ten_fwd | (Open) The Stranger

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(Open) The Stranger

Tasha hadn't want to scare anyone - or worse - have their pity. She'd been here on some nights before, but always in disguise and making it a point to watch, but not interact, with anyone. Also, she didn't like to admit it, but she loved make-up. Not the kind that Deanna or Beverly wore to bring out their features. That kind of make-up wasn't for her. It didn't feel right on. She didn't like extra attention regarding her appearance; a holdover from Turkana IV, she supposed.

But make-up to disguise? To conceal who and what you were and be able to become someone else? She had an incredible love of that. She justified her enjoyment by its usefulness as a skill, but it was more than that. It was a chance to be someone without the burden of duty or a past. Someone more normal - unless the part called for something else.

The risk of discovery also played a big part in both the thrill of the challenge and the growing irritation at her self-imposed isolation. Tasha justified it easily. She might disappear at any moment - or maybe even drop dead - because "dead" was still her official status, though Picard had assured her the wheels of bureaucracy were getting a firm push regarding all that. Starfleet's reluctance was understandable with all the strange happenings onboard the ship, but it gnawed at her patience. She didn't want to upend anyone's life, but she missed them! It would also mean opening herself up to stacks of unfinished business, too, but she was tired of avoiding her friends - even is she still thought keeping her distance might remain the best course of action.

At least her insistence on isolation had gotten her caught up on as much security information and protocols a civilian had access to. Well, a civilian and a cadet. It turned out the Academy hadn't cancelled her alumni access. There wasn't much dangerous in that, but "not much" wasn't "nothing" by a longshot. She'd have to talk to them about that.

Tasha's tired of keeping to herself and making Aggie feel like she's rooming with a crazy hermit. Tonight, she's keeping her "disguise" to a hooded sweatshirt. It's time to go Ten Forward, to stop being someone else, face what, if anything, comes of it.

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"I like complicated! If I didn't, I'd hate my own life," he says "I'm Alec. Nice to meet you. I'd shake but that requires moving."

She snorts with humor. "That's quite all right. How long have you been here?"

He flashes her a brilliant smile. "That's complicated. But we'll go with a little less than a month."

That's about how long he's been 'stuck' in this particular reality.

"And you can see -" She knits her brows together trying to find the words. "Parallel universes?"

"Parallel universes, alternate realities, different times. Visit them too." He snorts softly and watches her curiously as he speaks.

She's a glutton for punishment for getting into these kind of conversations, but some perverse part of her loves trying to understand this stuff.

"Can you explain the difference to me?" she asks, putting her PADD aside.

And Alec's eyes light up - not literally in this case though it's been known to happen. This is clearly a subject he likes to talk about. He flicks a hand at his knees and there's a hint of something possibly raven shape flashing away. Then he picks himself up and drops into a seat across from Tasha because this is something that can't be explained while lounging with an invisible raven on her feet.

"Sure. So you have the multiverse, which contains all of everything. All the various parallel universes and alternate realities. And it's like this great big forest."

He draws lines in the air with his fingers. The lines glow. There's a gold line and a blue line and a green line. "Now these lines here - these "trees" - are parallel universes. You and I are from parallel universes or realities."

He points to the gold and the blue line. "This means that human history in my universe's Earth took a completely different path than your universes' Earth. Humans spread out in different ways. There are different races, different planets, different ... physics. I know, for example that my world - my people - don't exist in this universe here. Never did. And where ever Earth is in comparison to my world developed differently. They're both Earths, but they exist parallel to each other."

He pauses, seeing if she's following.

"And this is somehow different than alternate realities?" She's following so far, and that firework display isn't hurting matters.

Visual displays are always helpful.

Going to the gold line he starts drawing branches off of it, turning it into a fir tree. Then he does the same to the other two lines.

"Alternate realities are variations with in one reality. The choices and changes people make." He mentally searches around for an example before settling on one familiar to this reality, "For example: there's the reality where the Borg took over everything and the reality where the Borg were exterminated, or the Borg never existed."

She frowns. "I heard of the Borg. They were in the files." She was recovering from a slight case of death. The reports were...horrible enough. Worse, a large part of her feels she should have been there; that she could have changed history.

"So, Q might be creating one of those right now with all of you aboard?"

Death is annoying, Alec has long ago found. Especially since it keeps on happening to him and doesn't stick.

"As soon as Q popped the first person the ship he created one. And then there's every variation of people showing up. Different branches have different people showing up for different amount of times. There's how Starfleet handles it and all those different ways. And what year Q started doing it. He could have started doing it on the Enterprise C or the Excalibur or in Starfleet academy.

"Every single what if is out there as an alternate reality. Even the one where you could see Buttercup."

She thinks for a moment she may have to punch him for calling her a flower. Then, her sense kicks back in.

