One Hour! Guaranteed! Fleet LensCrafters (TAral & Cale)

[Crash Calestorm 0]

Stardate 2261.55

USS Comanche Creek

Medical Bay

 

Calestorm entered main medical for an appointment. It had galled her to finally admit it, but certain words or sentences were slightly out of focus on reports and she’d made an appointment with the CMO. The lanky woman waited patiently and held her hands behind her back in an automatic parade rest. Quietly observing the nurses, techs and interns going about their daily business, she remained alert and focused out of habit from years of training and service.

 

All departments were on point with the escort mission, but Medical and Sciences were more so on alert considering the items carried by the transport SS Dover Castle. Nothing like viral nasties to keep everyone on his or her toes.

 

Lieutenant T’Aral came out of her office, nodding to Cale and gesturing for her to enter examination room 3. She turned to Ensign Khora; “We will be performing a standard ocular examination. The patient is human; age over 40.” The young nurse nodded, turning to a supply station and pressing controls to gather a small collection of bottles. Meanwhile T’Aral entered the examination room, taking a tricorder and sensor to gather readings. “Your message indicated noticing some troubles focusing at close range?” She checked the tricorder readings. “Your eyes are quite healthy, given your age. All readings are well within normal parameters.”

 

The elder woman looked at the medical officer, concern battling with curiosity on finding out what was going on. “My flight time is fine, no problems readin’ the console equipment or even lookin’ out the canopy with a Mark One Eyeball. But what’s goin’ on with my eyes Doc? Certain sentences or words are kinda out of focus on data slates or hard copy reports, and even then I can’t really tell you when it happens?”

 

“What ‘is going on’, is that your eyes are going through the natural progression of age. Stiffening of the optical structures is typical in humans younger than you; that you have gone this long without notable issues is remarkable. There is nothing to be concerned about, and treatments have advanced to the point at which the condition is reversable.”

 

“Same thing started happenin’ to my Daddy when he was in his early sixties; guess we know what genetics I inherited, huh?” She managed a crooked smile.

 

“So it would appear.” T’Aral gestured for Cale to lie back. “The standard treatment for your condition follows the Retinax protocols. You will be provided with medication which is to be applied to your eyes twice daily. The technique is simple, and the results have been consistently reported as satisfactory.” T’Aral turned to find Ensign Khora at her elbow with a bottle of Retinax-II in hand. Examining it and nodding in approval, she turned back to Cale. “I will make the first application when you are ready.”

 

She’d lied prone on her back as instructed, gesturing to the Vulcan. “Daddy started with Retinax and then switched to glasses ‘bout ten years back. Go for it Doc, fire when ready.”

 

Placing a locating saddle on the bridge of Cale’s nose, T’Aral administered one drop into the inner corner of each eye. “Fifteen minutes should be allowed for the medication to take effect. A simple test of your visual flexibility will determine if this concentration is suitable …”

 

The Retinax medication and Crash did not mesh well and the reaction was immediate: she sneezed and kept sneezing and her eyes watered. Propping herself up in an elbow, she wiped at her eyes with a hand and tried to stem the tide of sneezes.

 

Firm hands pressed Cale back to the bed. “Hydroxaline irrigation … sinucortizone …” Ensign Khora moved seamlessly, administering twin streams of clear liquid into Cale’s eyes while handing T’Aral a misting bottle which the doctor pressed to Cale’s nostrils. “Try to relax and breathe the mist in, Captain: you are having a reaction to the medication - this will alleviate the symptoms.”

 

“Lord Almighty!”

 

T’Aral noted the Cale’s evocation with a minimum of bemusement. It seemed entirely out of place, as neither the reaction nor the medical group’s response had anything to do with divine activity. She was used to such things, though, having worked with humans for some time. It seemed that those with beliefs gained some amount of comfort from such statements. As it caused no harm, she had no reason to protest.

 

She stepped back, picking up a pad. “It seems we will have to re-schedule your examination, Captain. Your reaction to the Retinax indicates an allergy. As there are no other pharmaceutical solutions, we will have to employ a prosthetic solution. I will need to study the examination procedures before proceeding …”

 

Ensign Khora turned to T’Aral. “Forgive me, Doctor, but a re-schedule may not be necessary. Since you had an optical examination on your schedule, I took the liberty to study all procedures that may be necessary. I can operate the tonometer, autorefractor, and the phoropter. All other information that may be needed should be obtainable via medical tricorder.”

 

T’Aral raised a single eyebrow. “Indeed … curious, though quite satisfactory if the Captain is agreeable.” She turned back to Cale, easing her back while administering more eye drops to completely neutralize the Retinax. “In order to address your condition and the limitations your allergic reaction presents, additional data is required. The equipment Ensign Khora has described are a series of devices which will provide the data. The tests employed are time consuming and have been described as tedious, but I assure you they are quite painless.” She scanned Cale’s eyes again, then administered two more drops. “You may rest for ten minutes, after which you should be fully recovered. We can then proceed with the examination … if you wish.”

 

A sneeze and a wheeze heralded the Captain’s response. “Y-yeah, go for it Doc.” She waved a ‘let’s do this’ hand from her prone position.

