Where Do Robots Go to Cry?

By Christopher Thompson

Delaney is back! Chris Thompsons third novel is the long-awaited sequel to The Io Incident. Richard Delaney must return to Jupiter and face the unknown. What he finds is astonishing and more terrifying than anyone had ever imagined. A vessel of immense size and complexity emerges from the Jovian clouds. Crewed by machines that bring a messagea message that all life is about to become extinguished. Who can be trusted, and who must be sacrificed for the good of all? And why have they chosen him?

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Oct 21, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524664794

Christopher Thompson

Christopher Thompson is a retired IT Support Technician and a disabled veteran. He is the author of a poetry anthology titled "Breakfast Anytime" and his current works in progress are the romantic comedy duology "Saving Throw" and "Saving Throw: Critical Hit", the supernatural horror "Gardener of Eden" trilogy, a second poetry anthology titled "Dancing with Angels and Demons", and a compilations of anecdotes of telemarketer calls gone funny. He has won National Novel Writing Month in 2010, 2011, 2012, and 2013 as well as Script Frenzy 2011 and 2012. His poetry has won several awards and accolades. He is the loving and devoted single father of three wonderful children and their pets - mostly bunnies and has a wonderful girlfriend who puts up with his muse.

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© 2016 Christopher Thompson. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 10/14/2016

ISBN: 978-1-5246-6478-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5246-6479-4 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

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Acknowledgements

Proof reading by Beverly Thompson.

By the same author:

The Io Incident

Yesterday’s Empire

In life, it’s not where you go…it’s whom you travel with. To Beverly for sharing the journey with me.

Foreword

Dear reader. Thank you for joining me on another adventure into the unknown. This book continues the story of Richard Delaney after his return from Io. If you have not yet read my previous books, then regardless of the chronological order in which they were written, the best order in which to read them would be, Yesterday’s Empire, The Io Incident, Where Do Robots Go To Cry…perhaps.

1

Richard Delaney stepped onto the bridge and took a deep breath as the door glided shut behind him. Slipping his palm computer into his trouser pocket he carefully clicked the fastener as he walked across the pristine floor. His shoes squeaked on the smooth surface when he changed direction, like a sparrow in springtime. ‘If only dad could see me now,’ he thought to himself. A subtle smile found its way onto his face as he took his seat at the science station and powered-up the console. It whirred into life as the cooling fans kicked-in and a gentle rush of warm air escaped from the processors and swirled around his feet.

Captain Peterson sat upright in his seat and then with a light push from his right foot, allowed his command chair to slowly revolve through a full three hundred and sixty degrees, taking in everything in his field of vision with a satisfied expression on his lightly bronzed face as his eyes darted from station to station. Like a Roman Centurion at the head of a great army, he directed his responsibilities with skill and confidence in equal measure…always seeming relaxed and in total control regardless of the situation. Okay people, he said in his customary fashion, we’re burnin’ daylight…saddle-up.

Navigation systems ready, Executive Officer, George Lamara, released the safety lock from his control panel and waited tentatively for the command to commit the pre-arranged destination co-ordinates across to the helm computer.

Helm ready, Sir, Nicholas Westowski felt his pulse race with excitement as it always did just before a mission commenced.

François Devaux rubbed his hands together, Sensors ready, Sir.

The soft voice of Katherine Jaegar was heard through the ship-com system and relayed through the audio speakers, Engineering ready.

Science station ready, Captain, acknowledged Richard Delaney, tapping the final control on the touch screen.

Captain Peterson’s square jaw broadened into a wide smile, revealing his large and almost flawless teeth. Engage forward motion…thrusters only. Peterson was almost a ‘comic-book’ figure, with his muscular frame, blue eyes and near perfect appearance. He stood over six feet tall and had short blonde hair, carefully trimmed to be neat at all times. His face was separated by deep grooves in his cheeks when he smiled. His voice was deep and calm with just the trace of a southern drawl lurking in the background. His shoulders were broad and strong…he was, in every sense of the word…the Captain.

