Ngoc Chau does not own District 9.

I just fell in love with the movie after seeing it. I hope that all my readers will see it too. If you do, email me and we'll have something to talk about.

This takes place after they get onto the mothership.

The mothership lands so softly on the ground that it does not feel natural to him.
His son jumps off his knee, running back and forth down the length of the bridge. "We're here, father! We're here!" The chirping and clicking continues on and on in such a joy that he himself does not think that this is his real son. His son -on Earth- had complained and cried nearly every night from the harshness of the slums of District 9.

He shudders as he recalls the conditions of living; the dry feeling every day, the lack of fresh nutrition, the beatings and yelling, the waste and garbage that were adorned all over the walls, and the dangers of gangs and brutes. On his planet, he had been a high-ranking official in engineering and he had been treated with respect -even being called Trist; a good position of high authority and leadership. When he came to Earth, a temporary means of refuge when disease had taken over their planet, he was dragged first into a dark room where he coud barely make out the faces in front of him. The voices were cruel and commanding. Whatever he said was not taken into heed. They heard him, but did they listen?

He lifts himself up from his seat, his aches and joints stiff as rigor and threatening him a week of pain to come. He follows his son who stands at the doorway of the mothership, jumping up and down to be let down to explore what truly is their world. He is scared to face what has become of his home; his life. He is even more scared to let his son see and become disappointed by the world he had built up so highly, only to be let down.
"Father! Father! Please open the door! I want to see! I want to go out!" he begs and pleads.

He cannot stand to see his son so anxious, he only wants him to be happy. He builds up backbone to face the look on his son's face that he sure will grow as soon as he sees the world outside. A few clicks from his mandibles run in a small rhthym and he opens the door.
The beepings sound off like a salute, almost taunting him,
'You are home, but there is nothing there. You are home, but there is nothing there. You are home, but there is nothing there. You are home, but there is nothing there.....'

The doors open and the entire darkroom of the mothership is filled with a light. He steps out, his eyes to the sky and squinting, not even daring to look down on the ground and see what has happened in his people's absence. He is submitted to look when he hears his son's questioning chirping.
The planet is not as destitute as he remembers. It is wet -sweet water is there- and greenery has returned but only in small sprouts. The small lower life-forms are still there, acting like nothing has happened, but he wonders what has happened to the rest of his people who chose to stay behind for the better good of their species. Still, it is awful to see the homeworld that he remembers from his youth so destroyed and empty like it has just finished a cold season and everything is slowly growing.
In almost 30 earth years, this is all that is left after the Red Sickness. He falls to his knees as he thinks all about the deaths of his people and the future that they have strived for to be destroyed by microscopic monsters.

He bows his head down, not even wanting to look ahead at his land. But his son's cries have him face it. "It's so beautiful! It's so beautiful! I love it! I love it! Our world is so perfect."

Unbelievably, he wants to tell his son to shut up. He wants to tell him to sit down and face the truth. Their world may be greener than District 9, but is it really that much better? It is barely better than District 9; with the ruins of everything in front of them like a grand display. He wants to just march up to his son and strike him there for being so blind and stupid about it all, but parental love and exhaustion hold him back.
Before he can stop it, he starts to cry.
His world that was so beautiful is
this. The waters that overflowed nearly every week are barely full, the foliage that were hiding places for all are gone, and the ground feels more like sand than native soil. He can still smell disease and garbage on the walls. It is not better than District 9. He wishes that his son could've been born before the disease, the dying -everything- so that he could've seen the beauty that he had in days of yore. He rethinks that wish and realizes that it is better that his son not compare what once was to the wreck it is now.

His hand pats against his ragged articles of clothing, feeling around for something that should've been there. He cannot find it and lays out his hand in front of his wet bruised face. He thinks to himself, 'Fuck. I should've brought it with me, I should've kept it safe.'

Whatever the object was, most likely it has been destroyed and wasted away to nothing.

