Departure
MNU Headquarters, Johannesburg
June 11th, 2013
0830 Hours

Within the underground parking garage that took up most of the headquarters building's first sublevel, much activity was brewing. MNU mercenaries were kitting themselves out with weapons and equipment while support personnel were loading themselves into the few armoured personnel carriers that were parked in the garage. It was safe to say a large operation was starting up, one that would disembarking for District 9. It was standard practice to load up on assault rifles and Kevlar vests, even if trouble wasn't expected. When it came to District 9 trouble was to be expected, especially because of the presence of the Nigerians and many disgruntled prawns.

The garage door at the end of the mostly grey concrete expanse underneath the headquarters building had opened, allowing a steady stream of sunlight to flow in. A few racks of weapons and equipment had been wheeled out for the members of the disembarking force to access. So far most of the two dozen mercenaries had taken a rifle and sidearm each before slipping on a Kevlar vest (all of the vests had 'MNU' stamped on the back in white letters).

Lukas Farber had been made to wake up rather early this morning. He was still reeling from the early wake up and was yawning more than he normally did, occasionally rubbing his eyes and shaking his head as he tried to get "with it". In fact he was feeling rather out of it this morning, perhaps a side effect from the events of the day before. Not only had he been dragged into this new specialist group but he had been forced to endure the egos of some of the others in it. Sure, Samuel Marshall and Will Slater were both likeable guys but some of the others, especially the mercenaries were completely egotistic and damned unlikeable.

This morning they would be all embarking on a trip into District 9 in order to track down possible leads on the well organized terrorist groups some of the more intelligent prawns had set up. And with District 9 came potential dangers, such as attack from Nigerian gangsters or angry aliens. Lukas was only a bit nervous about the whole thing but even so he had managed to drag himself down here to get his name marked off. Now he was in the process of fitting himself with one of the Kevlar vests and was having some difficulty.

Over by one of the parked personnel carriers was Colonel Francis Keller, the American ex-Green Beret who seemed to have been brought into South Africa just to run this whole team. He was barking orders at some of the mercenaries, telling them to hurry up and load themselves into their assigned armoured personnel carriers. He seemed to be enjoying himself, smiling broadly as he puffed on a thick Cuban cigar.

The atmosphere was a bit frantic, especially with so many people racing around trying to organize themselves. Lukas finally managed to clip on the Kevlar vest he had been ordered to put on, feeling its weight on his torso and how it seemed to impair his overall movements. Underneath he wore the standard dark blue uniform of an MNU field engineer, the type that didn't seem too comfortable on him. He just wasn't used to the feel of it, nor was he used to seeing so many heavily armed mercenaries milling about and climbing into the white MNU armoured personnel carriers.

There was a white van parked nearby which was filled with banks of computers, all of which were manned by the more technologically gifted of the team. They had access to satellite imagery and surveillance camera footage which they could bring up at will on one of the computer screens. They would be an invaluable asset in an operation such as this, able to use these technological resources to determine where danger was and guide the rest of the team appropriately.

Samuel Marshall was standing nearby, a Vektor CR21 rifle slung around one shoulder while he fiddled with the tightening straps on his Kevlar vest. He didn't seem at all bothered with it or what was happening around him. Instead he kept a level gaze as he checked the magazine loaded into his rifle, making sure that it was full before clicking it back into place.

Will Slater stepped over outfitted in much the same way as Samuel was, wearing a black Kevlar vest and dark combat fatigues underneath. He was still eating his breakfast, one buttered muffin clutched in one hand that he was taking the occasional bite out of. He seemed to be eating it in a perfectly counter-clockwise direction, working his way from the outside and towards the centre. This was just another one of his odd tendencies, the type that anyone else would probably tease him about.

