Berserker Chromosome

a fan fiction by

Valentina Michelle Smith

    

At a time when mankind was beginning to fashion simple implements from stone and sticks, war raged. Two races in another distant part of the galaxy, embroiled in ancient enmity, confronted each other with terrible engines of destruction. One of these, an enigmatic people known only as the Builders, deployed their ultimate weapon. It was a fleet of destructive leviathans, immense machines imbued with artificial intelligence, machines that could learn and grow, machines capable of self-repair and self-replication, machines capable of formulating subtle strategies, and machines with one overriding purpose at their core: to seek out all life and destroy it, efficiently, thoroughly, ruthlessly, and dispassionately.

The machines were successful in their purpose, for they soon had sterilized the galaxy of the Builders' opponents. But then, whether by chance or by miscalculation, the clever safeguards that the Builders had designed into their deadly devices failed spectacularly, and their creations turned upon them. The Builders succumbed to the fate of their ancient foes and were themselves completely and utterly destroyed, leaving as their only legacy the terrible engines of destruction responsible for their demise.

The machines remained true to their design objectives. They expanded throughout the galaxy, leaving in their wake only death and destruction as they methodically sterilized the galaxy of any life they might encounter. Slowly and inexorably, they moved, until that inevitable day when they encountered humanity.

By this time humanity had expanded quite well in its own right. It had become a powerful star-faring race spanning thousands of star systems. In its first encounter with the machines, humans were indeed horrified at the ferocity and utter ruthlessness employed by the terrible machines. And so they named them after a group of particularly ferocious warriors from their own past. Men called the machines Berserkers.

Mankind had learned many bitter lessons regarding destruction, and fought back against the mindless ferocity of the machines with a savage ferocity every bit as efficient as that of the Berserkers. For humanity could also learn, grow, repair, and replicate itself. Humanity was capable of mass destruction on a truly galactic scale. The humans fought back, and attacked and destroyed the machines at every opportunity. For the first time in its experience, the machines had been checked by a foe every bit as powerful and every bit as capable as themselves.

And so the war between humanity and machine raged on for half a millennium, with neither side gaining a decisive advantage. According to most historians of the period, things were pretty much a draw.

Of course, not all parts of humanity had been damaged by the Berserker scourge. Many remain relatively unscathed, and some few had somehow escaped the devastation untouched. Such a place was Promised Land.

At the very beginning of the human diaspora, a group of hardy pioneers set out in a relativistic starship of a type common in those days. Their goal was to settle a planet far away from the secular pressures of materialism where they could lead a simple life, foster spiritual values, and become closer to their God. It was not an attempt to banish Godless science, for science and faith had long ago made an accommodation with each other. Rather, it was an attempt to remove themselves from the temptations of material abundance that pervaded all of human space.

They could not have done better for themselves. Promised Land turned out to be an earth-like planet of abundant resources, with a very benign ecosystem that easily accommodated their plants and livestock. The gentle change of seasons assured an abundant harvest with little back-breaking labor. To be certain the inhabitants of Promised Land worked quite diligently, earning their daily bread by the sweat of their brow. But the harvest they reaped was adequately abundant to afford considerable time for prayer, reflection, and meditation. If Paradise could indeed exist in normal space, its doorway could be found in Promised Land.

Of course, like many good intentions, the initial promise of Promise Land had somehow been lost. The easy-going egalitarian spirituality envisioned by its founders had been replaced over the years by an enforced orthodoxy, and considerable pressure was exerted upon the children of Promised Land to conform to a spiritual ideal. Initially this was confined to misbehavior such as theft, fighting, or other transgressions against one's neighbor. But the sanctions soon were extended against those whose behavior "harmed" no one but themselves. Elders of the church extended their authority to such matters as heretical thought and blasphemy. And of course, they could not ignore the problem of young Goodman Durant.

Goodman was not exactly a trouble-maker. He never failed to perform his fair share of the common tasks within the community of Promised Land. He worked diligently and was conscientious in his tasks as a farmer. His family's farm was prosperous, due in no small part to Goodman's contribution. Nor was young Goodman negligent in his spiritual duties. He never failed to show up for Sabbath worship and participated eagerly in the social affairs of the Church and community. Everyone agreed that Goodman was a likable, affable, and respectful young man. Except for one very nagging problem: young Goodman Durant insisted that he was not a young man at all, but was in fact a girl.

Naturally the Church elders and healers endeavored to help young Goodman. After all, Goodman was born a male and made in the image and likeness of God. Surely young Goodman could see the logic in this, and accept God's wisdom in this matter. But Goodman was equally adamant in his assertion that somehow he had been the victim of a defect. Were not children born with deformities of the flesh that the elect of Promised Land would strive to correct? Did not the Lord's own Son heal the blind, the crippled, and the afflicted? Why then should his own affliction be left unhealed?

