The awards ceremony was brief and awkward at times. Erik had caught up with John, and instead of steering him to the stage, he took his boss to his apartment, handed him two Naptime tablets, and told him to sleep. The man was was nearly incoherent at this point with stress and lack of sleep. Erik wished he could do the same, but someone had to put this thing to bed. On the surface, the event had been a success. It was the fallout that Erik dreaded.
Jacob Mannerheim was all smiles and professional as he presented the prizes his company had promised. The top six teams in the videogame competition were given a free pair of M-1000 gloves. His corporate team seemed sullen as they accepted, their smiles glued to their faces. The other two corporate teams happily accepted their gloves and thanked him. The three other teams, including the Claw Master team, clapped and yelled as they were called to come up. He saw that Team Claw Master had removed their gloves so they wouldn't be in the camera. Even Belinda accepted her pair of gaming gloves, taking them with only her right hand.
The next set of prizes went to the top three teams in the SC6 competition. The teams from Good Old Boys and Nameless Order were given vouchers that reimbursed all of their travel expenses along with an invitation to the Ubergear Invitational Gaming Festival. He was at a loss for a moment when he went to team Claw Master. "I don't think reimbursing you for your travel expenses comes to very much when you're the hometown team. But I look forward to seeing you at UIGF."
He handed the invitations out to the six gamers. None of their group had even known about the Ubergear Festival until they'd watched the announcement fifteen minutes ago. It looked like a cross between E3 and Disneyworld. Belinda could see that the rest of the group was stunned by the thought of going. Had any of them ever left the habitat? She wasn't sure. And the expense? You didn't live in a habitat if you could afford to go to an orbital playground for a seven-day gaming excursion. "We'll try and be there."
Jacob noticed their expressions and body language as well. He forced down the feelings he had over this event. He deserved to lose if he'd been outplayed by a seventeen-year-old girl and a group she recruited from a habitat. It was time to start winning on the PR front. "It would be a shame not to have a rematch between our two teams. Let's sweeten the deal a little. You didn't get reimbursed for your travel to this event, so I think it's only fair that Ubergear will pay for your travel to the next one."
He turned to the cameras. "How about it, folks? Do you think we need Team Claw Master competing at UIGF?" There was a roar of applause as the local team stood stunned and started cheering and hugging each other."
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"Mr. Mannerheim? I was hoping we could speak further about the position at Ubergear."
Jacob 'Manny' Mannerheim stopped and turned. "What position was that, Mr. Chambers?"
Chambers had a sinking feeling but continued. "During the contract negotiations, you said that there was an opening at Ubergear for a new assistant vice-president in the marketing department and you would look favorably upon my application. I want to take you up on that offer."
"Let me make myself clear, Mr. Chambers. Business deals are about helping each other out. You scratch my back; I scratch yours. You hinted at special treatment and a better deal, so I mentioned an opening at Ubergear. That was a good offer. You are currently working for John Sabbatino in a start-up company located in a habitat. I was offering the chance to work for Ubergear, a real company with real offices and real chances to make a lot of money. I expected you to jump at my offer and, more importantly, hold up your end of the deal."
He held up a hand, silencing Chambers when he started to talk. "Yet, things you promised me didn't happen. Our products did not enjoy a monopoly at your event. Worse, it was a competitor who was trying to outshine our new product, the M-1000. You allowed this new company to sponsor part of the event, allowed them to advertise at the event, and then backed away from your promises. Promises which seemed not to be known to your boss's daughter, who brought in Claw Master as a sponsor, refused to wear our product, and then recruited a local team that embarrassed my team."
"We are done, Mr. Chambers. If you are lucky, I will consider this my mistake in trusting a middle manager to handle the details he promised. I have probably done myself a favor in not hiring you and finding out that my team of 'professional gamers' are anything but. I am angry enough that I could strangle you, but I won't do something to upset Victor Seimovich. Unlike you, he keeps his promises. "
As Manny turned and walked away, Chambers tried one last time. "I want out of here; what can I do to make this right?"
Manny turned his head slightly and spoke as he left the building. "Only two things would make me happy. The first is a signed contract that gives me what you promised for your company's next five years of events. I want Claw Master locked out. The second thing would be a set of those gloves, delivered today. I'm not asking you for those things, Mr. Chambers. Simply informing you of things that would make me happy."
The heavy door slammed shut, and Chambers was left in the empty hallway of the VIP entrance on the roof.
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Milo had gotten away from the group and went to a more private spot. He chose the machine he had used for SC6. All the games were shut down now for the award ceremony. It only took a moment to unlock the keypad on the machine and climb into the navigator's section, taking a bowl of cheese fries with him. He wanted to watch the gang get their awards but didn't want to be on that stage. As expected, Butch had Brad take his place.
This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
The revelation that he already knew Belinda wasn't something he'd ever imagined. He went back over everything he had said to her, wincing at times when he recognized things he'd said to her that might give her a clue. The obvious one was finding out his name, the same name he used in the game. Mostly the gang called him Ghost, but at least twice they had called him Milo when Belinda was nearby.