Last night Lukas had arrived home later than usual and had told his wife about this whole new "specialist team" thing, the Anti Alien Terrorism Squad as it was called. She had been supportive of him as always, even when Lukas had voiced his uncertainties about the whole thing. The increased pay and more interesting work was probably what kept him on the team, otherwise he would have left it already. There was just something about it all that didn't quite add up, especially when it came to Colonel Keller. There was something about that man Lukas didn't like and the feeling seemed to be mutual, evident in the way Keller looked at him. Still, neither man said anything aloud.

Unlike some of the other non-mercenaries who had been placed on this team, Lukas was one of the few who would be in the thick of it. Where others like Theodore Van Wyk (the prawn expert) would be helping to run things from the safety of an office somewhere in the headquarters building, Lukas Farber would be working with the mercenaries right on the frontlines. He had been officially promoted to the not-so prestigious title of "field engineer" which in other words meant that he would be working as an engineer…out in the field with the mercenaries. It seemed a bit daunting but Lukas was sure there would be nothing to it. All he had to do was do as he was told, thinking that when (and if) they found alien technology he would be the one assigned to look after it.

The plan that Keller had detailed when they had first arrived sounded simple enough. MNU had reason to believe that there were terrorist cells within operation in the slums of District 9, perhaps even those responsible for a recent attack on an MNU convoy. This convoy had been carrying some important equipment and this was probably why it had been attacked. The prawn insurgents could use this equipment to make further attacks on MNU assets and the general human population, hence why it was imperative that the new anti terrorism team recover it before the prawns could do anything with it.

According to Keller there were a number of leads to check out in District 9, all of them potentially dangerous hence the need for weaponry. Lukas would be going with Keller and several of the mercenaries to one part of the district while the other mercenaries and support personnel would head off to check out other leads. It wasn't too big an operation and decidedly more subtle than previous outings that MNU had organized but Keller had stressed to them the importance of it. If they found the culprits of the convoy attack they would save many innocent human lives, lives that would be taken if the prawns who had attacked weren't brought to justice. Lukas had a feeling that the "justice" Keller was referring to meant killing the prawns responsible. No doubt Lukas' wife would disapprove.

Lukas didn't have need for any guns, he was an engineer after all. He wasn't trained in their usage nor was he actually permitted to wield a firearm. He wasn't too worried about being unarmed since he was surrounded by plenty of tough looking people who were armed. It was their job to look out for his safety, otherwise they would probably get sacked if anything happened to him or any of the other unarmed support personnel.

Over near Keller were some of the other mercenaries that Lukas recognized. He didn't really like any of them, including Keller but he knew he would be working with them and thus would have to put up with whatever crap they gave him.

There was the unnerving young woman, Sarah Taylor her name was. She was climbing into the back of the armoured personnel carrier, twirling a shiny silver combat knife around in one hand. There was Kyle, the somewhat slow-minded mercenary who didn't say much who was getting yelled at by Keller. Hermes Kossel, the team's sniper was nowhere to be seen since he was probably outside somewhere, barding the helicopter that would carry him over District 9. A few other mercenaries Lukas didn't recognize were climbing into the armoured personnel carrier. Some of them were talking quietly amongst themselves, fiddling with their rifles and otherwise trying to get comfortable for the trip.

"You ever been to District 9 before, Lukas?" Samuel asked suddenly.

Lukas was caught off-guard by the question, having been heavily sorting through his own thoughts.

"No, no I haven't…"

"Didn't think so," Samuel said, shaking his head, "I was there when they were evicting the prawns back in 2010. It's not a nice place. There's always some sort of violence going on over there, the sort that doesn't get on the news. You know, whole massacres of prawns for no real reason. Interspecies prostitution. Arms dealing. All that shit."

Lukas simply nodded as he listened to what Samuel had to say. He had heard much about District 9 and how a lot of things happened there that weren't reported in the evening news, especially since all of the prawns in residence there were not protected by MNU laws. Without that protection people could do what they wanted to them hence why so many self-titled "prawn hunters" made regular visits, killing prawns for the mere fun of it.

Will had finished his muffin and had listened to what Samuel had said, frowning before he added his own contribution to the conversation.

"Interspecies prostitution?" He asked, frowning, "I've never heard of that one…"

Samuel shrugged.

