Scorpius Ficathon Entry
Title: Theban Play
Author: Selena
Disclaimer: All owned by people other than me.
Spoiler: For the series. A very obscure one for PKW.
Written for: astrogirl, who wanted Scorpius/Natira and Scorpius/Sikozu. How Staleek and Harvey managed to show up as well is beyond me. Though it's probably all Joss Whedon's fault, as I'm currently preoccupied with certain family dynamics in his universes, which spilled over.
Thanks to: kathyh, for beta-reading.
„Well now, Blue Eyes,“
Natira said. “I can’t be the first woman to touch you, hm?”
“Now if I could only be sure you don’t want to be the last,”
he replied. Two days aquaintance with Natira had already taught him irony was a weapon she was less well equipped to handle than those intriguing tentacles on her skull that seemed to have a life on their own but always did what she wanted, or her long, dexterous fingers. Of course she was right, at least in the sense she had meant it. The Sebaceans he had met so far were disinclined to recreate with what they could only see as an abomination, and what he intended to do to the Scarrans if and when he returned to Scarran space did not include plans for intimate physical contact, either.
Natira took him literally, as he had known she would.
“That depends,” she said. “If you bore me, I’ll have at least your eyes. I love your eyes. But you haven’t bored me yet.”
He was fascinated by her, and careful not to show this too openly. For starters, she was beautiful, all fierceness and pulsating energy signatures, for she seemed to be addicted to lies. Her species had a strong exoskeleton like the Scarrans, but there were enough differences to make Natira appear smooth and precise like a knife where Tauza, the Scarran who raised him, had been a blunt whip. He had no intention of discarding his own artificial body armor, not in a room with the wrong temperature and not with Natira as an incalculable factor; she was strong enough to exert pressure through every layer, and with very different results than those he was used to.
Her sharp teeth glinted when she took one of his fingers in her mouth. The shudder that ran through him came before he could control it. The last time a woman had touched his hand, it had been to step on it while he reached for water. To cover it up, he used his other hand to caress her hissing, writhing hair, but the amusement in her eyes showed she had noticed his reaction.
“Not the first then. She must have been a good teacher though,”
she murmured.
That was when he knew he would kill her one day, too.
***
“I can’t be the first one to tell you this,”
Sikozu said, and the tone of her voice was odd, because it was indeed unfamiliar.
“You’re wasting your time with Crichton. No information is worth all this effort.”
Given that Sikozu herself was addicted to gathering knowledge, this statement was somewhat surprising, to put it mildly. Of course, she was also young enough to believe she knew most of what was important anyway. Looking for an ally, Scorpius had been careful to foster both her eager admiration for, and curiosity about himself , together with her self esteem and sense of superiority, but as time passed he found himself looking forward to her company for other reasons, too. He had spent enough time among Sebaceans by now to adopt some of their aesthetics, and judged by them, Sikozu was pretty. So was her voice, and her gift for languages meant she always managed to wrap her ideas in more than one layer of words. Listening to her could never get dull.
“John Crichton will always be a priority,”
he said mildly, trying to understand what was new about her tone,
“I have told you this before.”
She bit her lower lip. This wasn’t the display of resentment he had occasionally observed on Braca when the human became a topic of conversation.
“Yes,” she said. “But prioritizing him to this extent is not good for you.”
Looking at her with her soft skin and infinitely breakable physique, her changeable eyes focused on him while she presented a new cooling rod, her ostensible reason for visiting him in his cell, he was handed a clue to deciphering her meaning. The Sebacean colonist Reilani had left nothing but a personal file and the memory of her rape to him, but in the file her picture had worn that same expression. These days, it also made an appearance on Officer Sun’s face whenever she looked at John Crichton, but it was utterly alien in connection to himself.
Apparenty, Sikozu was concerned for him. For something more abstract than his and her immediate survival on Moya.
“Actually,”
Scorpius replied, and didn’t move while her skillful fingers exchanged his cooling rod,
“you are the first.”
That was when he knew he would one day lose her to the Scarrans, too.
***
“What baffles me,” Staleek declared, for Staleek was above saying, murmuring or whispering things, “is how the Peacekeepers can assume that anyone with Scarran blood could ever be content with crumbs from their table.”
