"Novaryn-C Research Status: Developments Beyond Medical"
Posted on 26 Feb 2026 @ 12:28am by Lieutenant Commander Riah Amberlyn XMD & Lieutenant Commander Elias Harlan & Lieutenant Commander Claire Dunross MD & Lieutenant Jorik
1,949 words; about a 10 minute read
Mission:
Silent Inheritance
Location: Vid-Comm Conference Call :: Medical Dept
// Vid-Comm call with Amberlyn, Dunross & Jorik //
// Amberlyn's Quarters //
A fresh cup of coffee sat in front of Riah Amberlyn as she waited at her desk in her quarters for the other two doctors to log into the Vid-Comm call. She had managed a much needed 2 hour nap, and eaten an apple with almond butter and a simple egg salad sandwich on asiago bread. She was still fatigued, but functional. She had felt her attention to detail slipping from lack of rest and food. It was 0728 ship time. She took a grateful sip of the hot coffee.
// Sickbay Research Station //
Claire cradled a fresh cup of strongly brewed Earl Grey, the steam curling faintly against her tired face. Her eyes felt like sandpaper, heavy and dry, and she was quietly hoping to retreat for a brief nap soon. She had been chasing answers through the night and had only just returned from the Science labs with preliminary results.
She had started the previous afternoon. It felt like days ago. The data they had uncovered offered a measure of relief, but it was the sort that only made the scope of the road ahead more apparent. There was progress. Not resolution.
Sometime in the small, silent hours of the night, Grayson McKinney had appeared with an offering of coffee. She had smiled and gently disappointed him, explaining that she did not touch the stuff. Still, the interruption had been welcome. A moment away from the research, from her notes, from the weight of it all.
The screen flickered and resolved into clarity. Claire caught her own reflection in the corner of the display, brushing back a loose lock of hair before giving up on trying to tame it.
“Morning, Doctor Amberlyn.”
"Sleep well, did you, Doctor?" asked Amberlyn, facetiously. "This little side mission may make a coffee drinker of you yet," she chuckled.
Claire lifted a brow slightly.
“Rest is a generous term,” she said dryly. “And I assure you, Doctor, I’ll not be surrendering to coffee. Tea has served me just fine this far.”
// Jorik's Quarers //
Jorik sat at his compact desk in quarters, the low amber lighting of evening cycle still active despite the ship’s advancing morning. A single PADD rested before him, its screen displaying the latest aggregated data from Lathira IV: patient timelines, viral load curves, neural activity logs and cross-referenced epidemiological maps from Solara Research Center.
He had not slept. Vulcan physiology required significantly less rest than human; four hours of controlled meditation every 72 hours maintained optimal function, and he had completed his cycle the previous evening before beginning the deep-dive analysis. No fatigue registered in his posture: spine aligned, shoulders square, hands resting lightly on the desk edge. His eyes—dark, steady, unblinking—scanned the scrolling data with the same unflagging focus he had maintained for the past 14 hours
The Vid-Comm panel chimed softly. Jorik tapped the accept key without shifting position. The screen divided into three feeds: Commander Amberlyn in her quarters, cradling coffee with visible fatigue in the lines around her eyes; Dr. Dunross in Sickbay’s research station, hair slightly disheveled, steam rising from her tea as she brushed back a stray lock.
Jorik inclined his head fractionally in greeting, voice calm and uninflected.
“Commander Amberlyn. Doctor Dunross. Good morning.”
His tone carried no trace of weariness—only the quiet precision of someone who had spent the night dissecting viral mutation patterns rather than fighting exhaustion. The contrast was unspoken but unmistakable: while the two humans showed the toll of consecutive hours without proper rest, Jorik appeared as composed as if he had just completed a standard shift.
// Amberlyn's Quarters //
"Thank you both for dropping what you were doing for this. We shouldn't be long. I have contacted Starfleet Medical and there are no other reports of the Novaryn-C vaccine failure. Looks like it is a localized thing. Which is good overall. We have two more children sick and the first two patients are suffering from debilitating tremors in hands and a persistent nodding of the head. If we don't do something quickly, I would suggest we commit them to stasis to slow down the progress. That's my good and bad news. Dr Dunross, your report."
// Sickbay Research Station //
“I thought,” Claire began, then shook her head slightly, correcting herself, “No. I am confident. The models confirm it. I know why the vaccine is failing.”
She leaned forward just enough to engage the display, pulling up the compiled overlays from Science. Immune response curves. Degradation timelines. Environmental correlations.
“The viral strain itself remains stable. This is not mutation,” she clarified. “The failure occurs within the vaccine scaffold after administration. The final sequence is not completing. The stabilizing matrix is being compromised before it can fully integrate.”
She shifted to the environmental analysis.
“There is an introduced polymer present in all resident samples from Kestrel Reach and the surrounding communities. Trace, but consistent. It binds to the scaffold and weakens it under physiological conditions, destabilizing the final phase of the immunization process.”
Her tone sharpened, fatigue falling away beneath clinical certainty.
“It appears to be a recent introduction. The adults retain broader immune memory and are compensating. The newly vaccinated pediatric population does not have that buffer, which is why we are seeing breakdown almost exclusively in the younger cohort.”
She let the final data set hover between them.
“The polymer’s composition matches conduit insulation material commonly used approximately five decades ago.”
A measured breath.
