Lt. Commander Edelu moved with the composed efficiency of a man long familiar with starship corridors. The Genesis was still new to him—she had a different rhythm than the Ogawa, more pulse than hum, and the occasional subsonic resonance in the bulkheads that hinted at her heavier frame. Manhattan-class. Bigger, more muscle. And still graceful in her own way.

His boots made almost no sound against the deck plating, but he walked with intent, every step measured. A padd in his left hand held the formal orders of his transfer and onboarding clearance. A signature here. A scan there. All the little rituals of integration.

Deck 2 was quieter than the lower levels. Quarters, strategic operations, executive offices. The heartbeat of a ship’s leadership.

Edelu passed a pair of junior officers in quiet conversation near the corridor junction and nodded in greeting. Their glance in return was curious but polite. He imagined he was something of a curiosity—the Mintakan doctor with the Federation accent and a Vulcan’s posture. He was used to it.

He rounded the final corner and paused just outside the Executive Officer’s office. The door loomed ahead, currently sealed but humming softly with the dormant energy of all Starfleet architecture. A plaque etched with the words Lieutenant Commander Magnús Pétursson was fixed neatly beside the door panel.

Edelu exhaled quietly through his nose, straightened the collar of his uniform with a small gesture, and tapped the door chime.

He was ready.

-Lt. Cmdr. Edelu
Chief Medical Officer