UPDATED August 16, 2005

Don't have time for a long story? Need a ST:V "fix"? A drabble might just do you! A drabble is a short take, limited to exactly 100 words, exclusive of title and intro comments and tags.

They're fun; they're fast; and they're just right for a snack.


(August 2005)

NEW -- Added August 16, 2005!

Like Irish lace curtains covering the front window,
You hide behind the burgundy and black of your uniform.
But your eyes smolder with the secrets lurking behind it,
Hinting at life that strains to be freed – to laugh and sing, to dance and play…
A life of love and passion.

How I want to reach out, to lose myself in the mellowed texture of your vest,
For my fingers to bury themselves in the soft firmness of its texture –
Burnished and bronzed, strong and supple,
Barely containing raging fires within.
Its primal call draws me closer to a foregone destiny.


(March 2005)

(Spoilers: “Fair Haven”)


I know you’re enjoying Tom’s holodeck program. There’s lilt and laughter… even sparkle in your eyes and merriment in your smile. Although you sit solemnly on the bridge, your body radiates joy with its newfound pleasures.

But I know that he’s exactly the way you planned him. You’ve added to Tom’s original, tweaking and honing to your specified parameters, within your control.

Let’s make the game more interesting, Kathryn; let’s add some risk and make it more real. You revel in exploration, with unmasking the unknown – why not here, too?

Two can play at this game.

Computer, delete the barkeeper.


(March 2005)

NEW -- Added March 18, 2005!

(Post “Endgame”)


Why doesn’t it surprise me? Before she left, the Admiral told me that you and Seven would come together.

I should have seen the signs – cancelled dinner meetings; your finding reasons to spend long hours in astrometrics; whispered stories of picnics for two in the holodeck.

We were almost there, almost home – and the hope of letting myself love you at last.

But she never played by the rules. She assimilated you as surely as if she were still Borg, claiming your heart with Vidiian ruthlessness.

The fault is all mine, yet I feel only your betrayal.

Et tu, Chakotay?


A Double Drabble
January 2005

A January 2005 VAMB Muse Challenge -- Chakotay says to Janeway in SHATTERED: "You once told me you never learned to play an instrument and it was one of your greatest regrets." And....?!?!?!?!?


“Why don’t you try taking up an instrument now?” Chakotay asked with a smile. “You could certainly find a couple of hours a week and we have plenty of musicians on board who would be happy to teach you.”

A low laugh was Janeway’s answer. “And any of them would be intimidated and run screaming to hide in the nearest cargo bay.” She reached for her almost-empty glass of Altarian cider. “Besides – you know what my dancing is like – two left feet inside commando boots.” She took a long sip, emptying the glass. “I’m afraid at this stage in my life, any attempts would be for naught; can’t put new wine into old bottles, Chakotay.”

His smile now broadened into his deep dimples as he replenished her glass. “You might be surprised; might all depend upon whom you ask.”

“Really? And you have some suggestions?” she asked, taking a sip from the freshly-filled glass.

“Just might,” he chortled softly.

Her eyes widened as she read into his words. “Are you offering your services, Chakotay? I didn’t know you played any instrument.”

“No, I don’t. But I do have an instrument that I’ll bet you could play expertly without much practice…”

~~~ * ~~~

~~ FINIS ~~

(January 2004)

Janeway felt miserable; it was time to go to sickbay.

After about four minutes, she burst out, screaming, right into Tom Paris. Attempting to calm her, he asked what was wrong. After hearing her story, he led her back to the medical section, telling her to relax as best she could.

Once out of her sight, he stormed into the doctor’s office. "What's the matter with you?” he demanded of the smug EMH. “Captain Janeway is 49 years old, chaste as a Vulcan priestess, and you told her she was pregnant?"

"Does she still have the hiccups?" the EMH asked.

~~~ * ~~~

~~ FINIS ~~

(For monkee – and Hershey’s mint & dark chocolate kisses :-)
(December 2003)

He drew back, fully anticipating her wrath. “I’m sorry. Kathryn; I know that I was out of place with my actions.”

Enigmatic silence greeted him, but her eyes glistened with waiting words. “So what are you saying, Chakotay? That what you just did means nothing? That’s not the message your kiss gave to me.”

“So what do you think it said?” he ventured with a soft smile.

“That I was good enough to eat,” she winked back.

