PAW
SECOND DRAFT Copyright 2025 Geoff Marshall
The light appeared in the night sky of October, 2100. The Martian Fascist Congress were the first to spot it and initial analysis was so surprising they decided to send a probe.
The planetoid was in a horseshoe orbit with the Earth, which meant it was only visible for a few decades every three hundred years, and even then only with a strong lens, if you knew what you were looking for and where to look. Scientists in Napoleon’s time couldn’t be blamed for missing it.
~
Martian Supreme Chancelor Coke had been pulled away from his mistress and shuttled to New Manhattan for a briefing on the probe’s results. He was livid. What could possibly warrant interrupting his busy nocturnal schedule?
He was bustled into a screening room in the bowels of MFC central, where he observed the probe footage with a scowl. He sat facing hectares of prairie grassland bordered by remote treelines. Standing in the middle of the field was unmistakably a farmhouse, with a small barn and silo next to it. The clouds drifted, the grass swayed, a few insects buzzed the probe’s camera attachment, and then a large figure stepped into view. You could see it from the knees down, which were covered in what looked like overalls and workboots. Then appeared what could only be a pitchfork which was driven decisively into the camera lens with enough force that the probe had stopped streaming a few seconds later.
Coke was not impressed. “I don’t even know what I’m looking at here! Is that a farmer? Where’s the asteroid footage?” A small man in a white smock cleared his throat after an awkward pause. “Supreme Chancelor, . This is footage from the planetoid’s surface.”
“What the fuck? How does it even have air? How big is this goddam thing?”
“Not very big at all. It must be incredibly dense to hold such an atmosphere. We can only speculate what it’s made out of.”
“You mean like, diamonds and stuff?”
The small man attempted, unsuccessfully, to make himself even smaller. “A lot denser than diamonds. A lot denser than lead, even.”
A bright glow gradually invaded Coke’s uneven visage.
“You mean … gold? Jesus. I’ve found a goddam gold planet. Jesus Christ.”
Coke was beside himself. His trained lackey, also a timid man of cautious demeanor, urged calm, and to keep in mind their new neighbour could offer more resources than the entire asteroid belt combined. Coke gave the command to send an armed reconnaissance immediately and beat it back to his mistress’ apartment in the cliff regions outside town. He’d be damned if some little green farmhand was going to stand between him and the manifest destiny that his personal God almighty deigned him fit to wield. The entire Martian Fascist Congress would have wholeheartedly agreed, if asked.
~
Junior sat on the faded pink couch, eating a bowl of breakfast flakes and watching his favourite television show, “The Adventures of Paw and Junior”. The television had two programs, and this was his favourite because it was a cartoon. The other show was useful, because it showed him how to do his chores and fix things.
Today there was a new storyline on “The Adventures of Paw and Junior”. Usually they ran around discovering hidden caves and hiking up mountains. In today’s episode a strange tube had come out of the sky and a new set of characters, looking something like Junior and Paw (and yet different) had come pouring out onto the lawn. In the cartoon, Paw and Junior came to welcome the strangers and they ended up having a party with cake. Junior knew what a party was, and what cake was, yet he was entirely unsure of what these “others” were supposed to be or how a story with more than Paw and Junior could even exist. He shook his head, walked over to the television set and shut it off. Junior went to the door, slipped on his boots, and prepared to get working on his chores. It was going to be a predictable day of checking readings on the silo and mowing hay.
~
Overseer Hoffman bent over the science visor, examining the prairies and lakes rushing below with amused fascination. It wouldn’t take much to scrape this rock clean and get at the guts of the thing. Control had reported that below the thin topsoil, the entire globe was coated in some sort of ceramic and who knew what lay below that? Something expensive, that was for sure.
The Medical Assist Gurney had its own opinions. The gurney had spent many nanoseconds pouring over the data and concluded that this planetoid was definitely constructed; as old as the solar system itself. This was not a popular opinion with The Overseer, who had responded predictably with, “Shut your gasket, stupid maggot.”
