Untold Podcast

A small but deadly snake becomes the protector of a human king.

untold_podcast_-_kings_snake.mp3 File Size: 18013 kb File Type: mp3 Download File (Right Click to Save)

I burst out of my egg, shattering the shell, and slither into the big, cold world. Warm hands are there to meet me. Human hands. They lift me up and let me share their heat. I am happy there.
The hands belong to an old man with tough, wrinkly skin. I soon learn that his name is Rashad. His arms and legs fascinate me, for I have nothing but a head, a body, and a tail. I am a snake, and I would not want to be anything else.

Rashad carries me with him wherever he journeys, from his bed on the floor to the roads where other humans ride unicorns or walk. He always keeps me warm, for I hate the cold, be-cause it makes me sluggish.

A conservationist returns to her compound just after poachers have slaughtered everyone.

untold_podcast_-_protector.mp3 File Size: 17277 kb File Type: mp3 Download File (Right Click to Save)

Elena slapped a tree trunk for balance as she skidded past and flung herself down the faded trail to the lower stream. Her breath sobbed in her throat and hot tears threatened her vision.

They were close behind, but near the jackfruit tree she forced herself to a walk. She took small steps, rolling heel to toe, and counted the meter of “Rock-a-bye, Baby” as she stepped. She hesitated as she neared the rotting log and then veered to the right. Even in her haste—especially in her haste—Queenie was a safer bet than Elvis.
She glanced at the nearby mound and saw a telltale strip of olive-brown among the decomposing leaves. Nothing more. Her familiar tempo had bought her passage.

She veered left again, safely past the leaves and log, and reached the jackfruit tree. Its foliage was thin but with luck, she might go unnoticed among its enormous fruit. She hooked a leg over the lowest limb and wriggled as high as she trusted it.

She touched her phone, secure in its belt clip. It had no signal here, but she had to keep it close, for Dr. Morrison and Dr. Laghari.

She had been away when the poachers came.

A Rescue Operations robot must put its existence on the line to save a crew shipwrecked in space.

untold_podcast_-_calculated_risk.mp3 File Size: 17156 kb File Type: mp3 Download File

The six-brace cargo vessel had been family’s livelihood. One wrong maneuver too near a planet’s gravity well, and it was fast becoming their graveyard.

SN127-AK3 hurtled across the empty kilometers of space between his home aboard a Rescue Operations starship and the six-brace, solar winds and the planet’s pull accelerating it faster than a human’s body could stand. He was a three-meter-long Rescue Ops Survival Servitor, a robot designed to contort itself into the tightest spaces of the most twisted wreckage. His body was 10 centimeters across, with a micro-armor surface covering self-repair systems, dozens of servos that let him twist into all manner of shapes, and delicate sensor arrays, as well as five storage compartments. Like standard ROSS units, he’d earned the sobriquet “space snake” from his biological directors, who like to replace the designation “Servitor” with “Serpent.”

Tucker and his friend go looking for a dangerous gang that might be able to help his grandma keep her house.

untold_podcast_-_serpent_quest.mp3 File Size: 14209 kb File Type: mp3 Download File (Right Click to Save)

“How much longer we gotta walk?”

“Just at the end of this alley.” Tucker tripped over a stray tin can but fought to find his balance before Benny saw.

“I still don’t see why we’re goin’ to see these guys.” Benny twisted his mouth like he smelled something rotten—which they both did, considering how much garbage they’d stumbled past.

Tucker resisted rolling his eyes. Benny was a full year younger than him, only ten. He sometimes still acted a whole lot like a baby.

“I told you, I gotta go. I don’t gotta choice.”

“Yeah, but The Snakes? Those guys are bad news, Tuck.

A police snake in a mechanized suit of armor faces a peculiar reaction from a hostage during a standoff.

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“Let the lady go, Thomas,” I say, my forearm cannon armed and pointed at the man in front of me. “My backup’s already on the way. You’ve got nowhere to run.”

Tom Crougar’s forehead, shoulders, and upper back are covered in jagged, bony protrusions, and a long bone blade extends from his right forearm to press against the neck of his unfortunate hostage.

“Not a chance, freak,” he sneers at me. “You let me walk, or I open her jugular.”

“You’re only wanted for robbery and grand theft auto, Tom,” I say directly. “Adding murder to the list will only make things worse for you.”

“I’ll die before I go back to the pen,” he insists. “You can’t make…”

“Um...excuse me?” the middle-aged woman in Tom’ grasp interrupts, looking at me. “I’m sorry, but...what are you?”