I’m not trying to obscure it: I genuinely don’t know what to call this story now. It’s definitely not going to be a thing in an airlock. Anyway, trying to finish this up, this weekend. It’s long past time that I got these stories out.
He turned to the schematic. “So. Which shelter?”
“This one.” Abby tapped the smallest shelter. “It’s the oldest, it’s the most inconvenient to get to, and it was retrofitted to the main base systems. That’s where I’d go, if I wanted to hole up.” She paused. “Maybe we should check the others, too.”
“Amazing,” Tobias replied, standing up. “That got a hard yes and no from me, all at the same time. Remind me to dread the thought of deciding it later. Right now, get a Security team spun up. I’ll meet them there.”
“Yes, sir. Wait, you’re going in, too?”
“Yes, Abbie. There may be fighting.” Tobias almost smiled. “We’re military, remember? Security isn’t used to fighting people who are actually, honestly trying to kill them.”
“Neither are we,” Abbie muttered as she bent to the laptop.
It’s a “The Thing” riff, right?
Work in a woodworking hobby for the protagonist, and call it “The Carpenter”?
Mew
No, HPL’s The Thing On The Doorstep.