Heart of Darkness An old AU-2 tale, retold By Sharon Best, Wolf, Tarot Barnes and Brantley Thompson Elkins This novel from the Aurora Universe 2 continuity was begun by Shadar in 1995. I can’t find a file for the version he had on his old site before I came along. In early 2003, I had begun collaborating with him on completing the story, but that effort was aborted after it had appeared in March 2003 – just before Sharon Best took his vacation, returning as Shadar a few months later. From the Wayback Machine, here’s a link to Heart of Darkness as it appeared then: http://web.archive.org/web/20030206105004/http://www.velorian.org/ heart%20of%20darkness%20%20intro.htm Off and on, I’ve made edits off the boards to the original 2003 text, with Tarot Barnes also taking part. Some changes have to do making Avalon National Laboratory part of the structure of the Army weapons research system, others with strengthening the backstory. I came up with Engelbrecht, as a malevolent counterpart to Caultron; and Klimenko as a decent alternative; plus an enhanced account of Vickers and the Arion Prime Alya. It was Tarot who figured out how Karalyn should be revived. It’s been over 20 years since the original conception, and 13 years since the last version at the old Velorian site, to which Shadar has recently made substantial edits relating to Caultron’s character in the first part of the story. But there may still be readers out there who long to revisit the AU2 of yesteryear. This version of Heart of Darkness is for them. -- Brantley Thompson Elkins Chapter One, Part One – Invulnerability The Heart of Darkness Beyond logic, there is passion. Beyond wisdom, there is emotion. Beyond sense, there is instinct. Beyond deduction, there is intuition. Beyond reason, there is DESIRE. ! Thursday, 8:10am The brooding silence of the indoor firing range at the Avalon National Laboratory was disturbed by the musical clink of brass against gun steel as a single shell was inserted into the breech of a long rifle. Then came the oiled snick of the bolt sliding home and locking. The cool, industrial air-conditioned atmosphere of the firing range, was heavy with anticipation, and smelled faintly of stale sweat and gun oil. The deadly big-game rifle was a Mauser 454, and it had harvested more than its share of elephant and black rhino over the years. Its hot-loaded, metal-jacketed round was powerful enough to penetrate the core of a rhino and drop it in mid-charge. Several soldiers wearing military fatigues stood in a pool of subdued lighting near one end of the long firing range. Their faces were serious, grim even, especially when they looked down range at the armored backstop. A half-dozen floodlights brilliantly illuminated a wall that was covered with six feet of Canadian hardwood. The wood overlaid a foot-thick layer of steel armor that had been salvaged from the battleship North Carolina. This room was the secret firing range, used by the Tank-Automotive and Armament Command (TACOM) to test weapons too classified and/or too powerful for Picatinny Arsenal, and there wasn’t a conventional weapon on Earth that the back wall of the range couldn’t stop. The first member of the team finished chambering the round into the heavy Mauser before laying the rifle down beside several similar weapons that were arranged along a row of sandbags. Like the other men, his hair was cut short and he was strongly muscled, his fatigue uniform starched and wrinkle free. The men were all members of an elite group of Army Rangers on a Top Secret assignment to TACOM. The silence of the huge room was broken again when two Marines arrived to work on their assigned weapons. The loading lever of a 7.62 mm Vulcan Gatling gun was cycled noisily, the motorized gun giving of a whirling clink of gun steel and brass. The Vulcan was one of the deadliest weapons on Earth, as its rotating barrels were capable of firing a hundred rounds of armor-piercing ammunition each second. It could shred a military helicopter apart or mow down a battalion of men in seconds. The metallic sound of its loading was joined by the heavy clank and ratcheting cock of a .50 caliber M92 heavy machine gun. It was loaded with a belt of depleted Uranium ammunition. The uranium-tipped bullets of this particular M92 had recently become infamous in the Kosovo fighting for punching holes in the latest model of a United States Army Bradley APC. The incident had been called “friendly fire,” although there had been nothing friendly about the way the flesh and bones of the American soldiers inside the Bradley had been torn apart by the unstoppable bullets. The fourth weapon was an M23 grenade launcher, and this particular weapon had come into the possession of the FBI after having been used to blow up a school bus full of senior citizens in Miami. The terrorist who had bought it on the black market had been cut down by a fusillade of bullets from the FBI, but not before he’d blown that bus and four private cars apart like tin cans with a cherry bomb inside. The explosive round of an M23 was lethal to anyone within ten meters of its burst. The weapons that were to be fired this morning had been selected because they were the deadliest Infantry weapons of their class on Earth. They all had blood on them. Proven killers all. Yet the brutal lethality of all these conventional weapons was eclipsed by a new class of weapon, one which had been used in anger but a single time. That weapon was under the control of a man in civilian attire who was typing on the keyboard of a glowing touch-panel that was set into the side of a bulky silver box. The box hardly looked like a gun, what with the dozen silver hoses that connected it to a steaming vacuum tank that stood beside it. The only suggestion that it had lethal power was the short, thick tube of crystal that extended from one end to point downrange like the other weapons. The weapon was called an UltLas, which stood for Ultraviolet Laser. The high-pitched whine of the laser’s super-conducting capacitors scaled upward, the sound quickly rising to the limit of human hearing. The soldiers covered their ears as the screaming whine of its charging circuit peaked and then thankfully went ultrasonic. At the same time, a blanket of white frost began to form around the center of the weapon, and on the container of liquid helium that supplied the super-cold liquefied gas to cool the capacitive discharge chamber at the heart of the machine. Despite the extreme secrecy surrounding the UltLas, this wasn’t the weapon’s first field test. Like the Uranium-depleted M92 machine gun, it had secretly been tested in the Yugoslavian war. There it had been successfully used against big game targets, specifically the advanced Russian T90 tanks that had rumbled through the outskirts of Kosovo. The Russian main battle tanks had been outfitted in the latest in ceramic armor and reactive armor, its tough hide impenetrable by existing anti-tank weapons. This single weapon had secretly turned the balance of the war and had given NATO a victory that had seemed to be beyond their grasp. From the day of its deployment, any enemy tank that came within a kilometer of the Black Ops unit that wielded it had died instantly. The weapon’s red targeting laser would briefly settle on the hull of the tank before an invisible beam of death would rip the air apart like lightning, melting its way through the ceramic armor to uselessly detonate the reactive armor before burning a hole through the hull, pushing a violent spray of molten steel ahead of it to vaporize the tank crew a half second before detonating any exposed rounds. Yet as deadly as the UltLas was against heavy armor, few people outside the Avalon Laboratory knew that the UltLas had never been intended for use against something as frail as military armor. It had been built for defense against a far tougher target, one which walked on two legs. A target that was not native to planet Earth. Specifically, a race of beings that posed the most serious risk to an apex species’ survival since the extinction event that killed the dinosaurs. The next apex species of Earth? The thought of humanity being displaced from its home, with billions of lives lost, turned his heart to cold stone. At the same time, a massive door near the end of the range opened, and one of them stepped into view, and walked over to stand against the backstop. He reined in wildly conflicting emotions as he forced himself to lean down to stare at the screen of the small TV camera that served as the weapon’s sight, He carefully centered the crosshairs in the exact middle of a small red ‘V’ rune that decorated the gentle rising and falling curves of the target. Satisfied that the temperamental tracking laser was working this morning, Jim Caultron stood up to take off his glasses and look down range. A hundred yards away, a very pretty teenage girl stood barefoot with her back to the hardwood wall. She was dressed in a leotard that appeared to be made of a polished silver metal film, accented by a blue mini-skirt that revealed very long, bare legs.