows what they do in there. But the team got some other prisoners too and you will be pleased to know they are singing at the top of their voices in the interrogation suite'
I laughed as I remembered that these guys weren't known for their loyalty. I thought back to the theory of a caste system or hierarchy to explain some of their culture… The captain said the dead one from the braai had been wanted for armed robbery as well and we were informed that MNU would be collecting the corpse straight away. As I caught up on some paperwork, Leanne came charging into the office all flustered. She marched up to my desk, nearly knocking off my little South African flag I kept next to my computer.
'Jimmy you are not going to believe this'
'Try me'
'Those fuckers at MNU have DEMANDED the immediate release of all of their property from our custody citing unlawful arrest of their subjects…'
I thought of the numerous alien weapons we had seized at Lone Hill. No real loss to us as we couldn't understand them anyway, so let the MNU boffins work out how to fire them. They were pretty fucking awesome (in a geeky kid like sense) despite the fact I loathed their creators
'Fine but we have to…'
'No you don't get it, the term subjects and property means that fucking Stan Ackerman and his crew are getting released! Remember that they belong to MNU!'
'What the fuck…'
I stood just as some slick looking chap walked out of the captain's office, smiling as he left. He had 'MNU LAWYER' written all over him. I went over to the captain.
'Look I know what you are going to say Jimmy, I am as pissed about it as you are but my hands are tied, MNU practically owns the city fathers now'
'So we are just going to let them walk, like Tony Freeman never existed?'
And so it was, our first case got closed down and Ackerman walked. It wouldn't be the first time that MNU would try to crap on our parade. It was not a good start to the ACU as a unit and for morale but we had plenty of other opportunities to take on Ackerman and others like him.
Social Reaction
All of our work so far had taken place against a wider background of polarisation in the relations between the two species. Violent evictions of those prawns still living outside of District 9 had taken place and there was no aliens left in the city itself. Public attitudes towards the treatment of the aliens verged on outrage, not because of any mistreatment but the view that the authorities were actually being too lenient on them. In the ACU we became the targets of this frustration, with many people believing that we had the power simply to magic the prawns away and return to life before 1982. It was a great irony that the human population, who hadn't enjoyed much in the way of social cohesion during apartheid, become closer together during their oppression of the aliens.
Today we drove in the Rangeview suburb of the city on a proactive patrol. The ACU had received many complaints of petty crimes being perpetrated by aliens in the area including vandalism, arson and burglary.
Before '82 Rangeview had been a pretty average neighbourhood with the odd instance of drug dealing and car theft to keep us occupied. Now the prawns had arrived it had deteriorated quite badly, with many properties lying empty or up for sale. Recent concerns from the residents involved the setting up of an alien squat within Rangeview and sightings of large gatherings at all times of the day and night.
'Welcome to suburbia' Leanne observed watching the green lawns and station wagons roll by. Passing one of the neat little houses, we saw a Mrs Pritchard out in her garden, tending to her shrubs as she always did.
I drew the car in and stopped.
'Morning officers how are you today?' she asked.
'Fine Mrs Pritchard'
With all the pleasantries dispensed with, we moved on to the problem in hand. You see Mrs Pritchard and her house was something of a magnet for trouble. This was due to the fact that she had a habit of leaving titbits out for the prawns to come and eat.
'Like feeding the birds' she said 'the poor dears look so starved and unwell, it is the least I can do'
That is until large groups of the prawns had converged on her property, aggressively routing through her trash and that of her neighbours too. When out in Rangeview the aliens tended to stick around and many times we had to round them up and take them in buses back to District 9, only for them to return the next day! We often picked them up lying in a drunken stupor at the side of the road, always with a half eaten tin of cat food in hand. I asked her if there had been any problems recently.
'Oh the usual, some of them get a bit carried away...and others have guns now too'
She added the last bit so conversationally that it took me awhile to fathom what she said.
'Do they use them?'
Leanne spoke this time.
