Deadly Places

By Rick Newberry

“Welcome to Sin City.”

Block 16 in old downtown Las Vegas holds the distinction of being the original Sin City. Games of chance,free-flowing alcohol, and lurid back rooms flourished on Block 16 in 1906. Fast forward, Las Vegas welcomes more than forty million visitors a year. Why? Games of chance, free-flowing alcohol, and lurid back rooms.

In this book of short stories celebrating place, what better place to celebrate than Sin City? Whether the story is a futuristic saga of deep space war, or features a dusty little town called Pahrump, Deadly Places is all about what happens in and around Vegas.

This book pays tribute to the ghosts, misfits, and non-conformists of Block 16. Without their determination to make something of this place in the sun, there would be no Strip, no City of Entertainment, and no iconic sign proclaiming...

“Welcome to Las Vegas.”

• Language: English
• Publisher: NewLink Publishing
• Release date: Dec 31, 2022
• ISBN: 9781948266833

Book preview

Deadly Places

Rick Newberry

Copyright 2023

All rights reserved

This book is a work of fiction composed from the author’s imagination. It is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage or retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher. Contact the publisher at [e-mail].

Line/Content Editor: David Hardin

Interior Design: Jo A. Wilkins

Cover: Janelle Evans

p. cm.—Rick Newberry (Science Fiction)

Copyright © 2023 / Rick Newberry

All Rights Reserved

ISBN: 978-1-948266-65-9/Paperback

ISBN: 978-1-948266-83-3/E-Pub

1. Fiction/Horror

2. Fiction/Thrillers/Supernatural

3. Fiction/Thrillers/Suspense

www.newlinkpublishing.com

Henderson, NV 89002

Printed in the United States of America

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0

For Rose Higashi

Creative Writing, Evergreen Valley College

The words we use matter

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Compared to European countries, America is relatively young. Compared to American cities, Las Vegas is a mere infant. The stories in this volume tell the tale of place—of location, settings, locale. Las Vegas is a city that begs to be explored, from its historical roots and colorful past, to its anything-goes take on the future.

Vegas is the embodiment of the American story. In 1905, the San Pedro, Los Angeles and Salt Lake railroad connected to Las Vegas. Six years later the city was incorporated. Fast forward a few decades and behold the construction of the Hoover Dam, the arrival of the nuclear age, Area 51, and suddenly, the entertainment capital of the world rises up.

Once a vast wasteland, miles of worthless desert, now boasts six of the planet’s largest luxury resorts. People come from all over the world to visit The Strip with its water fountains, volcanoes, gondolas, and tropical forests. What better location to use as a backdrop for a collection of stories dedicated to place?

This volume runs the gamut—between small, intimate tales, to global accounts with universal implications. If that sounds a bit over-the-top—it is. But remember, this is not just another city which happens to be in the desert. This is an oasis. An escape.

A place in the sun known as Sin City.

In the year 2525, if man is still alive

If woman can survive, they may find…

What? A universe at war? A form of space travel that breaks the law of physics? Maybe. Or will they finally realize that after centuries of star travel, struggling to inhabit distant planets and striving to tame the final frontier, all that ever really mattered was right here on Earth?

Moon Base 99

Real air.

What the hell are you talking about?

People need real air. This artificial crap makes ’em go crazy. Don’t ya think, captain?

Captain Dunn stared at the thin man seated at the interrogation table. Lieutenant Nguyen exuded a false sense of bravado.

I don’t buy it, lieutenant, Dunn said. Can manufactured air explain your actions?

The lieutenant shook his head. Sorry, cap, I just don’t know.

You wanna play it like that, eh? Fair enough. The captain changed his stare into a laser focus. In that case we’re gonna go over everything again. Every detail, every thought, every—

Man, I already told you everything I know.

And guess what, lieutenant? That’s the reason we’re right back here in this room. Your answers to some of my questions seemed a bit, uh, how shall I put it? Questionable.

You’re questioning my answers to your questions? How does that even work?

The captain glanced at the ceiling and spoke to the AI System. Record.

A cheerful, robotic voice responded at once. Recording.

Today is August first, 2525. My name is Captain Elias Dunn. In the room with me is Lieutenant Sun Nguyen. This conversation is being recorded in compliance with section 27, subsection B of the Military Space Code. Ready, lieutenant?