"It happens," Samuel asked, "don't ask me why…or how…But it happens. It's just one of those things, the type you don't really hear much about."

"Yeah, well thanks for putting the picture in my mind," Will said, sounding annoyed, "Because it's sort of gross…"

Samuel was about to reply when Colonel Keller's voice broke into the conversation from somewhere close by. Samuel, Will and Lukas all turned to face the Colonel who had since managed to walk over and listen in without them hearing him. He was standing with a rather serious look on his face, the cigar he was smoking sticking out of the corner of his mouth. He regarded the three men before him in a rather condescending manner before speaking.

"Interspecies prostitution, you say?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. Samuel simply nodded, put-off actually delivering a verbal response. Colonel Keller seemed to have that effect on some people.

"If I catch any human fucking a prawn I'll kill them both," he said bluntly, shaking his head, "it's the lowliest of lows, if you ask me. It sort of counts as uh…what's the word?" He paused, thinking. "Bestiality, that's it. It's goddamn bestiality."

There was an uneasy silence after that. Lukas could tell that the Colonel was dead serious when he said this, something that only unnerved the engineer. Colonel Keller didn't seem to notice the silence or the glances Will, Samuel and Lukas exchanged. Instead, he simply puffed again on his cigar and continued talking after a break of an appropriate.

"Come on you three," Keller said, nodding towards the nearby armoured personnel carrier (APC for short), "Quit standing around and get in. We've got work to do."

Lukas took a quick look around and saw that the other mercenaries, engineers and the few field researchers with them were either going into or already seated in their assigned vehicles. Sunlight streamed in through the open door further down the length of the underground car park, a somewhat natural contrast to the dry white glow of the lights in the car park's ceiling. Lukas could tell that Keller wasn't the patient type and so was about to start for the parked APC, only for a hand to fall onto his shoulder from behind.

Lukas turned around and was only moderately surprised to see that it was Keller who had gripped him. The Colonel gave him a careful examining gaze for a moment before speaking.

"Your name's Lukas, right?" He asked, his hand leaving Lukas' shoulder.

Lukas nodded. He wasn't sure what interest the Colonel had in him but whatever he wanted to say Lukas would have preferred it to be over quickly. He didn't like the way the Colonel was looking at him, there was something in the man's eyes that he didn't like.

"Yeah, that's right, you're one of our engineers," Keller continued, "and you're good at what you do. I hear you've handled alien technology before?"

By now both Will and Samuel had taken a seat in the rear section of the APC. Lukas and Keller were the only two left out in the car park.

"Yeah, I have…" Lukas was about to delve into slightly more detail before Keller interrupted him, apparently uninterested in anything the engineer had to say.

"That's why when we find any you'll be the one looking after it," Keller said, "and something tells me these prawn terrorists have plenty of alien tech in their possession. You shouldn't have to worry about getting into any firefights though…If trouble starts, you can hide behind me."

That makes me feel so much better. Lukas didn't reply, he simply nodded and managed a false but convincing smile. Keller smiled in return and cheerfully patted Lukas on the shoulder, doing this in a rather friendly manner that only made the engineer feel more uneasy. Lukas had never been a fan of some of the cold-blooded killers MNU hired into their mercenary force. There had been one guy he had bumped into on a few occasions, some Colonel by the name of Koobus Venter. Not only had that guy been an absolute sociopath but he seemed to have emanated an aura of sheer ruthlessness. Colonel Keller was only slightly different…Where Venter had been dead-set serious Keller was more open, being more of the smiling type.

"I have a feeling we're going to find some damn interesting things today," Keller said, smiling. He stepped past Lukas and climbed into the back of the APC, sitting down next to Sarah.

