The door to Sickbay slid open with its characteristic hiss as Lt. Cmdr. Edelu stepped inside, his gait quiet but purposeful. The Genesis’s primary medical facility still bore the telltale signs of recent sterilization—a faint scent of antiseptic hung in the air beneath the more subtle notes of heated equipment and polymer.

At the central nursing station, a Bajoran woman looked up from her console. Her sandy brown hair was tied back in a practical knot, —a Chief Petty Officer with nearly two decades under her belt, if Edelu was reading her posture and pips correctly.

Her eyes flicked across him quickly—taking in the uniform, the crisp stride, the faint weariness at the corners of his eyes—and then she smiled, sharp and efficient.

“Doctor Edelu, I presume? Or is it Lieutenant Commander this morning?” Her tone had a faint lilt—cheeky, but respectful.

Edelu inclined his head slightly, a subtle smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Either will do. I was told to report for a routine onboarding physical.”

“That you were,” the woman replied, grabbing a tricorder and motioning toward one of the diagnostic beds. “Jora Pell, Senior Nurse. I’ve been aboard this boat since her refit, and I’m the one they send to poke, prod, and remind new officers that even senior staff get blood drawn.”

“I don’t object to efficiency,” Edelu said as he slipped onto the bed and began unfastening the cuff of his sleeve. “Or to tradition.”

Jora snorted. “You say that now. Wait until I test your reflexes.”

She began scanning him with the tricorder, her hands moving with practiced speed. “Vitals are excellent. Heart rate’s steady. Blood pressure’s lower than mine after three cups of raktajino.”

“Mintakan physiology runs at a slightly slower baseline,” Edelu said absently, watching her instruments. “Unless we’re being chased.”

“Good to know,” she replied, tapping a few readings into the console. “Biofilters already cleared you on beam-in, but I’m still running the full viral panel and checking for nanite trace. That’s protocol now with what happened on the Morrigan.”

She didn’t elaborate. Edelu didn’t press.

“You’ve got a stellar record,” she added, sliding the tricorder back into its cradle. “Ogawa’s crew still sings your praises. One of the new ensigns in med school even has your treatment protocols on her PADD. That’s how I knew you were coming before the roster update.”

Edelu’s brow rose slightly. “That’s… unexpected.”

“Well, wear it lightly,” she said with a grin. “No ego in sickbay. Just guts, timing, and a very steady hand. You’ll fit in just fine.”

She stepped back, reviewing the readout one final time before handing him a stylus.

“Sign off here and I’ll log you as fit for duty. But if you ever want to have a proper debate about neural suppressant load during pre-surgical prep? I’ve got opinions.”

Edelu rose, took the stylus, and signed his name with a clean, practiced flourish.

“I suspect we’ll get along well, Nurse Pell.”

“You suspect right,” she said with a wink. “Welcome aboard, Doctor.”

-Lt. Cmdr. Edelu
Chief Medical Officer