Island of the Sequined Love Nun

three or four hours. Be ready."
    "Okay." Was he supposed to say something? Didn't this signify some sort of change that should be acknowledged?
    "I want you to watch me, but you can't let them see you. Wait a few minutes and go out by the hangar where you can see the airstrip. It's a great show. Theater makes it all possible, you know. Ask the Catholics. They survived the Middle Ages by putting on performances in a language that no one understood on grand stages that were built by the pennies of the poor. That's the problem with religion today. No theater."
    This must be her version of cuddling. "Performance?"
    "The appearance of the Sky Priestess," she said as if she was talking to a piece of toast. She walked to the door, then paused and looked over her shoulder. Almost as an afterthought she said, "Tucker," and when he looked up she blew him a kiss. Then she was out the door and he heard her shout, "Cue the music!"
    A big band sound blasted across the island, sending a shiver rattling through Tuck's body as if a chill ghost from the forties had jitterbugged over his spine.

47 – Grand Theft Aircraft
    The Shark men were breaking into their second jug of tuba when the music started. They all looked to Malink. Why hadn't he told them there was going to be an appearance of the Sky Priestess?
    Malink thought fast, then grinned as if he had known this was coming all along. "I wanted it to be a surprise," he said. Why hadn't this been announced by the Sorcerer? Was he still angry because Malink had not produced the girl-man on demand? Was Vincent himself angry at Malink for something? Certainly Malink's people would be angry at him for not giving them the time to prepare the drums and the bamboo rifles of Vincent's army-and the women, oh, the women would be shifting coconuts over not having time to oil their skins and paint their faces and put on their ceremonial grass skirts.
    As Malink trudged to the airstrip he tried to formulate some explanation that would work with everyone. As if it wasn't difficult enough being chief with no coffee to drink in the morning-he'd had a headache for two weeks from caffeine withdrawal-now his role as religious leader was giving him problems. Leading a religion is tough work when your gods start stirring for real and messing up your prophecies. And what if he did come up with an explanation, only to have the Priestess of the Sky say something that contradicted him? She was supposed to be Vincent's voice, but that voice had been angry lately, so he didn't dare ask her for help as he had in the past. Not in front of his people.
    He came out of the jungle just in time to see the flash of the explosions. The Sky Priestess walked out of the smoke and even from a hundred yards away, Malink could tell by her step that she was pleased. Malink breathed a sigh of relief. She was carrying magazines for them. If his people were happy with what she said, then he could use the old "will of Vincent" argument for not preparing them.
    He could have never guessed the real reason the Sorcerer had not forewarned him of the appearance of the Sky Priestess. At the time when he normally called the warning, the Sorcerer had been watching through the window as the Sky Priestess pumped away on Tucker Case.

    Tuck waited five minutes before he pulled up his pants and slid out the door of his bungalow, nearly running into Sebastian Curtis. The doctor, normally cool, was soaked with sweat and looked past Tuck to the clinic. "Mr. Case. I thought you'd be preparing the plane. Beth did tell you that you have a flight?"
    Tuck fought the urge to bolt. He hadn't had enough time to build up any remorse about having sex with the doctor's wife, and he didn't excel at remorse in the first place. "I was on my way to do the preflight. It doesn't take long."
    The doctor didn't make eye contact. "You'll forgive me if I seem distracted. I have to perform major surgery in a few minutes. You should go watch Beth's little show."
    "What's all the music and explosions?"
    "It's how we retrieve our donors. Beth will explain her theory of religion and theater to you, I'm sure. Excuse me." He pushed past Tucker and looked at his shoes as he walked toward the clinic.
    "Aren't you going to watch?" Tuck said.
    "Thank you, but I find it nauseating."
    "Oh," Tuck said. "Then I'll go check out the Lear. Great game today, Doc."
    "Yes," Curtis said. He resumed his stiff-armed walk to the clinic, his fists balled so hard at his sides that Tuck