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sga_flashficTitle: If You Can't Beat Them
Author: Lemonbella
Rating: R (for a mention of nipple clamps)
Summary: Irredeemable sillyfic "In the ten months since Lorne first set foot in Pegasus, he had typed a request for reassignment seven times."
~~~
For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
indian_skimmer on occasion of emergency dentistry. Thanks to kitkat3979, fan_this and justabi for the betas.
~~~
If Major Lorne were asked to sum up his experience in the Pegasus Galaxy with a single phrase, he'd opt for a resolute this isn’t happening. Of course, no one has ever asked him to do that, they just ask him to shoot and run and rescue and occasionally hide. The problem was, the shooting, running, rescuing and occasional hiding always led to more situations which Major Lorne would prefer to think weren't actually happening.
At the SGC, Lorne had been an incredibly successful officer: respected; consulted; decorated. He'd been promoted to Major at 26, after the particularly spectacular rescue of SG12 and 47 locals on P4S-258. General Hammond's speech had included phrases like 'outstanding bravery', 'beyond the call of duty', and 'owe their lives'.
Colonel Sheppard's speeches, although not delivered in any kind of professional capacity and only in the earshot of Lorne himself, always seemed to include phrases like 'better luck next time', 'we've all been there', and 'I promise not to show the video to anyone'.
At the SGC, Lorne's missions, even missions with unsatisfactory outcomes, always resulted in something which boosted morale and reminded Lorne why he entered the Air Force in the first place: A pat on the back as he walked down the corridor; extra pudding from the lunch ladies; or, at the very least, a comfortable night's sleep in the infirmary.
In Atlantis, Lorne's missions always seemed to end with a feeling of despondency and occasionally in a way that made him want to cry: There'd be humiliating photographs pinned in unsuspecting corridors; confiscation of his pudding by Ronon; or a night in the infirmary with Dr McKay in the adjacent bed.
Things didn’t seem to work the same way in Pegasus, no matter how Lorne approached the situation, so he'd concluded that if none of this was supposed to be happening, as far as he was concerned it wasn't. In fact, he was fairly certain that the entire command structure of Atlantis was based on a similar psychological warfare with reality. Colonel Sheppard had a separate filing cabinet for those missions that hadn't officially taken place. The scientists had a section on their technology reports marked 'Absolutely Impossible', and Dr Weir generally signified one of those situations by closing her eyes, breathing deeply and placing her forehead on the desk.
He should have got the message his first mission out, when he took aim, the exact same way he'd been doing his entire career, and completely failed to hit the wraith dart. It's a mistake everyone made from time to time, especially with an unfamiliar target, so he didn’t think it merited Teyla's scornful, "It is good that the tree will no longer be bothering us, Major." It certainly didn’t deserve Sheppard replacing all the paper targets in the firing range with saplings. Really, it had only gone down hill from there.
It was traumatic enough to have your mind reverted to its six year old state, without a photo of you sucking your thumb being used as a screen saver all over the city.
There was absolutely no defence for Nurse Atkins posting the details of his injuries from M6G-945 on the intranet, no matter how funny they might have been to the casual observer.
Dr Weir was supposed to be a diplomat, and so it had come as something of a surprise when she announced over the city-wide communications that nobody should make any loud noises behind him after the unfortunate screaming-like-a-girl incident on the Planet of the Giant Rabbits.
Lorne knew that every team had a sex related mission. It was to be expected that at some point you would stumble across a civilisation that required a minimum of mutual masturbation to prove your worth as a trading partner. It had been much the same in the Milky Way, except that those cultures tended to stop at heavy petting.
However, Lorne could not help but feel that it had been more than poor luck when he stumbled across the culture which not only required being fellated by an alien priest, but also mandated a leather collar and nipple clamps. More importantly, sometimes Lorne thought Colonel Sheppard took the 'don’t leave a man behind' rule a bit too seriously. Another five minutes, ten at the most, and Lorne would have been fully clothed and the best damn trading partner the Falluvians had ever seen.
Thankfully, that one at least, had been kept quiet. Possibly due to Lorne having stumbled across the thing that Sheppard most definitely wasn't doing to Dr McKay in the supply cupboard off Lab Three.
In the ten months since Lorne first set foot in Pegasus, he had typed a request for reassignment seven times, and had submitted it to Colonel Sheppard four times. On each occasion Sheppard had told him to sleep on it. Every time Lorne had fully intended to submit it the next day, but then some other poor sap had returned through the 'gate with only half his clothes and Lorne had vowed to give it another couple of missions.
After all, at least Atlantis wasn't dull. The Milky Way and its endless Goa'uld had started to get repetitive after a while. Besides, Lorne was absolutely certain that if Colonel Sheppard had to forward his reassignment request to the SGC, he'd have no qualms about attaching the photographs of Lorne's team and the goats of M7X-647.
So Lorne deals with it the only way he can. He makes sure he has contacts on every away team, he reads between the lines of every mission report and he routinely volunteers for the 1am patrol so he can keep an eye on the supply cupboard in Lab Three. Because, if you can't beat them, your only option is to find an equal amount of humiliating material to use against them.