He didn't think it would be a problem, would it? The people who knew a lot about him from the game were Wally, Sydney, Steven, and a group of A.I. that everyone thought were destroyed. Belinda had no connection to them. So, she should have no connection to the real Milo. He just had to be careful to keep up the appearance of living in the habitat. He needed to do some work on 'his house' and clean up some loose ends. It was doubtful she would ever be in that part of the hab, but he wasn't taking chances.
The next step was a thorough background check on her family and the Manpower Corporation. If he had missed the connection to her playing Genesis, he could have missed other things. He used his datapad to send instructions to his system in the bowels of section E and start a complete search and data analysis. Things were getting too connected, and he didn't like it. He could just disappear if he needed to; the gang couldn't. And too many people in section E now worked for Manpower.
He was watching the awards ceremony when the team got invited to UGIF. He looked it up quickly, and conflicting emotions hit him like a truck. It would have everything he was learning to love: mostly games and new food. His friends would be there. But to get there, he would have to leave the habitat. And there was so much open space between here and a satellite in orbit. He was having trouble thinking about it without going into a panic attack. He tossed the idea into the waste bin in his head. Not for him. He'd make sure the gang got there, and he could watch from here. He finished the cheese fries and exited the machine. It was time to go home.
Despite saying he wasn't going, the waste bin kept opening, and the terror of all that open sky was in the back of his head. It bothered him, and he needed a way to beat it. The fear was just in his head. Thinking about a project, he stepped into the hallway leading to the restrooms and the storeroom he used to get into the ductwork. He heard the far doorway open, and a familiar-looking man in a wrinkled suit entered. He turned and punched an override code into the door, locking it.
Mr. Chambers had gotten lucky. He'd seen the kid with the bad leg hobbling to the bathroom. Everyone else from his team was on the stage. This was his chance to get a pair of those gloves for Ubergear. Jordan Chambers wasn't a large man, and aside from weekly karate classes (that he skipped most of the time), he wasn't very athletic. But he had no doubts about handling a skinny twelve-year-old on crutches.
"Let's keep this simple. Hand me the gloves; then you can go to the bathroom. Your team has been accused of cheating, and we are investigating your gloves. If we find nothing, you get them back. Your team is cooperating, so don't make a fuss and hand them over."
The kid looked at him and cocked his head sideways. "I'm confused. They were just on stage. Why give them an award if you say they cheated?"
"Because it's an accusation. We're being nice. Did you notice they didn't have their gloves on? We have them all now." The little shit blinked when he said that and then giggled.
"You got them to just hand them over? Because they trust you? We're from the hab. We don't trust anyone, especially someone in a suit. You aren't getting my gloves."
"Last chance, kid, hand over the gloves."
Again, the kid didn't take him seriously. "Last chance. Leave me alone."
Chambers lunged forward to grab the boy's arms, and was never sure later what happened. He only managed to grab the interposed arm braces the kid put in front of him. Then the kid leaned and brought his prosthetic leg upward in a hard kick that ended in his groin. His eyes rolled back in his head with the pain. It was followed by his whole body seizing up and shaking for several seconds. He fell backward, paralyzed, and lost consciousness. Security found him an hour later and got him to medical attention. They diagnosed him with a concussion from his head hitting the concrete floor. His story of being mugged by a habrat wasn't believed by anyone. The security camera only showed him slipping on the wet floor and falling backward.
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When the man attacked him, Milo blocked with his arm braces. That set up the attack to the easiest weak point. He followed up by using the Tasers built into each arm brace. For a brief moment, he was fighting for his life in the game, and someone was telling him he had to kill or be killed. It would have been simple to drag the unconscious man into the ductwork with a cable and deposit him somewhere no one would ever find him. But this wasn't the game. He knew the rules were different. He left the man lying in the corridor, made sure a security team was sent on a route that would find him, and made the security system show what he wanted.
He was upset and hyper when he was finally done. He took a longer route home, knowing he wasn't followed but taking no chances. Finally, after an hour of crawling up pipes and scurrying along the mechanical section's unused access tunnels, he arrives home. He took deep breaths to steady himself and drank a quart of water. His pulse was still pounding. He sat in his chair and triggered his search programs to show him the information on Belinda Sabbatino and Manpower.
Only one screen lit up, with a glowing red border signifying a significant piece of information. It showed a picture of Victor Seimovich and a family tree linking him to Belinda Sabbatino. The lower half of the screen showed Victor arriving in the habitat and being greeted by her. Milo double-checked his search parameters, desperately wanting to deny the information, but it was all true.
The man behind his creation and the death of the rest of the family was in the habitat. Was he looking for the person who stole his money? And how could his friend Belinda be connected to him? He felt the jaws of a trap closing in. With one word, everything shut down, leaving him curled into a ball on his chair, in the dark.