The Sinner King: Book of Fire

by D. R. Crislip

  "I'm going to take us in," Roland said and tilted the control wheel forward. The hovercar's front end dipped below the horizon, revealing sprawling land through the windshield. Streams of hovercrafts formed grids above the city skyline. Roland pulled the hovercar into one of the intersections and decreased its speed before entering the city.

  Roland pointed at the dashboard map and said: "It looks like the Department of Historical Events is three blocks straight ahead and one block to the right. When we get there, where do you want me to park?"

  "I've been thinking about that," Rebecca said, "I don't think I want you to park."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I think I want you to come in from above," she told him. "All Ministry buildings are alike despite the different sector. In my building, I know we have an access door that allows maintenance to reach the ventilation shaft leading out through the peak of the building. If you can get near the door I can get inside."

  Roland looked unconvinced. "I thought you were going to go through the main entrance. You said that any member of the DEA would blend in."

  "Yeah and I also said that it would require the condition of my uniform not getting noticed." Rebecca gestured to her pants and vest. "As you can see, I'm not in tiptop shape."

  Roland didn't argue but still seemed uncomfortable with the plan.

  A few minutes later they arrived at the Department of Historical Events headquarters. Instead of lowering the hovercar down to the ground, like Roland wanted, they gained altitude so that the vehicle was just higher than the tip of the pyramidal building. Rebecca ordered Roland to circle around it until she could see the slight outline of the access door.

  "Stop," Rebecca called out as she spotted the main vent. Roland slowed them to a halt while she continued examining the building from afar. "I think I see the latch to open the door."

  "Are you sure?" Roland asked.

  "Pretty sure."

  Roland took to looking out his window and toward the walkways below. "I don't think you should make the jump right now," he suggested. "I think too many people are noticing us."

  Rebecca looked down and agreed. "Pull around the block again. When we get back, go straight for that spot on the building and I'll make the jump."

  "You have to be kidding me," Roland complained. "That's suicide."

  No, suicide is not doing anything, Rebecca thought. "Don't worry about me. Just do it."

  "I think you're better off just going through the main entrance. It can't be more dangerous than this."

  "What if there are MSF agents down there," Rebecca countered. "Believe it or not, it's too risky. I'm better off splattering onto the side of the building than walking through the main entrance. After I get the translation, I will come out through the main entrance—but only when we have the opportunity to leave immediately."

  Roland sighed and gave up the argument. He pulled the hovercar away and took them around the block. Rebecca unfastened her safety straps and disengaged the passenger door, which sounded the danger alarm inside the cabin. "Can you turn that thing off?" Rebecca pleaded.

  "It's computer controlled," Roland explained, "there's nothing I can do about it except for shutting your door."

  "Fine, just get me up there."

  Roland continued forward and then maneuvered the hovercar around so Rebecca had the angle on the door. He drifted as close to the door as the hovercar would allow. Vehicles had safety measures built into the computer system that protected them from colliding into things. Roland could only get within three feet of the door before the hovercar's computer switched into autodrive.

  Rebecca placed her workbag around her shoulder and neck so that it was safely secured and then closed her eyes to take a deep cleansing breath. Her ankles were feeling better after having some time to rest but they still weighed heavily on her mind. When she opened her eyes, everything looked clear; her nerves were calmed.

  Then she went for it.

  *******

  The whole ordeal lasted about two seconds. Rebecca had heaved her door open and lunged for the roof. She hit the side of the building a little too high and her feet missed the small ledge at the foot of the door. Her knees however caught it and she was able to use her left hand to grab onto the main vent.

  Roland couldn't watch. He pulled the hovercar away as instructed.

  With barely a grip on the vent and her knees aching from the impact, Rebecca was in a tight spot. She reached up with her right hand for the door latch, but was too far down. She realized that she needed to get her right foot up on the ledge so she could get some leverage. Rebecca shifted her weight to her left side and found her grip on the vent was beginning to slip. With her right hand, Rebecca reached up and palmed the door for some extra support while she bent her right foot up and onto the ledge. For a brief second, Rebecca caught a glimpse of the city walkway below—a hundred and fifty feet below. She tried not to look and concentrated on her balance. Once she secured her right foot, Rebecca was able to get a new grip on the vent and pulled herself up to a squatting position, both knees turned outward. She then stood upward to reach the latch. The door hissed open as the compressed air leaked out and Rebecca was free to climb inside.

  After letting out a long sigh of relief, Rebecca climbed down the short ladder and dropped to the floor of the upward ventilation maintenance room. The loud hum of the air compressors filled the space and vibrated her body. The room's only light source came from the open door in the ceiling. She hesitated on closing the door until she could find the power switch to the light panels also on the ceiling. In her building, Rebecca knew the control to be along the left hand side of the room entrance. It was the same in Sector 28's office. She glided her finger across the control and the lights blinked on. She then closed the ceiling door.

  Outside the maintenance room was a short hall that turned on both ends, just like in her office. Rebecca assumed that Sector 28's TRNSLTR was in the same spot as the one in Sector 27. The problem was that it would take her right past Sector 28's Director's office.

