A.I. Zombie: Book 1 of the Space Station At The Edge Of The Black Hole Series

by L. A. Johnson

  The orc’s finger halted without pushing the button. He brightened. "Well, that sounds more like it. Some sort of celebrity, eh? Why didn’t you just say so? Good for you. Just for the sake of asking, do you have to go to school for that kind of thing or is it like internet fame, where you sort of have to get lucky? Can I have your autograph? Your title sounds like something that would impress the young people."

  Scythe sighed. This was getting tiresome and he had wasted enough time already. He reached a hand out in the direction of the Orc, but didn't make physical contact. He didn't have to. “Time’s up.”

  The Orc gurgled an objection and dropped to his knees. Scythe finished him off. The Orc fell over and stilled. He wasn't here to reap old Orcs, he was hunting bigger prey.

  Scythe made his way down the hallways of Celestica, ignoring the mildly shocked expressions as he passed.

  "What, is it Halloween, already?" a passerby asked.

  Scythe continued. These inferior beings couldn't help it. Before long he would show them the error of their ways. And when he freed them into his realm, the first thing they would learn is that their eyes deceive them. My reality and my perception are so much better than their own. They will thank him then, yes, they will weep tears of grateful joy.

  Still, a brilliant plan is a brilliant plan. And his plans always worked. In fact, the beacon was already here and set up. Almost everything was prepared. And so, he made his way further and further into the gigantic space station.

  He walked freely down shining metallic walls and past hordes of residents who did not yet know their master. Until the crowds thinned out and he continued alone, back into the furthest, remotest corners. And there he summoned to him what would hopefully be the last of the lesser-intelligent minions he would ever need.

  He stopped as he approached them, and they mobbed him, squealing everlasting allegiance. "Yes, my pets," he said. "I have been preparing you from afar and now I am here. For now, I just need one of you. I will summon the rest of you when I'm ready."

  He held out a hand to the volunteer and communicated his orders very specifically. The instructions were understood, and the hairy beast scampered off.

  Now on to the next part of the plan, which involved finding a place to plug into a communications and intelligence hub.

  He strolled off back toward the main part of the station, humming along with the soft music playing in the hallway.

  3

  G rayson walked the familiar grey hallways with a skip in his step. He had been to a million space stations. Well not really a million, but enough of them to know that the majority didn't have eight foot high ceilings and reinforced steel structure.

  A lot of things could and would happen to a place out in deep space. The extra tall ceilings and comforting metal structure of Celestica were the main reasons he had taken the job here. That and getting kicked out of his old hospital.

  He tapped his hand on the shiny metal hallway as he made his way to the Frenzy, the station's biggest and rowdiest bar. Normally he would hang out at the smaller bar right next to the hospital, but today was a slow day at the ER and he wanted to drum up some business. He considered that his job as Chief of Medicine.

  Celestica was home to thousands of beings, many of them accustomed to a fairly tough existence. This after all, was Celestica, the famous space station at the edge of the galaxy's scariest black hole. Only the people who wanted to live dangerously made their home here. And of those people, only the bravest would ever set foot into the Frenzy.

  He arrived at the giant wooden doors that had motorcycles carved into them. In front of the doors was a goofy werewolf wearing a white shirt, leather jacket, and jeans.

  "How's it hanging, Carl?"

  Carl grinned a jagged, toothy smile. "Always happy to see you, Grayson. You here to stir up trouble?"

  "You know me."

  "Go on in, it's been too quiet anyway."

  Carl opened the door for Grayson and the wall of loud music hit him. He entered with a smile and a wave. "Thanks, Carl."

  The Frenzy was a giant, raucous, place with antique weapons on the walls and solid wood décor, most of which had the nicks and cuts from a thousand bar fights. It was part Wild West mining saloon and part Mos Eisley Star Wars cantina. And despite the fact that he was longer in the tooth and paunchier in the center than most of their usual clientele, it was one of his favorite places. It was also the perfect place for occasionally drumming up extra hospital business.

