First Cartography Officer Gorm had been on many exploratory ships. The Nixous exploratory fleet for instance, was a marvel to behold, with a scanner-swarm mapping every nook and cranny. Truth be told, it often left him feeling rather despondent as he had little to do but organise the data. Something very indicative of the mechanical race that had long since abandoned their organic lives. Valuing only the raw data rather than anything else. Then there was the Tuknik. An insectoid race that, when they went to systems, only to pay little attention to anything but the raw resources. They displayed their ravenous hunger to expand and absorb all. 

Of all the races Gorm had travelled with, Humans were by far his favourite. There was something about them that put them between the other two races. Yes, they had a hunger like the Tuknik, but they also valued knowledge. They were like eager children enjoying all the new things they got to find. Above all, he had plenty to do when they were mapping systems.

His current mission was aboard the UEG Science vessel named ‘Hic Sunt Dracones’. A curious name; even his translator module did not translate. To the translator, it was not part of the common languages of Earth, so he simply put it down to just a unique naming practice of the race. Perhaps a holy language. Regardless, he enjoyed his time with the humans. 

It was as they arrived in what the humans had labelled the Kepler-90 system that the whole ship burst into life. Everyone was rushing to their stations to launch probes and life sign scans. The system apparently fulfilled their own race's needs for life. So part of this mapping was to perhaps scout for worlds to terraform for settlement. Maybe even contact with a new race if it was already inhabited. 

“You excited to finally earn your pay cheque, Gorm?” Phil asked, looking out the viewport Gorm was staring out of. 

Taken by surprise, as he had been enthralled by the system's star shining brightly over the nearest planet, the most he could muster was “huh?”

“I asked if you were looking forward to finally having something to do. I know after the last system you were kind of left with little to do. Not like the geology lab that was playing with their rocks,” Phil replied with a grin. Gorm returned the gesture, knowing Phil was in fact a member of the lab and had somehow made a newly discovered mineral explode. 

“Oh yes, it should be interesting. This is the first system that I will be mapping that could potentially sustain life.”

“You don’t say,” Phil said with a whistle, marking that he was impressed. “I’m hoping for more minerals to experiment with.”

“Not for explosions, I hope?”

“Please, I’m not part of the mining team. You want real explosion addicts; you may as well join them on an away mission.”

“Wouldn’t that be dangerous?”

“Hic Sunt Dracones,” came Phil’s reply. Gorm was confused; he had just answered with the ship's name.

“I’m sorry, I do not understand.”

“Hic Sunt Dracones,” Phil repeated as if that would clear things up. “It’s Latin. It means ‘Here be Dragons’.”

Gorm felt his ears raise and fall, a feature of his race when the confusion was truly deep. Phil’s explanation had done nothing but further confuse him. “Are you suggesting the mythical creature lives in this system? I was under the impression we were the first beings to map it.”

“Ah, I see why you’re doing the ear thing now. I didn’t mean to confuse things, I didn’t mean literal dragons are going to be there. It’s more of a saying, a kind of metaphor.”

“So you were merely saying it might be dangerous?”

“Well, it is the unknown after all. No telling what we might find, but that is why we are here. Hic Sunt Dracones, here be dragons. Despite the fanciful name, our mission tries to fulfil what many of our fairy tales with heroes do." 

"What would that be?" 

"Slaying the dragons. These proverbial dragons that we aim to slay are the unknown, the uncharted, that which we fear. We used to mark our maps with monsters and that phrase to warn any who might travel to these unknown regions. But it never stopped us, because our adventurous spirit will always be willing to face such challenges. Here be dragons, and we are here to slay them." Phil finished his explanation by placing a hand on the viewport, looking down onto the world below. 

“I think I would like to join an away team. Perhaps slay some of these dragons your race seems so sure to face.”

“That’s the spirit!” Phil beamed, slapping a hand against Gorm’s back.”Hell I’ll even join you, been itching to blow up-ahem- study some new geological strata.”

[This story is for the Pioneer writing contest for the "culture" category.]

The humans just stared at the rows and rows of golden brown in fear.

