II.
Wikus unintentionally sleeps through his opportunity to witness the Earth from space, the ship's departure from its orbit swift and without sentimentality. When he wakes, he finds himself slumped on the floor of the control pod, his blood-soaked shirt plastered to the sores on his back. Groaning, he forces himself to stand, the small room lit only by the soft blue glow of its various monitors. The others are nowhere to be found; Wikus starts to panic, suddenly claustrophobic and terrified of these unfamiliar surroundings. Not only is he not in his own body anymore, but he's not even on his own planet, and he has no way of getting back without their help.
As he's trying to decide whether to start shouting for help or trying to take command of the navigation interface he used earlier, Wikus hears a noise behind him and startles, cringing instinctively. Thankfully, he quickly spots CJ prying open the damaged side door of the pod, shyly peeking through its opening.
"Come on!" he says, and Wikus finds himself obeying without hesitation. There's no benefit to refusing to cooperate, and he wants to get out of the cramped space of the pod, anyway. He trails behind CJ, Wikus' pace not nearly as enthusiastic as the young alien's as they walk through a long corridor lined with doors marked in the language he can only vaguely read. At one point he thinks he spots a gang symbol, but upon closer inspection he realizes he's misread it.
The corridor eventually opens into a larger, open room lined with various computer terminals. Christopher is seated at one of them, his long claw-fingers typing almost impossibly gracefully upon a foreign keyboard. His eyes are fixed intensely upon the paper-thin screen and its output, though he quickly looks up at them as they enter the area.
"You're up. Good," he acknowledges approvingly. "How are you feeling?"
"Hungry," Wikus blurts out before anything else can even cross his mind. "Do we have any food? Any... any cat food, you know, or whatever you've got." His stomach hurts so badly that it's giving him a severe headache, though it's certainly not the only part of his body causing him pain at the moment.
"We have food! Lots of it," CJ announces, reaching for Wikus' alien-arm and leading him to a small stockpile of cans and bundled packages. Wikus practically snatches a can of cat food from the stack, tearing it open and shoveling the puréed turkey into his mouth, swallowing without chewing. Not that his few remaining, broken teeth would be much help for that to begin with.
Christopher shakes his head 'no' at Wikus, hoping that CJ won't notice. "We do have some food," he clarifies. "It was stored in the pod below our home for this day."
Wikus uses the pointed tip of his left hand's middle finger (he hates himself for cutting off his index finger) to scrape every last morsel from the inner rim of the can. Licking non-human fingertips feels inherently wrong, but he's been so ravenously hungry for so long that he hardly cares. "Is this all you have, then?" he asks, not sure if he wants to know the answer.
Although Wikus is less than adept at recognizing prawn expressions, he's willing to bet that Christopher looks concerned. "Yes, that's all we have. We need to make it last as long as we can."
"What?" Wikus yells accusingly. "Are you fucking kidding me? You brought us up here just to starve? What the fuck, man? What are you--"
Christopher rolls his eyes. "It needs to last until I'm able to repair our machines that support food cultivation. I have no intention of letting anyone starve -- certainly not after twenty years of suffering through it."
"Oh." Wikus keeps his head down, eyes locked on the empty can, and feels very put in his place. "I didn't... I'm sorry."
"You could try trusting us," Christopher suggests, and Wikus swears he detects sarcasm in the click-speaking. He turns back to the computer and types for another few minutes, leaving Wikus temporarily alone with his thoughts. CJ fiddles with some sort of projection device -- was that the same one from their shack? -- and occasionally glances over towards him, but he says nothing.
Just as Wikus is about to go stir-crazy from the unwanted silence, Christopher speaks up again, although he remains facing the screen. "I'm sure you'd like to wash off that filth by now." He looks to CJ. "Do you remember which room it is?"
CJ nods, very proud of this. "I do! I know right where it is." He stands up and looks at Wikus again. "I'll show you." And with that, he's on his way out of the room. Wikus rushes to follow him, calling a quick "thank you for the food, really, thank you" to Christopher as he leaves. Once again he's led through the long corridor, then one doorway, and another, and a second corridor, and a final door, and then they've evidently reached the right place, because CJ stops in his tracks and gestures to the room they're now in.
"Here it is!" he announces, clearly pleased with himself that he's memorized how to get around the ship already. Wikus studies the new location he finds himself in, brow furrowed. It's not exactly like the shower he's got back at his house, not by a long shot.
"What do I...?" He lets the question trail off, not waiting for an answer before he moves forward to investigate. A small rectangular gel-panel is set in the wall, its texture similar to the navigation mechanism for the control pod. Wikus tentatively prods it and is immediately hit by multiple clouds of steam. Caught off-guard, he quickly pulls his hand back, his hair and clothing soaked and dripping reddish streams of water on the floor. He laughs nervously. "Well, that's, um. That's different, huh?"
CJ watches him, apparently highly amused by all of this. Wikus wonders if he's ever seen running water like this before, and tries his best to ignore the pang of guilt that hits him at that thought. "Hey, could you not look for a bit?" he asks, doing his best to peel away the tattered remains of his stolen shirt without dislodging too much skin in the process.
"Why?" CJ asks, unfazed.
"Because..." Wikus fishes for a reason that won't involve a lengthy explanation of privacy and personal space, both of which he also suspects the prawns were short on while stuck in District 9. "Because I'll play hide and seek with you for real when I'm done, how's that?"
"Really?"
"Yes. I promise." Wikus struggles to remove what's left of his pants, the waist not meant to accommodate his not-quite-human-anymore body.
"Okay!" CJ dashes off to an adjoining room, no doubt to amuse himself somehow in the meantime. Wikus gingerly picks off scraps of cloth that stubbornly cling to the blood and pus in his open wounds. Wincing, he pries the rest off and hesitantly reaches for the on/off panel once more. The steam hits him again, and to his surprise, he's able to adjust the temperature and pressure by shifting his touch on the gel. The heat soothes his aching muscles, and for the first time in his life, Wikus is infinitely thankful for the convenience of a simple shower. He's been desperate to wash off the grime for days.
He scrubs with one hand, although it's hardly necessary with the multi-directional setup of the steam vents and the force with which they spray, and removes the other from the panel when he's finished. Before he can wonder what to do about his ruined clothing, CJ reappears, holding a large blanket out to him.
"This was all I could find," he explains as Wikus takes it and wraps it around his shoulders, its fabric luckily reaching down to the backs of his calves. "I hope you like it."
Wikus smiles genuinely at him. "I do, thank you."
Warm, full, and clean, Wikus feels truly better for the first time in what seems like forever.