“And that you are.” He leaned down, deeply tasting her sweetness a second time. “So what other flavors do you have to offer?”

~~~ * ~~~

~~ FINIS ~~

(March 2003)

(This trilogy was spawned by comments about computer malfunctions within an email group to which the author belongs. The blame – and dedication – goes to those folks; they know who they are!)


    Chakotay fell to his knees, sobbing with remorse. “Captain, I don’t know how to explain my actions; it’s almost like she programmed me. You know that in my heart of hearts you have always been the only one. Please—forgive me; help me rid myself from her.”

    His hot tears burned through the fabric of her uniform pants, damping the surface of her taut thighs. Her fingers stroked his silken hair; she leaned down to him, her words heavy on heated breath. “There, there,” her husky voice consoled. “Chakotay, we’ll just have find a means to clean out your cookies.”



    The Captain paced and fumed. “Chakotay, how could this have happened? Why didn’t we get an automatic backup with the computer entries? We’ve lost a whole day’s worth of logs and data!”

    “I guess my backup software system has gotten a bit lethargic. Maybe you could help me investigate some ways to revitalize it and firm up its functions. I’m sure with the correct manipulations it can rise to the occasion and perform to its previous rigid standards.”

    “So you’re asking me to lend you a hand in this operation?” she asked.

    “That’s a start,” he said, his eyes twinkling.



    Janeway beamed as Chakotay scooted out from under the shuttlecraft. “Well done, Commander! I never thought we’d get that impulse shaft moving again. What did you call the substance that you used?”

    Chakotay stood up, his hands gleaming with a silken covering. “It’s something Tom programmed into the replicator. It’s a vegetable-based grease called Crisco—a substance once used in cooking but sometimes used as a lubricant in certain instances.”

    Janeway nodded. “Well, nothing like a little bit of priming to get something going again that hasn’t been used in a long time.”

    “Anything else you need primed?” he grinned.

~~ FINIS ~~

~~~ * ~~~

(August 1999)

The work session between captain and first officer in KJ’s ready room had ended up as a slithering ball of sweating flesh on the sofa. Sighs became moans as a breep sounded from the desk comm. Borderline dismay reverberated the requesting voice.

"On my way," Janeway answered brightly, jumping up and reconstructing her professional presence. She smiled back at him as she exited. "Sorry, dear, but duty calls."

"Kathryn, I feel that you use me only as a convenience stop. Why is it that you are always the one to come and then have to go?" the unfulfilled man cried mournfully.

~~ FINIS ~~

(Based on the name of a chain of convenience stores I saw while on vacation --- they were called "Kum & Go". Now, tell me --- didn’t this just BEG for a story? ;-)

~~~ * ~~~

(August 1999)

The EMH peered around his easel, sighing. "Seven, please smile… and quit moving! I can’t paint a picture of you if you’re scowling and squirming."

"It is illogical to waste time in producing this type of image. Holographic reproductions are more efficient." She arched her back, relieving cramped muscles.

"Then… please. Get comfortable," he responded impatiently.

"Very well," she answered, turning her back to him, then slowly but completely peeling off her constraining garment.

Completely naked, she smiled over her shoulder at him. "I am more comfortable now."

Non-holographic sweat began to trickle down his neck. "I’m not," he groaned.

~~ FINIS ~~

~~~ * ~~~

(August 1999)

A silent Janeway slid into the captain’s chair, her face determinedly devoid of expression, her eyes clouded with smoke from a distant fire.

Chakotay saw it. His unspoken words began several times before he finally quietly leaned towards her. "He’s gone?"

"Yes", she responded.

Their eyes were focused elsewhere, but their low voices sought each other.

"You kissed him; his scent still clings to you."

"Does that bother you?"

"More than you know."

"I trust him."


"Why not?"

"Let me show you," he said, taking her hand and leading her to her ready room.

And Kathryn forgot Kashyk.

~~ FINIS ~~


(August 1999)

Kathryn sighed at the image that looked back at her from the bathroom mirror. The no-longer-fine lines around her eyes and lips. Bags and sags in places that once were pert and taut. Hair with whispers of silver.

Another face with a similar story written in its creases appeared behind her. Large arms pulled her against a cushioned chest, wrapping her in warmth and contentment.

"I’m glad we found each other later in life," she smiled.

"And why’s that?" Chakotay breathed into her hair.

"Because the edges are smoother, the taste is sweeter and everything takes just a little longer."

~~~ FINIS ~~~


(January 2001)

Spoilers: Shattered


"I think we’ve finished off this bottle of cider," he said, pouring the last bit into her glass.

She smiled at him conspiratorially. "You can always get some more from the cargo bay."

At her words, he looked up, eyes wide with surprise. "Oh? How long have you known about that?"

She slowly drained her glass, delicately placing it on the table as she glided off the sofa. The breath of her voice, sweet and heavy with the cider’s scent, whispered into his lips. "Long enough to know that drinking enough of it will allow us to cross some barriers."

~~~ FINIS ~~~

(June 2001)

Spoilers: Endgame


I can see it in your eyes; we’ll never be the same. A curtain fell as you spoke the words, quickly hiding your thoughts from mine. She has assimilated you into her world, discouraging if not forbidding the private times we once cherished. I never said you were ‘mine’; but until recently, there was that future possibility… that unspoken hope.

Now you already 'have other plans’… another life. She will share in your unspoken glances, your warm, welcome touch. For me, the fire in your eyes… the singe of your caresses… have been drowned in the deluge of your raincheck.

~~ FINIS ~~

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