Rodrigo Garcia y Robertson - Kansas, She Says, Is the Name of the Star

“From a world far, far away,” Leo replied airily.

“Why?”

“Excellent question, especially when I am about to take on a pack of Wheelers, aided by a scarecrow in drag.” Leo clearly did not like their chances, and resented her putting him here. “This is what I do. Every so often, the Peace Corps must be backed by the sure and precise use of force. Something humans are pretty horrible at.”

Hard to argue there. All the force in Cloud County, from Bushwhackers to just plain folks, were aimed at making her life hell—for no good reason that Amy could see.

This deep in Cheyenne County, there was scant traffic on the yellow brick road, so when a dust cloud appeared, Amy knew it would be Wheelers. Leo looked intently down the road, finally saying, “She’s with them.”

“How can you tell?” All Amy could see was dots beneath the dust cloud. Leo tapped the corner of his eye. “2000x1 night lenses. I can see her yellow bows.” No wonder Dorothy could find her way in the dark. Amy held her breath, watching the dust cloud get bigger. Looking away for a moment, she saw that Leo had vanished, along with the robot. Just like the cowardly lion to leave her all alone.

By now the Wheelers were near enough for her to see Dorothy, strapped in a side-car. As the Wheelers drew abreast of her, gas grenades went off along the yellow brick road. Sleep gas billowed up on both sides of the Wheelers, who lost control, skidding and crashing into one another. Dorothy’s side-car kept her motorcycle stable, and it came roaring out of the white gas cloud, with Dorothy asleep, and the tin man at the controls.

Very neatly done. Leo rose out of the long grass, never having gotten near the wrecked Wheelers. The robot brought the cycle to a stop in front of Amy, with Dorothy still slumped in the side-car. Leo sauntered over and administered an antidote.

Dorothy’s eyes flipped open, and the girl in blue gingham stared up at the 3V sky, asking, “Where am I?” Amy knelt down to take her hand. “Just west of Bird City, on the way to Wheeler.” That shocked Dorothy. “What the hell am I doing here?”

“It will take too long to tell,” Leo objected. “We’ve missed pickup, and must make for Mount Sunflower.”

Dorothy grimmaced. “That bad?”

“Worse,” the SuperCat assured her, helping Dorothy mount the robot. Amy climbed up onto the other shoulder, and they headed for Mount Sunflower, leaving unconscious Wheelers littering the yellow brick road.

South of Wheeler, rolling plains rose toward mile-high Mount Sunflower. They crossed the Little Beaver and the North Fork of the Smoky Hill, seeing nothing but Cheyenne lodges and clumps of buffalo. Ominous lightning strikes to the north were followed by distant rolling thunder, on an otherwise sunny day. Clearly tornado weather.

Beyond the North Smoky, Dorothy spotted something behind them. “UFO to the north.” Leo glumly agreed, but it was twenty minutes before Amy made out a blue-white spark near the northern horizon, backed by tall spiked clouds and a darkening sky. Feeling the breeze stirring, and pressure dropping, Amy warned, “There’s a tornado coming.”

“Do tell?” Leo had come to the same conclusion.

Amy asked Dorothy, “What happens when we get to Mount Sunflower?” Her Munchkin friend smiled, saying, “The summit has an emergency exit to the habitat—where no one would likely stumble on it.” Despite all Amy had seen, it was amazing to think that her world was so tiny that it had hidden exits into the real cosmos.

As the land rose toward Mount Sunflower, rain fell, just a sprinkling at first, followed by hail—stinging pea-sized balls of ice—that grew to frosty marbles, battering at Amy’s scarecrow hat. Wind kicked up, whipping the ice about, and Amy could see the clouds over Mount Sunflower circling in a familiar pattern. Holding hard to her hat, she fought the mounting suction. Hail turned to horizontal rain, lashing at their faces, then suddenly ceasing as they entered the eye of the cyclone. Amy clung to the robot’s shoulder, while Dorothy ordered the tin-plated man to run faster. Looking straight up, Amy could see a funnel cloud forming directly overhead, a great gray whirlpool, spinning faster and rising higher.

At the summit of Mount Sunflower, debris rained down, twigs, branches, clods of mud, roof nails and barn shingles. Howling winds tore at Amy’s hold on the robot. Her straw hat flew off. A few more seconds, and the swirling funnel of grit and pebbles would pull her fingers free, and whirl her away as well. Amy’s whole world had turned on her—Wheelers, UFOs, Birdmen, Bushwhackers, and now a twister.

Leo knelt and grabbed a patch of ground, yanking it up, revealing a pressure lock. As he did, the tornado touched down, pulling Leo off his feet, lifting the ground up with him. Holding grimly to the latch, Leo bellowed for help, telling the robot, “Take us down, damn you.” Only the robot had the weight to resist the twister. Diving into the hole, with Amy and Dorothy clinging to his back, the tin man grabbed Leo as he fell past, hauling the SuperCat in with them. “Close the lock,” roared Leo, clawing at the lock ladder as tornado winds tried to suck them back out. “Shut it, now!” Fighting tremendous suction, the lock mechanism struggled to obey. Then the robot threw his full weight on the hatch, dragging it closed. Howling ceased, and the wind stopped. Silence filled the small metal airlock. Amy saw they were all there, looking wet and bedraggled—Dorothy, Leo, and the tin man, covered with dirt and twigs, but safe for the moment. Her scarecrow clothes were totally soaked.

Pressure suits hung from the lock walls, and there was another hatch in the chamber floor. Dorothy showed her how to choose the right-sized suit, and how to seal it tight. Leo had more trouble suiting up than she did.

Then Amy hugged the tin man, saying good-bye to the robot, who responded with a pleasant:

“I’ll remember you too,” Amy promised the metal man. Dorothy retrieved her bug, then Leo emptied the lock and threw back the bottom hatch.

Amy stared down the incredibly deep shaft beneath, startled to see stars at the far end. Literally the end of the world. Cool air from the suit recycler chilled the nape of her neck. She asked Dorothy over the suit comlink, “How do we get down?”

“Easy,” Leo declared, giving her a shove. “Relax and try not to struggle.” Toppling into the shaft, Amy fell right out of the 1-g field, into a slowly accelerating descent. For the first time in her life, she felt the real tug of the cosmos, as smooth shaft walls slid by, gaining speed, going faster and faster.

Then the walls vanished, and she went flying out into the starry void, a tiny self-contained satellite in her vacuum suit. Glancing back, she saw the huge outer hull of the habitat, a gray, faceless wall, slowly receding from her. Dorothy and Leo appeared, two figures in silver suits, shooting out of the gray wall. Dorothy’s suit began to broadcast:

MAYDAY, MAYDAY, MAYDAY…

Why May Day? It was August. Maybe dates were different in space. Leo’s voice cut in. “Saucer port opening.”

Amy saw a bright slot appear in the huge gray wall. Three flat disks emerged from the slot.

“Saucers coming out,” Leo announced. “Three of them!” MAYDAY, MAYDAY…

Amy watched the disks grow larger, heading right for them. Close up, they did look like pairs of saucers, one piled upside down atop the other.

Behind her, Dorothy called out, “Here comes the Jackdaw .” Silently, a spark separated from the stars, moving closer, and growing in size, becoming a mini-starship, a nuclear-armed Navy corvette.

Glancing back at the saucers, Amy saw that gaping ports had opened on the saucer bottoms. All set to scoop them up.