How The Mission Became a Sanctuary for All After the Fracture

There are a number of buildings that survived the great accident. The comm tower, the veil station, and the power plant all offer those who survived a reminder of how the world once was. None of them are held as dear as The Mission, however. Once a place of quiet contemplation, The Mission was vital in the battles that drove most of the horrors out of this part of the island. In the years since the fracture, it has served as a sanctuary for those in need, a place of healing, and a symbol of what can be accomplished when we work together.

Known as Maluhia or The Place of Peace to the Kānaka, The Mission offered seekers of serenity and knowledge a refuge before the Fracture. It was only natural that survivors sought shelter and safety there. For many years Maluhia served as a place of healing for the people. There the greatest Kānaka herbalists and healers practiced their craft. Whether it be a fever, a broken bone, or something more serious, you could find relief at The Mission. Countless lives were saved there, and not just those of the Kānaka.

The Place of Peace was open to all who needed help and served as an embassy of sorts. When one of the many veil storms threw the great cruise ship against the rocks, the survivors sought refuge there. They traded books, their knowledge, and their stories for food and shelter. Eventually, they formed a school and taught many of our children the power of words and ideas. A group of them reside there still today. While we all seek peace, it is sometimes hard to secure and the island was becoming more dangerous.

The horrors born from the explosion were gaining strength and growing quickly. Night Marchers and Trophy Hunters prowled the trails, the Menehune scurried through the rubble, and the Green Ladies haunted the forests, hungry for blood. The people feared leaving the safety of the village, and they were losing hope. It was then that the great chief Ikaika began to gather the people to fight back. He gathered a great number of Kānaka warriors to battle against the creatures. He formed an alliance with the Thrivers on the hill and the people to the North. Together, the army of Ikaika cleared much of the island and made its way to Black Rock Beach.

The fighting there was terrible and lasted for days. Hundreds lost their lives, and so many were injured that The Mission was overflowing. It was then that Ikaika decided to turn away all who were not Kānaka. Many Kānaka survived that day because of that decision, but as the people were treated, we watched the bodies of our allies pile up outside. Eventually, the Thriver’s commander Colonel Kaua arrived and demanded we treat his people. With his elite band of Koa behind him, Ikaka thanked the Colonel for his bravery but said there were too many injured Kānaka to worry about the lives of Thrivers. He told Kaua to take his wounded and go in peace. The Thrivers were angry.

While most of the monsters had been eradicated, tensions between the people and the other groups on the island grew. The Thrivers refused to trade. Soon there was no ammunition, and when machines broke there were no replacement parts. The people of the North would no longer exchange food for medicines and nets. It wasn’t long before the first skirmish broke out and a scout returned to the Mission with a Thriver bullet in his shoulder. Ikaika may have cleansed the island of the evil the Fracture had spawned but he had made new enemies. The Kānaka could now walk the roads without worrying about Night Marchers, but we walked them alone.

The people began to worry. We had beat back the hordes only with the help of those we had turned our backs on. If the creatures grew in strength again would we be able to fight them off alone? The future seemed uncertain and dangerous, but Ikaika was given a second chance.

The colonel arrived at the mission one day flanked with a large group of Thriver soldiers. At first, the people thought they had come to attack and Kānaka warriors filled the courtyard with spear and koa axe in hand. It was then that the people saw the colonel was holding his son in his arms. The boy had been attacked by Trophy Collectors while on a scouting run and his blood was now tainted with their disease. They had tried for days to cleanse him of the poison but he continued to get worse.

Ikaka listened to Kaua’s story and stopped him before he could finish his plea. He said, “Of course we will do what we can for someone as brave as your son. Sometimes the hardest battle for warriors such as us is learning to live in peace. I made an enemy when I didn’t need to. I beg that you forgive me for my decision to turn you away. From this day forward The Mission will be open to all who need sanctuary or healing. This will be a place of peace for us all.”