He closes his 3-fingered hand in a way that resembles himself carrying a small thing. But he recalls he still has something of hers left; his son.
'Neo' is the name she gave him when he was born, calling him a gift from the heavens and the stars. But MNU called his son 'Oliver' and him 'Christopher'. She hated both names, saying it was like calling water 'wet stuff'. Their son was a gift -
Neo- and he was, to her, the one who always brought her a feeling of joy that she had forgotten -Kayode.
He suddenly sees her form -her small childlike form- appear, crouching in front of him and a look of determination is etched on her face. Her mouth does not move, but her whistling shrieks like thousands of bugs in his ears. Her dark eyes travel from him to something behind her. He understands that she wants him to get up, stop feeling so sorry, and act like a real man -go to his son and be a father.

Tears stil fall from his face as he staggers up. He keeps his view on the crouching bundle of skin, bones, and rags, but in less than a blink she is gone. He tries to clear his head as he strides to his laughing son. His son spins around in circles, looking up at the sky.
He holds out a hand to his son and immediately he stops, "Yes, father? What is is?"

He attempts to compose himself -act stronger than he feels like- but it is difficult, "Are you hungry, young one?"

His son nods eagerly, almost in a dumb naive nature. He takes in a deep inhale, to clear away his wet eyes and his throat. "Okay, then. Let's go."

They walk in what is left of the world. He notices his small son is still so eager and happy to play that he gives his son a simple task to get some water and kleids while he finds protein.
His little son cocks his head and asks, "What are Kleids?"

He forgets that his son is a second generation born refugee -that he has never been on his planet before. He answers that they are little round creature with 3 spikes on their back and are very bright red. He warns his son that he must be quick with his hands if he wants to catch them, but he assures that they are completely harmless and cannot hurt him if he hurts them. He runs away back.

This father feels confident that his son is safe; the water pond back there is very shallow -it is abundent in Kleids since they have been freely breeding for 30 years- and it is close to the mothership if something comes.
As he continues onward, he wonders if there are any survivors left from the disease. There were 1.8 million of their kind who escaped while they left behind a good 400 000, 80% of those were on the brink of death and the 20% were surely infected. He cannot bear to think that he is all alone on this world. The pressure that all his comrades are back on Earth working as slaves and the other few who worked with him earlier 20 years ago are all dead because of the damned MNU.

He is all by himself.

Everything rest with him. He is the last hope of their people. The rest are stuck on Earth and they are powerless against the humans since they have developed better fire arms and have taken away theirs. It is too much to bear. He hates to think that his son will never know the true nature of their people; how advanced their kind is that they have perfected space travel and cures for nearly every known disease. His son will never know, he will always be stuck in the dark as the rest of them on Earth, never knowing true potential. He dreads the decision that they made to land on such a planet where the inhabitants are so cruel.
But... they had no choice at the time.
So many more of them were dying; the drones, the tristes, the sribs, even survivors of the Whole-Being O. So many deaths and yet their food and water supply was getting lower. They had to stop and get food. One by one, a member of them would go down to Earth to retreive food and the next day, 1 more would go down. But after a few months, they tore at the mothership when it was his turn and they forced each of his people out, carting them around in big tucks. They caught him, luckily he was smart to hide the ship in a ditch before they discovered him.

He recalls every amount of abuse inflicted on him and on others. It is too horrible to let go, but the memories consume him, it is a part of him just as this planet is. He lets out a wild cry that could've shattered glass and falls to his knees.

3 years.

3 years is what he promised to the once human Wikus. To Wikus at the time, it must've sounded so long. But to him, it is a short deadline. He does not believe that by himself, he can find help for his people in 3 years. Truly, it will take about a human decade.
In a way, both men suffer.
One must wait what seems like eons to be cured, the other must work in mere moments to acheive the impossible. He thinks of his son to try and stop himself from crying. He thinks of his son playing with other children his age, working his way up the hierarchy to a position higher than his own, and finding a mate to produce stronger and better offspring. He doubts that such a thing can be so easy.
There had been many secrets in District 9; his son had been one of them.