MAG did as she was told. The overseer hadn’t been so rude when he’d fallen down that cavern on Demos and MAG had to come fish him out and fix his leg. Humans. They’re never impolite when they need something. Almost never.
~
The Attack Scout “Medusa” touched down on the long green grass, about fifty metres from the “farmhouse”. Behind it, a cornfield spread to the strangely curved horizon less than a kilometer away. The propulsors whined as they spun down and a few minutes later the hatch popped open and three figures descended. Two of them resembled walking piggy banks studded with guns and grenades. The third was a rectangular cube of greater height. It lagged behind a bit, as if waiting to see what happened to the others before proceeding.
Hoffman spoke first. “Whadda you got, maggot?”
“The air is well within Earth normal pressure and composition. I would advise keeping your helmet sealed to avoid any airborne contagion … ”
Borgnine already had hers off. “Feel the fucking breeze” she grinned widely.
Overseer Hoffman scanned the building “I read one signature, near the front. Borgnine, put your goddam helmet back on and hop around back. Kill anything that runs out.”
“Pleasure” Borgnine bounced off across the lawn.
“Not that it fucking matters because it already fucking knows we’re here. Might as well knock”
The Overseer approached the frame door and placed one foot on the concrete blocks that served as a doorstep. They shifted. He reached out and tapped on the door with the force of three men. That was the lowest setting on this suit.
Junior was on his way out when there was a loud noise at the door. He walked over and swung it open, expecting – well – not really knowing what to expect. It was the first time this had happened. He squinted at the two figures backlit against the afternoon sun. They looked just like the others from the television. “I guess the TV was right” he said as he held out his hand, just like in the cartoon. “Hello, my name is Junior”.
The Overseer missed a beat. “I’ll be fucked … It speaks fucking Anglez”
MAG piped up. “In the name of the Martian Fascist Congress, we greet you and proclaim this Martian soil”. All three stood silent, unsure of themselves, Junior’s hand still extended.
“May I suggest, Overseer, that you accept the proffered appendage”
“I know how to shake a goddam hand, you fucking pisstank”. Overseer Hoffman put his glove into Junior’s hand. He was careful not to squeeze even at the lowest setting. Junior pumped the arm up and down thinking this was the weirdest scarecrow he had ever seen. As if in agreement, a lone crow called out from across the corn field.
“Who’s in charge here?”, the weird scarecrow said. Its voice sounded like the TV, only smaller. Junior couldn’t get over how strange this all was.
“Hello?” Overseer Hoffman waved his free glove in front of this whatever it was. It looked like a big, dumb hick. “Hey you big lummox, I asked you a question”
“You better talk to Paw”
“Oh really, and where is this pa of yours right now, if I may inquire?”
“Oh he’s around somewhere” Junior stopped shaking the scarecrow’s arm and waved in the general direction of the cornfield. “Mending fences, I expect”
“Mending fences. Can you call him and tell him that Mars is here to see him?” Junior grinned “ I can’t yell that far. You’re funny” The scarecrow didn’t move. Junior’s chin dropped. “Paw ‘s always back for supper time. If you wait ‘til supper you’ll see him”. The overseer’s helmet tilted slightly to the left. “Much obliged, we’ll do just that. Borgnine, put that goddam gun down and come here, we’re invited to supper, for fuck’s sakes”.
~
The Overseer had his helmet off now as he squinted at his hand. First readings showed water and plant life in abundance, and perhaps higher lifeforms.
MAG contemplated her surroundings, cross referencing the data as it streamed to the ship. If you walked around the equator you would wind up back where you started inside three weeks, if you avoided the vast, calm lakes that made up almost half the surface area.
There were a couple of main-belt asteroids the same size – Davida, and Euphrosyne, however the gravity on those airless rocks was a mere .6% of Earth’s. It was obvious that this new neighbour was much denser than anything else in the known solar system. MAG kept these ruminations to herself.