Belvedere, the newest, fastest and most expensive ship in the entire fleet, began to move away from the space-station umbilical arm in graceful silence and slowly rotate across its port yaw until it faced away from the blue-white surface of planet Earth floating serenely below. Show me the departure angle, Mr Devaux.

Aye, Sir. Ensign Devaux brushed his fingers across the control panel, and the main viewscreen instantly displayed the now gradually diminishing space-station in high orbit…then as the thrust gathered momentum and their speed increased the Earth fell away beneath them, sinking into a seemingly endless void as Belvedere stretched out into space.

George Lamara’s eyes remained rigidly fixed on the navi-com, Safe distance achieved, Captain, he said in a cool, steady voice that hinted at his vast experience in spaceflight.

Thank you, Ex-oh. Lawrence Peterson took another deep breath of chilled, processed air, felt a brief thrill of adrenalin-fuelled exhilaration and barked out his next order, Lieutenant Westowski, engage the main engine. Mr Devaux, forward view please.

With ferocious acceleration that remained completely imperceptible to the occupants inside, Belvedere began her long journey toward the giant gas planet, Jupiter. Only weeks before she had performed a hastily executed rescue mission, and in doing so had witnessed something far more astonishing than the stricken spacecraft she had gone to save…something that had never been encountered in the known history of the human race…something that suggested that maybe…just maybe, we are not alone in this vast universe. The memory banks of the ship held no evidence to confirm the reports corroborated by the entire crew, that a vast blackness had been unexpectedly witnessed near Io. None of the sensors on the Belvedere had been able to perceive or record the event. Likewise the Columbus, which she had gone to rescue, had been unable to detect and store any information at all about the phenomenon. Only the eyes of the crewmembers had seen the strange and haunting sight…a square of total blackness appearing from nowhere, impossibly perfect and colossal.

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An hour after the main engine had been engaged, the bridge stood eerily quiet. Lights flickered and gauges moved…basic functions were conducted automatically. Most of the flight crew had retired to rest, or else moved on to other tasks around the ship. Alberto Chenenco, (Chen’ to his friends) warmed the ovens in the galley in preparation for the first meal of the mission. Cooking was his hobby and his passion and so it was both fortuitous and inevitable that he was assigned to preparing food in addition to his scientific duties. As a young Italian PHD student in his final year at Cambridge, this was an adventure of a lifetime and would see him achieve his professorship for certain…at least he had convinced himself that it would as he jumped at the chance to sign up. His mentor, Professor Lockwood, may have gone too far in attempting to realise his goals but Chen had learned a lot from him and would not make the same mistakes. He was ambitious and maybe just a little over confident in himself…arrogant at times perhaps…even to his own admission, but he was not ruthless. He was kind, and a gentleman at heart…a Chevalier in a modern world. He smiled approvingly at the ripe red tomatoes in the chilled cabinet and cracked open a fresh garlic bulb, singing lightly to himself as he began to cook and breathing great gulps of scented air as the ingredients began to heat and meld together. Each breath was followed by a satisfied noise that symbolised his appreciation and raised the level of his singing voice. There was no audience to witness his vocal prowess…just as well as it fell far below his abilities as a chef.

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Tell me, Lieutenant. Are you experiencing anything at all from the entity we encountered? Lawrence Peterson took a mouthful of hot coffee and then shuffled back in his seat and loosened the fastening around his collar. His Captain’s cabin was well appointed, if a little cramped. Selections of personal affects adorned the walls and were arranged on shelves in groups that reminded him of significant events in his life. Richard sat in the soft chair on the other side of the low table but felt somehow unable to loosen his own collar whilst in conference with his Commander…they hadn’t quite reached the point of relaxed friendship in his mind and he found strange comfort in the etiquette of formality.

No, Sir, he answered after thinking for a moment. "I haven’t…felt anything since we departed from Jupiter." That statement would have needed further explanation if he had been talking to anyone else…anyone who had not been there themselves, but Lawrence Peterson knew only too well about the ‘feeling’ to which Richard had referred.