Then the face of a woman with dark skin and wide brown and green eyes pops into his face. He tries to force it out but it is growing like a fungus, rooting in his brain. He bangs his fist like a child having a tantrum as the face appears to be frowning at him.
He screams at himself, "I'm a bastard! I know that! Why am I being tortured after all these years?!! Why is it you only show yourself to me when I'm like this?!!!"

Something hits the ground in front of him and he concentrates on it. It is a scrawny Barrot. Its long ears drags on the ground and it's spine arches up as it screeches in a chirp at him. Slowly, he rolls up so that his back is straight and his legs comes up in a running start.
The Barrot is a stupid one, is does not know that it is low on the food chain.
With a gurgle and a screech, he leaps at it with alien strength and spears it with his mandrils. The barrot chirps as sharply as Earthen birds from the pain and struggles pointlessly to get away. He takes himself off of it and the thing sprints 1 foot, 2 feet, 3... only to stumble and collapse on its side. Getting up, he walks to it and swings it over his shoulder. The game here is easier than he remembers.

He chooses to not explore and cry over the ruins of what was once great. Walking back to his son, he continues to hear little chirping sounds and clicks, "Is that you? Is that you? Is that you?....."
It goes on over and over again. He concludes that he is already so lonely and his mind is tormenting him for not bringing others with him. The sounds get louder and louder, "Is that you? Is that you? Is that you? Is that you? Is that you? Is that you?...."

He ignores it so desperately. The voices scratch at him, digs its salty fist into his mutilated gut and guilt tears him apart. He comes to see his son playing in the water, just as he predicts, yet a look appears on his son's face that he does not recognize. "Father. Who is your friend?"

He does not know what his son is talking about, he has no idea whatsoever. He turns around to a figure standing tall across from him. The figure cocks his head and ask, "Is that you?"
He immediately drops his catch and charges at who is standing in front of him.

He fights and punches the figure, screaming, "What do you want with me? Who are you? What are you?"
The figure receives the abuse like his kind did from the humans. He does not fight back, but it is better to say that he canot fight back. In the midst, his son squawks out, "Stop it, father! You're hurt!"
Hurt? He has been hurt enough. The only pain he is getting now is feeling his bony fist collide with the jaw of this creature that resembles him so. In a way, he has developed a tolerance to aches and stings, but he can still feel it so clearly.

The bleeding and bruising figure below him answers through choking gasps, "I am Nikie 5-4! Trist 8-3! Trist 8-3! Is that you?"

He stops. The serial number sounds familiar to him. He stops, but holds his hands around the figure's throat. "What are you saying?" he accuses.

"You don't remember me? I am one who served under Pog 1; I worked with you on the research for melding the computer with a brain for the battle suit 1456!"
He remembers not the work, but the male who always bragged about mating conquests and was always eager to work; laughing whenever something exploded. He calls him by a name that he has not said in over 28 years, "Asaedayu?"

The figure smiles in the way his kind smiles, "Vartickes, it is you! You have returned to our world!"

He is more surprised to see that Asaedayu is alive instead of dead, "Why aren't you dead? The Sickness; it overtook everybody!" He helps his friend up and their arms under their ribs emerge out to shake and tickle the palms. He notices that Asaedayu's lower hands look so strong compared to his slow and trembling ones. It is understandable to him since he has not used them for 25 years.
He takes in what his friend his wearing; the customary robe that covered their entire torso, the
sepis that went down the sides of his legs, but left what was between free for movement, and a long thick sno that went to his knees, covering the front and back for modesty and hygine.

As he notices his friend's attire, Asaedayu exclaims, "What is it are you wearing? You looks worse than a begger! What has happened to you?"
He is dejected to, but as soon as he starts to click out a respons, Asaedayu tells him to stop. "Wait, don't tell me what has happened when you left, wait till tonight to tell the others."