Borgnine looked up from the device she had stomped into the ground.
“Not gold … Ozmium.” He clapped his gloves together a couple times to knock off the topsoil. “Still, worth a fortune I’ll bet”
“Of far greater worth, actually”. MAG immediately regretted speaking.
Borgnine stared down MAG’s camera rig intensely, like she couldn’t believe what she was looking at. She broke eye contact at last, turning to face Hoffman. The Overseer was already halfway across the lawn. “Let’s check the outer buildings. Silo first. Attack protocol, just in case” Borgnine followed with a cheerful “Okay, Skipper”. MAG sighed to herself and rolled slowly across the gravel drive.
~
“That’s a very long way down” The Overseer hung out as far as he dared across the unprotected edge of the shaft. The hole almost filled the entire floor of the silo, except for a few panels on a podium near the door, and thrust downwards in a spiral of sculpted outcroppings and glowing lights ending in a wall of mist. Borgnine was at the control panels, randomly poking at the settings, which were completely unintelligible, to Borgnine, at least. Junior stood in the doorway, deciding what to do with his hands. “You best not mess with that. Paw wouldn’t like it”.
“Pa, Pa, Pa” Borgnine cackled, “Pa don’t like this, pa don’t like that, We can’t do nothin’ ‘cause Pa won’t like it. Well what does your pa think of this” She pushed Junior forcefully on the chest knocking him back a step. Fortunately for Junior, Borgnine had retracted the arms of her suit. Junior was too bewildered to respond.
Hoffman didn’t even look up. “Cut it out, Borgnine. Once we’ve found the other one you can deal with them both at once. Let’s get eyes on the barn.”
MAG reviewed external sensors. “I’m not reading any heat or movement from the barn structure”
Borgnine pushed past her. “Shut the fuck up, maggot.”
~
“Why do they call you maggot, are you a bug? You’re too big to be a bug”
“It is a term of endearment, do you know what that means, Junior?”
“Nope.”
“It’s a fun name, a name we use for fun. My actual name is MAG. My friends call me Maggie”.
“What are “friends?”
“I’m your friend, Junior. We are friends”
Junior had absolutely no idea what the talking bed meant by this. He couldn’t figure out if it really was a bed, and why it should walk around and not stay put, like his bed. The two scarecrows had gone into the “barn”.
Borgnine was bored. The barn was a shell containing more of the humming machinery, this time without panels. The Overseer walked the perimeter of the walls, looking for a passageway or an access panel. There were none. There was nothing here except a solid conglomeration of metal tubes and heat dissipation coils, not visibly connected to anything, including underneath, because the whole contraption floated one metre off the ground, and reached up to the gabled ceiling. There was no way he was crawling under there.
“Borgnine, crawl under there and look for a hatch, will ya?”
After a moment’s pause, Borgnine dropped and tried to slide underneath. “No go, Skip. Some kind of repulsion field keeps pushing me out, even on max suit”.
“I suppose your pa knows what this thing does.” The Overseer walked forward quickly and shoved one of his many guns under Junior’s chin. “I suppose it’s time we went and met your pa”. Junior didn’t know why the scarecrow was pushing the funny sugar tin at his face. Must be a new game.
Maggie sprang up “Motion detected, one kilometer away and approaching rapidly. Towards the trees”. Hoffman and Borgnine disengaged and stepped outside quickly. They could just make out the treetops along the bent horizon. They were moving.
“Battle attack protocol’. Maggie’s voice had changed, taking on a colder edge. “Defense override. Locking”. Maggie tucked in her legs and grew a few new arms. Master Corporal Borgnine and Overseer Hoffman formed a triangle with MAG at the apex. No one moved, so Junior decided not to move as well.
The distant trees began to shake quite violently, and some were being thrown into the sky. Something emerged from the grove and began ripping through the cornfield, obscured by dust and flying corn stalks. “Show arms” MAG reminded the other two who immediately configured into squat, immovable murder huts.