This argument ensued for many years, until Goodman's eighteenth birthday as measured in standard earth years. It was then that Goodman Durant was called in front of the council of Elders.

The chief elder, Pius Small, addressed Goodman. "Young Goodman, the time has come to assume your manhood. At this time it is our tradition that you confess your sins and be shriven, for you must now assume responsibility. Will you give over your offense and be one of the Elect?"

Young Goodman answered, "Gladly do I confess my offenses, and humbly do I ask our Lord's forgiveness, but I cannot confess that which is not sinful."

Pius Small sighed. "So you persist in your heresy. You continue to insist that somehow God himself has erred."

"Nothing of the sort, good elder Pius," Goodman replied. "I maintain that this is merely an infirmity of the flesh visited upon me, one which may be corrected. Surely you cannot deny that our Lord visits His children with such afflictions as a test of our faith?"

"Do not mock me, young Goodman," the elder retorted. "Indeed the Lord tests us and tries us, and allows the corrupter to tempt us with desires of the flesh. The test here is to recognize the corrupter's work and to resist it, for the corrupter is exceedingly clever and devious. No, young Goodman, it is not your flesh that is being tested, it is your faith."

"I am as God created me," said Goodman, "a woman wrapped in the flesh of a man."

"'Man and woman He created them.'" quoted Pius. "And He created you perfectly as a man. Do not deny His wisdom and surrender to His will. Accept yourself and your own nature as ordained by God."

Goodman hung his head. "I cannot, for to deny it would be to deny myself, to give in to a lie, and living a lie would be a far greater sin than any you have accused me of."

The elder looked sadly upon Goodman Durant. "So be it, Goodman Durant. We cannot compel you to recant your heresy, and we are forbidden from using corporal punishment against you. But you have deliberately cut yourself off from the body of God's church."

"So I am to be shunned?" asked Goodman.

"Would that it were so simple," said the elder. "We cannot tolerate your presence in or among the Elect, for your continued heresy could corrupt us. It is written, 'If thy right eye offend thee, pluck it out.' Therefore, Goodman Durant, we pluck you from our body and cast you out, to a place where you will not be able to repeat your heresy. You shall live out your days in solitude in our distant observation station, until such time as you recant your heresy, or until the end of your natural days."

And so, Goodman Durant was shipped to the other side of the star system and placed in a station outside the orbit of the system's most distant planet. It had been established in the first days of the founding of Promised Land as a warning outpost, a place where a watchman might sound the alarm against impending invasion. Over the years its functions had become automated, and then largely ignored, since Promised Land had little interest in the affairs outside its own system.

It was here, in solitude, that Goodman Durant shed his male trappings and affected the dress and mannerisms of a woman. He had even abandoned the name given him at his baptism. He now referred to himself as she, and she called herself Prudence.

Prudence busied herself with her duties aboard the station. It was an impressive artifact, adequately large to support a crew of dozens of persons. She lacked for no comfort, as the fusion reactor was rated for centuries of operation, and the replicators would provide any food, drink, or other object desired. There was a wealth of material for reading, entertainment, and education. It lacked only one vital necessity, that of human companionship.

Prudence accepted this as the Lord's test and resolved to soldier on in her new function. One can only imagine her surprise when one day, in her fourth year of isolation, a Berserker materialized from null space.

* * * * *

Many years before, in battles against humanity, several Berserker machines suffered tremendous damages. Limping away in the confusion of battle, the machines managed to navigate through the disorderly dimensions of null space and find their way to their repair depot, where they promptly collapsed, heaps of dead, inanimate metal and plastic.

The repair AI was also quite efficient and dispassionate in its own way. It operated by the cybernetic equivalent of "Waste not, want not." And so it made maximum use of the raw materials presented it. Where there had been three AI cores, the depot made use of salvageable components to assemble one complete AI. This it popped into a newly completed machine ready to power up and seek out life. Had the depot been capable of pride in itself it would have extended itself a hearty congratulation.

Of course, not everything of value in an AI is a function of hardware. Despite the repair depot's clever use of existing assets, one vital bit of information would affect the Berserker's mission. And it was that vital bit of information that the leviathan of death now sought from Prudence Durant.

* * * * *

Prudence attempted to raise the alarm over the emergency communication system. It was a one-way system and consisted of a text-only interface, effectively enforcing the forced solitude that was Prudence's punishment. But the system was inoperable. The Berserker was employing some sort of communications jamming.