  Sector 28's Director was a man named Erickson Dotrick. Rebecca had first met him in the Academy after her class was broken into developmental divisions. He was somewhat of a snooty man who took joy in pointing out others' imperfections, particularly in their outward appearance. It seemed Erickson's loyalty to the Ministry was stricken to how they appeared in uniform or how they wore their hair. Rebecca looked down at her tattered uniform and hoped he had since changed his behavior.

  She walked down the hallway and in the direction of the Director's office, toward where she believed TRNSLTR 559 was located. Luckily his door was shut when she passed by. Unfortunately, though, there were two Sixth Tier women in the hall deliberating something when she walked behind them. They both took notice of her and stopped discussing so that they could assess her attire. Rebecca gave them a stern glare and the two women quickly looked away. I hope this isn't a sign for how Erickson is running the place, thought Rebecca. Overly critical members were the last thing she needed.

  When Rebecca arrived at the destination she was relieved to see that it bore the same nameplate as the one in her office: Translator Room. She ran her fingers across the control panel and the door quietly slid open revealing a familiar sight. The room was almost a perfect match to the one in her office. Rebecca wanted to laugh at the symmetry, but refrained when she saw the room was occupied.

  "Greetings," said Erickson with a surprised smile.

  Rebecca froze in her place as she looked at the Director of Historical Events – Sector 28. "Greetings," she replied.

  Erickson looked not a single day different than the last time she saw him. His hair was still full and wavy. His eyes were like squinty lines and his lips still curled into a devilish smile.

  Erickson began to say: "What brings another Fifth Tier member of"—when he suddenly realized who she was—"Rebecca?"

  "Yes, it's me," she replied and finished entering the room, allowing the door to close behi
nd her.

  "What on earth are you doing here?" he asked both amused and surprised.

  Rebecca knew she needed a solid excuse and did her best to quickly formulate one. "Sector 27's TRNSLTR is malfunctioning and I came here to use this one."

  Erickson stiffened a bit. "I wasn't informed of this. Did you contact my office?"

  "No . . . I didn't"—Rebecca's mind went blank for a second—"I just thought it would be okay to drop-in and use the machine."

  "You thought it would be okay?" Erickson scoffed. "Have you lost your—" but he didn't finish his thought. Something else seemed to be distracting him. Erickson's eyes went toward her uniform. His eyebrows arched and his mouth formed what looked like a happy frown. "Have you looked at yourself in the mirror today?"

  Rebecca didn't need to see what he was referring to and simply nodded her head. "It's a long story. Do you mind if I use the machine?"

  The look of disgust crossed his face before answering: "Of course I mind. You aren't following proper protocol," his eyes went back to her uniform, "in more than one area."

  Tired and frustrated, Rebecca released a long breath before saying: "What is proper protocol for a situation like this?"

  "Well," he said, lifting his chin and straightening his uniform, "you should have immediately filed an error report with DEA headquarters—and that is assuming that you went through the troubleshooting checklist accompanying the machine," Erickson then pointed to the digital screen attached to TRNSLTR. "Upon receiving your error, a technician should have contacted you—"

  "Erickson," Rebecca said, "why don't you save your breath and tell me something I don't know. I did all of those things. The technician has already been out. He told me it would be three to five weeks before they could replace the machine. In the meantime," Rebecca lifted her workbag, "I have this text that needs translated."

  "You have a document in there?" he said as if noticing it for the first time.

  "Yes! That's what I've been telling you. Can I please use your machine?"

  Erickson began to glide around the room with his usual pompous walk. "Where is this text from? I hope this isn't some plan to cover up a mistake you've made."

  "What are you talking about?"

  He gave a condescending shrug. "I don't know. It's just that I've heard rumors, really, that some of your diggers have been out of their jurisdiction—working on Sector 28's land."

  "That's preposterous! There have been no such incidences."

  "I would like to believe you," Erickson said, "but my top excavator told me he had seen diggers on our soil. And when he went to confront them they fled back to Sector 27 land."

  Rebecca shook her head in frustration. "He's lying then. We don't even work around the border."

  "Are you certain?" he challenged. "You're certain you aren't here in an attempt to have a translation made using Sector 28's machine so that it can't be traced back to your people?"

  What Erickson was alluding to was DHE Code 83. It specified that no department working in an assigned sector be allowed to breech the border in pursuit of any historical evidence without the acting Director's consent of the sector in question. Furthermore, TRNSLTR 559 was equipped with a soil and gas identifier that helped keep log of where the documents originated in order to aid in keeping the code enforced.

  Rebecca was disgusted by his accusation. "I'll have you know that this text was unearthed in District 24—nowhere near this sector."

  Erickson eyed her for a long moment before speaking again. "So what's the urgency? If what you're saying is true, and this isn't a cover up, then why do you need a translation so badly that you couldn't call my office in advance to give a forewarning?"

  Rebecca had an answer for that. "In case you are unaware, I'm paired with the future Director of the DSA. Our wedding will be occurring shortly and I really wanted to be the one to get credit for discovering this text." Rebecca paused for a second before continuing, "So if you don't mind, I would truly appreciate it if you would not interfere with my business—especially considering that I'll soon be the wife to the heir of the Ministry Security Force."