 

T’Aral nodded and gestured for Ensign Khora to prepare the examination room. After the needed ten minutes had passed, a tricorder scan confirmed that the effects of the Retinax were countered and the Captain was in good condition for examination. Setting the scanner aside, T’Aral helped Cale to her feet and led her back to the optical bay.

 

It was a darkened room, especially when contrasted to the bright interiors of modern starships. The ensign gestured for Cale to approach, pointing to a pair of supports which suggested a chair, nested in the middle of a collection of apparatus which resembled nothing so much as a Klingon interrogation cell. With a relaxed, almost humoring tone Ensign Khora instructed Cale. “Have a seat, and rest your chin on the support in front of you. When you are comfortable and steady we can begin.”

 

Her expression slightly askance, the senior officer glanced from Ensign Khora to the device and then positioned herself accordingly.

 

“Let’s get the glaucoma test over with quickly …” A jet of air in each eye confirmed Cale’s general health. The second device was far gentler; all Cale had to do was stare - the machine did the rest. Finally, Khora pulled down what looked to be a targeting device. “Ok - here’s where it gets boring …” Activating a screen and blanking off one lens port, she began to drone, “Now - does this look better, or this? A, or B? A, or B?” That single line of questioning went on and on for almost fifteen minutes at three different ranges, testing each eye in turn. Finally she stopped, walked over to T’Aral, and compared notes.

 

The Vulcan examined the results, nodded, and walked over to Cale. “As you indicated, your vision remains excellent at range. It is when things come closer to you that your focal limitations begin to show. This can be compensated for in a variety of ways …” T’Aral seemed to hesitate for a moment, as if unsure how to proceed despite the clear and logical path before her. “... but in your case, I would recommend framed bifocal lenses.”

 

Crash was not a vain woman. Still, the mention of lenses made her nervous. “I’ve never had to wear glasses, Doc.” She managed to keep the note of worry out of her voice, almost sounding like a teenager told for the first time they’d have to start wearing lenses. Get a grip, get a grip, girl...it’s not as if you’re being told you contracted a deadly virus from the contents held over on the Dover or something...

 

“Most people haven’t. However, we have few options. While contact lenses are viable, you would require progressive lenses. The image which you see would be warped, would take time to adapt to, and would not be conducive to piloting. While eyeglasses may be a new experience, they would be easy to adapt to. I regret that surgery is not an option, as your nominal vision is still healthy.” T’Aral composed some notes. “I am simply offering the most practical solution.”

 

Aw, Hell. Having reading glasses were wasn’t the end of the universe, thank you very much.

She nodded, more to herself then the medical officer. “Okay. Slim choices are better then no choices I’d imagine...”

 

It’s not as if she were completely against the new development; There was the genetic possibility within the family of eye changes, let alone age factored in. The situation was what it was.

 

T’Aral opened a terminal which activated a holographic pillar. Rising up from it was a bust of Cale, imaged from her last ID. Entering a few commands, images of various lens frames and tinting were overlaid in position. “There are those who consider eyeglasses to be a means of personal expression. There have also been advances in auto-tinting technologies which improves the utility of framed lenses, especially for pilots.”

 

Yet a part of Calestorm still remained bullheaded and opposed. The more frames and options that were explored, the stiffer - literal and figurative - she became. She stood still, arms crossed over chest, eyebrow raised and mouth set in a thin line. After a while it became evident to T’Aral that they were not making progress. “Captain … perhaps if you could describe what you would be comfortable with?”

 

Crash blew a breath out her nose and gave the CMO a half smile. Honestly, it was no big deal. “Alright Doc, I get it. For my day to day shipboard duties and paperwork, I think a conservative lense frame would be fine. Piloting? Owing to the nature of the work, I’d like a sporty frame...”

 

T’Aral nodded. “For regular shipboard duties, lenses are entirely optional unless you believe you will be reading often, or need to switch back and forth frequently. If you are only reading occasionally I would recommend reading glasses, though fleet uniforms are generally not conducive to storing lenses.” She visualized Cale with frames on a tether - practical, but it was an image that humans generally considered unflattering.

 

The discussion continued and the Captain continued to warm up to the idea of wearing lenses. Two sets of frames were finally decided on, owing to the particular taste of the wearer.

 

Ultimately, the style chosen for Crash’s office work and bridge duty cycles was a rounded rectangular shape about the lenses with thicker temples, the color a dark mottled pattern of black and gold. An ideal way to describe the design was ‘nerd chic’, thank you very much, and the subtle coloring would match the command duty uniform. The lenses chosen for piloting were tinted, with a wraparound sport frame in a coal black coloring and would fit comfortably within the confines of the helmet and protective faceplate.

 

Ensign Khora sighed a breath of relief after sitting quietly for so long, flipping through design after design until the Captain finally settled on what she wanted. With the designs selected, she coded in the lens profiles and provided them for T’Aral’s review. Once the Vulcan doctor examined the layout and nodded, she activated a lithographer. Small arms began spraying and curing micro-layer upon microlayer, slowly creating perfectly fitted frames and lenses.

 

T’Aral turned to the Captain. “You may go; your sets will be complete in about an hour.”