"Buttercup is the raven, isn't it?"

It wouldn't be the first time he's gotten punched for something like that.

"Yup. I mean, what else are you supposed to call an evil shadow raven sent to you by some insanely evil individuals to spy on and try to re-enslave you?" Alec manages to say that with a straight face.

Her voice is made from icicles. It's obvious what he just said struck more of a chord than these people's dislike of involuntary servitude. "Any way to break free of that then just being here?"

Yes, it clearly has. He tilts his head briefly at her through the small forest of glowing lines.

"No. Sadly not. While I'm aware of all my alternates and have some minor influence over them, the one with Buttercup is still not me. We're two different people living two very different lives. He's a more... extreme alternate version of myself. The best I can do is prevent him from rolling over in a 'fuck it all' and giving up." He frowns a bit thoughtfully.

And while he does seem bothered by what happened to his double, he also realizes that he can't do anything for his double because of Rules.

She visibly shutters. "I'm not sure what it would be like to talk with other 'me's.'" The impression he gets is that she doesn't think much of her chances. Her mind starts to whirl with the thought. How many would be alive? How many would have escaped Turkana IV?

Would even one be happy, or at least not hounded by regrets?

Tasha isn't even aware she's staring off into space.

"It's really kinda interesting how people react to their doubles. Some people get weirded out by them. Others find that they've finally have someone who they can actually talk to because no one understands them besides them. It depends on the person's personality and ego, I think. Though everyone is generally uncomfortable about it at first," he says.

"I talk to my future self on occasion. He's an ass and a rat bastard."

She's hearing him, but not really registering it. Tasha has these moments where she gets distracted. Some kind of big idea catches hold and her mind won't let go of it. Part of her attraction to security is that it's structured to keep those rare moments of absent-mindedness just that. Survival for herself and others is what she understand ~~more than actually being smart.~~

At the, "evil future self," though, she shakes herself out of it.

"Wait, you're fated to be something you hate?"

Thinking about who you might have been and having those conversations with them is very distracting.

Alec wouldn't call his older-self evil any more than he would call a black hole evil. Just a man... individual pushed past the brink of sanity with no ties to hold him back to anything that could be considered a moral code. More of a blue and orange morality.

"I don't hate him. He ends up being the way he is for very good reasons. He's just annoying and a rat bastard," Alec says. "As for fated... fate's a funky thing. I might not actually turn out to be him, but currently our histories ... my future and his past... line up well enough that it seems like we might be the same person."

He holds up his hands and spreads them out. "There's a long gap of time between him and I."

She tilts her head. "And being here wasn't fated, was it?"

She shrugs. "Starfleet changed my fate. Maybe all this -" she waves a hand. "Will help you, too."

"It depends on what you mean by fate. If by 'there's some grand plan or person out there mucking about and pushing us around like little pawns' then yes, I suppose it was."

He then grins at her. The affable foppish gently crazy look falling away for a moment and there's a sharp, utterly insane - quite possibly is a rat bastard look appears for a blink of the eye. "And who knows, this could be one of the things that makes me like him."

It's gone.

The damp budgie look is back.

"Starfleet changed your fate? You're in Starfleet then?" he asks. "I don't think I've seen any of you out of your uniforms. It's like they're the only clothes you folk wear."

That was like looking at Lore.

No, Lore was still worse.

"Believe me, -" she says, eager to keep the subject more cheerful. "I want to go back to living in one of those uniforms as quickly as possible."

She then adds quickly, "And we don't live in those uniforms. We have off-duty clothing." She doesn't have much, and she was rarely was off-duty if she could help it. Even her downtime was mostly spent in physical training or learning more about the galaxy - mostly to be prepared for new civilizations - but also to try to know more about what constituted "normal."

Which is why what she just said comes off as a contradictory statement. Damn.

Oh probably. At least Alec currently has somewhat of a moral center.

"So... you were in Starfleet... something happened and you're not any more and you want to get back in?" He asks, making sure he's got what she's saying correctly. "And I've yet to see any proof of Starfleet officers wearing something other than those uniforms."

"Something like that." Let's not explain an unexplainable case of death to the crazy man, shall we?

"And stick around Counselor Troi for awhile. She has the option for wearing a uniform, but she rarely goes for it." And this guy would likely keep Deanna busy for a good while.

Yar does that eyeroll with her whole head again. "She loves clothing. Dr. Crusher, too. She makes clothing. By hand."

Please overlook the one woman on the bridge crew that can't dress up without help ~~or extreme drunkenness~~.

Actually, Alec would probably be one of the few people who could understand. He has died and come back more times than he cares to recollect. Not that she'd believe him.

And bad Tasha, no inflicting the crazy man on the nice counselor.

"Two out of how many on this starship?" From his smile, he's teasing a little.

(Open) The Stranger

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