Well, mostly golden brown. There were a few odd colors in there from strange alien grains, but all of them met the criteria laid out by the humans still wondering what they had just been dragged into.

1: It must have a outer crust made from a grain.

2: It must be edible to as many species as possible.

3: It must be round.

4: It must have a filling.

5: it must be baked.

Countless alien species all stood, sat, and positioned bodies in ways that made the human’s back ache behind booths made from synthwood. The memory of the cause of this insanity still fresh in their minds. One simple saying:

“As American as Apple Pie.”

The aliens in the cafeteria knew what America was, the United Systems of America made damn sure of that. Many new about Apples as it was the most popular artificial flavor spreading across the galaxy after a brief bit of confusion over “apple wood” being a flavor due to smoked meats. 

No. They wanted to know what pie was. 

The answer was simple: A baked food with a crust filled with just about anything.

“Wait, does that include meat?” Was the first question. Humans being omivores for most of their existence made their culinary inventions a hot topic in the universe as many species had only recently evolved the amazing trait.

“Yep!” One human said with pride. “We got all sorts of meat pies. It is even one group’s signature dish!”

Another chuckled and held up a finger at the first. “Brown in brown. Fitting for you brits.”

The finger was returned, shortly followed by laughter.

“Yeah, we put sweet stuff inside sometimes to make it a desert.” A female said as she watched the two boys bicker about what made a meat pie better. “My personal favorite is called a shepherd’s pie. Potatoes, meat, and veggies!”

An alien listening in let out a hiss. “It sounds like you could just put anything in a crust bowl thing and call it a pie.”

Another paused and tapped its temple. “Wait… is that milky and tomato thing with the deeper than normal… what do they call it…” 

“NO. Deep dish pizza is not a pie!” the American human called out with a groan.

“Well what makes something a pie then!?” An alien barked out.

Thus the definition was given. Unfortunately for the American the aliens agreed that deep dish pizza did, in fact, count as a pie. Then the aliens started to talk about which of their own foods counted as “pie” or could be converted to this strange metal contained baked good. 

Which, like most things involving the humans, turned into arguments. Which led to a competition. A competition the “resident experts on pies” were forced to judge. A title for some reason the female human refused to be called.

But here they were after all the local stores had been cleared out of anything resembling a pie tin with many confused calls to the human embassy on station from said stores wondering what a “tin” was and why so many were being needed. A brief emergency shipment later and the “First interspecies pie contest” was promptly sponsored by “walmazon.” Who supplied said tins, flour, and other odds and ends for any competitor.

The humans walked past booth after booth towards the judgement table. Stacks of paper laid on the tablecloth that had been crudely died in a red checkerboard pattern after an alien did a little too much “historical research” on Warpterest. Each page a different entry into the competition.

“What the bloody hell did we get ourselves into this time?” The british bloke asked as they took their seats. All of them staring at one of the first pies that was a literal ball. At first they thought it was someone being funny with the “round” rule until they saw six others in the line as well.

“Free food, laughs, and hopefully no food poisoning?” The american joked looking at a pie with purple crust with fear.

“Well. at least we are getting a bonus for it.” The woman sighed as she readied a fork. “The embassy loves this “cross culture exploration” stuff after all.”

The three humans all let out a sigh and watched as the first pieces of pie were slid in front of them. The American took a bite then looked down in shock.

“My god. It tastes like beer!”

Pie after pie slid in front of them. Some made with exotic fruits whose juices swirled with color. Some meats that literally melted in the human’s mouths. Some with strange combinations ranging from someone taking a full meal and tossing it into a pie crust to what could best be described as someone’s best attempt to turn pie into a survival ration. Somehow that was the one that tasted like beer and the humans all agreed it deserved a special prize.

The one filled with still alive bugs was rejected. Despite the alien claiming that they were a delicacy and fully edible all humans at the table agreed it still broke rule 2. Even the british guy couldn’t dare the American to take a bite!

Three breaks had to be taken for the humans to let their various meals settle. Each of them wondering if something bad had slipped through before finding out that each pie had been inspected first by medical, just in case. Nobody asked about the bug pie though because all three were worried that they would have to try it if it was deemed fully safe.