'Not against me but my neighbours have suffered'
She pointed in the direction of next door, where an ugly black scar had been etched on the side of the house. It looked to be from a super heated energy source of some kind.
'Look I know we have been through this before, but these beings are NOT meant to be here, they are confined to District 9 and...'
'Oh that horrible place, fancy sticking them in that hellhole and not expecting them to be angry with us'
What she said made sense but the law is the law.
'Be that as it may Mrs Pritchard it is against the law to encourage them here and moreover they are dangerous to have around!'
The weapons angle was certainly a new development. Most of those who regularly wandered the streets of the city did not carry weapons, until now. But attacks on prawns had skyrocketed in the last few years so maybe they were for protection rather than offensive use?
'We must ask you to cease this activity immediately or else we will have to consider bringing charges'
No sooner had we resumed our patrol than two brightly coloured prawns ran across the road in front of us and, one with axe in hand and chasing another.
'Damn you see how fast they ran?' Leanne said, with shock evident.
'Yeah they went between those two houses so I will get on the horn and call for back up'
My heart thudded in my rib cage as I checked my vest was securely in place and drew my gun.
I heard a roaring noise like an angry bear from nearby and ran in the same direction. A frightened homeowner had come out of his kitchen at the commotion.
'Is it them?' he asked.
'Police business sir, go inside and lock your doors'
In truth I wished I could go inside with him! Rounding a corner I witnessed the big alien standing over a smaller specimen, waving the axe to and fro while the other sat on the ground with his arm in the air.
Pleading I supposed.
'Hey you there, stop!'
The big guy turned to me, wearing a ripped football shirt and a belt of large calibre ammunition.
'Leave us alone' the one on the ground said, trying to stand.
'This is our dispute human and we will settle it our way!'
'Not by fucking cutting up another living creature asshole!'
Leanne appeared at my side, weapon drawn. Then football shirt guy swung the axe at us before lashing out at the smaller prawn. I got off two rounds and Leanne managed one. This seemed to aggravate it even more and it leapt on to the roof of the one storey house in one go and bolted away. We didn't have a hope of catching him. And like a frightened rabbit the other one ran off as well when we approached him. A call to the air unit to mount a search might find them but I wasn't hopeful.
Alien Muti
The practice of muti in various African countries had existed for many years and was a sacred belief in many cultures. But a curious thing started to happen after 1982 when the Nigerian witch doctors began to incorporate some of the alien population into their belief systems, drinking the blood and flesh of the prawns.
Aliens would be kidnapped and cut up, with the humans believing they would gain some of the strength of the prawns and the ability to operate the myriad sophisticated weaponry on offer. There had been instances where specially recruited aliens would be paid by the Nigerian gangs to trade in their often cat food-wasted 'friends' to the high priests and priestesses of muti! And so our second official case got underway. A non-human named Gordon Smith had been picked up by the cops for loitering around a public park (where prawns were expressly forbidden on pain of death) and scaring the children who had been playing there.
Smith had a number of obvious physical deformities which led us to enquire, quite conversationally, how he had obtained them. The missing fingers, deep gauges in his flesh and broken shell plates he told us had been the work of the Nigerians, who had 'bought' him. He always tried to escape the district because he was unhappy and that the gangsters often pursued him to 'finish off their work' When the others mocked him he told them he had gotten his injuries through working in MNU operated mines. Even the usual chirps and clicks spoken by the other prawns seemed to be softer and lower in tone with this guy. He seemed genuinely sad and I actually began to feel sorry for him. Smith related to us that he often escaped from the muti ceremonies but that some of his friends had not been so fortunate...It seemed a 'muti ring' was in existence and hapless aliens like Smith would be the targets. He was afraid that if he went back he would be killed. By this time MNU had begun to play ball with us and actually became more cooperative in helping to catch the bad guys. So I went to our captain and proposed putting a case together, in conjunction with MNU security agents. He approved our idea and we went on with the case.
