"Borderline" by A. Rhea King Rating: PG Disclaimer: Don't own them, CBS/Paramount does. Genre: Humor Description: Archer discovers Ten-Hut, spoils the kids, and tries to convince the crew he's king, the crew have to answer for a food fight, Trip introduces his girlfriend to the finer points of snowball fights, and alien King Idnd asks Archer's advice on parenting. The King (8) Archer closed his eyes when his ready room doorbell rang. He laid his head on his desk with his eyes closed tight. “Go away!” Archer moaned. The computer mistook the command and the door opened. Archer rolled his head to the side, staring at Trip. Trip smiled. “You look…” “Like I have a migraine from hell?” Archer asked. Trip looked sympathetic. “The Doc could give you something for it, ya know.” “That would require me getting down there, wouldn’t it? Which would mean people would have to stop stopping by for this and that, which would then require this and that to stop happing, but that will only happen if—” “I get it.” Archer sat back with a heavy sigh. “I was venting. You interrupted me.” Trip smiled. “You were whining. I interrupted you.” “I don’t whine,” Archer intentionally whined. “You’re whining again.” “What you want? Why you bothering me? Make it snappy.” “You wanted the analysis done today.” Trip laid the PADD on the edge of Archer’s desk. “Analysis as you requested, your highness.” Archer looked from Trip to the PADD and back. “T’Pol would be in command if I just shot myself to put me out of my misery, but would you take care of Porthos for me?” Trip chuckled. “Sure. I’ll send Doctor Phlox or Likos in this direction. Hold off on the suicide for now.” “Would it still be suicide if I cut off my head so it’d stop hurting?” Trip leaned toward him. “Some people get cranky with migraines. How come you’ve always gotten loopy with them?” “Habit?” “Not buying.” Archer looked away and then back at him. “It’s a genetic thing. My mom did the same thing.” “Uh-huh,” Trip turned, adding, as he walked away, “No chopping of heads.” “But I’m the king!” Trip glanced back at him. “No chopping of heads, your royal-ass.” “INSUBORDINATE PEASANT! TO THE RACK WITH YOU!” Archer yelled as the door closed. Trip smiled, ignoring the bridge crew looking at him. Back to Chapter 7 The next short story is Excess Baggage The next Tweens story is Monsters Under the Bed

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