District 9 WIP Fic (1/?)
Title: Hive Mind
Author: dreamerchaos
Pairing: Wikus centered. ChristopherxWikus.
Rating: R
Warnings: Language. Slash. Gore
Summary: They were so different, and yet humans and prawns shared similar characteristics...violence, hate…but Wikus proves to Christopher that sometimes humans are not that simple.
THEN
“Where is Wikus?”
Oliver pauses in plucking at the frayed edges of his blanket, the little prawn shivering slightly from the chilly air that has sudden blasted the slum city, “Outside. Took some of those white squares with him.” Oliver makes a face, remembering the disgusting flavor of the ‘crackers’ that Wikus had shared with the curious child.
Christopher hums thoughtfully, leaving his child to burrow into his bedding.
His large umber eyes narrow when he steps outside, the gloomy skies threatening rain.
“Wikus?” Christopher searches around the shack, worried for the human, “Wikus, it is not wise to be outside.”
He hears Wikus from behind a pile of garbage, offering a quiet “Shift change.” The shabby blond head bobs up, Wikus curling his transforming arm within his lap, the small human crouched in front of a small ant mound.
Christopher dips his antenna in curiosity, “What are you doing?” He notices Wikus crumbling one of the crackers in between his palms.
Wikus’ face flushes, a most curious change in pigmentation that always baffles the alien, “Just something I used to do as a child.” Wikus slowly drops each crumb of the crushed dried food product piece by piece amongst the scrabbling pile of small ant bodies.
“….Why?”
Wikus is momentarily transfixed by the sight of so many ants running to and fro, the tiny insects racing to the sudden downpour of food, “They get so worked up when food just falls from the sky…guess as a kid I always felt like I was helping them out?”
“And now?”
Wikus huffs, “Now? I’m tired, hungry, scared…but…doesn’t hurt me any to share. Those crackers won’t fill my belly. Might as well give it to someone else who will have better use for them.”
Christopher kneels down beside the human, antenna tasting the air, the sound of the ants’ writhing bodies and clicking mandibles marking their frenzy.
“A small act of kindness is kindness nonetheless.” Christopher watches as a small ant lugs a piece of cracker over three times its size back to the mound.
“You’re surprised?” Wikus asks.
“A bit.” Christopher isn’t ashamed to admit, “The humans I have met rarely show any emotion besides disgust or fear…where is mercy or kindness when they order a shack of sprawnlings to be burned?”
Wikus pinches his lips together, remembering his own orders to have a leaning shack torched, the sprawnling eggs inside popping and hissing amongst the black gray smoke, “Just a good little worker following orders.” He mutters bitterly.
“You’re different from the others.”
“Really?” Wikus snorts in disbelief, “How? Because of this…thing?” The fingers of his prawn hand twitch. Wikus shudders, “…I can feel it moving under my skin. My flesh peels off even if I try to carefully scratch at any patch that itches…pieces flopping off…It hurts so fooking much.”
Christopher carefully reached over to lay his hands on the man’s shoulders. The flesh furnace hot, and if Christopher pressed his fingers carefully he could feel the hard ridges of the exoskeleton underneath.
“Come back inside.” Christopher urges, “Tomorrow, we take on MNU. For tonight, however…you need to rest.”
Initially Wikus wants nothing more than to buck Christopher’s alien hands off, well-sewn prejudice trying to rear its ugly head.
However, Christopher’s touch is the first in the last few days without any malice or pain. No cold surgeon tools, no hot sweaty military men screaming in his face, ordering him to shoot.
Wikus dusts the last of the crackers from his hands. Christopher helps him stand when a shivering cold rush of pain shoots up his leg. Wikus shudders, feeling blood trickle down the inside of his pant leg, another armored spike puncturing through his human flesh.
“Wikus?”
“Just..” Wikus wheezes, breathing loudly to try and shunt the pain to a far corner of his mind, “…please help me..”
Christopher doesn’t need to be asked further. The large prawn curls an long arm around Wikus’ shoulder, small binary hands delicately curling around the human’s hips to help sway his body towards the direction of the shack.
“Everything will be all right.” Christopher helps the human limp along. Oliver stands in the doorway, cloaked in his favorite blanket, the child’s face visibly worried as he watches his father help his new friend into the tiny quarters of the shack.
