Island of the Sequined Love Nun

order, the promise of an endless time of peace and prosperity. But instead of developing over centuries like Christianity or Buddhism, it happens in just a few years. It's fascinating, like being able to see the hands of the clock move right before your eyes and be a part of it."
    "So you must totally get off when daylight savings time comes around."
    "It was just a metaphor, Mr. Case."
    "Call me Tuck." They had reached Tuck's ball and he placed it on the AstroTurf mat. "Sneezy, give me the driver."
    Sebastian cleared his throat. "That looks more like a nine iron to me. You've only got fifty yards to the pin."
    "Trust me, Doc. I need a driver for this one."
    Stripe snickered and handed him the driver. Tuck examined it, one of the large-headed alloy models that had become so popular in the States-all metal. Tuck grinned at Stripe. "So, Doc, I guess you shitcanned the Methodist thing to watch the clock spin." Tuck lined up the shot and took a practice swing. The club whooshed through the air.
    "Have you ever had faith in anything, Mr. Case?"
    Tuck took another practice swing. "Me? Faith? Nope."
    "Not even your own abilities?"
    "Nope." Tuck made a show of lining up the shot again and making sure his hips were loose.
    "Then you shouldn't make jokes about it."
    "Right," Tuck said. He tensed and put his entire weight behind the club, but instead of hitting the ball, he swung it around like a baseball bat, slamming the head into Stripe's cheek, shattering the bone with a sickening thwack. The guard's feet went out from under him and he landed with a crunch in the coral.
    "Christ!" Sebastian yelled. He grabbed the club and wrenched it from Tuck's grasp. "What in the hell are you doing?"
    Tuck didn't answer. He bent over the guard until he was only inches from his face and whispered, "Fore, mother-fucker."
    A second later Tuck heard a mechanical click and the guard who had been tending the pin had an Uzi pressed to his ear.
    Sebastian Curtis was bent over Stripe, pulling his eyes open to see if his pupils would contract. "Take Mr. Case to his bungalow and stay with him. Send two men with a stretcher and find Beth. Tell her to-" Curtis suddenly realized that the guard was only getting about a third of what he said. "Bring my wife."
    "I'll get back to you on that faith thing, Doc," Tuck said.
    The Sorcerer paced back and forth across the lanai.

51 – Where Losers Flourish
    "I want to find another pilot, Beth. We can't let him act that way and get away with it."
    The Sky Priestess yawned. She was draped across the wicker emperor's chair, wearing a towel she'd wrapped above her breasts at the Sorcerer's request. He said he needed to think. "Did you ask him why he did it?"
    "Of course I asked him. He said he was trying to liven up the game."
    "Worked, didn't it?"
    "It's not funny, Beth. We're going to have trouble with him."
    The Sky Priestess stood up and put her arms around the Sorcerer. "You have to have a little faith in me," she said. "I can handle Tucker Case." She didn't want to have this conversation. Not yet. She hadn't told the Sorcerer about Tuck going off course. She had plans for the fair-haired pilot.
    The Sorcerer pulled away from her and backed up to the rail. "What if I don't like the way you handle him?"
    "And what's that supposed to mean?"
    "You know what it means."
    She approached him again, this time untucking the towel so it dropped as she stepped into his arms. Her nipples just brushed the front of his shirt. " 'Bastian, if what happened today proved anything, it proved that Tucker Case is a troglodyte. He's no threat to you. I'm attracted to finesse, not force. Case reacts to force with force. That's why he hit Yamata. You use a gentle touch with a guy like that and he's helpless."
    Sebastian Curtis turned away from her. "I'm not taking the guards off his house, not for a while anyway."
    "You do what you think is best, but it's not good policy to make an enemy of someone whose services you require. So what if he hates the ninjas? I hate the ninjas. You hate the ninjas. But we need them, and we need a pilot. We're not likely to be as lucky next time."
    "Lucky? The man's a reprobate."
    "Tucker Case is a loser. Losers flourish on islands, away from competition. You taught me that." Flattery might work where seduction seemed to be failing.
    "I did?"
    She unzipped his pants. "Sure, that monologue about ninety percent of the endangered species living on islands. That's because they would have died out years