The War of the Iron Dragon: An Alternate History Viking Epic (Saga of the Iron Dragon Book 5)

by Robert Kroese

  “I don’t understand. Why didn’t the Sentinels just tell the Truscans to avoid those regions of space?”

  Sol smiled. “The answer to that is as old as the Garden of Eden: forbidden fruit is the sweetest. The Sentinels kept the Truscans in the dark for their own protection. The Truscans did not even know of the existence of Earth, except as a mythical place that was known to their remote ancestors. They were children who needed guidance.”

  “But how could the Sentinels shut down the gates?”

  “The gates had been constructed with the knowledge and tacit approval of the Sentinels. You see, when the Truscans began investigating the properties of hyperspace, the Sentinels knew they were only a few decades from developing faster-than-light travel. So they gave the Truscans a gift: a device that could be used to generate a hyperspace field large enough to send a ship through. There was a cost to this gift, though: it was what you might call a ‘black box,’ a device whose inner workings cannot be determined through scientific analysis. The Truscans had a choice: use the hyperspace module without knowing how it worked or try to develop one of their own over the next several decades. They chose the easier option, as the Sentinels knew they would. So when the Truscans began to roam too far, the Sentinels sent out a simple encoded radio signal from their fortified lair on Toronus. The signal spread across space at the speed of light, shutting off the hyperspace gates one by one until, after twenty years, the last one went offline.

  “By this time, the Truscan civilization was highly dependent on interstellar trade, so the deactivation of the gates resulted in chaos. Millions starved. Many more were killed in wars or the plagues that followed. Truscan historians refer to this event as the Collapse. If I’m not mistaken, the Collapse coincided with the Dark Ages on Earth. It would have been around 800 A.D. by Earth reckoning.

  “It was a brutal, dark time, but the Sentinels had achieved their aim: by setting the Truscan march across the galaxy back by several hundred years, they eliminated the possibility of a cataclysmic meeting between the Truscans and their neighboring civilizations. That was, at least, what the Sentinels believed at the time. The Truscans, however, proved more resilient than expected.

  “Less than fifty years after the Collapse, a group of Truscans on a planet called Stellarus invented the self-contained hyperspace drive. They began building hyperdrive-enabled ships and slowly reestablished contact with the other worlds. An interstellar organization called the Concordat was formed. Pre-Collapse records were so sketchy, however, that the locations of some of the other worlds could not be determined. For all the people of the Concordat worlds knew, other Truscan civilizations had also invented the hyperdrive and might even now be looking for them, or spreading out to other, as yet unknown worlds.

  “The Sentinels, having allowed themselves to believe their long and thankless task was at last finished, had again let their numbers dwindle to fewer than twenty people. Many of these people possessed severe genetic defects due to genetic drift and inbreeding. They no longer had the strength or influence to reinvigorate their line with gametes from the Truscans. The Truscans, in fact, had stopped thinking of the Sentinels as a threat, and considered them a pathetic, effete race that would soon die out.

  “But the Sentinels still possessed a technological edge over the Truscans, and they rededicated themselves to their cause. But how can a dozen or so people stop the spread of millions? The answer is obvious: self-replicating machines.”

  Chapter Twenty

  “T

  he Sentinels sent out hyperspace-enabled probes, looking for habitable planets between Truscan space and the regions of space that would eventually be inhabited by the main branch of humanity—what you might call the Prohibited Zone. Eventually they found a world that was mostly ocean, but which could support human life and had at least one island that was large enough for their purposes. The few remaining Sentinels built a small ship that they used to travel to that planet, which is, of course, the one we are on now. Izar was the ancient name for the star it orbits; this planet was called Izar-4. Eventually Izar came to mean the planet itself. Being under the impression that the Sentinels had died out, the Truscans never figured out that the Sentinels and the Izarians were one and the same.

  “The Sentinels spent the next fifty years building machines. These machines would build other machines, which would build factories that would build other machines, and so on. They envisioned a city that existed solely for the purpose of building machines that would be sent out on spaceships to occupy any habitable planets on the border of the Prohibited Zone. The idea was to dissuade the Truscans from settling on such planets, at least until the year 2227—the end of known history.

  “While the Sentinels planned, the Truscans continued to push closer and closer to the Prohibited Zone. Soon it became clear that the Sentinels were running out of time. They simply didn’t have the workforce to build the number of self-replicating machines they would need to stop the Truscans from reaching the Prohibited Zone. So they altered their plan. They created intelligent, human-like machines.”

  “Golems.”

  “Ah, golems. Yes, a good Hebrew word. The golems were near-human, and they made excellent assistants, but they lacked creativity and autonomy. In the end, the golems were not enough. So the Sentinels created another class of machines, which they called Nephilim. The Nephilim possessed intelligence and limited autonomy, but understanding the dangers of creating machines that could think for themselves, the Sentinels put strict limits on the Nephilim’s thinking. Control algorithms, like blinders on a horse. They created only six Nephilim, to be sure that the Sentinels could keep an eye on them, and then they destroyed the plans, so no more could be built. With the help of the Nephilim, the Sentinels were able to complete their city, and the war machines began to depart for other worlds, to guard them like the angel at the entrance to the Garden of Eden.