If you say so. Ask away.

Let’s talk about the murders on Moon Base 99.

You mean when the Dover came in for refueling?

Exactly. In fact, what can you tell me about the Dover?

Dover is a Vancouver Class Mid-range FTL Star Cruiser. It’s an experimental vehicle. The lieutenant held his pointer finger over his mouth. Shh, very hush-hush. Her and her four sisters are not even supposed to exist.

Dunn wrinkled his brow. Keep going, lieutenant.

Like I said before, this whole thing is crazy.

Dunn bowed his head. It is, lieutenant, but just to ease my mind, let’s talk about the refueling, shall we?

Nguyen sucked in a deep breath. You and I both watched the video of the refueling.

Many times, and we’ll definitely watch it again. But first, tell me what happened, in your own words. I want details.

Okey dokey, one more time with feeling, hm? So, three people are assigned to Moon Base refueling stations. We’ve got the Control Operator—

The person who tracks the incoming ship and guides it down to the pad.

Right, the lieutenant said. Then there’s the base Administrator—

The person who handles all the necessary paperwork and tank decals.

Nguyen smiled. "Hey, so you have been paying attention. Good. Then there’s the engineer."

You. The person who performs the actual refueling. So, let’s go over the whole thing again, shall we? The refueling?

Hey, it’s your call. I’m here all week.

Captain Dunn wrinkled his brow and flipped through a few electronic pages. First, according to your previous statement, Commander Gagliardi, the Control Operator, locked onto the Dover and guided her into position. He secured the ship on the pad.

Yup, then Lieutenant Commander Cleopatra Diaz began preparing the documentation—you know, the tax, registration, and tank tags.

Right. So, let’s move on to the actual refueling, shall we? I think that’s when things started to get a bit…unhinged.

Good word, the lieutenant said with a wry smile. Like I said, we’ve seen the video a hundred times, and I can’t…uh, I can’t really explain what happened. So why do we have to—

Please try, and this time don’t leave anything out.

Nguyen slumped back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. Well, we all went about our separate tasks. Cleo stepped onto the pad and matched up the tanks with our records. Charlie kept his eyes on the instrument panel and—

Charlie? Who’s Charlie?

Did I say Charlie? I meant Ben. So, Ben made sure the Dover remained in place on the pad. You’d be surprised how many times a vehicle creeps to the left or right when refueling, you know, especially at this gravity. So, Charlie and Cleo waited outside—

You said Charlie again.

Man, is it hot in here? Nguyen pulled at the collar of his uniform.

Just relax, lieutenant. Go on.

Anyway, Ben and Cleo took their positions outside, and—

Is that standard procedure? Having two people outside the dome, in the Lunar atmosphere? Captain Dunn stood and paced the room.

The Lunar atmosphere? Nguyen chortled. You mean outside in their work suits. No need to get all dramatic—the Lunar atmosphere…my God…

Dunn stopped his pacing, faced the lieutenant, and planted his palms on the table. And what about you?

Well, as soon as I got the green light, I hit the refuel button. That’s what an engineer does—years of training and I hit a button.

And so, as far as you can remember, everything to this point proceeded to plan.

Just like a clock, doc…tick tock.

The captain continued his pacing. What type of fuel did you dispense?

Star cruisers always get the best—dinitrogen tetroxide mixed with hydrazine.

Are you certain about that?

"Yup. See, I’ve been doing this job—refueling—for three years now, and I know my shit. Now, you gotta keep an eye on the size and class of the ship, the length of the journey, the gravity of their final destination—oh there’s all sorts of variants to refueling. It’s not like juicing up your own personal transporter back home. Distances have to be taken into consideration—weights need to be calculated. It’s really an involved process. I mean, it really is more than just hitting a button. Now, with this particular ship—an experimental FTL cruiser—it’s a whole different ball game."

Ball game? Explain.

Heh, it’s an old expression. Ancient. See, I’m more than a talented engineer, I’m also a history buff. I love that shit. Anyway, with these FTL engines you need to add just an ounce or two of metallic hydrogen mixed with deuterium. And that mixture, my friend, is no joke. That’s what makes them travel faster than light.

I see. Sounds like you know what you’re talking about.

Well, I don’t like to brag, but when it comes to refueling, there ain’t nothing I don’t know, you dig?