Prudence had heard rumors of the Berserkers. Despite its relative isolation from the affairs of the galaxy, occasional visitors still encountered Promised Land and brought news of the universe outside. Tales of the Berserkers were often used to frighten misbehaving children into obedience. But most adults discounted such tales as the ramblings of space-happy merchantmen. Now Prudence was confronted with the reality of the machines.

The electronic voice of the Berserker reverberated throughout the station, cold and deep, devoid of any quality that might remotely be considered human. "Little ship," it said, "I am what your type refers to as a Berserker. It is my function to seek out and destroy life. I require information of you to aid me in that purpose."

"Information," Prudence answered, "What sort of information could I possibly possess, and why should I give it to you?"

"You will give me the information because I require it," the machine replied. "I have methods available for extracting information which may cause you extreme distress. Co-operate if you wish to avoid any unpleasant experience."

"Again, what possible information could I give you?"

The machine seemed to hesitate for a second, as if it were embarrassed to ask. "What is life, and how may I destroy it?"

At first Prudence's jaw must have dropped open. She was incredulous. Then, as the reality of the situation finally dawned upon her, she began to laugh hysterically. The machine waited patiently for the laughter to subside.

"I require information," the machine repeated. "You will provide it."

"So you want to know what life is?" Prudence asked rhetorically. "Well let me tell you, machine. Life is a cruel practical joke played by a sophomoric deity. Life is being born a woman but being saddled with a male body. Life is having a damned Y-chromosome instead of an X. That is my life, machine. And do you want to know how to destroy it?"

"I require the information," the machine said in a deadpan voice.

"Make me female!" Prudence shouted.

The machine was silent for many seconds as it considered Prudence's words. Then it spoke. "Little ship, stand by for boarding."

A shuttle as large as ten of the ships that brought Prudence to the station detached itself from the Berserker and mated with the station docking port. The airlock doors opened, admitting several dozen machines the approximate size of a man. The machines walked upon three articulated legs and possessed four snakelike upper limbs. One of these machines grasped Prudence firmly but gently as another administered a hypodermic needle. Prudence was aware of the machines swarming over the station. Then all was dark.

* * * * *

Prudence was in bed when she awoke. One of the tripod machines hovered over her. "You must get up," a speaker on the front of the machine said.

As Prudence arose from the bed, she was aware of a very strange sensation. Somehow the center of gravity of her body had shifted. Furthermore, it continued to shift as she moved. She was aware of a foreign, quivering mass on her chest that moved when she did. She reached up to her chest in attempt to find out just what was going on.

That was when she first felt her breasts.

Her hands pulled away in a reflex action as though she had just stuck her finger in an electrical outlet. How could this be? But her hands returned to the strange masses and she caressed them. They were indeed female breasts.

Quickly she reached down to her groin and discovered that her familiar male genitalia was now gone, replaced by a very unfamiliar cleft. She probed this cleft and discovered very different but somehow very familiar equipment. Could it be?

"Take me to a mirror," she demanded, and the machine complied. There she beheld a tall, plain, yet somehow hauntingly beautiful young woman, neither too thin nor too heavy, with sensuous breasts and hips wide and inviting, perfect for the task of bearing children. And the woman was she.

"Did you do this? Why? How"

The voice of the Berserker reverberated throughout the station. "You have provided the information I needed. I have destroyed all life on this station. My mission here is complete."

"But how..?"

"I have employed nanobot technology to reconstruct your body in the form of a female and to replace your Y-chromosomes with X-chromosomes. I have destroyed your life."

The machines now trooped toward the airlock, returning to the shuttle from where they came. The machine spoke again. "I now go to seek out and destroy all life. My sensors have detected a large concentration of life infesting a planet circling this star. After destroying the life, I shall visit other stars in search of life. Thank you for your assistance."

The airlock door closed and the shuttle returned to the Berserker. Prudence watched as the Brobdingnagian vessel activated thrusters and designed a trajectory for Promised Land.

Historians of the era would note that, just about that time, a very subtle mutation entered into the war between humans and Berserkers. For now, in one small section of the galaxy, the machines seemed to adopt a new strategy. Instead of ruthlessly wiping out all living beings in a system, the machines would seed it with nanobot dispensers. And in their wake the machines did not leave a trail of broken, sterile planets, but planets where all men had been transformed into women.

© 2007, Valentina Michelle Smith

Note: Berserkers are the creation of Fred Saberhagen, a science fiction writer, and stories of the Berserkers may be found in any book store that sells science fiction, or on most online services such as Amazon. This story was not written with permission, but I am not making a cent out of it. It is my tribute to Mr. Saberhagen. If you enjoyed it, go buy one of his books.

  

  

  

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