Untold Podcast

Miriam has been chosen to venture to another world to help a neighboring Amish community. But if she accepts the call, she will never see the love of her life again.

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They were careful to let a girl know what was coming. They knew how much they were asking.

Elder Laudenslager, one of five who governed the Millerite planetoid, had arrived at the Bontrager home, unexpected, on a Saturday evening, after the supper dishes were put away. His demeanor in the lamplight was solemn but not apologetic. Miriam sat silent throughout his talk. She could feel the eyes of her siblings and cousins upon her. They were guessing what Miriam had understood from the moment he had arrived: a great and terrible disaster was about to fall upon her.

“We have received communication from the Yoderites,” said the elder. Since the Yoderites were light-years away, this announcement was fraught. “They have need of an exchange. Four boys and one girl.”

Jenni Gil has a warning for Special Agent Louis Hayes, but will he listen in time?

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Jenni Gil paced the length of the room. She refused to look at the window. Sunlight glowed between the blinds.

“Ma’am, you keep that up, I’ll tell Maintenance they’ll need to replace the carpet.” FBI Special Agent Louis Hayes tapped a stylus on his computer tablet.

Jenni focused on the plastic clacks. Quarter notes. 4/4 time. “You keep asking me the same questions.”

“Only because you won’t give me the real answer.” Hayes swiped down a page without breaking rhythm. Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack. “The bureau takes these threats seriously.”

“It’s not a threat. It’s a warning.”

Copilot Tersav Aut searches for a sector of space to peaceably settle.

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Auto-Log of Copilot Tersav Aut, Karnik Exploratory Age, Voyage Number 77:
 
Yet again, we struggle to repair our ship after engaging in a battle we did not ask for. In such situations, there's no win. Death abounds on each side.
 
Why can't our people find another sector of the cosmos to settle? Every cycle, we pray to live in peace so we might unravel the Mysteries of the Maker. When will we finally be able to follow our purpose? After over a thousand cycles, some are giving up.

As he searches for his mother, a young boy encounters one of the living islands.

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The ground shook with the voice of the Living Island. Tam stood riveted into place, his world narrowed into one terrifying vision.

"I am sorry, that was too loud, I will whisper," the Living Island breathed, its version of a whisper like a gale in an autumn forest. "I said: you lost your balloon."

Tam reached to his trike's handlebar, then stopped, as slow as the Island appeared to be, he could never outrun it. Tears ran down his face, "I didn't lose it, I let it go."

"You did?" The Island was close now, so immensely close.

"My mum...," Tam stammered, "My mum is lost. I came to find her, and I sent up the balloon. I thought she might see it."

Sammy and Geoff are the perfect couple in the perfect small town, but can the words of two strangers destroy everything they've ever known?

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The late morning rays of sun bounced off her chestnut curls, transforming them into golden thread so fine and bright as to turn the eye of the choosiest jeweler. Then, the breeze displaced her hair, interrupting the optical illusion.

Sammy stepped off the sidewalk and into the grassy field that still smelled like last night’s rainstorm. She cut across the field to the pagoda, where Geoff had told her to meet him. It was a little earlier than they’d agreed, but she wanted some time to think before she talked to him.

She was suspicious.

After storming away from base, the leader of an exploration team gets lost in the vast cave system of an alien planet.

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Archer White stormed through the night, his shoes crunching the coarse gravel. All three moons lit this path. Pretty bright for almost midnight.

He kicked a stray stone. The lightweight rock soared into the distance. It was easy to forget that the gravity was slightly less than Earth standard here on Savannah, but little things like kicking a rock were good reminders.

What a tough day. Joe's mistake had been the last straw. Walking out here alone always helped Archer clear his head. Nothing brought back the awe of being on another world than a moons-lit night.

A howl echoed through the plain. Archer's heart seized. There was a skin about. He stopped and looked around for the source of the noise. It seemed to be coming from somewhere behind and to the right of him.

Cadet Davos has one last test to pass - a flight through space on a dragon!

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I zipped up my jumpsuit, adjusted the slim oxygen pack attached my shoulders, and took a deep breath.  My stomach churned as I stared at my reflection in the polished metal wall. The red suit looked like a big warning beacon.

"Cadet Davos." Lieutenant Evrek strode into the locker room. "Are you ready for your flight or not?"
I snapped a quick salute. "Ready as I'll ever be, sir."

The Lieutenant held the locker room door open for me. I scrambled past him and into the hangar. The huge gun-metal gray space echoed with a cacophony of dock workers' shouts, the beeps of loading cranes and segues, and the loud flutter of wings. Crates obscured much of my view of the ground.

Dragons were everywhere

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

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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.”

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?”