FIC: Whereof Reason Knows Nothing (Star Trek: AOS, gen, G)
Title: Whereof Reason Knows Nothing
Author: Sineala
Fandom: Star Trek (2009), Iskryne
Pairing: gen
Rating: G
Length: 1147 words
Contains: Nothing needing warnings.
Spoilers: The movie up to Vulcan. Nothing but the premise for Iskryne.
Disclaimer: Really not mine.
Summary: Everyone knows Vulcans don't have wolfbrothers. Jim meets a Vulcan who has one.
Notes: Written for Psychic Wolves for Lupercalia, and can probably be read without any knowledge of the wolfy fandom except that there are psychic wolves. (I read the first book once and don't really remember it.) I, um, already wrote two other stories for this challenge and was fully intending to post them, and then my brain kind of got taken over by WHAT IF JIM KIRK HAD A WOLFBROTHER in the past two hours, and then I wrote this. So there.
Also available on AO3.
"I believe I have the right to face my accuser directly." Jim rose to his feet, and Kinnison uncurled himself and pushed upright as well, leaning his gray head against Jim's thigh.
He could see the admiralty already looking at him with suspicion; he'd petitioned for a lupine companion exception when he got here, Kinnison having found him several years before he had been officially supposed to be given a wolfbrother by Starfleet Command. He'd always joked about it, you know, the usual thing, how getting his brother so early meant if he kept going at this rate he'd be the youngest captain in Starfleet. But right now it was one more reason for the panel to hate him. After all, they'd already cut him some slack.
And at the other side of the room, an officer stood. A Vulcan. And Jim stared at the weirdest thing he had seen in his entire life, as the wolf next to him moved too.
The weird thing wasn't that there was another wolf in the assembly. It would have been weird if there weren't any. Of course, most of the cadets didn't have brothers or sisters of their own yet, but the officers did, and so the hall at Jim's hearing was a sea of pointed, furred faces, ears half-cocked in his direction as he stood ready to defend his victory over the Kobayashi Maru.
No, the weird thing was that when this Vulcan stood up, his wolfbrother stood with him.
The hell? Everyone knew Vulcans didn't have wolfbrothers or sehlat-brothers or whatever the fuck they had on Vulcan. They said it was unethical. Unnatural. Something about the sanctity of the telepathic bond. They said they couldn't even bond with wolves if they wanted to. And because they were Vulcans, they all made that flat disapproving face that suggested you were some kind of complete pervert, while insisting they had no emotional involvement whatsoever in the matter. Which was pretty much okay with Jim, because on the whole it seemed like wolves didn't like Vulcans much either. Kinnison didn't, at least.
Jim reached down and laced his fingers through Kinnison's fur, suddenly needing the reassurance.
He entirely missed Admiral Barnett's introduction of the man, and the questions took him aback. The test? Of course he knew the purpose of the test. He'd beaten it, and this Vulcan who wasn't even a real Vulcan or something was mad.
And then there was the distress call.
"Dismissed," Admiral Barnett said, crisply.
The entire crowd headed out as fast as it could manage, which, with this many people in the auditorium, meant they would be in here a while anyway. And -- of course -- Jim ended up in the aisle next to this Vulcan.
Spock. The name clicked into his brain. That was what the admiral had called him.
"So, uh, Commander Spock?" he said, maybe louder than he needed to, because for God's sake the guy was a Vulcan and they were in an auditorium that was maybe a quarter lupine. Probably everyone could hear him.
Spock turned. "Yes, Cadet?"
Jim had to wonder if the guy was practicing experiencing fear in the face of certain death, or if that was just one of those smart-ass things Vulcans said. Spock sure didn't look afraid, anyway.
"You-- I saw you had a wolfbrother. And I've never met a Vulcan with a wolf. Uh. Sir."
Oh, smooth, Kirk. Real smooth.
And then Spock's face went icy-unemotional-Vulcan all over. "I could say, Cadet Kirk, that it is similarly unusual to see a Starfleet cadet with a wolf before graduation. Much less one who has failed to introduce himself and his brother properly."
Dammit. His manners. "Oh. Uh." Jim ran a hand through his hair. "My brother's name is Kinnison, sir."
And he watched in astonishment as Kinnison looked up at the Vulcan with a wolf-smile like he could like the guy. Kinnison then followed that up with his scent-name to the Vulcan's brother, old paper books, well-read, which the smaller brown-coated wolf returned with baking bread. It made Jim's mouth water. Probably completely wasted on a Vulcan.
Spock raised a skeptical-looking eyebrow. "A family name?"