~~~
Author: Lemonbella
Rating: R (for a mention of nipple clamps)
Summary: Irredeemable sillyfic "In the ten months since Lorne first set foot in Pegasus, he had typed a request for reassignment seven times."
~~~
For
indian_skimmer on occasion of emergency dentistry. Thanks to kitkat3979, fan_this and justabi for the betas. ~~~
If Major Lorne were asked to sum up his experience in the Pegasus Galaxy with a single phrase, he'd opt for a resolute this isn’t happening. Of course, no one has ever asked him to do that, they just ask him to shoot and run and rescue and occasionally hide. The problem was, the shooting, running, rescuing and occasional hiding always led to more situations which Major Lorne would prefer to think weren't actually happening.
At the SGC, Lorne had been an incredibly successful officer: respected; consulted; decorated. He'd been promoted to Major at 26, after the particularly spectacular rescue of SG12 and 47 locals on P4S-258. General Hammond's speech had included phrases like 'outstanding bravery', 'beyond the call of duty', and 'owe their lives'.
Colonel Sheppard's speeches, although not delivered in any kind of professional capacity and only in the earshot of Lorne himself, always seemed to include phrases like 'better luck next time', 'we've all been there', and 'I promise not to show the video to anyone'.
At the SGC, Lorne's missions, even missions with unsatisfactory outcomes, always resulted in something which boosted morale and reminded Lorne why he entered the Air Force in the first place: A pat on the back as he walked down the corridor; extra pudding from the lunch ladies; or, at the very least, a comfortable night's sleep in the infirmary.
In Atlantis, Lorne's missions always seemed to end with a feeling of despondency and occasionally in a way that made him want to cry: There'd be humiliating photographs pinned in unsuspecting corridors; confiscation of his pudding by Ronon; or a night in the infirmary with Dr McKay in the adjacent bed.
Things didn’t seem to work the same way in Pegasus, no matter how Lorne approached the situation, so he'd concluded that if none of this was supposed to be happening, as far as he was concerned it wasn't. In fact, he was fairly certain that the entire command structure of Atlantis was based on a similar psychological warfare with reality. Colonel Sheppard had a separate filing cabinet for those missions that hadn't officially taken place. The scientists had a section on their technology reports marked 'Absolutely Impossible', and Dr Weir generally signified one of those situations by closing her eyes, breathing deeply and placing her forehead on the desk.
He should have got the message his first mission out, when he took aim, the exact same way he'd been doing his entire career, and completely failed to hit the wraith dart. It's a mistake everyone made from time to time, especially with an unfamiliar target, so he didn’t think it merited Teyla's scornful, "It is good that the tree will no longer be bothering us, Major." It certainly didn’t deserve Sheppard replacing all the paper targets in the firing range with saplings. Really, it had only gone down hill from there.
It was traumatic enough to have your mind reverted to its six year old state, without a photo of you sucking your thumb being used as a screen saver all over the city.
There was absolutely no defence for Nurse Atkins posting the details of his injuries from M6G-945 on the intranet, no matter how funny they might have been to the casual observer.
Dr Weir was supposed to be a diplomat, and so it had come as something of a surprise when she announced over the city-wide communications that nobody should make any loud noises behind him after the unfortunate screaming-like-a-girl incident on the Planet of the Giant Rabbits.
Lorne knew that every team had a sex related mission. It was to be expected that at some point you would stumble across a civilisation that required a minimum of mutual masturbation to prove your worth as a trading partner. It had been much the same in the Milky Way, except that those cultures tended to stop at heavy petting.
However, Lorne could not help but feel that it had been more than poor luck when he stumbled across the culture which not only required being fellated by an alien priest, but also mandated a leather collar and nipple clamps. More importantly, sometimes Lorne thought Colonel Sheppard took the 'don’t leave a man behind' rule a bit too seriously. Another five minutes, ten at the most, and Lorne would have been fully clothed and the best damn trading partner the Falluvians had ever seen.
Thankfully, that one at least, had been kept quiet. Possibly due to Lorne having stumbled across the thing that Sheppard most definitely wasn't doing to Dr McKay in the supply cupboard off Lab Three.
In the ten months since Lorne first set foot in Pegasus, he had typed a request for reassignment seven times, and had submitted it to Colonel Sheppard four times. On each occasion Sheppard had told him to sleep on it. Every time Lorne had fully intended to submit it the next day, but then some other poor sap had returned through the 'gate with only half his clothes and Lorne had vowed to give it another couple of missions.
After all, at least Atlantis wasn't dull. The Milky Way and its endless Goa'uld had started to get repetitive after a while. Besides, Lorne was absolutely certain that if Colonel Sheppard had to forward his reassignment request to the SGC, he'd have no qualms about attaching the photographs of Lorne's team and the goats of M7X-647.
So Lorne deals with it the only way he can. He makes sure he has contacts on every away team, he reads between the lines of every mission report and he routinely volunteers for the 1am patrol so he can keep an eye on the supply cupboard in Lab Three. Because, if you can't beat them, your only option is to find an equal amount of humiliating material to use against them.
~~~
(no subject)
Date: 2006-04-18 03:59 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-04-18 07:02 pm (UTC)