Lukas followed, trying his best to make himself comfortable in one corner of the cramped confines of the APC. Seated around him were typical MNU mercenaries, including Keller, Samuel, Will, Kyle and Sarah Taylor. Kyle was fiddling with the strap on his white Vektor CR21 rifle, flicking it around with his fingers while the rifle itself was laid across his lap. As Keller entered he flicked a switch and the APC's rear doors slammed shut behind them, shutting off the lights from the car park. There were a few small windows along the sides of the APC, each covered with a metal grating in order to keep out unwanted guests. These were what allowed a somewhat dry and subdued light to creep inside the APC and illuminate it, casting gaunt shadows across the faces of those seated inside.

Sarah was playing with that combat knife of hers, spinning it around in her right hand. As it spun the blade caught some of the light, glinting brightly as it moved. Lukas watched it carefully, finding that he was surrounded by people he didn't really like (save for Samuel and Will, the only two mercenaries who weren't stupid or ruthless). Lukas tried to think of just why he had even decided to play along with this whole "new specialist team" thing and was unable to come up with an answer. The money might have been good, the whole idea of fighting terrorism might have sounded more exciting than working in an office…but damn, he was surrounded by complete wackos.

"Let's get this piece of junk moving," Keller called out to the driver. The driver, seated past a grating at the front of the passenger cabin nodded in acknowledgement and started the APC's engine. It vibrated as the engine was put into first gear and the passengers were shaken around a little as the APC began to move.

Keller reached into one pocket, taking a quick glance out of one of the small windows as he did so. Out in the car park the convoy of MNU APCs was moving out, theirs being the first one to drive up the exit ramp and emerge onto the streets of Johannesburg. Sunlight streamed in through the windows as their APC came out into another sunny and rather warm day in this part of South Africa.

Lukas sat in silence as did most of the other mercenaries. He was thinking that the whole trip would be like this until Keller suddenly started speaking, unfolding a piece of paper he had removed from one of his pockets. From where Lukas was sitting he saw on the paper a mug-shot of what was most definitely a prawn, with its exoskeleton-like features, yellow feline-like eyes and short crustacean-like feelers that hung over its mouth. Its outer shell was darker than most other prawns Lukas had seen, being close to black rather than the ordinary brown colour.

Down the page was typed all sorts of information concerning this prawn and Keller skimmed through it thoughtfully, blowing occasionally on his cigar. He looked up at the people seated around him and then began to speak, ending the silence that was occurring within the APC.

"Alright, everybody listen here," he said and soon enough everyone was looking at him. Keller paused, making sure that everyone was listening. Outside the convoy had started down a busy Johannesburg street, passing some groups of equal rights protestors. Some of the protestors proceeded to throw things at the passing APCs, empty soda cans and the occasional brick clanging loudly off of the APCs armour.

"We've been lucky enough to get given the task of tracking down one prawn in particular," Keller said, holding up the sheet so that everyone could see the mug shot.

"This one's name is Vincent Matheson," Keller continued, "and he's apparently had a few things to do with insurgent groups. He's one of the better leads we have on the whereabouts of the equipment stolen from the convoy."

"Vincent?" Sarah was the one to say this, sounding somewhat incredulous. "Who gave him that name?"

"MNU did," Keller replied matter-of-factly. Sarah fell silent, returning to her previous activity of spinning the combat knife around in her right hand.

"The idea is to give these prawns human names as a form of what MNU likes to call 'cultural repression'," Keller explained, "This prawn's probably more human than most. He was born here, for one. He's currently out living in District 9 according to recently acquired information and he may have the answers we're looking for."

Lukas sat and listened to all of this. He wasn't surprised to hear the human name the prawn in question had been given. In fact he was familiar with MNU's scheme to give every prawn a human name in order to further repress whatever alien culture they had. The hope was that with human names the prawns would feel more like humans and may even feel somewhat welcome on this planet. They were less prone to causing trouble that way and would adapt better to human society. Most activists simply saw this as another sign of oppression against the prawns.

"We're also to keep an eye out for a missing mercenary," Keller said, reaching into a pocket in his trousers and removing a photograph which he handed around. Lukas saw that it was a picture of a fairly young looking guy with short hair, brown eyes and of an athletic looking build.