"No, no, sir," Jim managed, hastily, and he thought that if they weren't pushing their way through the crowd Spock would have demanded Kinnison's whole lineage from Jim right now just to prove Jim was worthy of him. "Just a name I liked from a book."
The Vulcan was silent for a few seconds. Maybe he disapproved of naming wolves after fictional characters or something.
Then Spock halted. They were at the top step, almost out of here.
"My brother's name is Tikh," Spock said. "It is a Vulcan grain, roughly analogous to your Terran species of Triticum aestivum."
Jim had to think about that. But when he did--
"Wheat. You named your brother wheat."
Spock nodded. "It was logical."
Maybe this was why wolves didn't like Vulcans. Geez. No imagination whatsoever. Wheat the wolf. But Spock's wolf liked Spock, and -- Jim glared -- Kinnison seemed to like both of them, wagging his stupid tail at them like he was a dog, so what was going on?
"In answer to your question," Spock said, cutting through his thoughts, but at the same time so quiet in the babble of voices that Jim almost didn't hear, "I am half-human, and therefore capable of possessing a wolfbrother. My mother is originally from Earth. This... explains my differences from other Vulcans of your acquaintance."
Jim looked up and in the instant before Spock looked away, he saw old pain written across his face, the kind of thing he would never have expected from a Vulcan. There was a story there. He shouldn't be prying.
"Oh." And there was really nothing else he could say. "I'm sorry, sir; it wasn't my business."
"Very true, Cadet," Spock said, and he was all locked-up again, emotionless. "If you will excuse me, I must attend to my duties organizing the departure."
Before Jim could even so much as say a word of goodbye, the Vulcan was stepping quickly down the corridor, not quite at a run.
Weird, Jim thought, as Kinnison gave him Tikh's parting gift, which was Spock's scent-name, a strange smell that was sort of like lemon and peanut butter and cilantro all together. Probably another Vulcan thing.
Well, it was time to see about getting their ship assignment for Vulcan. Odds were that this Spock would have nothing to do with it, of course. Which was probably good, because he'd already fucked this up.
Kinnison sent sorrow-regret at him.
"Oh, come on," Jim said, annoyed. "You're telling me you liked the guy? Or his wolf? Which?"
Yes.
Wolves were never very good at being specific.
"Maybe later," Jim told him. "We've got to save the Federation."
Kinnison snorted.
"Oh, all right. Part of the Federation."
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Author: Sineala
Fandom: Star Trek (2009), Iskryne
Pairing: gen
Rating: G
Length: 1147 words
Contains: Nothing needing warnings.
Spoilers: The movie up to Vulcan. Nothing but the premise for Iskryne.
Disclaimer: Really not mine.
Summary: Everyone knows Vulcans don't have wolfbrothers. Jim meets a Vulcan who has one.
Notes: Written for Psychic Wolves for Lupercalia, and can probably be read without any knowledge of the wolfy fandom except that there are psychic wolves. (I read the first book once and don't really remember it.) I, um, already wrote two other stories for this challenge and was fully intending to post them, and then my brain kind of got taken over by WHAT IF JIM KIRK HAD A WOLFBROTHER in the past two hours, and then I wrote this. So there.
Also available on AO3.
"I believe I have the right to face my accuser directly." Jim rose to his feet, and Kinnison uncurled himself and pushed upright as well, leaning his gray head against Jim's thigh.
He could see the admiralty already looking at him with suspicion; he'd petitioned for a lupine companion exception when he got here, Kinnison having found him several years before he had been officially supposed to be given a wolfbrother by Starfleet Command. He'd always joked about it, you know, the usual thing, how getting his brother so early meant if he kept going at this rate he'd be the youngest captain in Starfleet. But right now it was one more reason for the panel to hate him. After all, they'd already cut him some slack.
And at the other side of the room, an officer stood. A Vulcan. And Jim stared at the weirdest thing he had seen in his entire life, as the wolf next to him moved too.
The weird thing wasn't that there was another wolf in the assembly. It would have been weird if there weren't any. Of course, most of the cadets didn't have brothers or sisters of their own yet, but the officers did, and so the hall at Jim's hearing was a sea of pointed, furred faces, ears half-cocked in his direction as he stood ready to defend his victory over the Kobayashi Maru.
No, the weird thing was that when this Vulcan stood up, his wolfbrother stood with him.
The hell? Everyone knew Vulcans didn't have wolfbrothers or sehlat-brothers or whatever the fuck they had on Vulcan. They said it was unethical. Unnatural. Something about the sanctity of the telepathic bond. They said they couldn't even bond with wolves if they wanted to. And because they were Vulcans, they all made that flat disapproving face that suggested you were some kind of complete pervert, while insisting they had no emotional involvement whatsoever in the matter. Which was pretty much okay with Jim, because on the whole it seemed like wolves didn't like Vulcans much either. Kinnison didn't, at least.