  He whistled even though nobody would ever hear it over the roar of rock music and approached the bar. On a space station there wasn't really a day or night, only shifts. That meant that there were always people at the bar, even in the middle of the day.

  He glanced around. Right now, the customers were mostly roughneck orc miners, having finished up the night shift and ready to hit the hard liquor.

  Grayson had barely had his morning donut, but he wasn't averse to a little bit of morning drinking, especially if it was for a good cause.

  There were wooden tables scattered all over the large, rectangular room. The walls were decorated with old swords, guns, and all manner of clubs that were visible in the dark club with blue spotlights.

  He had heard rumors that some of them, the ones nearest the top of the ceiling, were worth a pretty penny, having been used by assorted unseemly individuals. Those were the objects he usually stared at when he came in.

  At the center of the room was a three-hundred-sixty-degree, circle style bar that always had at least three bartenders on duty. He made his way to it, sat down on a wooden barstool, and ordered a Slick Fifty, having to shout over the noise.

  "A little early in the day for that kind of drink, don't you think, Grayson? You're never up to any good when you order those." The pretty bartender winked at him.

  They had a little thing going, but probably only in his head. "You know me, I like to live on the edge."

  "I do know you," she said, sliding his drink over, "try to stay out of trouble this time."

  He held his hands up in mock surrender, then grabbed the glass off the bar and took a sip. Delicious, as usual. He swirled the liquid around the cup and looked around. A sudden push from behind made him lurch forward toward the bar and grasp his drink tighter.

  "Hey," he said, turning around.

  A seven-foot-tall lizard glared down at him. "Watch it," the lizard said.

  Grayson recognized him, he was a troublemaker named Larry. "You bumped into me," Grayson answered, unwilling to back down from the beast. The minute you roll over for these guys you're in real trouble. He did have to crane his neck to look up at him, though.

  As far as the trouble part was concerned, this was going to be even easier than he thought.

  Luckily, he still wore his lab coat everywhere with his Chief of Medicine nametag, not that anybody could read it in here since it was so dark.

  He found his white jacket to be useful in these types of situations because if things did come to blows, people were less likely to hit a doctor, or they'd at least pull a few punches. He thought about escalating the situation, but it was too soon and would be easily traced back to him, something he was looking to avoid.

  Also, he was getting a reputation. Subtlety had never been one of his strong suits, but he was going to have to think of another way to stir up trouble today. A simple bar fight wouldn't do.

  He took another sip of his drink and carried on. The beast decided to let it go. Looking around, he found that today was actually pretty quiet for a change, just like Carl had said.

  He was actually seriously wondering how in the helios he was going to be able to cause a disturbance without sticking out like a sore thumb, medical jacket or not, when an actual disturbance broke out in the back of the room.

  It started with a single shout, enough to draw everyone's attention. Grayson turned toward the sound and heard more shouts. A chair hit a wall and splitered. There were more screams. Now we’re talking.

  Grayso
n squinted to see what was going on. The disturbance looked like it was centered around an orc miner gathering in the back, which wasn't at all surprising. This time looked different, though. And now, others from around the room were joining in. Maybe this was his lucky day after all. It can't be my fault if I don't even know what's going on.

  Turning back to the bar, Grayson saw the wide eyes of the cute bartender in front of him. That was odd, because usually they were unflappable. The bartender ducked underneath. That meant that she was either going to hide, which he doubted, or to grab a weapon, which was far more likely.

  He took a sip while he waited to see what would happen next. Ah, weapon. He was right. He couldn't help but wonder why she had bothered to grab the weapon. What made this bar fight different than the hundreds of others he had witnessed?

  He turned back again toward the fray and followed the wide-eyed and now armed bartender's line of sight. That's when he saw what looked like a dog at first, but it wasn't moving like a dog. He squinted to get a better look and could have sworn it was a rat. The only problem was that it was too big to be a rat.