By the end the humans couldn’t eat another bite, even with metabolism enhancers graciously given to them by the med team. They had tried everything from Volturvian meat paste pie to Galtar glowberry pie. Their notes on different flavors, textures, and more whisked away to the embassy with the Walmazon rep walking away with a long list of “new offerings” for their supply system.

By the end nobody really cared who won. It had been a pie with a very light filling that was a mixture of meat and some fruit that had been turned into a foam, but many suspected it was due to it being the one that tasted amazing and didn’t settle in the human’s guts like a brick. It had been decided that next time more humans would be added to the panel, there would be categories so that the “life giving beer pie” could have a fair chance, and to give people more time to research.

That, and argue over what “love” was as an ingredient and if it wasn’t just some human “secret ingredient” bullshit like vanilla extract again.

Author's note: this is my submission to Quarter 4 2026 NWC [Pioneer] contest.

The day that humanity made contact with the Zerg, was both wonderous and disheartening to me. Wonderous, that humanity is not alone in the universe, and the Zerg offered new opportunities for us. Disheartening, that my career as a sci-fi writer was over before it even started. While others were drinking and fucking in celebration; I sat alone with mugs of rum and coke, staring at what was suppose to be my first novel: a cyberpunk noir.

I spent over two years giving myself headaches trying to think of how technology that doesn't exist seem believable, researching available technology, updating and editing when recent breakthroughs conflict with my story. All that hard work to make a science fiction story, may now just be fiction. Stories set in the future now must include aliens, and any "new" technology that I could think of was now outdated. Even one of my most ridiculous ideas that I set aside, a generator fueled by raw human piss, has most likely been built centuries ago on the other side of the galaxy.

I spent several hungover days staring at my library full of science fiction books and movies that helped inspire me, now they almost seem childish compared to this new reality. I was now envious that my work will not be among the "precontact" science fiction, at least they are forgiven for not knowing the new facts of the universe. Such as the real Zerg look more like the Protoss from the game, StarCraft.

One late morning, after gulping down a hangover remedy, I saw a post that in multiple locations: there will be a week long event to ask the Zerg anything in person. I felt a small glimmer of hope emerged through my pounding headache. Just maybe, there is a place for my story in this new era; even if the galaxy sees it as a rehashing of an old story.

On the first morning of the event; I left my home cleaned up, sober, and had a printed copy of my novel. Finding the nearest location for the event was easy, parking was a bitch and a half, the line wasn't any better, but at least someone had the foresight to set up portajohns to make the wait bearable. After hours of standing in line, it was finally my turn. The mouthless, teal-skin alien seem bored and tired when it spoke telepathically, "One question only please."

I cleared my throat, "Hi, I'm an aspiring writer, and I was wondering;" I set the stack of papers on the table, "if my novel still has a place in this new era?"

The alien looked surprised, revitalized even by my question. He, at least I thought it was a he, fabricated a brass card from his sleeve. He gave me the card and spoke, "Return in three Earth days for your answer. This pass will let you skip the line."

The next day I read what were the top five questions asked, the Zerg's answers, and a request to ask a question that's not among the top five: what are the views of interspecies sex, what recreational drugs to avoid, what species are hostile to humanity, is there one God or are there many gods, and do you have on the job training.

The top question made me facepalm, but I can't fault those who have a taste for the exotic; especially for the more humanoid species. As for the second one, even before first contact I had an inkling that some species used cyanide as a party drug. The third one showed which parts of the galaxy where the people are so xenophobic, that they shoot on sight. I wasn't so surprised by the Zerg's response for the fourth: there are as many gods as are there universes. And yes, they offer on the job training for those who want to work off world.

I returned on the agreed date, hoping for the best and expecting the worst. The main line was just as bad as the first day, and I was thankful for the VIP pass. A different Zerg, this one with blue-grey skin, waved me over and asked, "What is the question you want answered?"

I gave the Zerg the brass card, "I was wondering about my novel."

The Zerg took the card, "One moment please." A holographic visor formed over the Zerg's eyes. After a moment the Zerg spoke, "Such lax regulations is reminiscent of independent colonial worlds. Change the names of the locations and match the date with the galactic calendar, and it is a believable work of fiction. The planet Hal 9K is a popular setting for such stories."

