Major Lorne had the situation totally all under control. No casualties, just a lot of long faces and a hundred or so people who would probably be giving Colonel Sheppard as well as Lorne and his team a wide berth for the next day or two. The Colonel had looked pretty pissed off when he’d dashed into the gate room. He was obviously running on adrenaline and not enough sleep, but he was clear enough to give Lorne the once-over, proclaim him fit for further duty, and gave him the short but incredible story of how one obnoxious whacko had taken over the whole city in just a few hours.
While Sheppard hadn’t given him every excruciatingly painful detail, it hadn’t taken Lorne very long to figure out what had happened to each individual. People talked, amongst themselves, seeking absolution of some kind from someone else who had shared their horrible experience. Dr. Weir seemed to be holding it together pretty well, although she’d spent a lot of time talking with her top people – Beckett, McKay, Teyla and Ronon – as those in the control room and top echelon of Atlantis were affected the worst. They all seemed to be in some kind of mutual ‘it wasn’t your fault’ club but we have to get back to business. It was like a bizarre twelve step meeting but he just stood quietly in the meeting and ran down security protocols.
Lorne was glad his team had had an easy mission to PL5 6S2. It had been a cakewalk, a very boring mission that hadn’t yielded anything but no Wraith, no disasters, so he and his team had actually come back refreshed. That gave him the energy to ensure that the entire city’s complement was no longer under that Lucius’ guy’s influence. All of the military personnel were clean and they did a one-on-one headcount, dragging anybody hidden away in labs off to the infirmary for a date with a needle.
He’d finished filing a report, or rather, kept adding to the ongoing report on the “herb incident,” as some folks were calling it. The SGC would call it a disaster that nearly happened: Lorne hadn’t missed the dark expression on Sheppard’s face when he’d mentioned Beckett leading a team on an impromptu visit to a Wraith-occupied world. They were just so damned lucky….
For a single second, Lorne thought about calling Sheppard when he spotted Weir striding purposely down the corridor, some weird object in hand. He couldn’t help but be curious and he did have to report to her, so he quietly followed. She went out on one of the many high balconies adorning Atlantis’ massive tower. He stood back in the corridor, but watched silently as Weir held the strange object – some ugly black bulbous thing with a candle stuck in the top of it. She glared at it, and if looks could kill, that thing would be a pile of ashes. She suddenly emitted a deep growl of frustration and viciously lobbed the thing over the precipice. Okay, that was different.
Weir turned, embarrassment momentarily flushing her features when she realized she’d been seen.
“Major, is there something you need?” she coughed, but quickly resumed a more dignified pose.
“Just wanted to report back that all Atlantis personnel are on the mend.” Lorne frowned, looking past her shoulder, still wondering what he’d just witnessed
“Thank you, major.” Weir looked a tad bit uncomfortable at his focus. She glanced back at the open sky beyond. “It was just--,” she began.
“If you don’t mind my honest opinion, ma’am,” interrupted Lorne. “I would have tossed it overboard too. Looked pretty ugly.”
“Yes, definitely,” she concurred.
Lorne got the distinct feeling that the ugly thing had something to do with the character they had locked up in the Wraith holding cell.
Weir quickly regained her calmer, diplomatic composure. Whatever that thing was, deep-sixing it over the side seemed to have been therapeutic. She walked past him, that normal self-assured expression set firmly on her face. “And it definitely clashed with the décor,” she added with a smirk.
Lorne just nodded in agreement. Of course.
TO BE CONTINUED…