As we couldn't exactly go undercover in District 9, we would send Smith back in as our bait and have him watched over by MNU for his protection. The idea would be to catch the muti workers in operations and break the ring up.
*
Gordon Smith had never felt more alone and scared than he did now.
Tramping through the district, he watched his shadow dancing on the ground ahead of him, all the while trying to avoid the stares of other non-humans busying themselves around him. Most gave him only a passing glance while others gazed intently. He knew what they were thinking about him...
Freak, cripple, loser.
Any one of them could be the ones selling him out to the Nigerians and all of them knew where he lived. Smith reflected sadly that many non-humans took their disputes with neighbours to MNU or the Nigerians to be 'settled'
The human policeman had promised him he would be safe but Gordon doubted that, you were never safe in District 9 and the lawman didn't have to live here after all! A large sized non-human carrying water cans butted him out of the way, Smith looked back to see the other prawn snickering intently.
Damn them, damn them all!
He knew that he wanted for nothing, just a quiet unassuming life where he could keep his head down and make the most of what little he had here. Eventually he made his way back to his dwelling to discover that unsurprisingly, somebody else had moved their belongings in. During the times he was frequently arrested he was often shocked to come back and find his shack intact and unoccupied. But not this time, he suspected it was the prawn who had shoulder barged him now living here. As Gordon had no real friends, he reasoned it had to be a squatter. All of his friends were dead, he reflected sadly.
Casting wary glances around the shack and outside, he slumped down on a battered old arm chair. Then he got up and angrily tossed the foreign belongings outside, save for the rusty camping stove the other person used. He then started to remember his old friend, Marvin, who used to have an intense craving for cat food and had had gone to the Nigerians to steal some one day.
Ne had never returned.
Gordon hated cat food, one of a rare number of non-humans who actually despised the reconstituted meat offal. He instead preferred to eat the scraps of vegetables from the waste heaps or tried cultivating his own from a little plot outside. Then there was Lucian who had sold their mutual friend Toby to the muti gangs and then disappeared himself. Gordon had never known anything called a family and so Lucian, Toby and Marvin had been his 'family'
And now they were dead and so he would be joining them, soon enough...He sighed as he recalled the bag of broken bones left at his door, the only tangible reminder that his friends had existed. When memories of his first 'operation' began to seep into his mind that night, he physically winced. Several humans and a prawn, on a night just like this one, had dragged him from his bed and he had been knocked unconscious. Awaking again, he found himself strapped down on a workbench with an ugly human woman complete with missing teeth leering over him. Bits of shell plating already lay about the place and then they took some fingers...
The agony was indescribable but then a frenetically paced ceremony followed, when his flesh was eaten and his blood drank.
It was horrifying to watch!
They gangsters told him they needed to operate prawn weaponry and would only obtain this ability by having parts of him inside them. Gordon laughed and said it would not make one bit of difference! Incensed they grabbed machetes and prepared to finish the job. Frightened and angry, Gordon broke out of the leather straps and grabbed an ion pulse rifle, blasting his tormentors to matchwood! The process was repeated on two further occasions, with Smith escaping each time. Now he was marked for death and the Nigerians would enjoy toying with him before they killed him.
*
A mile away from the shack, inside a patrol vehicle, a group of MNU operatives mounted a surveillance operation and complained as to why they were 'looking after a prawn'
'He is snoring like a baby' said one, training a sophisticated listening device at the shack belonging to Smith.
'Why are we here then?' complained another.
'Some cop is hoping for a bit of glory I reckon'
They had a direct link to the ACU and had orders to inform Jimmy of any developments.
*
Despite the illegal nature of the weapon he kept and the severe penalties (eviction or instant death) linked to possessing a gun, Smith nevertheless kept the black and orange weapon under his bed.
It was for protection only but he wasn't afraid to use it! He recalled dozing off before a loud clang brought him back to a waking state. It came from the direction of his roof. Peering up through the gaps in the corrugated iron, he saw movement and two faces glaring at him.
Non-human faces...
