The Final Wager

6

A clattering on his door woke Luis. He peered at the old clock on the floor—his implant was useless now—and was tempted to go back to sleep when he saw it was 3 AM. His tournament hadn't ended until one, when his valiant last-ditch effort had cost him a month's rent. The clattering, however, continued.

"This better be fucking good." He cracked the door open on its chain. The peephole had been broken for as long as he'd had the place.

"Luis, thank God I found you, I need to talk to you right away."

"And here I thought you came down at 3 AM to make an appointment." Luis took the chain off and opened the door for Mattis. "I'd offer you something, but I'm afraid booze is one thing I don't squander my credits on."

Mattis shook his head, looking around the apartment before perching on the edge of the sole, dilapidated chair. "Not here for drinks." He sounded almost out of breath, as if he'd run from the nearest level transfer. "I heard back from the lab."

The last traces of drowsiness fled and Luis found he was holding his breath. He let it out in a hiss and nodded for Mattis to continue.

"It's no wonder a lab down here didn't recognize the pathogen. It doesn't exist."

"I can take you to see Avary for yourself—"

"Let me finish! I should say that it hadn't existed until quite recently. No record of anything like it. Not in a single lab in Upper City or Lower City. I made them do the full search twice and pulled in some Force favors, and it is definitely the first of its kind. No, shut up, I said let me finish! There was another thing that the lab was very clear about. The pathogen is unquestionably manmade."

"I..." Luis swallowed. "I don't have a good feeling about this."

Mattis leaned forward, his gaze intent on Luis. "You know what this means?"

Luis could feel his blood boiling up, his anger overcoming his reservation. He nodded. "We hunt."