“It will be their downfall,”
Scorpius agreed. It had taken him a lot of time to progress to the stage where he was allowed in the presence of the Emperor. Now that he was here, it was hard not to give into temptation and use the opportunity to assassinate Staleek. Never mind that the Emperor, no fool, had taken precautions and ensured Scorpius was unarmed; there should be a way.
But killing Staleek, satisfying as it would be, would solve nothing. There were no end of potential successors eagerly awaiting their chance, and they would continue the policy of complete conquest. Scorpius was first and foremost a creature of reason, and his mind told him that there were far more effective means to deal with Staleek and the Scarrans. If they had taught him anything, it was patience.
“Well,” Staleek stated, “I can’t be the first to see your usefulness. But let me assure you that if you ever betray me, I will be the last.”
“Naturally,” Scorpius said, and concluded that it wouldn’t be enough to see the Scarrans defeated by wormhole weapons. He would see them reduced to starving beggars first, and wasn’t it good to have found out they depend on something as simple as a flower to maintain their intelligence? Scorpius knew all about dependence, and begging for relief. He had been taught well.
The Scarran who raped Reilani has died a long time ago and remains forever out of reach. But who is the Emperor, if not the father of his people?
****
“This is all terribly familiar,”
said the clone who looked like him but sounded mostly like John Crichton these days. The first time they communicated, it had been a virtual copy, designed to upload information, and Scorpius had simply asked whether that information was ready to be delivered. Now, however, the clone had definitely become sentient and its own creature.
“Of course it is,”
Scorpius said, silently, in that space in his mind he used to communicate with the clone now that he had managed to get a direct link again.
“Well, given that you are my father and one could argue John is my mother, what did you expect, with you two as examples?”
the clone asked sullenly. After all, he had just failed to get Crichton to kill Scorpius and instead gone through the mockery of his own execution.
“I know I am the first to point this out to you,”
Scorpius said.
“After all, I had not planned on ever having offspring, and it’s too logical a thought for John. But a pattern can be broken. Parameters can be changed. At least with him. Let us be allies again, and share.”
The clone brightened up and started to whistle something which, as he informed Scorpius, was a human tune named “My heart belongs to Daddy”. Despite himself, Scorpius was amused and touched by sadness.
After all, this was when he knew the clone would, sooner rather than later, fulfill his purpose and die, too.)
Author: Selena
Disclaimer: All owned by people other than me.
Spoiler: For the series. A very obscure one for PKW.
Written for: astrogirl, who wanted Scorpius/Natira and Scorpius/Sikozu. How Staleek and Harvey managed to show up as well is beyond me. Though it's probably all Joss Whedon's fault, as I'm currently preoccupied with certain family dynamics in his universes, which spilled over.
Thanks to: kathyh, for beta-reading.
„Well now, Blue Eyes,“
Natira said. “I can’t be the first woman to touch you, hm?”
“Now if I could only be sure you don’t want to be the last,”
he replied. Two days aquaintance with Natira had already taught him irony was a weapon she was less well equipped to handle than those intriguing tentacles on her skull that seemed to have a life on their own but always did what she wanted, or her long, dexterous fingers. Of course she was right, at least in the sense she had meant it. The Sebaceans he had met so far were disinclined to recreate with what they could only see as an abomination, and what he intended to do to the Scarrans if and when he returned to Scarran space did not include plans for intimate physical contact, either.
Natira took him literally, as he had known she would.
“That depends,” she said. “If you bore me, I’ll have at least your eyes. I love your eyes. But you haven’t bored me yet.”
He was fascinated by her, and careful not to show this too openly. For starters, she was beautiful, all fierceness and pulsating energy signatures, for she seemed to be addicted to lies. Her species had a strong exoskeleton like the Scarrans, but there were enough differences to make Natira appear smooth and precise like a knife where Tauza, the Scarran who raised him, had been a blunt whip. He had no intention of discarding his own artificial body armor, not in a room with the wrong temperature and not with Natira as an incalculable factor; she was strong enough to exert pressure through every layer, and with very different results than those he was used to.
Her sharp teeth glinted when she took one of his fingers in her mouth. The shudder that ran through him came before he could control it. The last time a woman had touched his hand, it had been to step on it while he reached for water. To cover it up, he used his other hand to caress her hissing, writhing hair, but the amusement in her eyes showed she had noticed his reaction.
“Not the first then. She must have been a good teacher though,”
she murmured.
That was when he knew he would kill her one day, too.