Clawed fingers reached under the metal and began tearing the roof away.
'Time to go now you freak!' one of the beings laughed.
Gordon whipped out his gun and fired.
*
'Trouble' said the MNU agent on seeing the prawn jump on the roof. Then a flash lit up the interior of the shack.
Stationed near the district in their police vehicle, Jimmy and Leanne received the GO call. In minutes they had sped to the shack and found the MNU agents loading a prawn into their truck.
'Victim says he knows the bad guy, reckons he works for the Nigerians' the lead MNU agent said.
With that we had Smith moved for his own safety and the surviving suspect brought to Newlands for questioning.
'Who do you work for?' I asked Julian, as he told us his name was.
He was reluctant to talk to us, having been the victim of many beatings by MNU in their custody.
He said he would only speak if we brought in cat food and other offal to eat. It was disgusting to watch as he gulped the lot in one go. I had never really watched them eat up close before and it was a sight to behold.
'Hungry eh' I asked conversationally.
'They withdraw my food until I have completed my work' he replied.
'The Nigerians you mean?'
His mandibles ceased movement, allowing his mouthparts to wriggle like worms.
'Yes' he admitted.
'Why do you work for them?' Leanne queried.
'I do not undertake such tasks by choice! I was made to do their bidding owing to my cravings...and because I had killed one of them. They told me they owned me until they were finished with me!'
Knowing the Nigerians, I thought, they would never be finished with this guy.
'So why didn't seek help?'
Julian chortled, the prawn equivalent of a derisive snort I guessed.
'From MNU or the Nigerians....they hate us and we don't exactly have anybody else to care for us, and as for my own people they are either afraid of me or too busy eating rubber tyres to care. So I have to struggle alone or be cut up as well'
'What about Gordon Smith?'
'I am hungry please can I have some cat food?'
We had some more meat brought in, rabbit innards and pig brains this time. After the insect-like mandibles had probed the bloody mess, it all went down the hatch as well.
'He was considered special to the Nigerians' exclaimed Julian 'Not only had he escaped their clutches but his flesh brought...results'
'You mean that muti bullshit began to work?'
'The humans claimed to have better hearing and eyesight as a result of consuming his body parts'
'Like you guys?' Leanne noted.
'Exactly, now they knew Smith was the key to operating our weaponry and assimilating our abilities. Also the crime lord Obesandjo believed that Smith held the power to help him walk again'
Despite his fierce reputation, Obesandjo was actually a cripple who conducted his operations from a simple wheelchair. I knew that the ultimate goal of the Nigerians (and later MNU itself) was to allow humans to operate the fantastic array of alien weaponry which the prawns possessed. This goal had been impossible to achieve to date. Julian told us that the crime lord Obesandjo and his extended 'family' ran the muti operation. So it was this guy and his gang we had to smash! This would be easier said than done. The Nigerians had their tentacles in virtually all human criminal enterprises inside District 9. This was despite the formation of rival crime syndicates amongst the alien population, which threatened to conflict with Obedansjo and spill over into violence at any time.
A 'helpful' meat seller had told the joint MNU-police task force where we could find Obesandjo. The place was heavily guarded on all sides and Obesandjo was not best pleased to see us! There was criminal detritus everywhere; human and alien guns, stacks of cheap cat food, lots of ammunition and many broken down cars. A couple of prawns skulked around the back of the place no doubt using the many human prostitutes on offer, but hidden by the large group of men who guarded Obesandjo.
'What the fuck do you people want?' he said by way of greeting.
'Muti' I countered.
He laughed:
'Didn't know the cops did that sort of shit...'
I leant forward into the sneering face of the fucking cripple.
'Yeah well we are full of surprises but I mean the prawns you are cutting up to eat!'
His features darkened and asked who informed on me?
'Don't know what you are talking about'
Leanne, good old Leanne stepped in.
'We have a non-human in custody who reckons you might have found the secret to walking and shooting off their guns in one of his people'
Obesandjo looked dumbstruck.