“We need Engineering involved immediately. If this compound is leaching from aging infrastructure, any reformulated vaccine will fail until the source is identified and contained.”
"Then we contact Cmdr Harlan immediately. Let me try to get him on this call?" said Amberlyn. "Dr Amberlyn to Cmdr Harlan. Are you available? We have an urgent need to visit with you on a joint medical vid-comm call."
The open comm channel crackled with a sharp electrical pop, followed by a string of low, inventive curses that would have made a Klingon bartender proud.
// Jeffries Tube //
“Harlan here,” Elias’s voice came through, rough and gravelly. “Hang on.”
A metallic clatter rang out—tools hitting deck plating—then a louder, more heartfelt “Damnit!” before the fourth video feed finally flickered to life on everyone’s screens.
Commander Harlan appeared, crammed into a Jefferies tube, uniform smeared with conductive gel and insulation dust. He was trying to prop his PADD against a support strut so the camera stayed level, but the angle was hopeless. The frame tilted wildly, showing half his face and a tangle of exposed conduits behind him.
“Trying to… steady this thing,” he muttered, voice tight with exhaustion. The PADD slipped again; he caught it one-handed just as a loose hyperspanner tumbled from overhead.
He jerked sideways with surprising speed for someone who looked three seconds from collapse, the tool clanging off the deck inches from his shoulder.
“Son of a—” He exhaled hard through his nose, then looked directly into the camera, eyes bloodshot, jaw set.
“Apologies for the theatrics, Doctors. I was finishing the last dorsal coupling tie-in when you called. Apparently the ship decided it was a great time to remind me gravity still works.”
He wiped a streak of grime across his forehead with the back of his wrist, leaving another smudge.
“I’m here. Barely. What do you need before this tube decides to eat me?”
Claire did not so much as flinch at the colorful entry.
“Good morning, Commander,” she replied evenly, as though he were seated neatly at a conference table rather than wedged inside the ship’s spine.
Her eyes tracked the falling hyperspanner with clinical interest.
“Do try not to concuss yourself. I would prefer not to requisition Engineering and triage in the same breath.”
She shifted, bringing the data forward on the shared channel.
“We have identified a trace polymer in resident samples from Kestrel Reach and neighboring communities. It binds to the stabilizing matrix of the pediatric vaccine and prevents the final integration sequence from completing.”
Her tone sharpened, all dryness giving way to precision.
“The compound’s composition matches conduit insulation material commonly used approximately fifty years ago.”
A measured pause.
“Our working theory is that aging infrastructure is degrading and leaching this material into the water supply. If that is the case, any reformulated vaccine will continue to fail until the source is identified and contained.”
Her gaze held his, steady and unblinking.
“I need to know where that insulation was used, whether it would degrade into a soluble polymer under environmental stress, and how it could be entering a municipal system.”
A faint lift of one brow.
“And ideally before the Jefferies tube claims you as its next sacrifice.”
“Understood,” Elias said, voice rough from too many hours in tight spaces and not enough sleep. He shifted the PADD in his grip, steadying it against a support strut as another faint spark popped somewhere behind his left shoulder. He ignored it.
His mind flicked immediately back to the Tidal Gardens blackout his first night aboard. Kestrel Reach was a good distance away, but if the planet’s infrastructure was degrading the way he’d seen firsthand, the idea that old insulation was leaching into the environment wasn’t far-fetched. It was depressingly plausible.
“Most of engineering is wrapping up the tactical array,” he continued, wiping a streak of conductive gel across his forehead with the back of his wrist. “We’re down to final checks—should be green across the board by end of shift today. I’ve got a contact in the local constabulary planetside. I’ll reach out, see if I can get them to pull records on municipal power and water systems near Kestrel Reach.” He said staring past the padd then blinked.
“Or at least get authorization for us to go digging.”
He paused to dodge a loose isolinear chip that decided to fall from overhead, catching it one-handed before it could clang off the deck. He stared at it for half a second, then tucked it into his pocket like it was nothing.
“I’ll cross-reference any matching polymer compounds with the conduit specs.. If it’s the same batch—or even the same manufacturer—I’ll know within a few hours. And if it is degrading into something soluble…” He exhaled once, short and tired.
“We’ll need to trace every meter of line feeding that community. That’s not a quick job, but I can get a team planetside with scanners and sample kits by tomorrow morning if not sooner, if the constabulary cooperates, and the tactical array doesn't kill anyone when we power it on.”
"Thank you, Cmdr Harlan" said Amberlyn. "I'm confident it won't under your supervision. And thank you for some insight into the situation on the planet. I'm delighted you have some connections to help move this along. Of course the sooner the better, but I'm also aware that humanly possible is also a favor. Your exception noted, Dr Jorik," she smiled, knowing it would not be positively acknowledged by the Vulcan, but not in the least deterred by that fact. "Anyone have questions or further information to share?"
There were a few murmurs to the negative. Amberlyn nodded. "Then do what you need to do and keep me informed. Right now, I'm going to inform Command of this new development. Thanks for your hard work and your time here. Be careful in that tube, Commander. Amberlyn out." And she terminated the call.
~~~
LtCmdr Riah Amberlyn, XMD
Chief Medical Officer
LtCmdr Claire Dunross, MD
Assistant Chief Medical Officer
LtCmdr Elias Harlan
Chief Engineering Officer
Lt Jorik, XMD
Medical Officer
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