"The others?" he questions. His son runs out from the water, holding in his hand a small Kleid and he nuzzles into his father's legs.

He answers, "Yes, there are others left, but not many of us. More than 350 000 died when you left. However, at numbers are up to about 200 000 from off-spring. I myself am already a father to 4th generation hatchlings."

He is shocked to hear that this engineer who is younger than him by about 15 Earth Years is already a father of 4th generatoin while he is only a father to second generation. He feels even older than he already is surprisingly to hearing the news.

Asaedayu notices his son, "Oh, you have a young one with you! Is he yours?"

He nods proudly, looking athis son with such an innocence masking the genius behind.

"Who is the mate that you have chosen to breed with?"

"What do you mean by that?"

He laughs, but this laugh is an unrecognizable sound to hear from his people. The laugh sounds full with a rounded gurgle and sharp happy clicks. He has only heard 1 or 2 clicks from his people on Earth before their laughter died away. "Years ago, many of us were wondering when you would pass on your genes, or even produce off-spring by yourself. I remember you always saying that you would never produce off-spring from yourself because you were busy enough without raising a young one -even under the most desperate times. You would need to find a mate and make sure that she was capable for passing on improved genes and child-caring. But here is a young one -your own- so I can easily assume that you have found a mate and bore children."

He is right. His son, after all, was an accident and he remembers her on that day telling him that she was carrying his child. He had asked her if she was sure and if it really was his. His kind is skilled in birth control without the use of items like condoms as the humans use. It is slim for their kind -Poleepkwa- to unintentionally reproduce. Yet she had verified by the black fluid coming from out of her orifices and the fact that she had always been with him from morning to night. Most of all, he remembers how she had asked if she could have the child.
His friend interrupts his thought by inquiring, "Is it a maternal partner of one we know?"

He shakes his head no, "I don't think you would know this one."

There seems to be a vapid look on his friend's face as his atennas jumps up and down, "Is she a second generation born? I know you never liked the ones close to our age, but I wouldn't imagine that you would go for one beyond our generation. Older maybe -but younger?"

He shakes his head no. "Just as you have asked me to tell you about life from when we left, tonight I will tell you the story of how this young one came to be."

Asaedayu laughs and rubs his head, "Very well. Tonight for dinner -where you and your young one will join us." He pauses as though trying to recall what he is planning to say, "You must've grown very strong when you were gone, you fight like a soldier, not a scientist."

He is shocked to see his people doing so well after 30 years.

There is not a lot of their population left, but it is sufficient. Among them are mostly small young ones than the adults. They are thin as he is, perhaps even thinner, but they look happy. Some still have few deformities from the sickness, some have the spots from it and scars, but they look healthy enough. It is night already and a feast has been laid out to welcome his amd his son back from refuge. He wonders if he should really let them praise him. He has done nothing; they still think of him from past accomplishes that he himself have nearly forgotten.
His son holds onto his leg, following him like a shadow everywhere.

All he meets, greets him with exclamation and curiosity. "How was it? What was it like?" they all ask him.
He simply replies that he will tell them all tonight. He is anxious and he is tired from the first happy meal he has eaten in a long time, he sits down at a lone spot with his son. His son sits next to him, jumping up and down, but still having an air of calm around him. He looks out to the other young ones that play together around the lights.
He wants his shy son to go out to play with them, but his selfishnes for company holds him back from saying so.

In the crowds of his kind, he spots one who is watching him so closely. He is unsure if someone is shoiwing interest in him or simply looking at something else. He brushes the notion that one could be interested in him away. He is sure that he is one of the oldest ones here. But as he looks back, he sees that the figure has disappeared.
A female suddenly appears over his shy son, "The young one is so tiny -must be very young!"

He nudges his son to go forward, "Greet her."

His son shakes his head and hides behind his father, while at the same time looks longingly to the group of children still playing near the lights. He notices this and carries his son over his head to in front of him, "Go on then, play with the others." He does not mind his son leaving him now, at least he has the company of another one close by.
His son jumps and speeds away with careful graceful steps. The female eyes him and he can feel an air of uncertainty from her.

