Chapter Text

Maneater

Part 1

Scorpius woke abruptly in his quarters. The room was dark except for the viewport into open space and the dimmed lights of interactive panels. As it should be; peaceful, restful, the expansive hushed quiet of a spaceship in its night shift. Scorpius had felt anything but ‘at peace’ for going on seventy-seven solar days. He’d been counting. It was disrupting his sleep cycle. It was disrupting his focus.

He uncoiled himself from his bed to move towards his desk. His mostly bare skin was white but every dench or so had a black dermal, barely the size of a stud. He had recently gotten this upgrade. Previously he relied on a temperature suit to deal with his hybrid physiology issues. Even in the dark, alone, he felt this new sensation of being exposed. He was beginning to suspect that he would always feel this way.

At his desk, he opened a new log. 

…Once again, I am unable to sleep.

He stared at the line for a moment. He thought about the numerous logs he’d written recently that started this way.

...It is because of her.

He deleted both sentences. Perhaps if he wrote out their entire history, he would be able to gain clarity on what was keeping him awake. He was a scientist after all. This was emotional territory but he had to deconstruct it.

...The record of Natalia Nikolayev is listed as Beth Goldberg on the human colony vessel Safe Journey. According to record, she is a six-foot-four-inch tall, human female with brown hair and brown eyes. She weighs one hundred and thirty-two pounds (log note: this is out of date). Her birthdate is on July 2nd in the Earthen year, 1992 AD. She is an organ donor. Beyond this record, she has a horizontal scar on her lower stomach and a gold canine tooth.

He stared at this for several microts. It relieved nothing.

...I miss her.

He hissed in disgust before deleting that and trying again.

...For some time, we lived together. I expected treachery and I received it. She told me very little about her past and explained nothing about her false name or her history while on Earth.

Scorpius was able to stomach this sentiment better. He searched his desk for a small box. Inside he removed a small diode and placed it on his temple. Ten legs snapped out and embedded sharply into his skin. With the short-capture attached, he’d be able to upload memory clips to his log.

...I will start from the beginning. 

The short-capture clicked. 

Three cycles ago, in this memory, Scorpius was back in his black thermal suit. It covered everything except a pair of cold eyes, a sharp nose, dark-lined lips, and jutting chin.

Scorpius had recently attracted the attention of several uncharted territory politicians. The group was trying to construct a unified governing body. Scorpius was skeptical. It was complex work if he could avoid all the initial glad-handing. On this night, he wasn’t so fortunate. 

He was sitting in the VIP area on some official meet-and-greet. The location was a gambling bar where the waitresses wore next to nothing while delivering chill bottles to their section. For some reason, their political hosts had the bright idea that their guests needed to unwind. Scorpius never unwound, but he had to give the impression he would try. 

He didn’t gamble. He barely drank. However, everyone else was. Already they were howling happily at a boxing match. No matter how loud the din was, Scorpius could hear the bones crunch in each punch. It was an efficiently cruel sport, and it put a small satisfied smile on his face. It was a good reminder that every galactic species, no matter how sophisticated they were, were ultimately all twisted animals. The loser of that match was taken off on a stretcher. The crowd went wild.

The next contenders entered the ring, a luxan and a sebacean, both female. Scorpius was only mildly interested until his aide mentioned the sebacean was actually human. He was aware that John Crichton’s visits to Earth over the last twenty cycles had brought human colonizers, but they were in small numbers, barely more than a few hundred in the last decate.

The luxan seemed to hold the upper hand in the fight.  She was continuously landing hits, while the human's offence was next to none. After several rounds, Scorpius got the sense that the human was teasing the luxan, and the luxan’s energy was draining. The crowd was shouting for the luxan to finish her when the human suddenly caught a sloppy jab from the left, twisted the arm, and dislocated the luxan’s shoulder. In the disorientation that followed, the human knocked her out with a series of quick punches.

A hush fell on the crowd, while the referee counted. When at last he lifted the human’s arm to confirm her victory, the bar exploded in shouts and applause while she trotted off the stage.

The fights continued. The night was dragging for Scorpius until a collection of winners were shepherded into their VIP section. The human was among them, wearing a blue tracksuit with white stripes up the arms and legs. They received a series of congratulations and were offered drinks for their success. The human hung off to the side to light a cigarette. She had a shaved head and an oval face with small scars. Despite having just pummeled someone unconscious, she held the cigarette delicately in her cloth-wrapped hands.