Captain Dunn sat. Shall we watch the video again?

Lieutenant Nguyen shook his head. Why? Has it changed since the last time?

Why do you ask?

Well, all I can say is that when I saw the fuel spurting off into space I just…I don’t know, in my mind the Dover sat on the pad. I mean, for reals. So, I just started refueling it, like any other ship a hundred times before. But on the video…on the video, man, that ship ain’t there. The pad’s deserted—

Except for Commander Gagliardi and Lieutenant Commander Diaz begging for mercy as you soak them in highly volatile liquid rocket fuel. In fact, you doused the lieutenant commander so completely she untethered herself. Flailing about, she desperately tried to latch onto something, anything, but eventually floated away.

But Charlie saw the Dover. I swear he did. Have you asked him?

Who the hell is Charlie?

Nguyen put his elbows on the table and buried his head in his hands. He laughed, a shrill hysterical noise. I don’t know, cap. I just can’t remember.

Dunn raised his voice. You know what Fleet Command is saying, yes?

Nguyen nodded. They tell me a ship named Dover never refueled at Moon Base 99. In fact, they say there’s no record of any star cruiser in the fleet named Dover. But that don’t mean nothing. I saw it. My teammates saw it, too. And Charlie—

No, son, Dunn said, his words cold, calculating. You covered Commander Gagliardi in a lethal mixture of rocket fuel. When his radio headset shorted, he went up like a Christmas Tree in August. And, like I said, the lieutenant commander untethered herself and drifted off. Her body has yet to be recovered—I doubt if it ever will. She’s presumed dead.

But Gags gave me the thumbs up. I swear he—

"Yes, back to that. Why would Commander Gagliardi give the go ahead to refuel when no actual vehicle sat on the pad? Help me understand that one little fact and who knows…you just might walk."

I’ve thought about that, too, sir, and there’s only one explanation. Nguyen whispered the words, little by little, as if he had just invented a story and decided to test the waters. It’s part of a shared hallucination that we—

A shared hallucination? Captain Dunn stared into Nguyen’s eyes. "Absurd, lieutenant. That answer is going to get you locked away so fast… There’s no such thing as a shared hallucination. Suppose I tell you what really happened that day? Your teammates trusted you, and you killed them. End of story." He pressed a button next to the door. It slid open.

Chief, get him out of my sight.

Chief Petty Officer Purinio Casem took Nguyen by the elbow, helped him stand, and escorted him from the small interrogation room.

Commander Susan Valencia stepped inside. Any luck, captain?

Nope. He’s sticking with the same old story—swears a star cruiser named Dover docked for refueling even though the video does not corroborate his story.

Sir, you’ll want to see this. Valencia placed a manila file on the desk.

Dunn wrinkled his brow. New evidence?

Maybe. Ensign Browne in records brought it to my attention a few minutes ago. It’s an archived log of all VTVL on Moon Base 99. Check page seven.

Captain Dunn opened the folder and thumbed through the pages. He scanned down the entries. What’s this supposed to mean? Is it some kind of a joke?

No, sir. Check the date.

Dunn whispered, June 6, 2225. SC Dover. VL. MB99. Fuel. 1745.

Yes, sir, Valencia said, three hundred years ago a star cruiser named Dover performed a vertical landing on Moon Base 99…for refueling. Read the notation.

Captain Dunn read the note out loud. Spontaneous combustion. He turned to face the lieutenant. Why are we just now finding out about this?

These records are slated for destruction. The video file accompanying this entry has already been scrubbed. Ensign Browne just happened to open the file and the ship’s name caught his eye. He pulled it out of the shred stack and contacted me.

Good man. The captain stood. What do we know about the incident?

Only what’s entered here—dates and times. But an addendum shows the manifest—

Have you contacted Fleet Command? They must have records of Dover’s launch.

Sir, we’re talking about three hundred years ago. There have been thousands—hundreds of thousands—of star cruisers that—

Crosscheck the AI System.

Due to server congestion, the AI System files have already been purged.

The captain remained silent for a minute, disjointed thoughts racing through his mind. He turned to Valencia. Do you know anybody named Charlie?

Uh, well, no sir. Why do you ask?