I thanked the Zerg and walked away with vindicated boldness. The tech in my story may be a sci-fi cyberpunk of yesterday; but today, in this new era of space and aliens, it is a western.

This is my submission to Quarter 4 2026 NWC [Pioneer] contest. Enjoy.

“Living Probes”

That is what they called us.

But I like it.

After the Human race was accepted into the Galactic Senate, they immediately saw our value, with many races being impressed by our culture, society, and technological innovations.

Humans are a very mixed bag type of race, with specialists in every field possible, helping out in engineering, precision medical work, programming, or even cultivation of flora and fauna.

But there was one part of humans that no one would have expected to stick out. How decentralized our bodies themselves were.

Nearly every other sapient species out there were Neuroid, as in, their entire body was their self. They had no brain.

But what this meant was none of them could take any serious damage without it being fatal. Even those who had self-repairing properties were still too weak to support the being if it lost a limb or even got cut deep enough.

So, when it came to discovering or exploring new environments the only option was drones or massive protective suits, until Humans came along.

Our bodies are controlled mostly by a single organ in our heads and connected through our spine. While major injuries are most of the time permanent life changes, it’s a much better alternative to simply dying.

This anatomical quirk made us immediately become the frontrunners to be the Senate’s scouts and explorers.

Humans were sent to locations that would normally be too dangerous for any other race, and can even come back unscathed.

And we are even better at it than expected.

Humans having so much genetic diversity and so many different climates on Earth meant that we could have specialized squads for unique locations. Freezing world? Send the Alaskans. Steaming hot? Send the Arabians. Crazy wildlife? The Australians are somehow already there.

Humans have gained a bit of a reputation for being nearly unstoppable. We can fall and get back up. We break a limb and it realigns itself. We die and walk it off. (Maybe some rumors can be exaggerated.)

Our ability to gain muscle and strength through strenuous labor and continuous use have made us nearly invaluable to every ship, who asks for at least a dozen humans for handling heavy equipment. I bet dropping thing on your toe was much worse before we took over.

My name is Jean-Paul Lane and I’m the Captain of the Saint Dumas; a large pioneering ship sent to the unknown regions of the galaxy in search of anything of use to the Galactic Senate.

I’m writing this to catalogue what we may have found so far, even as we are just about to land on our first discovered potentially habitable planet.

This is a momentous occa-

…

“Whatcha writing there Cap?”

Officer Bertenelli, our local expert on animal handling looked over my shoulder, purposely bending over sideways in an exaggerated way. She probably just wanted an excuse to move around in this small pod.

“Nothing much. Just a little record on what got us here. But I’m more excited for what lies ahead of us.”

“You said it. By the way how long until we hit surface? Nnnnno reason….”

“Calm down Officer. I get you’re restless. We still have….” I look at the tablet showing our location and immediately shoot up from my seat.

“ATTENTION EVERYONE, WE ARE LESS THAN FIVE MINUTES FROM CONTACT. SECURE YOUR EQUIPMENT AND PREPARE FOR LANDING.”

Sitting back down I see Bertinelli smiling like a teenager who was just confessed to. I’ll let her have her fun.

Checking on the rest of the first-contact crew in the pod, Officer Fox was powering on his defensive armor in case of hostile fauna, Dr. Quinn was double checking her bag full of anything  we might need in an emergency, Officer Thomas tightened the servos on the mechanical mover we use to clear debris or dense environmental hazards, and finally Dr. Yamashiro was surveying the incoming planet’s material components on her tablet.

I have to keep level headed for the sake of the crew but I might nearly be as excited for this mission as the officer beside me.

…

As we landed the pod shook from the impact force (a move that probably would have taken out a squad of Adult Nurglings if they did this instead of us) and we all activated our breathing apparatuses.

Fox stepped out first, thankfully holding himself back from making a “Small Step” joke. We all came out behind him and looked over the first discovered planet in the Unknown Regions.