***
“I can’t be the first one to tell you this,”
Sikozu said, and the tone of her voice was odd, because it was indeed unfamiliar.
“You’re wasting your time with Crichton. No information is worth all this effort.”
Given that Sikozu herself was addicted to gathering knowledge, this statement was somewhat surprising, to put it mildly. Of course, she was also young enough to believe she knew most of what was important anyway. Looking for an ally, Scorpius had been careful to foster both her eager admiration for, and curiosity about himself , together with her self esteem and sense of superiority, but as time passed he found himself looking forward to her company for other reasons, too. He had spent enough time among Sebaceans by now to adopt some of their aesthetics, and judged by them, Sikozu was pretty. So was her voice, and her gift for languages meant she always managed to wrap her ideas in more than one layer of words. Listening to her could never get dull.
“John Crichton will always be a priority,”
he said mildly, trying to understand what was new about her tone,
“I have told you this before.”
She bit her lower lip. This wasn’t the display of resentment he had occasionally observed on Braca when the human became a topic of conversation.
“Yes,” she said. “But prioritizing him to this extent is not good for you.”
Looking at her with her soft skin and infinitely breakable physique, her changeable eyes focused on him while she presented a new cooling rod, her ostensible reason for visiting him in his cell, he was handed a clue to deciphering her meaning. The Sebacean colonist Reilani had left nothing but a personal file and the memory of her rape to him, but in the file her picture had worn that same expression. These days, it also made an appearance on Officer Sun’s face whenever she looked at John Crichton, but it was utterly alien in connection to himself.
Apparenty, Sikozu was concerned for him. For something more abstract than his and her immediate survival on Moya.
“Actually,”
Scorpius replied, and didn’t move while her skillful fingers exchanged his cooling rod,
“you are the first.”
That was when he knew he would one day lose her to the Scarrans, too.
***
“What baffles me,” Staleek declared, for Staleek was above saying, murmuring or whispering things, “is how the Peacekeepers can assume that anyone with Scarran blood could ever be content with crumbs from their table.”
“It will be their downfall,”
Scorpius agreed. It had taken him a lot of time to progress to the stage where he was allowed in the presence of the Emperor. Now that he was here, it was hard not to give into temptation and use the opportunity to assassinate Staleek. Never mind that the Emperor, no fool, had taken precautions and ensured Scorpius was unarmed; there should be a way.
But killing Staleek, satisfying as it would be, would solve nothing. There were no end of potential successors eagerly awaiting their chance, and they would continue the policy of complete conquest. Scorpius was first and foremost a creature of reason, and his mind told him that there were far more effective means to deal with Staleek and the Scarrans. If they had taught him anything, it was patience.
“Well,” Staleek stated, “I can’t be the first to see your usefulness. But let me assure you that if you ever betray me, I will be the last.”
“Naturally,” Scorpius said, and concluded that it wouldn’t be enough to see the Scarrans defeated by wormhole weapons. He would see them reduced to starving beggars first, and wasn’t it good to have found out they depend on something as simple as a flower to maintain their intelligence? Scorpius knew all about dependence, and begging for relief. He had been taught well.
The Scarran who raped Reilani has died a long time ago and remains forever out of reach. But who is the Emperor, if not the father of his people?
****
“This is all terribly familiar,”
said the clone who looked like him but sounded mostly like John Crichton these days. The first time they communicated, it had been a virtual copy, designed to upload information, and Scorpius had simply asked whether that information was ready to be delivered. Now, however, the clone had definitely become sentient and its own creature.
“Of course it is,”
Scorpius said, silently, in that space in his mind he used to communicate with the clone now that he had managed to get a direct link again.
“Well, given that you are my father and one could argue John is my mother, what did you expect, with you two as examples?”
the clone asked sullenly. After all, he had just failed to get Crichton to kill Scorpius and instead gone through the mockery of his own execution.
“I know I am the first to point this out to you,”
Scorpius said.
“After all, I had not planned on ever having offspring, and it’s too logical a thought for John. But a pattern can be broken. Parameters can be changed. At least with him. Let us be allies again, and share.”
The clone brightened up and started to whistle something which, as he informed Scorpius, was a human tune named “My heart belongs to Daddy”. Despite himself, Scorpius was amused and touched by sadness.
After all, this was when he knew the clone would, sooner rather than later, fulfill his purpose and die, too.)