Cassandra

I turned the power right down, whispering ‎to the void as I pointed my finger just where I ‎wanted that infra-visible fire to go. The short ‎infra, right at the bottom loading of its range, ‎turned that frozen oxygen rather rapidly back into ‎a gas, one which condensed on my suit and on the ‎thicker ice around the lock’s jack. Siobhan kept us ‎together, edging the Wren after the air-tent as the ‎gusts of expanding gas thrust the tent away. It ‎seemed like a rather long time before I could lock ‎my line into the jack and bolt everything tight, but ‎Siobhan told me that it was actually less than ten ‎minutes, “Now can I wake him up?” She demanded, ‎‎“The temperature is back up to thirty-nine degrees ‎Co and overall pressure is up to fifteen pounds per ‎square inch. Don’t worry; he’s woken up all by ‎himself.”‎ She cut me in on the communication line ‎and I heard his muffled voice within the tent ‎wondering what the hell and damnation was ‎happening now. ‎ ‎“It’s only me, Doctor.” I told him in a ‎small voice.‎