"Oopsy Daisies" by A. Rhea King Rating: PG Disclaimer: Don't own them, CBS/Paramount does. Genre: Humor Description: Trip and T'Pol's relationship hits a bump. Trip and his friend get busted for a bar brawl. Dogs will be dogs. A stairway to heaven? Navta is convinced she's going to die now, and Archer isn't prepared for this talk. Lack of Scents (4) It had become a game, one in which only one was a willing participant. Porthos sniffed at the end of the log, lowering his head to see inside. He could hear the creature inside hissing at him. Porthos trotted to the other end of the log and sniffed and peered. He stuck his nose into the log and whined. He pulled his head back and peered into the darkness. Porthos jumped onto the log and walked along it, stopping at every hole to sniff and peer. He jumped off the end and yipped when the brown and orange creature ran out, knocking him over. Porthos flipped onto his feet and bolted after the creature. He chased it into some brush and pounced on it. He stopped for a second when he smelled an unusual scent but quickly forgot it and proceeded to wrestle with the creature. “PORTHOS!” Archer yelled. Porthos leapt away from the animal and raced toward the voice. “PORTHOS, COME HERE!” Porthos leapt over logs and rocks, ducked under branches and splashed across a stream. He saw Archer standing with T’Pol and began baying. Archer turned, smiling as he crouched down. Porthos slid to a stop, hitting Archer’s leg and wiggling all over. But his joy was quickly quenched when Archer pushed him away and stood, stepping back. “No. Stay!” Archer ordered, covering his nose. Porthos obeyed, watching his master step back four more steps as his eyes began to water. T’Pol had turned and was staring at Porthos. “What in the hell did you roll in?” Archer asked the dog, covering his nose with the sleeve of his uniform. “Perhaps I should go get a storage case from the shuttle pod,” T’Pol suggested. “For what?” T’Pol looked at Archer. “Do you intend on letting him ride with us in the shuttle pod while he reeks?” Archer dropped his arm, frowning at Porthos. “I suppose this scent smells like rose to you.” Porthos wagged his tail a couple times, taking a step toward Archer. “NO! Sit. Stay.” Porthos sat down. He heard a hiss and turned his head. From the brush the creature Porthos had been chasing crept toward him with its hackles and tail standing straight up. Porthos stood. “Leave it, Porthos.” Porthos wagged his tail, watching the creature. Porthos bolted in its direction. It spun around, lifted its tail and sprayed liquid in Porthos’ direction. Porthos stopped short, backing away from the creature and sneezing. “DAMNIT PORTHOS!” Archer yelled. Porthos turned. Archer and T’Pol were both holding their arms away from themselves and Archer was glaring at Porthos. With a hint of irritation in her voice, T’Pol told Archer, “I guess he can now ride in the shuttle pod with us since we smell the same, Captain.” “T’Pol, silence.” Archer turned, barking, “Porthos, come!” The three walked back to the shuttle pod. Back to Chapter 3 Continue to Chapter 5

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