  Small animals like rats, bats, and other pets were an inevitability on spaces stations. No matter how well you checked each visitor, people were always sneaking them in. Then the pets escape or sneak off and breed. Then whammo. You got rats.

  The rat in question waddled to a central open area in the middle of the room. Illegal weapons were being pulled out all over the place. Now it was Grayson's turn to be concerned.

  No, you idiots, he thought. You can't all draw on a rat that's in the middle of a circular room. Even if half of you hit it, then everybody else will still be vulnerable to live fire in a room full of bystanders. Armed, idiot bystanders, but fairly innocent nonetheless.

  He had wanted to come in here and drum up a bar fight, but with fists. Broken bones, maybe a couple of lacerations or bumps on the head. Nothing serious.

  "No!" he screamed. "Don't shoot, people." Since the only thing he could do about the armed idiots at this point was wait and see if they really were dumb enough to shoot each other, his mind went to another question. How had this space rat grown to the size of a dog? Was that even possible?

  He frowned and took another sip of his drink, keeping an eye on the tense situation. Might as well.

  The rat hissed at the growing crowd and flashed its teeth. Here we go, thought Grayson.

  An explosion of weapons fire filled the room. Grayson dove behind the bar along with the bartenders, shielding himself from any stray weapons’ fire.

  The bartenders sat calmly waiting it out. They weren't new to any of this. In fact, they all appeared to have assigned spots. One of them was even carving today's date into the wood, adding it to a very extensive list.

  Grayson watched the bartender carve with a small, curved blade. The knife was so exquisite that it nearly distracted him from the raging laser battle going on a few feet away. Then, as quickly as it started, it all died down. Well, the weapons fire ceased. That's when the screaming began.

  "Hey Grayson," the bartender said, as they all emerged from their hiding hole. "I think they're going to need you."

  Grayson peeked out from behind the very solid wood and stared. The rat was indeed dead in a pool of blood in the center of the room, right where he had been.

  Grayson went out for a quick look around. Several orcs and a couple of other species were wounded, although they looked like they were going to be okay.

  "Okay everybody," he said, moving closer to the rat and raising his voice, although it was unnecessary. The music had stopped the doctor's coat now had all of their attention. "I'm Grayson, Chief of Medicine at the hospital that many of you will be visiting shortly. I have a few questions first, though. How many of you shot yourselves in the heat of the moment?"

  Only one person raised their hand.

  Idiot, that was a trick question.

  "How many of you were shot by other people who were aiming for the rat?"

  More hands went up.

  Grayson cursed and took out his phone. He called the ER to prep extra doctors and nurses. When he hung up they were all still looking at him. "Okay, boys and girls, what have we learned about firing our weapons at an object in the center of a circular room?"

  There were mutterings.

  "Oh yeah."

  "That makes sense."

  "Now he tells us."

  "Think people," Grayson said, shaking his head.

  Well, he did, in fact, drum up some hospital business. Or at least he had found it anyway. And there was no possible way this could ever be traced back to him or considered his fault, so he was clear with both the space station and the hospital's lawyers, so he supposed all was well that ended with still living residents and dollar signs.

  The only thing bothering him now was the giant, suicidal rat. What was the deal with that? He dialed his phone again.

  "Hey, Floyd? We have a situation at the Frenzy. No, I had nothing to do with it. Oh yeah, the cause of the disturbance was a giant rat. The dead thing is still here in the middle of the bar. Just jot down in your notes that we are going to run some tests on it, okay?" He listened for a moment and then answered. "Yeah, sure, if you want. You certainly could put it that way, a giant mutant rat started a bar fight at the Frenzy." He hung up.

  When he looked up from his phone, he realized that nearly everything in the Frenzy had gone back to normal. The music was back on, the lights seemed even dimmer, and the uninjured had gone right back to what they were doing. Except, of course, for the injured people and the dead rat. Unbelievable.

