Chapter 52 | C-Rank License

Chapter 52: Chapter 52 | C-Rank License

Kai took the form.

He filled it out standing at the window. He did not hurry. He wrote clearly.

He slid it back.

She read it. Made a small mark in the corner. Stamped it.

"Wait," she said.

She disappeared again.

Han Dori looked at Kai.

"You memorized the act citation," Han Dori said.

"Someone told me," Kai said.

"The three people."

"One of them. Tuesday."

Han Dori nodded once.

They waited.

======

Twenty-three minutes.

The clerk came back with two documents and a card.

The card was standard licensing board issue. Matte finish. The applicant’s name printed clean across the top.

HERO LICENSE — PROVISIONALCLASSIFICATION: C-RANKAPPLICANT: KAI RENMEIEFFECTIVE DATE: [BACKDATED TO INTENT FILING]

She pushed it through the window.

Kai picked it up.

He looked at the effective date.

The backdating had gone through.

"The second document is the board’s acknowledgment of the backdating approval," the clerk said. "Keep both. If the civil affairs hearing references the jurisdiction arrangement timeline, you present the acknowledgment document. The effective date on the license supersedes the provisional status processing date."

"Thank you," Kai said.

She had already turned back to the next application.

Kai stood at the window for a second.

He looked at the card.

’Three weeks,’ he thought. ’Dungeons and forms and assessor fees and Han Dori telling me not to rush the rotation and Shira looking up the civil welfare act on Tuesday without telling anyone and Mira calibrating the audio reader to a dust wraith frequency for two hours in her doorway.’

’This card.’

He put it in his jacket pocket.

Han Dori was already moving toward the door.

=====

Outside on the pavement Han Dori extended his hand.

Kai shook it.

"The B-rank review recommendation stays in your file," Han Dori said. "When the board does their six-month evaluation, they’ll have it. Keep running. Keep the output consistent." A pause. "Don’t get killed."

"I’ll try," Kai said.

Han Dori almost smiled. "Provisional licensed heroes don’t get to say they’ll try. They say they won’t."

"I won’t get killed," Kai said.

"Better." He picked up his bag. "The Foundation hearing is in seven days. You walk in with that card and that acknowledgment document and the jurisdictional gap is closed. They have nothing."

"I know."

"Just making sure." He turned to go. Stopped. Turned back. "The canyon dungeon correction. Historical amendment. Should go through the board in about three weeks." He looked at Kai steadily. "Forty-one minutes. On record."

Kai looked at him.

"You did that before you even agreed to take me on," Kai said.

"I did it after the preliminary evaluation," Han Dori said. "When I looked at the raw assessment notes." A pause. "The timer error was documented. The assessor noted it. Nobody corrected the official record." Something moved in his expression. Not quite anger. Older than anger. "That’s an easy thing to fix."

He left.

Kai stood on the pavement with the license card in his jacket pocket and watched him go.

’The timer error was documented,’ he thought. ’The assessor noted it. Nobody corrected it.’

’For two years nobody corrected it.’

He stood there for a moment.

Then he went to the train station.

==

He was home by two.

He hung his jacket on the hook.

From the living room — Shira’s rhythm. She had been at the window. She stopped moving when she heard the door.

From Mira’s room — the audio reader had cut off. Just now.

He walked to the living room doorway.

Shira was at the window. She didn’t turn around.

"Well," she said.

He reached into his jacket pocket.

He set the card and the acknowledgment document on the table where she could see them.

She turned her chair.

She looked at the card.

She picked it up.

She read the effective date.

She put it down.

She was quiet for a moment.

"The hearing is in seven days," she said.

"Yes. This closes the jurisdictional gap. They have no grounds."

She nodded once.

She looked at the card again.

Her right hand was on the wheelchair armrest. The index finger pressed down against the leather. Held. Released.

She looked at the window.

"The canyon correction," she said.

"Three weeks," Kai said. "Han Dori filed it after the preliminary evaluation. The timer error was documented in the assessor’s raw notes. It just needed someone to submit the amendment."

She was quiet.

"He did it before he agreed to take you on," she said. Not a question.

"After the preliminary. Same day."

Another quiet.

"He remembered the run," Shira said. Very low. To the window.

"He said forty-three when I first met him," Kai said. "I told him forty-one. He looked it up."

Shira said nothing for a long time.

Then she said — still to the window, still flat, still with the particular processing quality that meant something was too large to address directly: "The board will have it on record."

"Yes."

"For whatever that’s worth."

"It’s worth something," Kai said.

She looked at the card on the table.

She didn’t say anything else.

But she didn’t pick up the physio sheet either, which she usually did when a conversation was over. She just stayed at the window looking at the card.

Kai left it there.

He went to the kitchen and started the specialty rotation.

========

Mira was in the kitchen doorway before he’d finished the first component.

She stood there with the whiteboard uncapped. She looked at the table where the card was.

She held the board up.

The backdating went through.

"Yes," Kai said.

The hearing is in seven days.

"Yes."

They have nothing.

"Nothing."

She lowered the board.

She stood in the doorway for a moment.

Then she wrote something and held it up slowly.

You went in there alone.

He looked at the board.

"I had Han Dori," he said.

She wrote: You know what I mean.

He did know what she meant. He had walked into a licensing board office and cited civil welfare act sections and requested backdating on a provisional hero license and done all of it without either wife in the room. Without being able to turn to anyone.