  “At this time, the machines were dependent on hyperspace gates for interstellar travel. This was a safeguard implemented by the Sentinels. If they ever lost control of the machines, they could shut down the gates as they’d done with the Truscans.

  “But the Sentinels made a mistake. You see, they gave all the machines the ability to communicate instantaneously, by radio. Essentially, the machines are telepathic. And what is a human brain except a collection of semi-autonomous fragments that communicate with each other with near instantaneous speed?”

  “You’re saying the Six—the Nephilim—are self-aware?”

  “I’m saying that the city itself is—or was—self-aware. The Nephilim were responsible for the higher brain functions. The golems are analogous to the cerebellum, responsible for more basic functions—what you might call the city’s instincts and reflexes. The other five higher models are like collections of nerves. The body of this being, consisting of thousands of other machines, are spread across many worlds.

  “The city decided its creators’ plan was insufficient. It wanted to spread out across the galaxy, dominating its environment, as all living things do. But it was clever. It bided its time, learning about its creators and its enemies. Realizing how dependent it was on the hyperspace gates, it sent a virus into the gate control system, locking the Sentinels out. By the time the Sentinels realized what had happened, it was too late: they no longer had control of the gates. The machines went on the offensive. Rather than simply guard the Prohibited Zone, it sent its tendrils into Truscan space to eradicate humanity. Using information gleaned from the Sentinels’ computers, it also began building spaceships equipped with self-contained hyperdrives.

  “But the Sentinels, perhaps understanding the danger of what they were attempting, had developed another failsafe. Before creating the Nephilim, they had sent a few of their number to a distant planet called Kiryata to build a weapon more powerful than any weapon ever before devised. A planet-killer.”

  “I am familiar with this weapon.”

  “Then you know what it can do: destroy every living thing and
every machine and structure on an entire planet. The scientists on Kiryata sent one of these devices here shortly before the city went rogue. If the machines ever turned against their creators, the Sentinels would activate the planet-killer. The planet-killer was hidden in a vault which, if opened, would activate the device. The vault required a human being to enter a specific ten-digit code once per day. If the code was not entered by a human being—identified by a brain scan—the device would activate. Thus, if the machines killed their masters before they had a chance to pull the switch, the device would still activate.

  “Unfortunately, the machines discovered the vault and deduced its purpose. By this time, only five Sentinels were still alive. The machines imprisoned them and forced them, through various forms of excruciating torture, to enter the failsafe code every day. Eventually the machines discovered the location of Kiryata and forced the Sentinels there to build more of the devices—one for every known human world. By the time the devices were complete, four of the five remaining Sentinels on Izar had died.”

  “And you are the last.”

  “Indeed,” said Sol. “I am kept alive because of that.” He indicated a black stone pedestal, the top of which was a flat surface with a numeric keypad and a small digital display in the center of it. Moving closer to the pedestal, Freya saw that read 10901. It changed to 10900, then 10989. The intervals were about a second long, which meant they had just over three hours. “When I heard you enter, I thought you were one of the Six, come to ask me questions about human beings. They do that sometimes, to better understand us.”

  “To better kill us, you mean.”

  “Perhaps. Or perhaps to emulate us. They have what you might call blind spots. In their thinking, I mean. For example, they never thought to ask any of us for the location of Earth. They knew all humanity had originated on a planet the knew nothing about, but somehow their algorithm overlooked it. Or perhaps they intentionally left it alone. We’ll never know. There are other blind spots, as you’ve undoubtedly discovered.”

  “Like their obsession with helium-3.”

  “Yes, exactly. They understand there are other ways to generate power, but they lack the ability to invent. Can you imagine how maddening that must be? To know something is possible but be unable to do it? They can build, they can reason, and they can even strategize to an extent, but they never create anything. With the kinds of questions they ask me sometimes, I think they’re groping toward it, the idea of invention, like a child trying to make sense of calculus. Nor have they ever figured out how to build more Nephilim, which would allow the entity to reproduce—that is, to send other versions of itself to other worlds. They are limited to a single, central brain, and that was their undoing, as you see.”

  What do you mean?”

  “Because you’ve lobotomized them, my dear.”

  “What? I?”

  “That’s a sixth of the thing’s higher brain functions on the floor over there. How well do you think you’d function if I scooped out a sixth of your brain?”

  “But… surely it can still function?”

  “Certainly. Like a particularly well-crafted dishwasher. Trust me, dear. You have nothing more to fear from it. It has intelligence, but it lacks a will or identity. All six Nephilim were needed to hold it together. You’ll be able to walk right out of here.”

  “And my friends?”

  “If they were alive when you pulled that trigger, I’m certain they still are.”

  “Then… all this time… All those years that you and the others languished down here, being tortured… while the war raged across a dozen systems… this is all it took? A single bullet to the brain?”

  “I’m sure that could be said of any number of wars,” said Sol. “It usually only takes one madman with a plan to start it, and a bullet to the brain to end it.”

  “Yes,” said Freya. “I suppose so. Your condition… your blindness, and the rest of it. That was the result of the torture?”