'So we are going to search this place and smash your little muti fetish ok?'
We searched the place and turned up nothing however, not even a rusty knife or burned up candle. I figured they had eaten the other evidence! We had nothing to go on and no case to prosecute. Julian the prawn retracted his original statement and Gordon Smith 'fell under' a Nigerian 4x4.
Now our second case was shot to shit too!
Care for Some Cat Food and Guns?
Julian Singer was addicted to cat food and the odd rubber tyre! He knew it and he knew the whole district noticed it too! But that salty goodness…so good to him and always available, courtesy of the friendly neighbourhood Nigerians!
Even his own species got in on the act, selling half-eaten cans to the most pitiful members of his community. He had heard about Gordon Smith but just shrugged, with him dead and out of the way maybe Obesandjo would leave him alone now. Round these parts you just never could tell so now Julian knew how Smith must have felt. Seeing a near comatose prawn slumped against his shack, Julian bent down to scoop the unopened can of cat food from the claws of the other non-human. He popped the can and tossed the contents into his mouth, feelers squirming in delight. Now that he was out of the employment of the Nigerians he would be looking for new work. Singer had tried 'legitimate' work before in the form of toiling in an auto parts factory operated by MNU.
He had hated it and one day refused to attend the roll call for the daily transportation bus. Unsurprising to him, none of the humans had noticed he was not turning up nor did they probably give a shit. Today he was meeting Boris-the-fixer, so called because he could get you anything you wanted at anytime. Small by non-human standards but presenting a complex arrangement of yellow and red shell colouring, Boris was much respected around the district. He was never without his favourite energy weapon, in direct contravention of about a dozen MNU regulations. He was also an associate of Stanley Ackerman and Julian had to be 'interviewed' by Boris first before Ackerman would be willing to employ him. The truth is Julian wanted to work for Ackerman, after hearing that he was worse than Obesandjo and hated humans.
That state of affairs suited him just fine as Julian hated humans too, hated living on their miserable planet. This was somewhat ironic given that Julian began life on the mother ship high above the city, far from home and before the million-plus refugee population ended up in this city. He also despised living with so many decrepit examples of his own kind too, with their daily existence eked out amongst human waste! No wonder the non-human population were viewed as trash-loving parasites by humans. But that didn't excuse what they did to him, to all of them. Merciless beatings, shitty quality food, no medical care...it was a disgrace.
Singer had seen prominent thinkers and leaders from his culture all reduced to the level of a common drone, scouring through trash for food, being wasted on cat food or simply working themselves to death for the corporation known as MNU. But Julian had an outlet, a remarkable place of sanctuary which enabled him to get away from the slum. It was a half-collapsed shed located in the grassy veldt some six miles from District 9.
Chemical light panels salvaged from the mother ship provided illumination, however gloomy, together with heating lamps for warmth. Undiscovered by some miracle for years, the building provided a safe meeting place for his people to mingle without fear of intimidation or attack from humans. Few had come at first but then as word spread many non-humans risked life and limb to come here and be together. Often Julian went alone at his most troubled times.
Today though he wouldn't be alone as Boris-the-fixer stood waiting for him, multi barrelled plasma cannon clasped tightly in both claws. For a moment Julian thought he was going to blow him away. Other prawns shuffled around or away from Boris, fear evident from them. Julian clicked irritably; he pitied the hapless worker drones who many thought represented his race.
'You came then friend' Boris chirped, sarcasm evident in his tone.
'Nothing could stop me coming here you know that…but do you have to wave that thing about?'
Julian nodded downwards at the hefty sized weapon which Boris clasped.
'Why you are not afraid of a few human rules are you? Have you seen what this thing can do?'
He gestured to a nearby errant prawn dressed in rags who was scratching incessantly at his shell plating, to approach them. Then he blasted it with the multi barrelled gun. A cloud of blood dissipated in the still afternoon air, coating the soil in gore. But most of the other prawns around them barely gave the episode a second glance, as if it was completely normal for one non-human to shoot apart another!
