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WHO: Dr. Julian Bashir and you! Extra special request for medical types
WHERE: The hospital
WHAT: Exploring! An attempt at getting the hospital up and running
WHEN: First couple of days exploring.
WARNINGS: Shouldn't be any....

Julian naturally gravitates towards the white buildings--after all, which places would be most likely to contain medical supplies? It's quickly becoming obvious there isn't a plan to get off this planet anytime soon. Julian needs more to work with than his on-the-fritz tricorder. Of course, he's looking far more in-depth at the machinery than he otherwise would if he were still on the Station--looking like too competent of an engineer would like raise some questions he would rather not answer, but while he's all alone, he can at least take a look.

It's odd, how everything looks patchworked together. It reminds him a bit of Deep Space Nine: a horrid combination of Cardassian base tech with Federation modifications done with Bajoran equipment in order to get it up to Federation standards. Somehow, his best friend Chief O'Brien keeps things running.

You can find Bashir fishing around inside an as-yet-unidentified machine, or perhaps examining a canister, or attempting to translate the label of what may be an ampule of medication.

[ooc: Hit me up on discord Leah#1323 if you want to play anything else! I'd love to thread with you!]

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"All of us."

They flex their fingers again, experimentally, and start tucking the dangling bandage into the layers of rags making up their sleeves.

"We're all here."

Wow okay he's seriously not getting anywhere here.

Different tactic.

"Are you hurt? Is that why you're wrapping yourself?" And Julian comes forward and reaches out to take...their? Wrist to examine it. Surely there's an injury.

Despite their strangely soft voice, by all appearances, they seem to be male. And their hands are filthy. Skin is cool and pale, but their fingers are absolutely stained with dirt. The rims of their nails are black with it.

Other than that, everything seems to be intact. They let the doctor take their hands and examine them without any reservation--no signs of pain, no broken skin, every bone feels solid. They're just swaddled up in bandages of every condition they could find.

"We're wrapping ourselves... to stay? To stay... comfortable. Together, dark. Soft. Here..." Seeming to list the words as they come to mind.

His brow furrows.

"Yes, of course," because that's something normal one does. Julian examines the hand and other than being quite cool to the touch, nothing appears to be cut or bleeding or broken.

"Are you cold?" he releases the hand. This being certainly is odd.

When Julian gives them their hand back, they look down at it. Closing and opening their fingers for a few moments, they take time to give Julian's question more consideration than they should probably need to.

"...Maybe?"

And then they... offer their hand back, with a seeking expression? Like maybe the doctor can help them figure out the correct answer.

The only thing Julian can think to do with it is to hold it between both of his hands and attempt to warm it with his body heat.

"What's your name? And how old are you?" he gently asks, wondering just how naive they are to respond the way that they are. A part of him wonders if the Universal Translator is just attempting to figure out what they're saying and translating inappropriately.

They gratefully let him keep that hand, because the only thing better than wrapping the limb up tight is having it actually held secure. It's nice, even if it has nothing to do with any of the normal reasons.

"I'm... ten. And twenty." They pause for a moment, glancing to the side as they think hard. "Sixty... three? And sixty four. Older than that... and two. Two twos--twins?"

"Oh."

An entity made up of multiple beings?

"That's quite the range. How do you keep all of your memories straight?" Is this being like Dax?

"And your name is...? My name is Julian," he offers first.

"It's not straight," they answer, with an almost wry tone to their soft voice.

And the issue of a name takes another moment of thought before they answer, and they sound a little unsure about it.

"They always called us Phalanx...?"

"Phalanx," he repeats. He's still holding Phalanx's hand. He moves it up and down slightly in a shake.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Phalanx. All of you."

Slowly, he lets go of Phalanx's hand.

"Is it difficult to stay all together?" The more he thinks about this being, the more questions pop into his head, but he doesn't want to frighten Phalanx who appears...somewhat flighty.

They don't seem to notice the handshake, and they don't notice that their hand is being released until it slips entirely from the doctor's grasp. Then they look a little surprised and wiggle their newly-released fingers.

"Yes. Difficult to stay together. Difficult to stay."

"Is there something I can do to make that easier? Is that something you want to be able to do? To stay together?"

He actually feels like he's getting somewhere with Phalanx!

Phalanx also seems to be picking up on the progress of the conversation, perking up even more as the sentences between them follow an order and make some sense. They seem to understand that they're on roll here.

They murmur and nod. "Staying together. We want to stay. Always."

"What can I do to help?"

Julian also feels that they're on a roll--it's more exciting actually than if he was having a conversation....well, with a single entity. A normal one.

Dirty fingers fidget with the edge of their cloak while they think... and then they frown. It's an expression of disappointment, but it's at least a distinct expression at all.

"...I don't know." And referring to themself in the singular instead of plural as well, how about that?

That pronoun usage doesn't slip by him nor does that expression. This will be an interesting challenge if nothing else.

"Phalanx, do you eat?" He has to physically force himself to slow down with asking questions. It seems that Phalanx is easily confused.

Plus, if he's going to be a physician here, he needs to learn about all of the beings that are here.

"Sometimes," they offer, as if they're trying to be helpful to the doctor and not the other way around.

"Tasting, and--sometimes. A little."

"Do you need to eat to stay alive?" That's really the more appropriate question. After all, he has encountered beings that don't need to eat.

"Not alive." Again, sounding helpful about it. Like they're gently reminding someone who might have a faulty memory. "That was long ago."

Ah, right. So food and likely sleep aren't necessary.

"Long ago? Are you all from the same time period?"

Food and sleep likely aren't necessary in the same capacity, at least. There might be something needed to keep their physical shell going, however.

"We're all from the same..." They tilt their head one way and then the other, and for once, they're able to find a word that summarizes all of the other words that nearly spill out of their mouth instead. "--Everything."

"Well, now you're a unified being, isn't that right? Many of you, but all together?" He swears he's trying to understand.

They suddenly brighten, a surprisingly expressive and warm smile spreading wide across their face, and they nod.

"Yes! We're all here. People and pieces."

Julian grins back--it's difficult not to when seeing that expression.

"Tell me, Phalanx, how long have you been a unified being? Or...can more join you?"

They open their mouth to maybe try answering the first part of that, but snap it shut at the question that the doctor follows it up with. Their smile leaves and they clutch the fabric over their chest, hugging it inward.

"No. Just us. Stay out."

With the sudden change in their demeanor, Julian holds his hands up.

"It's alright Phalanx, I'm not trying to do anything." His first question seemed okay--the reaction was more after the "joining" comment. Did they think Julian wanted to join them somehow?

"How long have you been unified, Phalanx?" he repeats gently.

Their hands stay clutched close against their chest, with an almost wary look lingering around on their face... though, with the way these things already seem to go with them, it probably won't be there for long.

"How long? Long-long. Since we died."

For some reason, Julian is suddenly reminded of the Prophets and their inability to comprehend linear time.

"How many years has it been?"

"It's been..."

Yeah, time is not easy. They frown a little, glance to the side, and think hard.

"Uh, there were... winters. And the family... fam--farm changed. Twice..."

And then, maybe thinking gets too hard, because a look of discomfort grows until it becomes a wince, and one hand lifts to press dirty fingers over one eye.

"...How many years has it been," they ask nothing, off to the side, in the same tone and cadence that Julian had used.

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