The two decapods continued their ascent. On the pressure gauge, the little hand continued to whiz around the coral circle. The big hand was at 35, and the inverter showed “-”, or around -35,000 lengths up.

“Over halfway,” he called out.

Zero was the mean pressure at sea bottom. The highest city, ColdSeep, was -4100. The deepest spot was +2250. The gauged measured pressure in vertical lengths. All higher-pressure locations were positive, while lower were negative. The total column of water they had to ascend was about 58,000 lengths, depending on the ice.

Ice-Driller busied himself with the craft’s operation, but there was little to do. To trim the direction, he could take in or remove water from the two ballast tanks. He could change the bow planes, but the station was too far away. Nothing outside but featureless water. He had to trust the prior calculations. Tides-charts and ice-drift were predictable, so the research station should be near their aim. Only the encounter with the mandible shark would have veered them from finding the station.

Occasionally, one of them would send out a chirp of sonar. Mostly, this was to examine the craft itself. The possibility of a subtle bias from a tooth wedged in the craft might be enough to drift them far from their target. No matter the frequency of sound they used, the craft appeared fine to them. There was nothing outside the vessel, only a column of dead water. They were in the mesopelagic zone. An even less prolific area than before, and one layer away from where the top-dwellers lived. This was a zone of minimal life. Even with narrow nets, a decapod would starve here.

“Once we get up to the research station, we’ll need to gather supplies and move.” Ice-Driller said. “The City Military will arrive soon and close the station.”

“What other items are most important, besides nets and food?” Study-up replied.

“With an open-water descent, we’ll need protection.”

“And then?”“I’m still thinking.”A few moments of silence passed, then a faint chirp from Study-Up to see what Ice-Driller was doing. He moved a little, and she sensed it. Then he rubbed two of his tentacles together and continued to needlessly fiddle with the controls.

“We can’t hide forever,” she finally spoke up.

“No, I suppose we can’t.”

The idea was they would gather up the most salient research and return to the city, then make their case. Longer-term they would dictate books, go on speaking-tours, display any artifacts at the museum or private collections. The plans were formed before the war.

“The city will come after us. Is our evidence as ice-shattering as you think? They might view us as mutineers. We’d need to move to another city-state.” Study-Up said. “…Or join the prison militia. I still believe the other scientists will side with us if they saw proof. None at our Institute are stupid—many believe what my father studied. But extraordinary claims—”

“—Yes, yes, I know.”

“The problem is our success. Our society’s success. No one wanted to stir the sediment.” Ice-Driller said.

“Why would they? We've had generations of peace, prosperity, and progress. More than all past recorded history. Our great-grandfathers were cowering under rocks from predators. Now we’ve hunted them almost to extinction.”

“It was the continued swim towards truth that led to the progress! And now every learned decapod wants to swim with the truth! Every parasite and sand-louse we’ve eliminated led to millions being born. Every mega-shark we killed led to a safer future for all. Now others act like some cloud of silt is between their melons and my evidence.”

“I guess the sting of survival is gone.” Study-Up said.

“We’re too comfortable.” Ice-Driller said. “We’ve colonized every cold seep, brine-lake, and hydrothermal vent—all populated. Where next? Into the magma vents? Food’s increased. We’ve bred better shrimp, clams, crab, fish-pods… “Let alone my research on autotroph extremophiles—”

“Bah, it’s not solely a matter of food—We’ve abandoned the ideals that got us here.” Ice-Driller pushed water over his gills faster and started fiddling with the controls again.

Study-Up flashed anger green. “I’m sorry I interrupted you,” Ice-Driller said. “Your research about the bacterial mats on the ice is revolutionary. The ice is a larger area. If we could produce food up there, it could double our potential.” He flashed an infrared apology.She came over to him. “That’s what attracted me to you. Your sense of grand wonder. New frontiers above.” She coiled some of her tentacles around him. She put her melon in contact with his body and sent small sounds through him, visualizing his entire body.

He relaxed and let go of the controls and intertwined with her—as much as the pressure wraps allowed (which was not a full embrace). Both now flashed friendly colors which were occluded by the wraps. “A breed of life than any other. Energy from beyond the icewall. Good luck getting others to agree with that. It takes more effort to clear cloudy minds and build a house.”

“Exactly. But this stupid war. Over resources, food, and living space. We can move up and live up.” Study-Up freed two tentacles to make an exaggerated expression. Then she re-wrapped them around her mate.

They spent the last leg of the trip much closer than before.

Dead ocean passed around. They could visualize the sounds of rushing water around the scratched ascender hull. The pumping of their individual hearts beating lit up their individual minds. All else was silent. Few others could claim to have heard such emptiness. Vast was the distance compared to their small bodies.

They settled into a torpor to conserve energy.