And so it has been since that day. Kaua’s son was saved and teaches those interested in learning the way of the warrior near Pu’u. The descendants of the cruise ship survivors have come back and all are now welcome as the great chief promised. I spend my days telling our stories and teaching the lessons of our history, ensuring that we never forget the power of peace and cooperation.

Bruddah Lee
Kanaka Historian

I Don’t Want My Son Spending Valentine’s Day On Your Ship!

When Maleko told me that he wanted to enroll in your Love and Literacy program, I thought it was odd but that it couldn’t hurt. I was obviously wrong. I had no idea the kind of nonsense that you would be filling his head with. It seems like you people need a reality check. The world has order and rules again, it has to in order to make everything work. Love is fine but it doesn’t protect you on the road and it doesn’t make the water drinkable. Love doesn’t conquer all!

I knew something was different after his first week of classes. Maleko has always been a sullen boy, and I noticed a certain sparkle in his eye that had been previously reserved for lava sledding. My suspicions were confirmed we he started talking about a girl in his class called Nui. It was nothing but Nui this and Nui that around here. He told me that her parents grew breadfruit, and that she was a great story teller. I should have known something was wrong by the way he acted when I suggested that she come up to Pu’u for a visit. I missed it, but I blame you for creating an environment that fosters such nonsense.

His father and I laughed about his puppy love, and joked about how many marriages must come from your school. Reading nothing but romance novels on an old cruise ship filled with teenagers and young adults…it’s just like the people in that old movie, you’re just missing the iceberg. When he started insisting on ironing his clothes I knew things were getting serious. He had been spending so much time at your school and with Nui that we thought we’d surprise him by showing up to his morning class. We were the ones who got a surprise.

I didn’t really understand what I was seeing at first. There was my darling boy sitting on someone’s lap like a ventriloquist dummy. We walked around to face him and get a better look at who this person was and why he was sitting like that. When I realized that it was a hulking Kānaka girl my jaw dropped. It suddenly all made sense to me, but I didn’t want to believe it. This was Nui.

We all stared in silence for a few seconds before Maleko kicked his legs and yelled, “Put me down!” They both began to ramble and explain, but I couldn’t hear them right away. Nui was at least 2 feet taller than him and probably double his weight. All I could imagine was where we’d get a dress to fit, how the wedding pictures would look, and what his grandmother would say.

When I could comprehend words again, Maleko was in the middle of explaining that Nui’s parents weren’t exactly thrilled with the idea of him either, but they understood that the heart wants what it wants. The “teacher” said something about how the power of love can overcome all obstacles and how inspirational their story was. I can’t believe you teach such rubbish!

It didn’t get any better. My innocent son informed me that the two were already engaged and that they were planning on having a Kānaka binding ceremony, whatever that is, on Valentine’s Day! Worse still, the school was sponsoring the event and letting them both stay overnight on the ship for their honeymoon.

Who do you people think you are? Nobody informed me of anything, and I’m the mother of one of these misguided kids. Your staff has been anything but helpful up to this point and my husband seems resigned to the idea that we’ll soon have a new daughter-in-law. But I don’t see how this comes out happy in the end. That’s all I want. I’m sure they think they’re in love, but is love really enough to make it through this world? Please, don’t let my son spend Valentine’s Day on your ship!

Iolana Mahelona

How We Can Make Our Love and Literacy Program Better

35 years ago our parents began a dream vacation together. The opportunity to cruise the Hawaiian islands with other romance novelists was a dream come true for my mother. According to my dad she was bouncing off the walls weeks before the trip, and had her head buried in her notebook the first couple days of the cruise. As we all know things didn’t go as planned.

Tough decisions were made that day, and they had to be made fast. As the world crumbled around them, our parents and the surviving crew decided to keep cruising, and try to ignore what was happening outside the ship. That lasted for a while, but reality eventually started to beat out romance. My mom said that civility and the midnight buffet were among the first casualties. They put off the inevitable for almost 6 months, but then the fuel ran out and so did the dream.