NOW
“Staring at the viewing window will not make us reach that planet any faster.” A voice interrupts his musing.
Unnihi turns, looking up at the large Praetorian as he fully enters the viewing platform.
“Garqhual.” He greets, bumping against the soft familiar brush of long talons as Garqhual brushes the smooth edges down his facial ridge in greeting.
The tall green Praetorian stands over half a body taller than ‘Christopher’, the soft inner seams between touch exoskeleton laced with smooth barbed red and black flesh. A stark white scar curves across the left breast region, curling down and around his hip. Intricately woven metalwork that covers forearms, hands, and claws shimmer iridescent blue and silver as the Praetorian melts between shadows and halos of light when he steps closer to the thick windows.
“Such a small system this is.” Garqhual huffs, observing with dull enthusiasm as the ship smoothly rounds the largest planet in the Sol quadrant, “Amazing that only one planet shows signs of…intelligent life.”
Unnihi knows very well Garqhual’s impatience when dealing with foreign xenomorphs, the Praetorian losing tolerance when Unnihi revealed before the Council and the Blood about what had been done to members of the Hives.
“The Council made their decision.”
“So speaks Judgment. Then the Blood, as the Claw, with strip payment however it sees fit.” Garqhual’s features grin in an unholy leer of pleasure.
Unnihi remembers the twelve members of the Council, so appalled by the mistreatment and suffering that several could not remain throughout the hearing.
The Blood, the most revered and feared of the soldier caste, stood in the high viewing platforms which had ringed the massive metal coliseum, waiting with trembling anticipation until finally the eldest of the Council curled his fist to signal for justice to be done.
“I don’t share your taste for violence.” Unnihi admits.
“It’s in your blood.”
“As you remind me of this frequently.”
Garqhual pats his shoulder with rough fondness, nearly knocking the smaller prawn forward to face-plant into the glass.
“Let’s see how strong your reservations towards hostility remains intact after we land.” Garqhual chuckles, “Especially if your pet human was rediscovered by his species and taken back in for study.”
Garqhual rumbles with pleasure when Unnihi’s claws clench into tight fists.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Author: dreamerchaos
Pairing: Wikus centered. ChristopherxWikus.
Rating: R
Warnings: Language. Slash. Gore
Summary: They were so different, and yet humans and prawns shared similar characteristics...violence, hate…but Wikus proves to Christopher that sometimes humans are not that simple.
THEN
“Where is Wikus?”
Oliver pauses in plucking at the frayed edges of his blanket, the little prawn shivering slightly from the chilly air that has sudden blasted the slum city, “Outside. Took some of those white squares with him.” Oliver makes a face, remembering the disgusting flavor of the ‘crackers’ that Wikus had shared with the curious child.
Christopher hums thoughtfully, leaving his child to burrow into his bedding.
His large umber eyes narrow when he steps outside, the gloomy skies threatening rain.
“Wikus?” Christopher searches around the shack, worried for the human, “Wikus, it is not wise to be outside.”
He hears Wikus from behind a pile of garbage, offering a quiet “Shift change.” The shabby blond head bobs up, Wikus curling his transforming arm within his lap, the small human crouched in front of a small ant mound.
Christopher dips his antenna in curiosity, “What are you doing?” He notices Wikus crumbling one of the crackers in between his palms.
Wikus’ face flushes, a most curious change in pigmentation that always baffles the alien, “Just something I used to do as a child.” Wikus slowly drops each crumb of the crushed dried food product piece by piece amongst the scrabbling pile of small ant bodies.
“….Why?”
Wikus is momentarily transfixed by the sight of so many ants running to and fro, the tiny insects racing to the sudden downpour of food, “They get so worked up when food just falls from the sky…guess as a kid I always felt like I was helping them out?”
“And now?”
Wikus huffs, “Now? I’m tired, hungry, scared…but…doesn’t hurt me any to share. Those crackers won’t fill my belly. Might as well give it to someone else who will have better use for them.”
Christopher kneels down beside the human, antenna tasting the air, the sound of the ants’ writhing bodies and clicking mandibles marking their frenzy.
“A small act of kindness is kindness nonetheless.” Christopher watches as a small ant lugs a piece of cracker over three times its size back to the mound.