'Slum life' Julian murmured to himself.
'See, no mess, just a clean kill! Imagine if I had been MNU or a Nigerian, what they would do to us if they could operate our gear…'
Julian shuddered at the thought as they walked on. He looked all around him, fearful of attack. His gaze settled on a group of younglings playing in the dust.
'A little nervous aren't we?' Boris asked.
'After what happened to Gordon Smith I have the right to be!'
The fixer took this in.
'You have nothing to fear with our group as we look after our own!'
'I understand' Julian nodded.
'Despite your problems with the Nigerians you come highly recommended from certain other quarters'
Julian looked puzzled, what 'other quarters' could he be referring to? He NEEDED whatever it was Ackerman offered and would do anything to get it.
'We have a mission of the highest importance which we want you to undertake: Ivan Trapp is a traitor and a sell out. At noon tomorrow the authorities are coming to 'raid' his shack. This dwelling is packed with many examples of our weaponry and hundreds of tins of cat food…'
Julian's head spun at the thought, did he just say hundreds of cat food tins?
'Why is this Trapp fellow a traitor?'
Boris regarded Julian like he was an idiot.
'Because Trapp himself had told the authorities about the stash as he obviously feared our wrath. You see he had been peddling this stuff at half the cost we had, UNDERCUTTING us in the process…'
'How much weaponry does he have?'
'Think of an arms hold on the ship and you have an idea!
An arms hold?!? That was enough to stop an army and there were hundreds of such holds on the ship!
Fearful yet excited, Julian asked:
'What do you want me to do?'
'Stop MNU, take out Trapp and salvage the entire contents of the shack for our group. There is a hefty reward for helping us!'
Unlimited cat food forever, Julian secretly hoped. That night he went to the sanctuary and lay back on an old iron bed stead, staring at the glowing blue holo-map projector somebody had salvaged. Flickering intermittently from the variable power source, one wall of the building showed a virtual guided tour of distant galaxies as it took Julian through the depths of space. He went past hundreds of unknown worlds and all the way back to his own home planet. Seven moons orbited his world and he lay there with silent awe, but with sadness washing over him at the same time.
He remembered how he longed to go there, to see if the stories told by the elders when he was little could be true; of serene forests and pure oceans.
Julian purred contentedly, taking 'sips' from a can of stale cat food and watching the moons slowly orbit the home world and each other. If only they could get that damn ship moving again, he could leave here. He fell asleep hoping that tomorrow he would find some of the fuel required to power up the missing command module, but where was it hidden?
*
He had the amusing name of Ivan Trapp, and he was our non-human contact inside District 9. He told us that he was in a bit of trouble and that in exchange for immunity and safe passage out of the district, he had something to give us, something invaluable.
I was sceptical at first but then a 'curious' MNU patrolman had been allowed 'access' to the shack. In the brief (but unguided) tour he had seen floor to ceiling stacks of cat food and more importantly, hundreds of alien weapons.
'It was a fucking arsenal in there!' the agent told us 'The guy could do a lot of damage with that stuff'
In more ways than one; if we only took out the cat food supply he was evidently selling off then we could probably half the number of addicts in District 9! But the arms would be another thing entirely…
'We will help get them into alien rehab!' Leanne commented.
We had interest in the case because Mr Trapp promised to tell us of a second LARGER cache located in the city outside of District 9. So the quicker we got Trapp out of there the better. Today, as it approached noon, we would be using air transport to get us to the location that bit quicker and with more surprise. I ducked under the rotor wash outside Newlands as an ACU chopper touched down. Climbing inside, I strapped in and put on my headphones, with Leanne doing likewise.
'We are good to go!' I told the pilot.
In seconds we were airborne and climbing. I could see the distant skyline of Johannesburg and the urban sprawl of the city spread out beneath us. I could make out the tall buildings of the Hillbrow Tower and Ponte City Apartments along with the Central Business District and the Sentech Tower.
