His first instinct is to euthanize the miserable creature when his subordinates bring it to his attention. Scorpius is not and never has been a man given to fits of mercy but in this case, he cannot help but feel compelled.
His own childhood haunts the edge of every moment, sharper when the used cooling rods spin out of his skull. Heat and pain and isolation are basic tenants of his life to be endured. Mutations of birth like himself and the infant discovered in the Scarran breeding laboratory aren't meant to exist.
It isn't a life he wishes on another sentient being. He does have that much compassion. Looking at the mottled ugly infant, he thinks of how fragile its neck is, how all it would take would be one swift sharp twist. The child would be better off. After all, how many times in his life had he wished that someone had done him the kindness? He'd lost count before he reached maturity.
It's no surprise when the Sebeccean mother rejects it. Peacekeeper High Command wanting him to keep the experimental young though - that is a bit of a shock. He's not in position to question anymore, not since his demotion at the end of the war. Nevertheless, the regulations on contamination are highly specific and the abominations recovered violate most of them.
Of course, so long as something valuable comes of it – Scorpius supposes it doesn't much matter. Besides, there is something to be said for having a Scarran experiment in his possession, or at least his techs.
He does not forget the experiments they interrupted so much as he compartmentalizes the entire lot of them. The war is mostly over but but the Scarran Imperium still exists and diligence is required. The scales of power have not yet balanced.
So Scorpius slides thoughts of the hybrid child neatly into that pocket of his mind where he stores childhood memories, thirst for unfulfilled revenge, and the quiet yet inconvenient desire for his second in command. He's practiced at such restraint, his mind organized and neater than ranks under inspection. His Scarran temper requires it.
He's not expecting such a little thing to yield anything of value. A hybrid child in and of itself was of little value, Scorpius knew that from his own experience. But this one, his head tech informs him, this one is special. This one self-regulates it's temperature. No cooling rods necessary. The child, where scorpius had emergied wanting and malformed, had mutated with an immunity to Heat Delirium.
"We should be able to replicate the enzyme production and gland function within six months," Doctor Renin, the chief tech tells him, speaking on an inhale and holdin thin breath.
"See that you do," Scorpius says and the tech relaxes. He turns his back and the tech scurries towards the door. "Well done, Doctor. I imagine that High Command will be pleased with the development."
"But your own status-"
"Is my own and no concern of yours, Doctor. You're dismissed." Renin takes off without another word. Scorpius doesn't bother turning to watch him go.
He's far more concerned with the slow shift of the universe. He feels not unlike the moment when he found the first hint of wormhole knowledge in Crichton's mind. The hybrid child is presenting a unique opportunity. He's not given to hope but Scorpius has never been a man to let opportunity pass by.