No, neither have I but, he offered Richard the sugar bowl as he saw him raise his coffee cup, you had a stronger bond with… there was a brief pause whilst he searched for the right word, "them".

Richard put three lumps of sugar in his coffee and gently twirled the brown liquid with his spoon. I sensed that they wanted me to return…us to return, he corrected.

You seem certain that there was more than one entity, Peterson’s eyes narrowed. Tell me…how are you able to deduce this?

Like everything that happened out there, Captain…I just feel it. There are no words, no pictures, no direct communication, I simply…I suppose, have an idea and then believe it to be correct.

Peterson sipped his coffee; There are those back home on Earth that don’t believe us you know…even those in high office. I’m not sure I would believe it myself had I not seen it with my own eyes…felt it with my own mind. I suppose I should feel some trepidation, even fear…but I don’t. It occurred to me earlier, that perhaps their influence is still with us, even at this great distance. Or that it is at least feasible that we’ve been conditioned somehow, not to perceive them as a threat. We must be mindful, Lieutenant, not to let these feelings cloud our judgement. It would be very easy, I think, to be carried along with a sense of euphoria and led into a trap. Peterson saw the look on Richard’s face and added, "I’m not saying it is a trap, Lieutenant. All I’m saying is…think. Use your intellect and don’t rely too heavily on gut feelings. From what I experienced, and what you’ve told me, it would seem that our feelings can be influenced somehow. Don’t trust them."

Richard finished his coffee and considered his Captain’s words. He knew there was nothing to fear, and yet the Captain was right. They should be considering an ulterior motive. Surely it was at least feasible that something sinister was going on? Why was he not accepting this possibility? It made no sense…he should keep an open mind…he’d always been able to keep an open mind. He found it hard to even process the notion that what was waiting for them out there could possibly be belligerent. Yes, Sir, he finally answered, when he could think of nothing more intelligent or constructive to say.

There’s something else on your mind isn’t there? Peterson poured out another two cups of coffee. What is it?

I,

Go on, urged the Captain, feel free to speak your mind.

I was wondering why you felt it necessary to interview me on the space-station when we’d already met, and as far as I can tell, my presence here was ordered from… Richard suddenly felt uncomfortable, but added, above you.

Ahh. Well you see… Peterson seemed surprisingly relaxed about the question, almost as if he had been expecting it, even waiting for it, I like to feel I know my crew. Most of the bridge-crew have been with me on several missions already. He sipped some more coffee, the Ex-oh has been with me for most of my career…on and off. We went to the academy together you know. Peterson frowned for a moment as he watched Richard load three more sugar lumps into his cup, Why do you have so much sugar?

Hmm? Richard hadn’t even realised what he was doing, just a bad habit I picked up from a friend on my last mission.

Lieutenant Allman? Peterson smiled gently, I read the report…tough thing to lose a friend in space, he paused as if remembering a similar incident in his own distant past. In the old days…long before we were born. The Captains of wooden vessels would hand pick their officers before embarking on journeys into the unknown that would take years to complete. He starred at a model of a windjammer he’d made when he was a boy and images of a happy childhood flashed through his memory. As I was saying, I wanted to get a feel for you. I needed to look you in the eye and decide for myself what kind of a man you were.

And?

Well, you’re here aren’t you?

Richard laughed and looked down at his own slouched body, I am indeed.

Well then…shut up and drink your coffee.

The communication panel on the wall flashed red accompanied by a buzzer alerting them that a message demanded their attention. Peterson touched the answer button with his fingertips, Peterson.

Ready to initiate the ‘near light speed’ effect, Captain.

Thank you, Ex-oh. We’re on our way.