"The missing guy is Patrick McDougall," Keller said, "he's the only unaccounted casualty from the attack carried out on the MNU convoy last week. General consensus says he's been captured and if so we should find him and…well, we rescue him. I doubt the prawns will have much use keeping him captive and all. And we can't let them use him as a bargaining chip in any demands they might make."

Keller took back the photo and put it and the paper with Vincent's details on it back into his pockets. By now the convoy had gone onto a road heading towards Johannesburg's outskirts, going in the direction of District 9.

Lukas could only speculate as to why an MNU mercenary had been captured. As Keller had mentioned, perhaps the prawn insurgents would use Patrick McDougall as a hostage in order to make all sorts of demands? Lukas couldn't be sure nor did he care too much. His job was to help these mercenaries when it came to any alien technology they came across. He doubted they would have much use for him in anything else, hence why Lukas felt very out of place. He was surrounded by a bunch of gun-toting mercenaries while he himself was a mere engineer, used to working in an office and not out in the field like this.

Lukas felt oddly out of place sitting with these mercenaries but he decided he would just have to live with that feeling. None of the mercenaries seemed to be paying him much attention. Will was humming quietly to himself (Lukas didn't recognize the tune) while Samuel had removed an MP3 player from one pocket and was busy untangling the wires connecting the headphones to it.

Keller opened a pouch on his vest and took out a CD-R that was being kept in a slim case. He climbed out of his seat and carefully made his way to where the driver was, pushing open the grating separating the front cabin from the passenger cabin. He uttered a few words to the driver who in turn took the CD and removed it from the case, proceeding to slide it into the CD player on the dashboard. Keller returned to his seat moments before the music on the CD began to blare loudly throughout the inside of the APC. There were a few annoyed groans from some of the mercenaries but otherwise no one was game enough to complain about Keller's choice of music.

"What everybody said about the bird…buh-buh-buh bird bird bird…bird is the word…well the bird bird bird the bird is the word…bird bird buh-buh bird is the word…"

"I remember during Desert Storm we'd ride into a combat zone with this sort of thing playing," Keller said proudly, "It'd be blaring from speakers we had set up on our vehicles and it'd scare the shit out of any Iraqi soldier. Damn, those were good times." Keller laughed and a few of the mercenaries managed to half-heartedly chuckle in response.

"And now look at me: I'm a no good, dirty mother-fucking mercenary," he continued jokingly, "I never thought I'd end up a mercenary but when I did I wasn't surprised. Hell, I'm just like the rest of you: Selling out my services to the highest bidder, like some sort of…prostitute." He laughed again, puffing on his cigar and allowing a thin trail of smoke to waft on up to the ceiling of the passenger cabin.

"Where did you work before you came here?" Lukas asked. He hadn't been meaning to blurt out the question in such a blatant manner but it ended up that way. Keller seemed surprised to hear Lukas speak but wasn't at all fazed. The other mercenaries looked at Lukas and Keller, their gazes running back and forth.

Lukas was curious to hear about Keller's previous positions. There was something that didn't really add up about why Keller was here: apparently he had been flown all the way from wherever to South Africa just to run this new anti-terrorism unit. Why MNU wouldn't simply find someone more conveniently located seemed a little strange.

"I was in Venezuela," Keller replied coolly, "just doing your standard sort of security job."

"Venezuela?" Samuel interjected. "What's it like over in Venezuela?"

"Hot and humid," Keller answered immediately, "There ain't never a cool day in Venezuela. It's always hot and stinky. South Africa ain't all that different, although in Venezuela you can rely on people sticking to speaking either English or…uh…Venezuelan or whatever Latino language they speak over there. Here in South Africa you got people speaking English…Afrikaans…and…uh…a whole bunch of African languages. And then there's prawn. So many fucking languages, you know?" The Colonel shook his head, somewhat annoyed at the sheer amount of languages he was being forced to learn. "Prawn's damn annoying as well: I mean seriously, trying to understand a bunch of clicks and chirps is near impossible. That's why I'm relying on you guys to translate for me, especially when we find this Vincent guy…I mean, 'prawn'. We're going to have to ask him a few questions."

