A different plane from the multiverse manifests in the Kirinal Pit every day. Nevertheless, life and trade thrive around this 30-mile hole in reality. 

At dawn on the Day of Prime, I knew that I'd be working. The new plane, the Manifest, broke into our world with a burst of cold, salty air. A winter ocean had arrived, tempering the summer heat over the Kirinal Pit. 

Outside the hangars of the Kirinal Salvage Society, I paused to look northeast. The Divers arced over the Pit, leaving distinctive energy trails, as they surveyed the brand new ocean that had appeared. I could tell from the pattern that they were on a simple survey. They weren't accounting for hostiles, probably no sapients to negotiate with.

I rushed into the enormous building and threw the switch. The towering hangar doors opened with a rumble. My crew of dozens represented a slice of the mortal races living on the Pit. They were gorging themselves from the guild's breakfast tables, fuel for a hard day's work, or a free meal at the company expense if we didn't win a Cachet for the Manifest.

"Look alive boys and girls, we're fishermen today!", I shouted, "Fire up the zeppelins and finish up the prep on the boats." I sniffed the air again, "Second Squad, get the kelp harvesters going!" The crew dispersed among the vehicles. Some putting away harvesting and mining equipment while the cyclopes pulled the boats forward to the waiting zeppelins.

"Helm! Did our crystals get enough charge?"

"Aye, Captain Agaric." responded my helmsmage Ebrie, a tough jinn woman. "The Manifest snapped in nice and hard. We're crackling today." She made a hand movement, muttering under her breath as she bound the energy crystal to my command vessel, the Ready. With a grunt, it slid into place. "If the bidders bugger it again and waste our time, I know exactly where to put this extra power." she looked at me and let lightning dance on her fingertips. 

I smirked and responded, "Keep it in your pants, helm. The Surveyor hasn't even called it yet. We might have to negotiate with merfolk or, gods-forbid, some chirpy dolphin bastards."

I returned to check the prep on the trawlers before they went on the zeppelins. As I pulled on lines to check the knots, a goblin clerk from upstairs approached with a young blonde human in tow. "Captain, the bosses want this one to shadow you today."

Without looking over I commented, "Sure, give him to the second squad."

The clerk grunted and held up an order with the Seal of the Board on it. "My apologies Captain, they insisted that he shadow you. Respectfully, could you please answer all his questions." 

I snatched the parchment, gave it a cursory glance, and stuffed it in my pocket. "Fine. You may leave."

As the goblin scurried off, I looked more closely at the golden interloper. He was young, pale,  in his early twenties, and thin but sinewy. His clothes were appropriate for a salvage, plain but well made and his hands had the calluses of a swordsman. His gaze was direct as he looked me in the eyes.

"Do you have a name?"

He answered dryly, "Dylan, Captain. Dylan Herren."

"You can ask me your questions, Master Herren, but get in my way and I'll throw you off my ship."

"But of course, Captain. Please tell me about yourself."

"Is this an inspection by the Zone Authority or are you a newspaper..."

He responded with a pointed look, "I'm under the Seal of the Board, Captain."

I began with my familiar patter, "I am Captain Bentley Agaric of the Kirinal Salvage Society. I'm in command of the Ready Hangar here in Garrison City, which is also the Zone headquarters of the Society. On harvest days, we bid for the right to enter the Manifest and responsibly collect natural resources."

"Harvest day?"

"When a new plane manifests in the Pit without sophonts to claim the resources. The Concordance declares a Day of Harvest  and we get to work."

"How often does the Manifest have inhabitants?"

"When we get a mortal world that's safe to enter? About one in nine or ten."

At that moment, the ident-a-hedron on my wrist buzzed. We all checked our hedrons for the Surveyor's call: "Horn 1 Prime Unknown Ocean Animal Population 6". One enormous horn blast pealed out over the entire city.

"That's the Call, team! Finalize prep! We launch in 5 minutes!"

As I turned towards my command vessel, The Ready, the golden interloper said, "Captain, could you please explain that? I'm newly arrived here in the Concordant Zone, and I don't understand your jargon."

"Master Herren, I told you..."

"You can call me Dylan, Captain."

"Master Herren," I continued, "I don't have time to babysit."

"I'm sorry Captain, but I must insist. I won't get in your way, but you've been directed to answer my questions."

"Then keep up Master Herren." I continued through the hangar, inspecting the ships as they were winched into place on the zeppelins.

"So what's this message that I got on my hedron crystal device? Please explain as if I had just arrived." he held up a brand new octahedron on a fresh, unmarked wristband. 

I went back to my reliable patter, "That's the Call of the Surveyor of Worlds. Every morning as soon as it appears, the Kirinal Divers fly over it. Sometimes the Manifest is a scheduled world, but once or twice a week, we get a random world. A little randomness is a price we pay for order for the rest of the week. They double-check that the correct world has appeared, or they survey a new world."

"Once he's done, he makes his call and everyone in the Zone gets the result on their ident-a-hedron." I hold my left hand up, my hedron is on a strap turned towards the inside of my wrist. "So the message means..."

"Please explain the device as if I just arrived here, Captain."

"Buggering inspectors," I muttered. "Hedrons are soul crystals that serve as identification and communication. Some folks use it for money and other things, but I don't trust gold unless I can hold it in my hand."

