Appaloosa Radio

Big Chief

An Original Story by Appaloosa Radio

From the continuing City of 4000 Spies Series

Part 3

In addition to his very public royal duties, Dusko Rarrko, the second son of the Great Nobleman, operated his nation’s undercover information-gathering activities, its chief spy, as it were.

After the gala dinner celebration honoring the newly arrived Ambassador from the Gela-im Sector, he sat in his private lounge holding a message.

It appeared to be a routine message that had been transmitted through the usual clandestine channels. It was from one of his most trusted agents. A very beautiful woman that he had recruited, trained, and placed in a key position. She was a woman that Rarrko had great affection for, one that he had made love to many times. Her network was one of the most productive that he had ever built. She learned things other agents could not. Intelligent. Resourceful. Very skilled. Very trusted.

Rarrko read the message again.

“To the Director of Special Operations (DSO). Most urgent. Usual manner of liaison with Big Chief under severe surveillance. Believe code marking device in adversary hands. Give directive how to re-establish direct contact with Big Chief. Urgent. Need assistance. Romaine.”

Rarrko knew from the content of the message that his agent was now under the control of an adversary. The phrase “Big Chief” is one that no one in Rarrko’s networks would use. No, they would use a number that PNB7Q would randomly generate for each message transmission. No one was ever named. Never.

And, the message ended with the agent’s real birth name. Romaine Wi Jaa Cert. She would never expose her real name in a clandestine message. Never.

Rarrko knew what had to be done., as much as he disliked doing it. The agent and her entire network must be eliminated. Sanctioned is the word used. Sanctioned before more damage can occur. Sanctioned before the adversary could gain advantage.

But where was she? And who, among Sassko’s many adversaries had her?

Cle Curbo’s fable . . .

“Virginia, you are the youngest and most wise of your siblings, so I will tell you about your mother's family. Maybe you will recognize her in the story of Seven Witches.”

Souvenirs I Still Cherish

Helen Stanberry’s Story
as read by Lindsey Beth Hummel
Chapter 3: Ralph
Ralph Norris, my cousin, and the driver for the trip, was to my mind a rather handsome young man. He often seemed like Erroll Flynn, jumping into the car without opening the door, climbing up trees to get me a bird’s nest that I had fancied, and swimming out into a lake to retrieve my hat that had blown off.

Regrettably, he was one of those handsome young men who believed that he was a handsome young man. Often as he was driving, he would reach across the seat and touch me. Not in a friendly cousin-to-cousin way. There was no doubt that his hands were prowling into forbidden territory.

Sometimes (maybe more like often), his prowling hands did not bother me. In fact, his touch was rather pleasurable, and much more interesting than the scenery on some parts of the trip. All I had to do to stop it was to do a quick shiver, and the hand would be withdrawn.

The chaperone, Mr. Eggers was in the narrow seat in the back and the Cord’s front seats were luxuriously high. It would be difficult for him to see the prowling hand. Besides, once he had lit one of his cigars, he was in his own smokie world, oblivious to everything else.

It was in the small Maid-of-the-Mist boat at Niagara Falls that I allowed Ralph’s romantic advances to proceed beyond casual prowling. Mr. Eggers said he utterly hated boats and refused to join us on the excursion, so he was not along. Before you board, they make you put on these rubber rain coats and boots. For some reason, my rubber coat stuck to my blouse and did not go all the way down. Ralph, gentlemanly pulled it over my haunches. That touch stirred the deepest romantic urges in me. I turned around, put my arms around his neck and then kissed him.

He was surprised but was not one to waste an opportunity. For the boat trip, we held hands, and snuggled so close that our raincoats rustled in unison. I do not remember how many more times we kissed, but I believe it was somewhere between ten million and infinity.

We exited the excursion still holding hands. However, social reality re-emerged when we saw Mr. Eggers sitting on the dock. We both pretended that nothing had happened.

Appaloosa Radio Offers

Motorcycles

On the Express Bus 73 A

Chapter 13

At a mountain cabin for a guys-only weekend away.

Larry:

“You know, Charles, sitting here by this fire, I’m wondering about you and your background. What brought you into your studies and what caused you to start doing your graphic novels?”

Charles:

“Well, you know that I am British. Before I came to the United States, I was a teacher. I taught literature at an exclusive private school. Very posh. Upper end. Ties and jackets always.

At Oxford, I had studied medieval literature, focusing primarily on the time before Chaucer. And I had served in the Army. I was in Korea just after the so-called Korean War, monitoring the Demilitarized Zone. In Korea, I studied a holistic approach to Mahayana Buddhism of the so-called wonyung school.

One of the key insights that I learned there is that any individual thing (person, object, force, or phenomena) exists only within the total nexus of reality. Its existence depends on the total network of all other things. It is connected to every other thing. Everything is connected. My teachers said, ‘each individual thing is within all other individual things.’

Each is contained within the other.

Every individual thing exists in a state of mutual dependence on each and every other individual thing. They are interfused within each other. This interconnection is not hierarchical. There is no above or below, more important versus less important. Nor is it a relation of opposites. There are no contradictions. No conflicts. All are equal. All are balanced.

So, Larry, I began my career seeking to unify what I had learned about medieval literature with what I had learned in my study of the wonyung.”

~~~

Many contemporary hi-tech employees ride express commuter buses daily to and from their work sites. Mr. Larry J. Connors is just one of the many.

Larry is a numbers guy, a veritable filing cabinet for numbers, whose speciality is making fiscal projections, doing benefit analysis, and generating cost-to-price determinations. Unfortunately, Larry is also a “quasi social isolate” who stares at his own shoes to avoid eye contact with others. As our story begins, Larry’s personal life has been reduced to doing his laundry, playing with his dog, and watching old, classic movies on television.

One morning, when he boards his usual commuter bus, everything changes. He is no longer who he is. He is now living another’s life and he is a stranger in his own body.

Dying Friends, Syvilla and Bode

A 191 second story

From Appaloosa Radio

My best friend from college, Scott, now lives in Southern Oregon in the Illinois River Valley in a house that he built himself. For the last dozen years, every morning he did a run along the river with his ever-present friend, his dog Bode. This morning, Scott texted me that Bode had died. His fast-growing cancer had overwhelmed him. Scott included a picture of Bode lying in his bed, with a caption saying that, Bode was resting after doing a very short run. Scott’s message said that was his last run.