She suddenly declares out to him so that he can only hear in the bustling of it all, "I'm not taken yet and I have no offspring of my own. My genes are from the very best and I'm well sought after."

He nods his head, looking away from her. He wonders where exactly she is going with her small talk.

"I know about you." she informs him.

"Yes, I was well-known on this planet." he tells her. He -along with others- were so excellent in their fields, that they had been able to be printed in some of their culture's history and text books.

"You still are." she tells. Even when all their species look alike with hermaphrodite properties -leaning towards male than female- this one appears more female than the rest. Her thin and delicate fingers, the curve in her posture that was smooth as frozen water, and the eloquency of her words.

"You have taken on a maternal role, right?" he asks to get the facts and questions off of him.
She nods eagerly to his question, but her smile and bright eyes die down as he goes on speaking. "I am first generation refugee. That alone must tell you I left this planet about..... 3 and a half Spotted Moons ago. Tell me, what generation are you?"
It is difficult for him to put time into his species terms for all he remembers are seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, and years. Human and the like is truly engraved in his bones and skin.

She scoffs at him with high coos and clicks, "From that time, I am already 3 generation. Age may have mattered to where you and our kind left off to, but it does not matter here still to deny proper breeding. My mothers were 4 Half Moons apart from each other!"

"I am not looking for a mate." he tells her, not wanting to hurt her for offering herself to him.

She counters him, "Your off-spring is so young, he needs a second parental figure -a maternal one and I am the right choice. Besides, it's better for a child to have a blood companion to learn how to play well with others."

"He is 5 Moons aged! He does not need a parental figure nor some other brat to tell him how to act or what to do!"

She gasps and points out, "He is so small. It is not natural. He is...."

He moves away from the female and adds on, "I know." He can swear that he almost heard the term 'a freak' escape from her mouth and mandibles.

Asaedayu comes back to his side, but in his hands are clothing,
"Vartickes, someone of your standing should not be standing around in rags like a Ninge, Here -wear these!"
He does not take off his rags, he keeps them on because they feel to be a part of him and his son's mother. In an instant, he almost forgets how to put on the clothing of his people, but then he quickly regains the knowledge back. He pats the cloth and hide, absorbing in the scent of everything he remembers.

Asaedayu compliments, "So aged, but still so wanted amongst our kind. You are one of our examples of a specimen worth passing on his genes."

He laughs, "Are you offering yourself to me?"

Asaedayu takes it as half joke, "Vartickes! I have 4th generation off-spring already and I have a mate! Although with you, my off-spring would be better, I am sorry to say that your off-spring would worsen. I cannot let it happen to you that way. Besides, Tedia takes good care of me in the best way a mate can." They laugh and seperate. He has missed speaking to one another this way; in words of joke and policy rather than of drunken speech. On Earth, his kind swore so vulgarly and coarse that he was almost disgusted with himself for mixing up with them. However in turn, he had become one of them. He tries to desperately to compose himself, getting intune with the air of high places an casual settings.

Just as he plans to go off to see his son to observeif he is fitting in, a loud scream rings out. It is not a warning scream or one of danger, it is one of signal. All of his kind suddenly crowds around him and sits down. He feels nervous with the entire crowd around him and he tries to go off into the crowd to join them sitting down, but another official -A Triste- stops him to ask him to tell them about where he and the rest of their kind tok refuge.
He is unsure of what to say. Though he has preached for non-human rights, he had never practiced telling his kind what were the conditions of living.

He begins his story.

He tells of how when they were first traveling, they were starting to experience syptoms that resembled the Red Sickness and feared that they had brought it with them. Most of all, from so much traveling, they were short on fuel. They would have to land and distill more fluid to produce the fluid they needed to keep going. He tells of how each day, one of them would give up half his fluid to be distilled and how it was still not enough. He tells of waiting while some were getting sicker and hungrier. They stayed up in the mothership for half a Dark Moon before the aliens -humans, they were called- cut open their ship and found them in their own waste and sickness.