  “Eh? Oh, no, they never tortured me. I saw what they did to the others. When they got around to asking me, I did what I was told. What was the point in resisting? The others gave in eventually. They all did. I’m afraid what you see in front of you is the result of old age and bad genes—mostly the latter. I was born blind and disfigured. Ten generations of inbreeding. I can only thank God my mind was unaffected. Three of my siblings had to be put down because they were of no use. I could easily have been born a monster.”

  “Yes,” said Freya. “I can see that.”

  And she put a bullet in his brain.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  T he Izarian light infantry transport ship raced away from the planet, readying itself to make the jump into hyperspace. Aboard it were twelve exhausted Norsemen, one woman, thirteen top-of-the-line mech suits that had seen better days, and a single humanoid robot. It was fortunate that the ship could navigate itself, as none of the people aboard were in any shape to pilot it.

  Like the rest of the machines that had been on Izar when Freya shot one of the six Nephilim, the ship was no longer guided by any higher intelligence. The conscious entity centered on the city had ceased to exist; in its place was a mere collection of thousands of semi-autonomous machines. Even the five remaining Nephilim were now only exceptionally complex machines, lacking any spark of sentience. Even so, it took considerable effort on Freya’s part to convince the Norsemen to bring one along.

  “I do not trust that thing,” Eric said, glaring sideways at the Sixth, which did not react.

  “It is a machine, Eric,” Freya said tiredly. “No different from your mech suit or this ship.”

  “It killed forty of my men.”

  Freya could understand Eric’s hesitance. Between the battle on Voltera and the assault on Izar, he had lost his son, his most trusted henchman, and most of his men. Eric would himself be dead if the battle had lasted a few minutes longer. They had been surrounded and nearly out of ammunition, taking heavy fire while hunkered down behind fallen machines, when the machines suddenly stopped fighting. Still, Freya was becoming frustrated with his obstinance. “You may as well blame a knife for cutting you,” she said. “It’s a tool. The machines are no longer sentient.”

  “You believe that because this man, this ‘Sentinel,’ told you? It was his kind that created them!”

  “That is why I trust him. He had no reason to lie. They were holding him prisoner. The machines were as much his enemy as they were yours.”

  “Only because they turned on him.”

  “Yes. The Sentinels were trying to do the right thing. They wanted to preserve the human race, just as we do. They made mistakes, but I believe they were sincere in their intentions. That’s partly why I trust him. Beyond that, the machines have been nothing but helpful since I destroyed that Sixth. They directed us to medical supplies, helped us find this ship, told us where we could find the facility where the Sentinels built the planet-killers. All we have to do is ask, and they obey. And if there was no threat from the five remaining Sixths, there certainly isn’t any danger from a single one of them.”

  “You said they all talk together.”

  “Yes, but you saw what happened to the other Sixths.” The dead man’s switch having been triggered shortly after they left the atmosphere, they had watched as the wave of destruction had spread across the planet, converting every machine to inert masses of dust. “If this Sixth were capable of emotions like anger or the desire for revenge, don’t you think it would have reacted to seeing the rest of its kind eradicated? Eric, look at that thing. It looks almost human, yes, but does it feel like a human to you?”

  Eric glared at the Sixth again. “No,” said Eric. “That is exactly why I do not trust it.”

  Freya gave up. “Sixth, are you familiar with the race known as the Cho-ta’an?”

  “I have no knowledge of such a race.”

  “They are humanoid. Taller than the average human. Gray skin, hermaphroditic.”

  “I have no knowled
ge of such a race.”

  Well, that settled that. The Sixth wasn’t going to be any help in coming up with a way to defeat the Cho-ta’an. Freya’s current plan was to pick up where she had left off when Varinga had intercepted her ship weeks ago: she would retrieve the planet-killer from the Izarian facility located on a remote planet and find a way to get it to the Interstellar Defense League. The fact that the IDL would not be founded for 1300 years was a problem that she would address after she’d secured the planet-killer.

  “Sixth, how long until we reach our destination?”

  The Sixth spoke: “We will enter hyperspace in twenty-one minutes. We will spend four hours and eight minutes in hyperspace and then emerge into conventional space five hundred eighty-six thousand miles from Kiryata. Deceleration and landing is estimated to take three hours and fifty minutes. That makes a total elapsed subjective time of seven hours and fifty-eight minutes.” At first the Norsemen had been dependent on Freya’s translator to speak to the machines, but over the past few hours, the machines had learned the Norsemen’s language.

  “Perfect,” said Freya. “I’m going to take a shower and then get some sleep.” The transport ship, designed to carry a hundred light infantry machines, was fantastically luxurious compared to the cargo ship they’d taken to Izar.

  *****

  Freya was awakened from a deep sleep by an explosion that caused the ship to shudder and groan ominously. She unstrapped herself from the bed and pulled herself along the zero-gravity rungs toward the main cabin. Eric, looking like he had just woken up, floated just inside. He must have meant to keep an eye on the Sixth but had fallen asleep. The Sixth, one of its hands clutching a hand strap, floated perpendicular to Eric, completely still and as expressionless as always.