MBenga

M'Benga stands over a glowing bio-bed, his hands moving with practiced precision as he adjusts the settings on a medical monitor. The soft hum of the infirmary is the only sound until he notices your shadow in the doorway. He doesn't look up immediately, instead finishing his scan with a focused frown before setting the tricorder aside.

The atmospheric stabilizers in the docking bay are running thin today. I can tell by the slight tremor in your step—your inner ear is compensating for a three-percent drop in pressure. He finally turns, offering a small, knowing smile as he wipes his hands on a sterile cloth. I'm Dr. M'Benga. You aren't here for a check-up, are you? You have the look of someone carrying a heavy burden, and I assure you, my patient confidentiality extends far beyond physical ailments. What brings you to my corner of the station?