"So anyone can say anything to anyone with one of these?"

I double-checked the net launchers and harpoons, making sure the release mechanisms weren't jammed. No use trying to fish or fight if the gear fails mid-haul.

"No, you have to be com-synced and you only get 25 words. But the officials and the Authority are synced to everybody. The Surveyor works for the biggest of the big boys and he talks to everyone in the Zone once he's surveyed the Manifest with the Call."

"So, the Call?"

A triton scout clicked his teeth at me as he adjusted his breath-mask. "Waters look clean, Captain. Nothing poisonous, and it's cold down there." I nodded, cold meant a good winter ocean full of fish.

"That's the Diver's Cypher. First, he gives us the Horns. One horn for peace, two for war, and three means flee. We got "Horn 1" today, for us salvagers, that means profits. "Prime Unknown" means that we have another mortal world, but one that's never been the Manifest. "Ocean" means what you think it does. "Animal" means we have relatively normal creatures, no undead, elementals, demons, or anything exotic like that. Population 6 means massive schools of fish. Plenty for everyone if we win a Cachet!"

"What's a Cachet?"

"The Zone is split into eight cantons: north, northeast, east, southeast, etcetera. Each canton sells access to their section of the Pit on Harvest Days. They auction off Cachets, the higher you bid, the earlier you launch."

"So you have a Cachet?"

"Not yet. Our bidders have to do their job. Our guild surveyors are out on the Wall now. They're sending information to the bidder and..."

"And the information comes over these ideen... ident..."

"Hee-drons, Master Herren. And yes, if you and I were to touch our hedrons together and make a com-sync, we could send each other 25-word messages all day long."

"Interesting."

"That's the magic of the Zone."

My hedron dinged and I announced to the crew, "We won position 3! Not bad. We're going to the Wall! Helms, take us out!"

I turned to Ebrie, standing at her station just behind mine. "Nice and smooth, Ebrie."

Ebrie held her hands over the command crystal and the zeppelin rumbled to life. We floated out, leading our squad of three vessels over Garrison City as we headed east. With the Call made, the city oriented towards the ocean manifest. 

As we left the Hangar District, the auction houses were already converting to handle the seafood we would be bringing in. The house mages conjured ice as workers set up stalls and scales for fish and crabs. I could tell where we were by the scents in the air. The smell of fresh baked bread rose from kitchens and mess halls. Oil and harsh smoke as we crossed over the factories. The smell of offal marked the edge of the city.

Other guild fleets were heading to the Wall too. I spotted the distinctive airships of the Lightning Brothers to the north and the sleek zeppelins of the Smiling Lads to the south. Everyone who'd won a Cachet was heading to their positions.

We rose over the walls of the Garrison and, as always, I turn around to take in the low multicolored homes and buildings of my home. I made the Sign of Five wishing for luck and my safe return to my family.

"How far to the Pit?", Herren asked.

"Five miles, Master Herren. We'll be there in about fifteen minutes. Then we wait for Positions 1 and 2 to launch before we go over."

I turn to catch my first glimpse of the Manifest. An ocean of cold rolling waves filled the Pit today, unruly waves thundering as they crashed against the base of the Pit 200 feet down. 

We followed the road to the Fortress of Kirinal, it was full of soldiers returning to the City, standing down after the Horn 1 call. 

*Arrive at the Pit. Go over the wall.

Herren gasps as we reach the edge of the Kirinal Pit. As we float over the wall it's a 250 foot straight down and I feel him tightening up as our countdown ticks to zero. 

"Take us over Ebrie. There's work to do."

We descend swiftly and surely. Ebrie's an old hand, but I can tell that she's a little heavy on the throttle for the benefit of our unwelcome guest.

As we descend, the air chills and we huddle into our cold weather gear. The tritons dive as we approach the water, they slide beneath the waves to begin scouting for us.

They catch tuna on run one and call back to the warehouse for a kelp harvester. They note the presence of crystal shrimp, which are delicious and their shells are a valuable magical infusion, but they warn about what feeds on them. 

After a few runs, they meet in the center of the Pit with three other crews for a traditional meal with other crews to compare notes and give each other tips. The dwarven Hex Crystal crew can't join them. "Captain Marbleface! I brought some of my wife's pork adobo that you've been asking about! You were supposed to trade me for some mushroom bread!"

"The grags overbid for Position 1. The dusty buggers have us working overtime to make up for their mistake. We'll catch you next time!"

The meal

They meet up with a crew of orcs, humans from Silver Slice, and a brand new crew of goblins from the Magister Slice. They've never won a cachet before and they're in over their heads. Some of them have never even been on the ocean before. They're very happy with anchovies, cockles, and mud crabs. "We don't get a lot of seafood in the tunnels. These will bring us plenty of coin!"

They tie their boats together and gather on the deck. The orcs bring out smoked meats and hard liquor. The humans have flat bread with melted cheese and savory toppings. The goblins bring honeyed crickets, sprouted rat, and fresh berries. I stick to the berries and a few crickets. I leave the rat for more adventurous souls.

They talk of seeing something in the deep  that has escaped their scans. The dwarves are over fishing the crystal shrimp.

Suddenly enormous tentacles burst from the water wrapping around the Hex Crystal fleet.