'Impressive eh' Leanne said through my earphones.
'Yeah' I agreed.
The other more recent addition to the skyline, which you could see if you looked slightly higher into the sunlit sky and beyond the MNU choppers around us, stood ever dormant over the city. It was of course the massive alien mother ship that had delivered Ivan Trapp, Gordon Smith, Stanley Ackerman and millions of other creatures to our planet. We drew level with it and for the first time in my life I could make out the intricate design work from above instead of below.
I could see more piping and the large gashes cut in the roof from when we had first broken in to the vessel back in 1982. I thought then about what we were going to do if that thing came down on the city, it would surely wipe out all of Johannesburg.
'Might not be such a bad thing after all though Jimmy!' Leanne said after I told her my thoughts.
The helicopter banked towards the slum lands on the outskirts of the city and before long we flew over District 9. Row after row of shacks passed beneath us and I could make out little figures bounding away like deer amongst the buildings, evidently fearful of our armada of helicopters. I subconsciously sank deeper into my seat and then checked my lap belt was secure. Stories had come out of the district that the Nigerians liked to take pot shots at passing helicopters with fireworks, to try and scare the crews. Thank god the prawns hadn't got in on the act with their real energy weapons! We would definitely be toast then! No two raids were ever the same though, some went good and others went very, very bad. And since this was my first operation in District 9, the shit could hit the fan big time! We needed to get Ivan Trapp out and secure the premises, all the while keeping some very pissed off prawns at bay. So for this operation we needed the help of MNU.
I felt giddy as the pilot circled round to land in a rubbish strewn piece of open ground, close to the target. MNU personnel had already rappelled in from choppers or swarmed the area on foot. It seemed that the shack belonging to Trapp stood out by virtue of the strange red lettering stencilled on the roof, which I recognised as the language by which non-humans used to communicate with each other. Whether it was coincidence or the writing had been placed there deliberately to guide us, no one knew. The chopper thumped to the ground and I threw off my earphones, opening the door to admit the noises of chaos, rotor blades, shouting and gunfire. Coloured smoke covered the area, acting as an official marker for follow up forces. An MNU soldier ran up to us and bid us to follow him. We ran through a maze of shacks, glimpsing the odd prawn here and there.
Johann McKee, commander of MNU forces in this sector, awaited us near the target shack. He was big-set and blonde, the epitome of an Afrikaner male.
'Ok the target prawn is cowering inside waiting for us! So let's do this!' he said.
A kick from another trooper and the flimsy corrugated door smashed inwards. At the exact same moment as the door went in and we shouted for Ivan Trapp to show himself, I noticed we had company standing nearby. Four prawns stood with Kalashnikov's and alien ray guns, regarding but not poised to make any move. No sooner had I yelled a warning and brought my gun to bear when a fierce blast of air carried me inside the shack via the side wall.
Stunned, I got back on my feet and looked through the gap to see the prawns moving forward. Gunfire echoed in response but they were too fast. One of them carried a white object in his hand, looking every inch like a vacuum cleaner. Except this object had a glowing orange 'eye' at the front…The same hurricane force shockwave knocked me over again and I bowled over a couple of MNU boys in the process. I had lost sight of Leanne and McKee and again fought to get myself on my feet.
*
Julian had seen the helicopters coming as his group made their way to confront Ivan. Then ground forces had rushed through the sector, mowing down fellow prawns.
Incensed by this, Rudolf, one of his group members had gotten into a battle with the humans. This had delayed the attack significantly and Julian felt like shooting Rudolf himself! But they had arrived just in time to see MNU personnel forcing their way in.
Aiming his assault rifle (with specially adapted human 'red dot' gun sight slaved to his weapon) Julian took out a number of men. He saw a human woman amongst the raiders and knowing how much they revered females, he consciously altered his fire to aim for her. Theodore and Marco, the other group members both did likewise.