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Like an invisible protective buffer, the warp-field surrounded the ship and propelled them, projectile-like towards their destination. The bridge lights flickered and dimmed as the generators struggled to meet the increasing demand. The air felt strangely anomalous and a feeling of wooziness momentarily passed over them before normality returned, leaving no sensation of speed or movement of any kind. This vessel simply stunned Richard…the magnitude of advancement it represented was nothing short of a revelation. He remembered how it had taken his first ship six months to reach Jupiter…but now that the ‘near light’ technology had been activated, they would cover the same distance in little over twenty hours, and if pushed to maximum, perhaps less than half of that. He noticed for the first time that the bridge lighting had changed colour slightly. A pinkish hue had been introduced into the overhead panels and some of the bridge functions had been locked-out on the consoles. He hadn’t noticed this effect on his journey back to Earth on this very same vessel, less than a month ago…but then he hadn’t noticed a lot during that journey. Tiredness and exhaustion had devoured him and his dazed hulk had been barely aware of anything…but now his senses were acute, and he noticed everything…every detail, every sound…the warning symbols on every flight console alerting the crew that certain functions had been disabled whilst in ‘warp’ conditions…the quietness that seemed to hang in the air for no discernable reason. He could almost hear the breathing of his fellow crewmembers…and then he heard the rhythmic tapping sound that meant the unmistakable approach of the senior engineer. The same noise that only recently would have heralded the approach of another part of his life…now sadly left behind on Earth. Gradually the clicks got louder with each footstep until she appeared through the door and paused for a moment while her eyes sought out Captain Peterson. Metal earthing-strips in the toes and heels of her shoes were responsible for the clicking noise she made with every step, (although Richard didn’t really understand how they worked, but it had something to do with the warp field generator which she…and only she, was permitted to come into contact with). Katherine had a presence about her, without doubt. Her red uniform was always pristine, with short sleeves revealing her olive-skinned arms and slender fingers. Her fiery red hair was short and perfectly kept at all times. If she wore any makeup, then Richard couldn’t distinguish it, but then she needed no help with her charming features.

Ahh, Commander, Captain Peterson turned round to greet her, I trust everything is well in hand? The question was somewhat academic…he knew very well that it was without asking, for she would never have left her beloved engines if there had been even the slightest doubt of that.

The warp field is hardly being stretched to capacity, Captain, she stepped down onto the central deck and walked over to where he stood, looking around and nodding to fellow colleagues as they caught her eye, this is little more than a gentle cruise. I could easily…

Our progress is quite satisfactory, Commander.

As you say, Sir, she seemed disappointed at the response, but if we’re going to take the low road…so to speak, then I’d like to take the opportunity to relax for a while…if you don’t mind.

Peterson’s face softened, and although he did not reply verbally, his agreement was evident and she left seemingly satisfied, with the clicking noise gradually becoming quieter as she exited the bridge. François watched her petite figure walking away and leaned over to West, She is something…no? he whispered.

West just smiled as a lock of white hair fell defiantly across his forehead.

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Belvedere had already passed the orbital path of Mars when Richard sat on the edge of his bunk and prized off his boots, tossing them across the room like a careless teenager home from school. ‘This is the future,’ he thought to himself as his head rested on the soft pillow, ‘the whole solar system is within easy reach. Every detail can be explored and catalogued. What would they learn? What new challenges and opportunities lay around the next corner? Were they the new pioneers…pushing the boundaries of human endeavour?’ Somehow he felt certain that the solar system would soon feel small…very small, and that it would be little more than the home town of olden days, when there was a whole world to be travelled. He closed his eyes although he knew that sleep would be impossible, ‘what a time to be alive…everything was new…anything was possible’ he rubbed his eyes and stretched out on the mattress, ‘they’d be there soon…very soon.’ He undid the top three buttons of his tunic and began to write the first of what he hoped would be many letters back home, tapping away at the palm computer with any random thought that entered his head and hoping it would make some kind of sense when he finished.

2

Katherine Jaegar felt the hot water run down her back as she turned her face into the soothing shower jet, ‘Just two more minutes,’ she promised herself, running her fingers through her hair. Soap bubbles from the shampoo collected around her toes and she swished them about in a carefree manner from side to side watching the water carry them away.