At first, the humans had cared for them, given them food and medicine and a treat called, 'Cat food'. When they were well enough, the humans would not take them back to their ship and even took away what fuel they were trying to produce, their weapons, their belongings, and whatever else they had to their name. They would not let them leave. The humans left them in a field filled with garbage and not long after that, other humans came to trade small items at unfair exotic prices and killed them for their own needs.

The audience gasps to hear and a few young ones start wailing, though he suspects that they have no idea what is being discussed among the adults.

He tells of how they were treated like slaves with no running water, electricity, plumbing, and rights. He recounts the details of work they forced on them and the privelages they denied. The humans had spoken to them while whipping them with weapons and sticks, yelling in strange tongues. Sin had been a part of their life and order no longer existed amongst them. A Srib that had been on the mothership was reduced to gambling and whores.
He speaks more passionately of how the humans look at them and use them for experiements. In a fury, he tells of how they were finally able to escape Earth in the last 3 days.

They do not understand what he means by days and he explains it is simply a very short time.

He ends his story by telling them more about how horrible it was, yet he was helped by a human who at first was disgusted with him, then became his friend. He also tells the story of how a human being could be changed -completely altered- when touched by their fuel. His gut twists as he remmbers that he has one day less of 3 years before he must return to help his human friend. He grows nervous thinking about it.

After he is done, most are too tired and appalled to hear the more. They are sick of it and they feel that they can only stomach it in the bright time.

While most leave, a few stay behind. He notices that 4 or 5 are his friend and paternal figures while the rest are maternal figures.
He asks them, "Do you still want to hear horrors that happened?"

They nod their heads. One speaks out, "We're curious about your off-spring. Something about him doesn't look normal." He is almost sure that Asaedayu had brought attention upon his son and the female he had rejected was to blame as well.

"What doesn't seem right about him?" To him, his son is the perfect example of an intelligent young kind, but at the same time, he cannot deny that there is something wrong with his son. Most of all, he does not wish for everyone to think of his son so strangely.

"He is too intense. He does not seem like a regular young one. He sounds much too aged!" they complain. He is sure that they must feel inferior that a young one's intelligence is so close to theirs. He can easily think that in a few years, his own son's mental capabilities will rival even his.

He sighs, "Do you want to know the truth about my off-spring?"

They all nod. He breathes in, watching his son laughing and playing with the other young ones -so ignorant to his secret- and informs, "I'll tell you the who story about my off-spring. But you must not be shocked about him or treat him any differently. I'll tell you how it happened in the first place because you'll need to understand it and why. You cannot question until I let you or I will simply be quiet and the truth need not be revealed anymore. Here is something that happened on a distant planet called Earth a long time ago...."

Okay, this is a Christopher/OC fanfic.

I know some things must sound weird in this fanfic. But I checked out some of the movie websites and it says that they're kind are hermaphrodites, but to have them be hermaphrodites sort of ruins the aspect of romance. So I threw in a few rules of their society. Most of them -to continue on with their genes and keep it within themselves- produce eggs and off-spring themselves. But when they want an off-spring to be better than themselves, they find a mate with better genes and/or more wanted attributes. Then of course, there is the reason of love to be wanting a mate.
Since they are hermaphrodites, they choose whether or not they want to be known as an all-being, a paternal figure, or a maternal figure. It is not strange for 2 of the same figures to produce off-spring together.

For names. Just for this chapter or so, I've made up 'real names' for their kind and ranks and times. I put a twist on a lot of stuff, but I will try to keep it close to the movie-verse. When it takes place on Earth, Christopher's name will be Christopher and all the Prawns will have their human names, but on this planet, they'll have their alien names.

If you have any questionns. Don't be afraid to put it in a review and ask.

Please review.