Scorpius tried to resist the pull. Decates ago, he merged with a wayward clone, named Harvey, that had absorbed nearly all of John Crichton’s memories. Due to their merging, Scorpius had picked up an addiction to cigarettes, among other things. His curiosity and the smell of tobacco eventually won. He moved from his own dark corner to her’s.

“There aren’t very many humans in the uncharted. What brought you here?” Scorpius opened.

She had very black eyes even in the darkness of the VIP section. They focused on him. She took a drag of her cigarette and blew the smoke in his face. He let it billow around him, unphased. He could tell she was considering her answer very carefully.

“My planet is small. Small-minded. The galaxy is not small. I was ready for a change.”

“But there is no human colony anywhere near here either.”

“Maybe I wanted to be alone? Same people, same problems. No people, no problems.”

“I’m a person. We are all people here. We have many problems.” Scorpius reminded her archly.

She flashed a smile then. Her gold tooth glinted.“You are an alien. I will gladly accept alien problems. New. Fresh. What are your problems? These politicians here?” She gestured to the conversing aliens in front of her.

“I work with them.” Scorpius firmly stated. He wasn’t about to talk about work with this woman. He wanted her cigarette. He wanted her to keep blowing smoke in his face. But her conversation wasn’t bad either. She wasn’t a thing like Crichton.

“Ah ah, but you are not one of them. I can tell.”

This amused Scorpius. “Hmm, no. I’m not one of them.”

“No, I didn’t think so.” She narrowed her eyes at him, scoured his face with her dark heavy-lidded eyes. “What species are you? I don’t recognize them all yet.”

“Some might consider that question invasive,” Scorpius said blandly.

“No one I’ve run into yet.” Her eyes stayed focused. “Did I offend you?”

“I am a scarran-sebacean hybrid.” Scorpius wasn’t offended. It was simply a warning. He had grown used to his heritage being a topic of conversation.

His statement didn’t phase her at all. Her smile spread. “I know sebacean. He’s a sebacean and he’s a sebacean.” She pointed out individuals in the room. “But a scarran? Oh yes, I’ve seen one, a heavyweight. He had a very bad temper. He had a very large head that you don’t have. You are lucky.” She blew the smoke up this time.

Lucky was a strange word choice, but she was a... foreigner . He preferred to stay away from himself as a topic. “Where are you from on Earth?”

“You know humans come from Earth?” Her eyebrows shot up. Apparently the name of her home planet wasn’t well known. “I get so many, ‘ so where is humanland’ , even I forget where I am from sometimes.”

“I know of Earth. I came very close to seeing it once, but what country are you from? What language are you speaking?”

She considered him again. This time painstakingly scrupulous. At length she divulged. “I’m speaking Russian. I’m from Siberia. Do you know of Siberia?”

Scorpius did not know of Siberia. “What is Siberia like?”

“Cold! Giant! Isolated! I didn’t know I was already a child of space until I got out here. Even space is warmer than Siberia.”

“I doubt that is true.”

She laughed, a breathy, tingly sound. 

“Oh really? The next time you go to Siberia in the winter we can compare notes.” She smiled smugly at him. “My name is Natalia. Only Natalia.” 

She offered her hand.

Scorpius told her his name, and they shook hands. At least Earth introductions were the same from America to Siberia.

She stubbed the dwindling cigarette out on the wall behind her and drew out a crumpled pack. Scorpius attempted to not appear interested. Her eyebrow twitched as she smiled again. 

“Oh? You know what these are, don’t you? Would you like one?” Natalia whispered closely.

Scorpius’s expression didn’t change.

“How about a trade? I give you one and you tell me how you know so much about humans, hmm?”

Scorpius didn’t see a downside to this trade. He wanted the cigarette, and most of the information he would divulge was common knowledge. He plucked one out of the pack. She did the same and then drew out a matchbox. She pressed a match into his breastplate and dragged it down quickly. It sprung alight.

“Please, your sigareta.” As he brought the cigarette’s tip into the match, he became aware of her proximity. She was a few denches taller than him. He felt pleasantly crowded. She then lit her own and blew the burnt stick out. “Now it’s your turn.”

Scorpius savored the cigarette. He shut his eyes heavily on an inhale. If only they were available for sale in the commercial districts, he would become a true addict. Perhaps with Earth turning into an outpost on a galactic trading route, that day was approaching. 