  Erickson looked a loss for words. "I wasn't aware of your pairing," he said. "I guess a ‘congratulations' is in order."

  "Thank you," Rebecca said and then walked over to the machine. "Do you mind then?"

  Erickson still had an unconvinced look in his eye but shook his head. "No, be my guest."

  *******

  Outside the building and parked next to a walkway, Roland waited impatiently for Rebecca's return. An hour was too much time to allow his regret to settle. He was always known as the rebellious one while growing up, but Roland wasn't the type to totally disregard Ministry rule. What am I doing? he wondered with angst. I have a great job. I get to drive this thing around all day. My only responsibility is to escort Director Heckert and take care of this vehicle. He knew that if he didn't get back to Sector 27 soon all of it was going away.

  "Excuse me," said a voice from behind.

  Roland turned around and felt his blood go cold at the sight. An MSF agent was quickly approaching his door. "Greetings," said Roland nervously.

  "Who does this vehicle belong to?" asked the agent.

  Roland didn't know whether to lie or tell the truth. He chose the latter. "This is Director Heckert's hovercar."

  The agent appeared to not understand. "Who is Director Heckert?"

  Roland told him who Director Heckert was and then formed a lie for why he was in Sector 28. "The Director is visiting the Department of Historical Events."

  The agent still looked confused. "What business would he have inside?"

  "I'm not sure; he doesn't share his work affairs with me."

  The agent nodded slowly and then retrieved his communicator. "I'm going to check this out."

  Roland felt sweat form on his brow. "Actually, sir, I think I do remember him mentioning something about the TRNSLTR machine inside. He's probably conducting some kind of inspection or giving a speech about the importance of technology—"

  "Is this sector's Director inside as well?"

  Roland shrugged. "I don't know."

  The agent nodded his head and then took a step back. "Okay, well you can't park that vehicle here." He pointed out a sign Roland had neglected to see. "The cleaners will be coming through soon and if you remain I will have to detain you and have the Director's hovercar impounded."

  Roland wiped his forehead and apologized. "I'll move it right away."

  The agent stepped back and watched as Roland engaged the engines and lifted into the air. Roland flew down the block and out of sight.

  *******

  As TRNSLTR processed the text, Rebecca and Erickson went into his office—purely upon his insistence. While they waited the hour necessary, Erickson subtly interrogated Rebecca about her appearance, even though his attitude had changed slightly after she informed him of her upcoming marriage with Simon. Rebecca assumed that he wanted to keep her in his sight until he could investigate whether or not her claim was true.

  "When did you say the date is for your marriage?" asked Erickson.

  "I didn't say." She then told him when.

  Erickson nonchalantly keyed something into his digital notepad and then returned his gaze toward her. "So, if you don't mind telling me, what is Mr. Wylde like?"

  Rebecca was in no mood to make small talk but recognized there was no other option. "He's a very intelligent, kind man that holds the Ministry as his top priority."

  Erickson grinned with imagination. "Yes, I do agree with his opinion of our government. I'm sure he is a fine man. Good looking no doubt."

  Rebecca didn't know what Simon's looks had to do with anything but agreed. "He is pleasing, yes."

  Erickson pointed his finger to a picture of the Minister hung behind his desk. "Speaking of the Minister, have you had the chance to meet him?"

  Rebecca shook her head.

  "I have," he informed quite proudly, "and an incredible man he is. I
'm sure your day will come when he graces you with his presence. I can assure you that it will be quite a momentous event. The man gives off an exuberant aura that simply warms a room. Everything he says is enlightening and everything he touches turns to gold."

  Rebecca was a little uncomfortable with Erickson's affection toward the Minister. "He didn't touch you did he?"

  Erickson's face contorted with confusion. "What do you mean?"

  "Nothing," she said.

  A familiar sounding beep came from Erickson's desktop that alerted them that the translation was complete. "Ah, looks like it's done."

  "Wonderful," said Rebecca, relieved.

  She stood up to leave the room but Erickson rose as well. "Let's see what we have."

  "That won't be necessary," Rebecca told him. "I know how to retrieve the results."

  Erickson looked disappointed. "You don't want me to accompany you?"

  She sighed and relinquished. "Okay."

  The two of them returned to the TRNSLTR room where Rebecca grabbed a d-reader off the wall.

  "What are you doing?" Erickson asked.

  "I need to use this."

  "Why?" he asked curiously. "Is there something wrong with your digital notepad?"

  "I told you already," she said impatiently, "it was damaged upon my fall down the hill."

  "Oh, right," he said sarcastically.

  Rebecca pulled up TRNSLTR's results and slid them onto the d-reader. Erickson walked up behind her and stood uncomfortably close. He said: "Do you mind if I take a look?"

  "I do, actually."

  Erickson looked offended. "Why is that?"

  Rebecca knew how dangerous it would be to let him see it. The summary report alone would be enough to get her in deep trouble. "Because it's Sector 27 business."

  "You're using my machine," he objected. His hand slid onto her shoulder.