Jim reached down and laced his fingers through Kinnison's fur, suddenly needing the reassurance.
He entirely missed Admiral Barnett's introduction of the man, and the questions took him aback. The test? Of course he knew the purpose of the test. He'd beaten it, and this Vulcan who wasn't even a real Vulcan or something was mad.
And then there was the distress call.
"Dismissed," Admiral Barnett said, crisply.
The entire crowd headed out as fast as it could manage, which, with this many people in the auditorium, meant they would be in here a while anyway. And -- of course -- Jim ended up in the aisle next to this Vulcan.
Spock. The name clicked into his brain. That was what the admiral had called him.
"So, uh, Commander Spock?" he said, maybe louder than he needed to, because for God's sake the guy was a Vulcan and they were in an auditorium that was maybe a quarter lupine. Probably everyone could hear him.
Spock turned. "Yes, Cadet?"
Jim had to wonder if the guy was practicing experiencing fear in the face of certain death, or if that was just one of those smart-ass things Vulcans said. Spock sure didn't look afraid, anyway.
"You-- I saw you had a wolfbrother. And I've never met a Vulcan with a wolf. Uh. Sir."
Oh, smooth, Kirk. Real smooth.
And then Spock's face went icy-unemotional-Vulcan all over. "I could say, Cadet Kirk, that it is similarly unusual to see a Starfleet cadet with a wolf before graduation. Much less one who has failed to introduce himself and his brother properly."
Dammit. His manners. "Oh. Uh." Jim ran a hand through his hair. "My brother's name is Kinnison, sir."
And he watched in astonishment as Kinnison looked up at the Vulcan with a wolf-smile like he could like the guy. Kinnison then followed that up with his scent-name to the Vulcan's brother, old paper books, well-read, which the smaller brown-coated wolf returned with baking bread. It made Jim's mouth water. Probably completely wasted on a Vulcan.
Spock raised a skeptical-looking eyebrow. "A family name?"
"No, no, sir," Jim managed, hastily, and he thought that if they weren't pushing their way through the crowd Spock would have demanded Kinnison's whole lineage from Jim right now just to prove Jim was worthy of him. "Just a name I liked from a book."
The Vulcan was silent for a few seconds. Maybe he disapproved of naming wolves after fictional characters or something.
Then Spock halted. They were at the top step, almost out of here.
"My brother's name is Tikh," Spock said. "It is a Vulcan grain, roughly analogous to your Terran species of Triticum aestivum."
Jim had to think about that. But when he did--
"Wheat. You named your brother wheat."
Spock nodded. "It was logical."
Maybe this was why wolves didn't like Vulcans. Geez. No imagination whatsoever. Wheat the wolf. But Spock's wolf liked Spock, and -- Jim glared -- Kinnison seemed to like both of them, wagging his stupid tail at them like he was a dog, so what was going on?
"In answer to your question," Spock said, cutting through his thoughts, but at the same time so quiet in the babble of voices that Jim almost didn't hear, "I am half-human, and therefore capable of possessing a wolfbrother. My mother is originally from Earth. This... explains my differences from other Vulcans of your acquaintance."
Jim looked up and in the instant before Spock looked away, he saw old pain written across his face, the kind of thing he would never have expected from a Vulcan. There was a story there. He shouldn't be prying.
"Oh." And there was really nothing else he could say. "I'm sorry, sir; it wasn't my business."
"Very true, Cadet," Spock said, and he was all locked-up again, emotionless. "If you will excuse me, I must attend to my duties organizing the departure."
Before Jim could even so much as say a word of goodbye, the Vulcan was stepping quickly down the corridor, not quite at a run.
Weird, Jim thought, as Kinnison gave him Tikh's parting gift, which was Spock's scent-name, a strange smell that was sort of like lemon and peanut butter and cilantro all together. Probably another Vulcan thing.
Well, it was time to see about getting their ship assignment for Vulcan. Odds were that this Spock would have nothing to do with it, of course. Which was probably good, because he'd already fucked this up.
Kinnison sent sorrow-regret at him.
"Oh, come on," Jim said, annoyed. "You're telling me you liked the guy? Or his wolf? Which?"
Yes.
Wolves were never very good at being specific.
"Maybe later," Jim told him. "We've got to save the Federation."
Kinnison snorted.
"Oh, all right. Part of the Federation."
Read this entry on Dreamwidth ||
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