IV
“You’ve killed us!” Horacio’s voice was so taut it became shrill. His big frame trembled with anger and fear.
Agnarsson said nothing. He charged the bolt on the CR-10 rifle and re-checked the safety. He wondered if Vietes would shoot him if he handed the gun over to him.
The three of them were gathered in the ‘storm cellar’, a watertight keep in the center of the station, partially beneath the waterline. Behind its armored bulkheads and hermetically sealed hatches were the armory, sick bay, the emergency stores, and a secondary command center from which the refuge’s sensors, radios, and weapons could all be controlled. It could be steered from here as well, though that was of no use now. The refuge, unlike many seasteads, had its own engines, but she moved with all the grace and speed of a pregnant cow; outrunning the swift hydrofoil that menaced them was impossible.
“You killed us!” Horacio repeated. “You locked us in here to die! God damn me! We should have left in the lifeboat!” He appealed to his daughter, his eyes red and filled with tears. “Forgive your father for being so stupid and reckless.”
“You wouldn’t have gotten far ,” Agnarsson said. “Their drones would have picked you off as soon as you left the well dock.”
Horacio punched the wall and roared. “What difference does it make? They will come here and kill us!”
“That remains to be seen.” Agnarsson tried to reflect calm, but his patience and his courage were fraying.