“You’re surprised?” Wikus asks.
“A bit.” Christopher isn’t ashamed to admit, “The humans I have met rarely show any emotion besides disgust or fear…where is mercy or kindness when they order a shack of sprawnlings to be burned?”
Wikus pinches his lips together, remembering his own orders to have a leaning shack torched, the sprawnling eggs inside popping and hissing amongst the black gray smoke, “Just a good little worker following orders.” He mutters bitterly.
“You’re different from the others.”
“Really?” Wikus snorts in disbelief, “How? Because of this…thing?” The fingers of his prawn hand twitch. Wikus shudders, “…I can feel it moving under my skin. My flesh peels off even if I try to carefully scratch at any patch that itches…pieces flopping off…It hurts so fooking much.”
Christopher carefully reached over to lay his hands on the man’s shoulders. The flesh furnace hot, and if Christopher pressed his fingers carefully he could feel the hard ridges of the exoskeleton underneath.
“Come back inside.” Christopher urges, “Tomorrow, we take on MNU. For tonight, however…you need to rest.”
Initially Wikus wants nothing more than to buck Christopher’s alien hands off, well-sewn prejudice trying to rear its ugly head.
However, Christopher’s touch is the first in the last few days without any malice or pain. No cold surgeon tools, no hot sweaty military men screaming in his face, ordering him to shoot.
Wikus dusts the last of the crackers from his hands. Christopher helps him stand when a shivering cold rush of pain shoots up his leg. Wikus shudders, feeling blood trickle down the inside of his pant leg, another armored spike puncturing through his human flesh.
“Wikus?”
“Just..” Wikus wheezes, breathing loudly to try and shunt the pain to a far corner of his mind, “…please help me..”
Christopher doesn’t need to be asked further. The large prawn curls an long arm around Wikus’ shoulder, small binary hands delicately curling around the human’s hips to help sway his body towards the direction of the shack.
“Everything will be all right.” Christopher helps the human limp along. Oliver stands in the doorway, cloaked in his favorite blanket, the child’s face visibly worried as he watches his father help his new friend into the tiny quarters of the shack.
NOW
“Staring at the viewing window will not make us reach that planet any faster.” A voice interrupts his musing.
Unnihi turns, looking up at the large Praetorian as he fully enters the viewing platform.
“Garqhual.” He greets, bumping against the soft familiar brush of long talons as Garqhual brushes the smooth edges down his facial ridge in greeting.
The tall green Praetorian stands over half a body taller than ‘Christopher’, the soft inner seams between touch exoskeleton laced with smooth barbed red and black flesh. A stark white scar curves across the left breast region, curling down and around his hip. Intricately woven metalwork that covers forearms, hands, and claws shimmer iridescent blue and silver as the Praetorian melts between shadows and halos of light when he steps closer to the thick windows.
“Such a small system this is.” Garqhual huffs, observing with dull enthusiasm as the ship smoothly rounds the largest planet in the Sol quadrant, “Amazing that only one planet shows signs of…intelligent life.”
Unnihi knows very well Garqhual’s impatience when dealing with foreign xenomorphs, the Praetorian losing tolerance when Unnihi revealed before the Council and the Blood about what had been done to members of the Hives.
“The Council made their decision.”
“So speaks Judgment. Then the Blood, as the Claw, with strip payment however it sees fit.” Garqhual’s features grin in an unholy leer of pleasure.
Unnihi remembers the twelve members of the Council, so appalled by the mistreatment and suffering that several could not remain throughout the hearing.
The Blood, the most revered and feared of the soldier caste, stood in the high viewing platforms which had ringed the massive metal coliseum, waiting with trembling anticipation until finally the eldest of the Council curled his fist to signal for justice to be done.
“I don’t share your taste for violence.” Unnihi admits.
“It’s in your blood.”
“As you remind me of this frequently.”
Garqhual pats his shoulder with rough fondness, nearly knocking the smaller prawn forward to face-plant into the glass.
“Let’s see how strong your reservations towards hostility remains intact after we land.” Garqhual chuckles, “Especially if your pet human was rediscovered by his species and taken back in for study.”
Garqhual rumbles with pleasure when Unnihi’s claws clench into tight fists.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~