Never mind. So, you’re telling me a star cruiser named Dover blew up on Moon Base 99 three hundred years ago. And on that very date—June sixth—just a few days ago, a star cruiser that isn’t captured on video, isn’t found in the logs, but is supposedly named Dover, docks at Moon Base 99—and vanishes?

Commander Valencia cocked her head and raised her eyebrows. I can’t explain it, but there’s another entry on page eight. A VT from the pad. The Dover reportedly lifted off—

I’ve heard enough. Captain Dunn glanced up at the AI System. Stop recording.

The fresh, young voice answered, Recording stopped.

Dunn held up the file, tore it in half, then again in quarters. He dropped the pieces onto the table. This file does not exist.

But, sir—

But what? Do you think Fleet Command wants to hear about some…some ghost ship? A haunted vessel roaming the universe? Not on my watch. There’s no record of a star cruiser named Dover in today’s fleet. The only rational explanation of what happened at Moon Base 99 is that Lieutenant Sun Nguyen had a nervous breakdown—PTSD, a mental episode, whatever—and made up a fictitious story to cover his ass. He soaked his teammates in rocket fuel and they died. End of story.

Sir, I’m not talking about a ghost ship. All I’m saying is that he might have—

My decision is final, Susan. Nguyen will be remanded to Fleet Penitentiary Six on Earth ASAP. Let him be someone else’s problem. Draw up the orders, I want that man gone.

Valencia motioned to the scraps of paper on the table. Sir, before I leave, I think you should take a look at Dover’s manifest when it—

That’s enough, commander. You’re excused.

She saluted and marched out of the room.

Dunn rubbed at the back of his neck, trying to find the source of his headache—besides a non-existent cruiser called the Dover. He dug his knuckles so deep into the tissue, his neck throbbed. He stared at the torn pieces of paper strewn across the table. A name caught his eye. He picked up the scrap and read aloud. Captain Charles Ventura.

With trembling fingers, he reassembled the torn snippets of paper like a jigsaw puzzle. He took his time studying the heading at the top of the page, then scanned the names below it.

Star Cruiser FTL Dover Manifest:

Captain Charles Ventura

Commander Susan Valencia

Commander Benjamin Gagliardi

Lieutenant Commander Cleopatra Diaz

Lieutenant Sun Nguyen

Ensign Tiger Browne

Chief Petty Officer Purinio Casem

It took only a moment for Dunn to grasp the meaning of the log he’d pieced back together. The manifest showed every soul aboard the Dover in June of 2225 corresponded to every person involved in the Moon Base 99 tragedy of just a few days ago. All except Captain Charles Ventura. Charlie.

He stood and waited at the door until it slid open.

Are you ready, captain? Commander Valencia grinned. The crew is aboard.

The crew? Dunn glanced through the hatch porthole at the empty launch pad outside. I don’t understand what’s happening. I just saw the manifest. We have to—

Right this way, sir. You’ll be okay in a few seconds. The commander guided Dunn up the ramp to the boarding area. Dunn followed slowly and at a distance, as if in a trance.

Evening, captain. Ensign Tiger Browne greeted Dunn with a crisp salute.

Dunn returned the salute. Ensign. He glanced through the porthole again. A ship now sat on the pad. He read the stenciled letters on the tellurium hull. Star Cruiser FTL Dover-10122.

We’re cleared for lift-off, sir. Commander Valencia escorted the captain through the pressurized hatch and onto the ship. The con is yours.

Dunn took his place in the command seat. He and his co-pilot exchanged glances, a look they’d shared quite often over the past year. Dunn smiled. Well, that caught us off guard, hm? He checked his watch. Longer than the others—and they’re getting worse.

Valencia nodded. This one came with a real kick. My head’s still pounding.

Ensign Browne boarded the craft and secured the hatch. Dunn turned back, acknowledging the crew strapped in their seats behind him.

Lieutenant Sun Nguyen gave him a broad grin. The crew is ready, captain.

Lieutenant, who’s Charlie?

The lieutenant shook his head. TD does what TD does, cap.

It all felt so familiar. The crew in their seats. The instruments in front of him. Dunn shut his eyes, squeezing the lids tight. He’d been in command of the Dover for just over a year now, and this had to be the worst episode of TD he’d ever experienced.

The FTL Star Cruiser Dover, a ghost ship? Hardly.

More so, an experimental FTL cruiser which had just experienced the phenomenon known as Time Distortion, a side effect of traveling at Faster Than Light speed. And, yes, as those in the know often said: TD does what TD does.