When he blew out, he offered Natalia her information. “John Crichton. I know about Earth because of John Crichton.”

She sneered. This wasn’t the normal reaction.

“You know of him?” He couldn’t hide his amusement at her response. 

“Goody-two-shoes American man thinks he can give Earth the universe. Americans are all the same. Arrogant, petulant, know-it-alls that don’t know that life for most is made of hardships. But yes, I know of John Crichton. If I met him, I’d shake his hand. If only to make his knucklebones grind a little. I am endlessly thankful.” She said sarcastically.

“Have you met him?”

“No, but everyone on Earth has heard of him. I wouldn’t be out here if he didn’t come back and show us all the wonders he had seen . He changed the world.”

“Some would say he changed the galaxy,” The black hole, swirling millions to their atomic-level deaths, came to Scorpius’s mind. 

She frowned and sucked morosely on her cigarette. “Russia and America have never seen eye-to-eye. It is a bore to you I am sure. I wish someone else had been the first to space, but that is old history talking.”

“Sputnik?” That was a name from his clone’s memories.

She smiled at him again broadly. It made her cheeks rounder. “Yes, sputnik. You know John Crichton well?”

This time he felt her smile in his cooling suit. It was invasive but familiar. He rather liked Natalia. “I know him intimately.”

“Oh ho!” Natalia’s smile split her face ear-to-ear. Perhaps she was more like John Crichton than he originally perceived. Scorpius was reminded that humans adored constant expression. “I must know more.”

Scorpius had regaled few with his viewpoint on John Crichton. Mostly because few people asked him for its entirety. So much was readily available from other sources, and Scorpius figured that his intimidation played a factor in what people asked. 

Natalia was so new to the galaxy, everyone she met must’ve appeared extraordinary. To her, they were all interesting aliens. His notoriety meant nothing. She was very much like Crichton in this way and likely didn’t have the same rough entry that he did. Her wide-eyed enthusiasm for the uncharted territory was refreshing. She had no concept of its history yet, recent or otherwise.

They talked for some time. 

An item began beeping in her pocket abruptly. She drew out a communicator, flashing madly. “Shit. Unfortunately, I need to go.”

“Oh?” This was a slipped exclamation. 

“Yes, I’m sorry but it’s true. My daughter is very strict about my curfew.” 

Scorpius blinked, mildly stunned. A female boxer from Earth was out on her own with a child. It went against every understanding he had of the purpose of colonies. He was intrigued but the conversation was over.

“It was pleasant speaking with you Natalia,” he concluded. He admitted to himself he was loath to return to the surrounding politicians after her departure.

“Likewise,” but she went on, “It’s funny, and I’m sure you’re not aware, but on my planet, if someone was dressed like you, people would make assumptions.”

“What kind of assumptions?” The cigarette had burnt out long ago, but it still zinged his senses. He would entertain that statement. He had a flash of himself in an Australian bar wearing a hawaiian shirt. What would she think of him if he were dressed for an Earth beach?

“That you’re a sexual deviant.” Her lips curled.

Scorpius glanced at her abruptly. She was flirting with him; that was a surprise. He thought for a moment, and responded, “Instincts are rarely wrong.”

“Oh. Hmm.” She pulled out a writing implement and wrote out some symbols on the back of a receipt. She offered it to Scorpius. 

Curious, he reached out to take it, but she pulled it back. 

“Nuh-uh-uh. Back home, if you really want someone to call, you give them a kiss. But this is unknown territory, and I don’t know what that would mean to you.”

Her charm was practically palatable. Scorpius could feel it in his marrow, right next to his suspicion. Still, it was a harmless proposal. “I don’t often kiss, but if you’re offering, you can lick me. Right here.” And he tapped the hollow of his cheek.

Natalia smiled so widely her nose scrunched, but it slid from her face as she softened her focus. Scorpius felt her breath before the pliant, wet drag of her tongue. At the top of his cheekbone, she nipped him. 

“Was that good?” She hovered closely.

“Oh yes. Perfect.” He purred.

She pulled back and re-offered her contact information. “You’re warmer than I expected.”

Scorpius took the offered number without any resistance this time. “I am beyond expectation. I can assure you.”

“Then I don’t expect you to call.” She smiled again, threw her bag over her shoulder, and left. 

With her gone, he remeshed with the politicians, but the thought of her lingered like smoke. He fiddled with the strip of paper in his hand and did for a moment consider disposing of it. However, there might yet be some advantage in getting to know her better.