Read Online Revolution of the Gods: The Battle for Sol Book One by W.R. Hobbs - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: W.R. Hobbs
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ration card. This was only one of a handful of ways that a resident detainee could become a resident- worker.
The ration card itself was a powerful incentive utilized by the center’s administrators to maintain order and control resources. All residents received a minimum number of ‘credits’ to cover no more than two meals per day.
Regardless of classification, any camp resident could earn extra credits from labor projects, but resident-detainees were always chosen after resident-workers for any such projects and received a lower pay rate for their unskilled assistance.
All residents could redeem their credits for meals and a limited inventory of basic necessities. Three times a day meals and water were distributed to the hungry souls waiting in long lines at the parks and schools that were converted to food distribution points.
For anyone that had enough credits, there were commissaries located beside each of the smaller twelve interior ROC command posts. Toiletries, blankets, pillows, and shoes were the top four popular items. Ben used his surplus credits to buy extra food for the family upstairs.
Sitting in the stale austere basement, the two men had been talking for more than an hour when Cadan made his determination that he could trust Ben. The bulk of their first conversation was about Ben’s family and his history. Unbeknownst to Ben, Cadan was actually vetting the Israeli to determine his trustworthiness. After learning that he had been interned in the ROC three years ago, Cadan realized that Ben could be helpful.
“Remember when I asked if you wanted to be here Ben?”
“Yeah, I thought that was a weird question,” Ben admitted.
“If you were given the opportunity, would you leave this place even though you have nowhere to go?” Cadan prodded.
Ben slid his hand over his mouth and then rested his chin in his palm, “I suppose the answer is yes. The last three years here have been a life of minimal existence. I believe that I could fend for myself just as well outside those gates as I do inside.” He paused then asked, “Why?”
“I do not plan to be here very long. I have a specific purpose and my presence here is not by chance. My internment was purposely planned.”
Ben was stunned by what he heard. “Why in the world would you willingly come here if it weren’t necessary?” he asked.
“I am here to find someone…a man named Simeon. He was interned about three months ago,” Cadan disclosed.
Cadan looked at Ben and smirked while he tapped the underside of his right wrist. A small holographic image shot out emitting an overhead view of the camp and then zoomed into the northwest quadrant. Ben was absolutely stunned.
“This was his general location two days ago…and this is what he looks like,” Cadan explained as a rotating image of Simeon’s face appeared.
Ben was still processing his amazement when he wrangled his attention back to analyzing the image. The picture was of a man that appeared in his 40s. His brown hair was neatly trimmed short and combed to the right side. Simeon’s prominent eyebrows sat atop his deep set light brown eyes and clean shaven face. Under his left eye was a two inch scare angled down over the top of his cheek bone.
“This is in Section 23,” Ben said, pointing to the flashing red dot on the floating map. “And believe it or not, I think I have seen your friend,” he added, clearly remembering the scar.
“Where?” Cadan asked, turning off the hologram.
“About three weeks ago, I was working in Section 20 on the new command building. I was on the second floor looking down when I noticed a group of engineers having some kind of problem with the installation of some very large stone arcs atop the twenty-five foot guard gates. I saw your friend Simeon help resolve their issue in less than two minutes and then he just walked away.”
That sounds just like Simeon,
Cadan thought.
“Can you take me to that area?” Cadan asked.
With a
The ration card itself was a powerful incentive utilized by the center’s administrators to maintain order and control resources. All residents received a minimum number of ‘credits’ to cover no more than two meals per day.
Regardless of classification, any camp resident could earn extra credits from labor projects, but resident-detainees were always chosen after resident-workers for any such projects and received a lower pay rate for their unskilled assistance.
All residents could redeem their credits for meals and a limited inventory of basic necessities. Three times a day meals and water were distributed to the hungry souls waiting in long lines at the parks and schools that were converted to food distribution points.
For anyone that had enough credits, there were commissaries located beside each of the smaller twelve interior ROC command posts. Toiletries, blankets, pillows, and shoes were the top four popular items. Ben used his surplus credits to buy extra food for the family upstairs.
Sitting in the stale austere basement, the two men had been talking for more than an hour when Cadan made his determination that he could trust Ben. The bulk of their first conversation was about Ben’s family and his history. Unbeknownst to Ben, Cadan was actually vetting the Israeli to determine his trustworthiness. After learning that he had been interned in the ROC three years ago, Cadan realized that Ben could be helpful.
“Remember when I asked if you wanted to be here Ben?”
“Yeah, I thought that was a weird question,” Ben admitted.
“If you were given the opportunity, would you leave this place even though you have nowhere to go?” Cadan prodded.
Ben slid his hand over his mouth and then rested his chin in his palm, “I suppose the answer is yes. The last three years here have been a life of minimal existence. I believe that I could fend for myself just as well outside those gates as I do inside.” He paused then asked, “Why?”
“I do not plan to be here very long. I have a specific purpose and my presence here is not by chance. My internment was purposely planned.”
Ben was stunned by what he heard. “Why in the world would you willingly come here if it weren’t necessary?” he asked.
“I am here to find someone…a man named Simeon. He was interned about three months ago,” Cadan disclosed.
Cadan looked at Ben and smirked while he tapped the underside of his right wrist. A small holographic image shot out emitting an overhead view of the camp and then zoomed into the northwest quadrant. Ben was absolutely stunned.
“This was his general location two days ago…and this is what he looks like,” Cadan explained as a rotating image of Simeon’s face appeared.
Ben was still processing his amazement when he wrangled his attention back to analyzing the image. The picture was of a man that appeared in his 40s. His brown hair was neatly trimmed short and combed to the right side. Simeon’s prominent eyebrows sat atop his deep set light brown eyes and clean shaven face. Under his left eye was a two inch scare angled down over the top of his cheek bone.
“This is in Section 23,” Ben said, pointing to the flashing red dot on the floating map. “And believe it or not, I think I have seen your friend,” he added, clearly remembering the scar.
“Where?” Cadan asked, turning off the hologram.
“About three weeks ago, I was working in Section 20 on the new command building. I was on the second floor looking down when I noticed a group of engineers having some kind of problem with the installation of some very large stone arcs atop the twenty-five foot guard gates. I saw your friend Simeon help resolve their issue in less than two minutes and then he just walked away.”
That sounds just like Simeon,
Cadan thought.
“Can you take me to that area?” Cadan asked.
With a
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