Lukas had fallen silent again, listening to the Colonel's rant as he thought about a few things. Keller had been flown all the way from Venezuela to South Africa just to run this new unit? Why would MNU even bother doing that? Then again, maybe Keller was just damn good at his job. He certainly seemed more competent than most of the mercenaries here. The last notable mercenary working in South Africa for MNU had been Koobus Venter and he was dead, torn to shreds by some angry prawns. That was definitely not a pleasant way to go.

"They speak Spanish in Venezuela," Will said.

"What?" Keller had missed this little fact and looked up, his train of thought broken.

"You said they speak Venezuelan in Venezuela…They don't. They speak Spanish, and probably Portuguese as well…"

Keller raised an eyebrow.

"Does it look like I give a shit?" He asked. Will simply shrugged in response.

"If there's one thing I hate it's know-it-alls like you," Keller said, shooting Will a mean-spirited glare, "I couldn't give two shits if they spoke fucking Swahili in Venezuela. That ain't the point I was trying to make. What I was saying was that at least over in Venezuela I don't need to have a grasp of a dozen fucking languages like I need to down here in South Africa. And to top it off the big bosses expect me to have a grasp of some language that ain't even of this fucking planet."

Sarah looked up, ceasing her spinning of her knife.

"There ain't much too much to speaking prawn," she said.

Keller frowned, obviously doubtful about this.

"Really, missy?" He asked, smiling. The word "missy" seemed to annoy Sarah but she didn't voice these complaints.

"You just have to listen carefully, make sure you hear the clicks and chirps right," she explained, "Some of their 'words' can have entirely different meanings depending on the context of the sentence…"

Lukas had just a good grasp of the prawn language as anyone else who had been living in South Africa for the past two decades. He could easily get the gist of anything a prawn said to him (not that many prawns had said much to him) and it seemed that the prawns could understand anything he said back to them in English. Neither race could actually speak the other's language, making for a very interesting language barrier.

"Jesus Christ, I'm surrounded by a bunch of fucking know-it-alls," Keller said, shaking his head, "I didn't come to this country just to be subjected to everyone else's advice. I came here to do my job and I intend on doing just that. If I can't understand a thing a prawn says to me, so what? I think I'll get by just fine…"

He paused, noticing that everyone else seated around him seemed to have fallen silent. They had taken the hint that maybe Keller wasn't all that easy to talk to, especially when he was in the sort of mood he was in now. They were headed out to a potentially dangerous place and he would need all his concentration trained on the job at hand.

"You know what I could do with right now?" Keller asked.

"What?" Lukas said absently.

"A burger. A big one, with cheese and lettuce and tomato…Hell, I want the whole fucking lot."

"Maybe we can stop by a burger place on the way back from District 9?" Samuel suggested.

"Isn't it a bit too early in the morning for that sort of food?" This was Kyle and he looked up from fiddling with the strap on his rifle, having been listening carefully to the conversation.

"It's never too early for a burger," Keller replied, "I haven't had a decent burger for months. It's surprising just how few burger places they have over in Venezuela, you know? Over there it's all South American cuisine, some of it the sort of thing I wouldn't touch with a ten foot pole. I was damn pleased when I saw all the fast food places here in Jo'burg while driving over to MNU headquarters yesterday…"

Lukas lost interest in the conversation at this point. Instead he simply sat and pondered his own thoughts, trying his best to put up with being surrounded by a bunch of morons. Will and Samuel were alright but the others…well, some certainly weren't the sharpest tools in the shed. Keller was certainly competent but there was still something about him that Lukas didn't like. Maybe it was the ruthlessness that Lukas detected under the façade of a talkative and cheerful ex-military man. Still, Lukas decided that he ought to stop worrying himself about all of this and simply go along with this whole mission and whole new team, or unit. It was bound to be an interesting ride.