Outside the cubicles, Richard Delaney had entered the shower room and begun to unbutton his tunic. He glanced casually around and could see that two of the showers were unoccupied. Steam from the third cubicle obscured the form of the occupant inside and he paid no further attention to it. He placed his rolled-up towel on the bench and took off his deck shoes, offhandedly discarding them on the wet floor beneath the bench. When the frosted-glass shower door opened and Katherine stepped out into the changing area he froze for a moment, I’m sorry, he said, quickly turning away to face the wall, I didn’t realise that you were using the shower. I thought that one of the male…

Katherine laughed out loud in a mischievous and roguish manner that took him by surprise, save your blushes, Richie boy, she said. I’ve been on many ships far smaller than this one, and learned that modesty can become too inconvenient to be troubled with. She took a towel from the rack and began to rub her hair, I’ll be out of the way in just a moment, she laughed again as she saw Richard struggle to know where to look or how to continue, don’t mind little old me, she added with an angelic smile when she realised that he had stopped undressing. Beads of water were running down her arms and droplets were dripping from her elbows and breasts, leaving a pool of water around her feet. She turned her back to him and placed a foot on the bench to dry between her toes. We’ll be there soon, she said, moving to the mirror and putting a comb through her hair. Her naked body was glowing from the heat of the shower and steam was rising from her skin. What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?

Richard removed his top and folded it carefully as Katherine slipped into a casual one-piece outfit and then threw her towel into the basket. She smiled at him and then left the room, barefoot, leaving perfect footprints in her wake that slowly began to dry and loose their shape as the air conditioning removed the moisture. He heard her laughing to herself as she made her way along the corridor and back to her own quarters. Stepping into the shower cubicle, he shook his head into the warm water and smiled.

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Reese Hamlin laughed out loud as pieces of food fell from his lips as he spoke. He did what?

I’m telling you, replied Bernie Heinlein, He took her home after a few drinks and one thing led to another…you know…as it does…only it turned out, he almost choked on the mouthful of food he was about to swallow, that she…was a he!

No way!

We never let him live it down…and don’t even mention the name of that country or he’ll know I told you.

Reese nearly spat out part of his sandwich and reached for a gulp of coffee to help it down, Man, that’s funny. Neither of them had noticed a slightly sheepish-looking, Richard Delaney enter and look around for a familiar face. Seeing his friend sitting alone he crossed the room paying no heed to the crewmen laughing boisterously. Hey, West, Richard slid onto the bench alongside the helmsman in the canteen, you’ll never guess what just happened.

Still chewing on his breakfast, he looked up, Hi Rich, what’s up bud?

I’ve just been for a shower, Richard looked round to make sure that no one was listening. The door wasn’t locked, so I went in and then I heard the water running, so I figured it must be one of the guys…anyway…then the shower stops and Katherine steps out…naked as the day she was born and just casually starts drying her hair as if everything’s normal.

Ha, ha, ha, so Kat’s got you too eh? the young Lieutenant poured out some orange juice and took a drink. Our, Kat is a bit of an odd one to say the least, a smile made its way across his face and Richard seemed disappointed at his reaction. She’s always been immersed in engineering…it’s like a drug…like chocolate to her…gifted beyond anything she has a right to be, West put the glass back on the table. She keeps passing exams and writing theories so fast that they can’t stop promoting her…which kinda explains her rank at the age of twenty three I suppose…but she’s also a rebel, a renegade. She sees life as a game and plays it to the full. You’ll like her once you get to understand her…just don’t try to mess with her engines, that’s all. He waved his finger in front of Richard’s face.

You mean she does this kind of thing a lot?

Well she’s not shy if that’s what you mean…but she’s not mad either. She does have a way of making you…how can I put it…smile from time to time…you’ll see.

Richard shook his head and then decided on a different question, You’ve been with the Captain for a while, haven’t you?

