No. 43

Prompt:Stargate Atlantis, Evan Lorne, When the robot invaders come Lorne is the only one who can turn them away. Without even breaking a sweat. (Do robots sweat?)
http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/712513.html?thread=94136897#t94136897

"Of course we didn't detect any life signs!" Rodney snapped. "Because they're not alive! They're robots!"

"Where they hell did they all come from?" John struggled with his bonds. If he could just twist far enough, he could get to the knife in his boot and maybe cut them free.

The city was on fire. People were running and screaming. The heavy ozone scent of stunner blasts filled the air.

"How should I know? Some kind of demented robot factory, obviously. They're not replicators." Rodney was struggling too, but the wrong way, and it wasn't helping.

And then a voice came over the radio. "I've got this, sir."

John paused, lifted his head. "Major Lorne? I ordered you to lead the evac to the Alpha Site."

"I got as many people through the gate as I could," Lorne said. "Let me handle the robots."

"By yourself?" Rodney cried. "Do you have a death wish?"

"No," Lorne said, and then John saw, down in the gate room, Lorne was surrounded by robots backing him toward the deactivated stargate.

They didn't even look humanoid, were skeletal and metal but bipedal and armed to the teeth. Half of their limbs were just machine guns in disguise, and John was convinced they could make ammo out of thin air. They all had their weapons aimed at Lorne.

Who raised his hands in a gesture of surrender...and began emitting sounds like a digital dolphin, clicks and squeaks and beeps, and the robots responded. Trembled. Squeaked in reply.

"Are...are they laughing?" Rodney asked.

One of the robots lunged at Lorne, and John cried out, but the robot was - hugging him.

On the other side of the room, Zelenka and Parrish were bound to each other.

"See," Zelenka said, "I told you he was a robot."

"A robot who tells robot jokes," Parrish said faintly. "I always meant it metaphorically when I said he was a machine in bed."

"Whoa, TMI." John wriggled some more, managed to get his boot close enough to reach for his knife. "C'mon, Rodney, let's go rescue Lorne."

"I don't think he needs rescuing," Rodney said.

Lorne was directing one of the robots to heal a fallen scientist. Another robot was ruffling Lorne's hair affectionately, and John suspected that the writers who directed his life were on some serious drugs, and right about now, he probably needed a dose.