Dunn turned to his co-pilot. Susan, make a record of—

Already on it, captain. Valencia held a LightPad in her lap and chattered into the mic. 8/1/2525. TD Incident seventeen. Duration: Fifty-five minutes. Scenario: Refueling mishap on Moon Base 99. Note: Who’s Charlie? She nodded at Dunn. Ready, cap.

Activate main engines, commander.

Commander Susan Valencia gave him a brilliant smile. Yes, sir.

Lieutenant Nguyen, set a course for—

Sir, Ensign Browne interrupted, we’re being ordered to Mars Base 107. A meeting with Admiral Williams. And get this—the admiral wants us there as soon as possible, but requests we travel to Mars at Hyper-Drive Speed.

Valencia cocked her head. What’s up with that?

Doesn’t matter. Captain Elias Dunn pressed the main ignition switch and wrapped his hand around the joystick. The Dover’s the fastest cruiser in the fleet. We’ll make Mars in record time, even without FTL. A steady roar shook the cabin. Adrenalin coursed through his body as he anticipated the g-forces of lift-off. He hit the Tower Release button.

With a sudden jolt, Moon Base 99 faded away, finally disappearing altogether.

Mars Base 107

"There it is, captain. Dead ahead."

Mars. Captain Elias Dunn stared through the high-temp quartz glass of the starboard window. The red planet grew larger, not at a gradual pace, but all at once, as if it meant to collide with the star cruiser.

Captain Dunn gave the order, Throttle back.

Star Cruiser FTL Dover rattled a bit, then glided through space like a submarine running silent through deep waters.

The co-pilot, Commander Susan Valencia, flipped a few switches on the rocket propulsion panel and pulled back the speed control joystick. Ensign Browne, she called out, contact Mars Base 107. Request permission to land.

Ay-yi, commander. The fresh-faced ensign opened a communications channel. FTL Dover, requesting permission for a vertical landing.

A calm voice on the radio came back. Mars Base 107. Permission granted, Dover.

Dunn nodded his approval. Commander, take us in.

Valencia grinned. Roger that, sir.

The Dover tumbled to a vertical position in the thin Martian atmosphere, dropping toward the landing pad in a controlled fall. Commander Valencia toggled the thrusters on and off, guiding the spacecraft down to the Martian soil.

The ship crept closer to the surface. Rocket thrusters slowing its descent to just under two feet-per-second. A fine mist of red dust obstructed vision through the widows. Finally, with a familiar double-bump, the vehicle came to rest on the landing pad. Silence.

Dunn gave the commander a nod. Perfect landing, Sue.

It sure helps to have a clear head.

The captain winked, acknowledging the preference of flying below faster than light speed. After all, flying a star cruiser at FTL speed presented a unique problem for the crew. Captain Elias Dunn had just about enough of the nonsense known as Time Distortion.

Although scientific studies indicated TD to be a relatively harmless reaction to faster than light travel, more of an annoyance than anything else, Dunn could not agree. The confusion and role play exhibited by his crew on Moon Base 99 worried him. He also noted how the effects of Time Distortion intensified with each FTL mission they flew—a fact that most recent studies neglected to mention.

Besides, Admiral DeShawn Williams expressed the need for the crew of the Dover to be ready for liftoff at a moment’s notice after being briefed on their new assignment. So, they flew from the moon to Mars at Hyper-Drive Speed. The Dover covered the journey in just six days. A new HDS record.

The crew of the Dover filed into a small conference room. Admiral Williams shut the door behind them. Please sit. I wanted you all here for this briefing. Thank you for coming.

Dunn sat at the table. Of course, sir. He never disobeyed an order though he had rarely been thanked for following one.

Admiral Williams raised his voice. Record, he said to the AI System overhead.

Recording, the pleasant, artificial voice answered.

The admiral pulled a small device from his pocket and aimed it at the ceiling. He pressed a button and a red light atop the handheld unit blinked.

Dunn cocked his head. Excuse me, sir, but what’s—

They tell me it’s called an Audio Frenetic Limiter. Quite a mouthful for such a tiny thing. In any case, what it does is cause the AI unit overhead to malfunction without reporting a failure, allowing us to speak freely without worrying about being recorded. The admiral held