Coming up to three years now I suppose, he thought for a moment, yeah a bit more than three.

I like him…not sure I fully understand him yet though.

What’d you mean? He’s the easiest man in the world to understand.

All this formality…calling everyone by rank…even off-duty, but then on the other hand, using his own sayings to relate orders. I just don’t get it.

West raised his hands slightly without even knowing why, and in a rather animated fashion he began to explain, Captain Peterson is like a cowboy…only one who made it onto better things. He never forgets where he came from, or how hard he had to work to get where he is.

Tell me something, West…everyone is addressed by their rank except François. What’s going on there?

Ah…well he’s a special case. West passed a glass across to Richard, "Drink some orange juice, it’s good for you. François was on the flight crew of the Intrepid. Captain Peterson was a Commander then…First Officer. West filled both of the glasses, spilling a little in the process and trying to wipe away the excess with his fingers, Peterson and ten others were in a short-range shuttle, taking mineral samples from an asteroid when all their systems failed and they drifted and crashed into a crater on the asteroid surface. There was no way that they should have survived it, West looked up. The impact was brutal. Captain Janus ordered the Intrepid to rendezvous with the other shuttle that was ready to dock before trying to recover any of the wreckage but François refused to obey the order. He piloted the ship directly towards the asteroid. When Captain Janus tried to stop him, he punched him in the face, West seemed very pleased at the mere thought of this. François shoved the nose of the intrepid straight into the crater and used a grappling arm to grasp onto the shuttle. He dragged it out and loaded it into the hangar deck on manual control. No one else dared interfere with what he was doing. I don’t think they wanted to; they were all just hoping that he was right…and trying not to laugh at Janus bleeding all over the place and trying to straighten his broken nose. Anyway, Commander Peterson and three of the crew survived. Without François, they would all have perished for sure. François was Court Marshalled for striking a superior officer and disobeying orders…and causing millions of dollars worth of damage to the ship into the bargain. Peterson put everything on the line to defend him. In the end, François was demoted from Lieutenant First Class, to Ensign. West seemed to be enjoying telling the story and Richard was fascinated and listened with fervent curiosity. Commander Peterson was furious with the Court and even offered his own resignation in protest. In the end it was Admiral Blake that persuaded him not to throw his career away. Not long after that, he was promoted to Captain and he insisted on having François in his crew. He calls him ‘Mr’ because he doesn’t agree with his rank and chooses not to use it. If I know the Captain, it won’t be too long before François is a Lieutenant again."

I see… whispered Richard with a smile, you know, West old boy, the more I get to learn about Captain Peterson, the more I get to like him.

He does have that effect. West grinned, if he trusts you and values you, then he’ll move worlds to look after you. You’ll get to know that the rest of us would do the same for him.

So what’s the story with Commander Lamara?

Ahh… West looked at the now empty glass but decided that he could drink no more orange juice. You coming to the bridge?

Richard pushed his half-full plate away, Yeah.

George Lamara was on the same recruit course as the Captain, he said, standing to adjust his uniform and then making his way toward the door. They became friends and served together on their first mission. George actually got promoted first, and for some time he was the Captain’s superior officer…but you know how things turn out sometimes. They’ve gone their own way and been reassigned together several times over the years but the Captain likes to have him nearby…they’re more than just good friends, they’re practically brothers. West stopped outside the bridge doors, if ever there was a lesson that anything’s possible, then this is it. A farm boy is Captain of the finest ship in the fleet and his best friend is the Executive Officer…it’s Hollywood stuff.

The bridge doors slid open; exposing the hum of the computers and the voices of the flight crew…the adventure was about to begin!

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The warp field collapsed and Belvedere returned to normal space, the effect, though fleeting, was unpleasant nevertheless. A feeling of drunken vertigo descended throughout their bodies, nauseous and intruding…and then it was gone. I never get used to that, grumbled George Lamara, it can’t be good for you…whatever it is.

"Maybe