*
Despite being small in size, the place still felt like a fucking warehouse! It was crammed full of everything your average prawn or Nigerian could want; weapons, cat food, phoney MNU identity documents, cash and…wheel trims! Seems Ivan Trapp had a fetish for the cheap plastic discs as his walls were covered in them.
Was it a kind of prawn art perhaps?
Whatever it was, I had recovered my wits and called out for Leanne.
'Over here' she answered weakly 'I am hit though…'
Gunfire pinged off the shack and I heard the WHOOSH-BOOM sound of an alien weapon; shaking the dwelling all over. With only small spaces to hide in amongst the pile of goods, finding cover was hard. Another blast knocked some trims off the wall and sent dust flying. I was a sitting duck unless I did something!
Then I heard the voice of McKee whispering harshly to something that was chirping in an agitated fashion.
'Shut up you fucking prawn! They are gonna bring the roof in if they hear you!'
McKee then radioed for some gunships to come and level the sector.
'You still there Jimmy' Leanne called out.
'Yeah…hold on I am going to…'
The loudest explosion yet blew in another wall, flooding the room with sunlight and dust. Now I knew this raid had gone to shit! How many of us were even left alive? I threw away my shitty little hand gun, I reckoned I would need something bigger. Grabbing a snub nosed Colt Commando submachine gun from a pile off the floor, I found an ammo clip and smacked it home. The gun had 'PROPERTY OF SOUTH AFRICA' stencilled on the plastic stock and I wondered just where the fuck Ivan Trapp got his weapons. Probably the MNU guys who 'protected' the district handing in their weapons in exchange for one of the cool alien equivalents…
More gunfire then, answered by dwindling rates of return.
*
Julian ordered the group to split up and encircle the building; this was in case of any further resistance. He clicked a quiet victory chirp before a small black cylindrical object rolled out of the shack and bounced off his leg. Julian crouched down to pick the object up. It looked like, what did the humans call them, a grenade?
*
I saw the prawn get blown to pieces. But then a cacophony of fire ripped the shack apart and a warm gooey substance splashed on my head...prawn blood?
No it smelled awful, like cat food! I put my head on my head and sure enough came away with a handful of sticky cat nip! A stray round must have pierced a can or two.
'Jimmy, please help me...'
Leanne again damn!
'Shut up woman, they have good hearing'
The next explosion came from INSIDE the shack and I saw, silhouetted against the daylight outside, the shape of a prawn in the doorway. I poked the barrel round a pile of tins and fired. The alien flew backward and I finished off the clip firing at him.
After what seemed like hours, the sound of rotors approached us. Next another prawn poked his head around the blown out wall, searching the semi-darkness for us no doubt. I silently grabbed another clip and loaded it, never taking my eyes of the being.
'Jimmy, please I don't have long...'
The head of the prawn swivelled in the direction of Leanne's voice, antenna working overtime and 'feeling' the air. I raised the gun to fire but just then the gunships must have flown over as the prawn simply disappeared in a cloud of atomised flesh and plating.
I breathed a sigh of relief and ran over to Leanne.
One Case Solved At Least
Our raid had been successful but it came at a heavy cost in manpower. The prawn counter-attack had well and truly failed and we spirited Ivan Trapp and the entire contents of his bunker to MNU headquarters.
Stanley Ackerman must have been hopping mad!
You know it's strange I feel oddly upbeat about the whole thing but in truth the day had been a disaster...
Leanne had died doing something she loved and I smile now as I look across to her gravestone, only a few feet from me in the municipal cemetery: we got what we needed AND managed to piss off an alien crime lord!
Still the recriminations didn't end after MNU had gone through us, the city threatened to withdraw our funding and dissolve the ACU but to date we are still functioning and going strong. A lot of the guys live in fear but not me, I know I can always go back to something safe, you know like uniformed policing on the streets of Johannesburg.
Feels as if I would be going full circle this way but who knows.
We have our next case too; it seems there has been a rash of tyre thefts from junkyards across the city. I am sure one Stanley Ackerman was involved in that sort of racket some time back...