The intruder finally reared up about seventy meters from the group, giving the Overseer only a glimpse of the creature before it was upon them. Long enough to make out a thirty meter tall monstrosity dressed in a giant’s overalls. The rest of the beast was covered in sparse white fur. The head appeared to be half polar bear and half lopsided human at an entirely unnatural scale, and at the end of the left arm was an enormous grain thresher, teeth whirling. On the other arm was an eleven meter plow blade. This is what it had for hands. After taking this into consideration for all of a breath, the Martian patrol let loose with everything in its possession.
Even against enough stopping power to drop a buffalo herd, Paw made it as far as Borgnine in a single leap. Paw tossed the master corporal into the air using his plow hand. To his credit, Borgnine didn’t start screaming until she landed square on the thresher, which ground her down to a nub faster than twenty wood chippers.
Overseer Hoffman launched something loud and dirty that made everything go white for an instant. Junior was still rubbing the spots out of his eyes as he looked around in the aftermath. The topsoil had been torn away, revealing a scorched and pitted dinner plate the size of a cornfield. Paw was nowhere in sight. Junior felt fine but he was worried about his others. “Are you guys okay?”
“Never better. How would you like to go for a ride in our rocket ship, Junior? “ Overseer Hoffman motioned with his arms “Vroom, vroom! Mags, show Junior here to our ship and make sure he’s comfortable”.
“Come, Junior” MAG said gently as she took him by the arm. “What – what happened to Paw?” he asked halfheartedly, and then decided to go along with Maggie because he didn’t want to miss the chance to see what was inside their tube. It sure wasn’t more corn. He still felt a little like he did after telling Paw a fib. Junior’s curiosity outpaced his guilt as he approached the rocket. Paw could take care of himself.
~
“All strapped in? Everyone ready to go? Here we go!” The Overseer hit the correct sequence of buttons for liftoff. The absence of Borgnine didn’t make a damn bit of difference. “Eyes on the prize, Hoffman” he reminded himself, “Eyes on the prize.”
The Attack Scout rose haltingly off the lawn and struggled to overcome the strange planetoid’s grasp. The extra strong gravity at the surface quickly gave way to the weightlessness of space, due to the small diameter and density of the Ozmium sphere. It really was a miracle it could hang onto its water, much less its atmosphere, pondered MAG to herself. In her lap curled Junior, who in all the excitement had fallen fast asleep. It was past nap time.
“Overseer, I am seeing several objects leaving the planetoid surface.” MAG’s voice was soft and even.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck” the overseer answered to no one, his voice neither soft nor even.
There was no further sound as eleven saucer shaped craft drew near, and absolutely no sound as the closest one turned inside out to reveal Paw, twice his former size and reconstructed to withstand total vacuum. The sound only started again as Paw began to peel the Attack Scout “Medusa” like a piece of fruit. Maggie drew in on herself, encasing Junior in a protective shell. The Overseer’s squeals mingled unpleasantly with the screaming of the metal hull. Paw bared his chrome teeth.
The last of the air escaped the ship with the echo of Paw’s resounding baritone. “I’ve come to get my boy.”
After a while there was silence again.
~
Paw stood at the kitchen sink, by the window, normal sized once more. Junior admired the small white hairs that evenly coated Paw’s ears, framed by the halo of the kerosene lamp he had set up in the window. Junior snuggled into the remains of MAG. Paw was preparing a snack for bedtime. He had palms and fingers and even thumbs now.
“Hey Paw, I was wonderin’. What do you figure those folks wanted with me, anyhow”
“Hard to tell, son” Murmured Paw, pausing over a half made sandwich. “Better ask your Maw”
Deep beneath the house, far below the crushing pressure of four billion year-old compacted Ozmium, the compressed heart of the planet begins to rotate. It’s as big as the house above, a hendecagon of degenerate matter that almost meets the criteria for a white dwarf. Past the quantum goo of core structure, past the superimposed hologram of crystalline consciousness, she gathers her thoughts to answer.
The END