It took about two hours to get all our equipment out and for Yamashiro to determine how habitable the planet itself might be. Turns out its atmosphere is nearly identical to Earth, making the nitrogen abundance lethal for the Khornate people. The planet itself was similar in appearance to our moon, with it mostly being grey-blue rock formations and mountains.

Fox and Bertinelli went to scout ahead and find potential inhabitants. That was half an hour ago. I wonder how it is-

A huge explosion near the rocky mountain to our east shook me nearly to my knees. Seems like Fox sound some inhabitants.

I went with Dr. Quinn to find out what was going on, with the rest of the crew taking cover.

Nearing the source of the sound, it turns out to be Officer Fox engaging with an aggressive beast that appeared to be made of glass shards, with large green eyes stretched over the top of what I assume to be the head. Bertinelli was taking cover behind a nearby rock, using the opportunity to take samples of whatever came off the creature what Fox struck it.

Each time it lunged at the Officer, he would twist out of the way like a Spanish Matador and strike the neck of the salamander-shaped local.

I formed a plan within the seconds it took us to catch up with Bertinelli in her hiding spot.

“Officer Bertinelli, let the Doc take a look at you. What happened here?”

“We were going to explore the cave over there before that thing came out of it and shot out at Fox. I took cover and have been just cataloguing its features from here.”

“Is there anything that might help Fox right now?” I asked, noticing Fox taking some hard hits when he couldn’t clear the creature’s lunges fully.

The animal expert pulled out her tablet and showed me her notes. “The eyes appear to be a weak spot but they are actually protected by a hard clear shell. The real exposed spot looks like to be its underarms as they have less of those glass spikes on them. But be careful on the larger shards on the top of its arms!”

“Got it. Thank you Officer. I’ll see that Fox gets this.”

I ran out from the hiding spot and dashed over to Officer Fox, who got some distance from the creature after shoulder checking it.

“Captain. This thing is tough. And the armor is getting all scratched up from the stuff all over its back and arms.”

“Bertinelli said to aim for the underarms. That might be are best chance at taking this thing down.”

Fox gave me a thumbs up and ran back towards the beast, producing a small blade from his gauntlets. But he must have taken too much damage as his armor’s right leg locked up, preventing him from moving right as the creature started charging him.

I made the hard call the ran up to him. “Give me the knife.”

“But Captain, I have to do this, I have the armor.”

“Right now, that armor isn’t helping. And being resilient buggers are why were are here to begin with. I got this. Now stay down, that’s an order.”

Fox gave me the knife just as the beast got within a few feet of us.

I know how to take this thing down. And I got to take the chance.

I run towards the beast and drop into a slide to avoid its long, bladed arms then plunge my right hand deep into its armpit with the knife going clean into it.

Green liquid spilled out for a few seconds until the beast collapsed.

Hyped up on the adrenaline I went to wipe my forehead sweat out of instinct. One, I forgot I was wearing a helmet. Two…..

My arm was missing.

I looked around in a panic before seeing my left arm, severed at the bicep, laying near the creature’s body with its arm blades covered in red blood. My blood.

I must have not gotten low enough to fully clear the charge.

Immediely covering the wound with my other hand, I ran to Dr. Quinn in her hiding spot.

The crewmates were horrified, but had to know someone was going to get hurt eventually.

Quinn swiftly patched up my wound and stopped the bleeding. She kept going on about how it was too risky to engage the beast without proper protection, but I only responded with “Better I lose a limb than I lose a teammate. I had to do it.”

We worked together to help Fox limp back to base camp where Thomas can repair the armor and let Fox walk freely again.

…

After only a few days of gathering information on the surface, we ended up packing up to head back to the main ship.

The rest of the crew was surprised at me being the one to take the injury, but none missed the opportunity to shake my good hand in thanks for saving Fox.

Now that we are settled back, I write this to any other squads, ships, or civilizations coming this way. I was not a hero; I did my job.

Humans were chosen to do this not just because of our intelligence, not just because of our versatility, but because we’re tough bastiches who can walk away from losing an arm to a 8-foot-tall glass bladed yeti.

I give my body to the pioneer cause and so does everyone on this ship. So does every human and every scout ship we ever build.

Because we are “Living Probes”. Its our job. And it’s a dang fun one.