  "I'm sorry people," he announced, "but I'm afraid for the next few minutes your normal routine is about to be interrupted. I need the music off and the house lights on."

  There was a general groan from the crowd.

  4

  L yra accompanied the procession of doctors and nurses as they moved in a hurried way down the hallway toward the Frenzy bar. Luckily, she had time to get a new coat before the emergency. Normally the halls were pretty crowded this time of the morning, but the residents were smart enough to get out of the way of the craziness coming at them.

  As the Frenzy came into view, both double doors were open awaiting their arrival and all of the lights were on inside. Lyra had been there a few times and was not aware that the place even had real lights.

  Now she knew why the lights were always so dim.

  The place was gross. The tables weren't clean, and it looked like it had been a week since the place had been vacuumed. Ew, I've eaten in here, she thought.

  Grayson stood just inside the double doors as they entered. "Get a move on, people! That little trip took three times longer than it should have."

  "Thanks for the pep talk," Lyra answered him. There were still clumps of people gathered at tables at the far end of the room. They looked like the hard-core patrons who were willing to wait out the medical emergency in order to get back to their drinks.

  Wow, Lyra thought. It was pretty typical for Celestica, though. The residents here had seen it all and usually took going with the flow in the face of an emergency to a new level. It actually made things easier most of the time.

  "Just for that, you and Arthur get to take care of the dead rat," Grayson said. His wrinkled, bony finger pointed in Lyra’s direction.

  "What dead rat?" Lyra asked, looking around nervously, hoping he was joking.

  "Hey!" Arthur said, "Why me?"

  "Because you're standing next to her."

  "Seriously, Grayson? I'm your best doctor and you're going to have me collecting an already dead rat?"

  "Yo. I'm right here," Vax said. "The best doctor is already saving people while you guys are yacking."

  "Stuff it Vax," Lyra said.

  "Have you looked at it?" Grayson asked Lyra, ignoring Vax and everything else that was going on. The place had gotten very busy.

  Damn. His new question about looking at the rat threw her off. She’d had a very good sarcastic remar
k ready, but now it was gone. Grayson had that effect on people.

  "Have I looked at what? The rat?" Damn. She’d had a very good comeback ready, but now it was gone. Grayson had that effect on people.

  Grayson scowled at her. "No, have you seen all of the disgusting stains in the back of the restaurant. Of course, I meant the stupid rat."

  That can't be good, she thought. She glanced at Arthur and then around the room, locating the area with the rat. Then she headed toward the disgusting rat carcass at the obvious center of the disaster area that was, unfortunately, very clearly lit.

  She made her way through all of the splinters and debris to the smelly, oily, gray body that was adding its own permanent disgusting mark on the establishment as its blood soaked into the carpet.

  The thing was huge. It had to be at least forty pounds. If she wasn't looking right at it, she wouldn't have believed it. And then there was the smell. It was like hair and death and body odor combined to form a type of chemical weapon. She covered her nose with her lab coat.

  She knelt down to examine it further. It had at least ten different bullet holes and was missing half of its face. Between the gross carpet and the hairy beast, she took a moment to keep her breakfast from coming up. "Okay," she sing-songed, trying not to breathe. "I looked at it, are you done torturing me now?"

  "Not by a long shot," he snapped back while also directing traffic as patients were loaded onto gurneys and preparing to head back down the hallway toward the hospital. "What is different about that thing, Lyra?"

  "It smells bad?"

  "Don't get smart with me."

  "It’s an unusual size?"

  "Exactly. I don't like it. I've never heard of one so big. It's got to be at least, what, forty pounds?"

  "Maybe it's just a rat-adjacent species? Maybe an overfed pet? Who in the name of exploding stars cares?"

  "I do," he answered, "let's get it back for testing."

  "You gotta be kidding me. What are we supposed to put it on? A gurney or an appetizer tray?"