They were a resilient lot however, and soon their talents as wordsmiths was put to use. Fate and circumstance had left them the greatest collection of living authors in the world. Their love of language was apparent to the survivors on the island, and soon they had made agreements with many different factions. Slowly, they courted the various Kānaka groups until a lasting bond through literature was formed, and at night they would go up the hill and teach the Thrivers reading and romance.

With my mom at the helm, the “Love, Life, and Literacy” program was born to our very excited parents. They raised it to be the most comprehensive post-apocalypse college of arts and letters available (as far we know). Their love affair with words turned their fantasy to reality, and they passed it on to us. It is our job to keep the school and relationships on the island fresh and exciting. For the most part, I think we’ve done a good job. Nonetheless, there have been a few indiscretions that I feel need to be addressed honestly and out in the open.

There has always been talk of expanding the curriculum to cover topics other than literature and the human condition. Science and math have always been the most popular suggestions, but recently history has been batted around, (because of the “doomed to repeat it” trope I suppose).
To all those who are pushing for expanded classes I have only one thing to say, NO!

Pursuing science and math is what got us here. Love didn’t poison the land and water. Romance didn’t cause the collapse of civilization. Billions of lives weren’t lost because of an excess of tenderness. It was an overzealous need to understand the world before we truly understood ourselves that was almost our downfall. When my mother first began this journey you couldn’t even trade a well-crafted romance novel for a salted fish. You can get a good meal in some places for a mediocre poem now. That is the kind of progress that we need to focus on.

Speaking of focus it has come to my attention that many of you have been selling books personally, and not in conjunction with our store. I know that the practice has been going on for a long time and I generally turn a blind eye. Two recent events make that practice impossible now. First, according to our inventory fantasy and thriller novels are outselling romance by almost 3:1. That is unacceptable. Catering to the Kānaka’s baser instincts with tales of violence and explosions instead of cultivating more mature emotions goes against everything we are working for. No more selling tales of swords and sorcerers on the side. Don’t make me go medieval on you! Second, and most disturbing it has come to my attention that someone who shall remain nameless has been passing off two classics as his own. Plagiarism is a vile practice and the next time I ask a student who wrote “Treasure Island” I better hear Robert Louis Stevenson.

Lastly, we come to what might be the most troubling issue facing us. It is important that the education we provide is of a quality that we can be proud of, and that means standards. From the very beginning my mother’s seminal work, “Aloha! Mark Aloha! Love” has been the cornerstone of our curriculum. According to our syllabus it is the novel that our capstone class, “Understanding Love” is based on. Imagine my surprise when I learned that Alexis Green was trying to use her mother’s novel, “Love Lahaina Style” to teach the class. With its run-on sentences and sloppy metaphors it’s no wonder that it’s left some students tired and confused. LLS is a perfectly reasonable starter book for our remedial classes, but falls flat when compared to the symphony of seduction that is “Aloha! Mark”. Let’s respect the high bar we’ve set for ourselves and the education we provide. We owe it to our parents and our students.

Teaser for “Aloha! Mark Aloha! Love” A post-apocalyptic romance novel

Front street was dangerous in the light of day, but it could be downright deadly in the dark. Mary knew she shouldn’t be there, but she couldn’t get the memories of that night out of her mind. It was just a few weeks after the Veils shattered and all the chaos started. She had been one of the lucky few who had made it. Mary and a group of bedraggled survivors had been living on a cruise ship that had been transformed from a giant pleasure craft, to their best hope for survival. They still had a good store of canned foods and even had some success fishing, but stopping at the occasional port to scavenge for food was a necessity. She couldn’t have dreamed how much her decision to go out and look for supplies that day would change her life.

It’s easy to lose track of time when you find a good stash, and it takes discipline to not chase that next can of food that may be buried just feet away. Mary had a lot of good qualities but discipline was not one. Before she knew it, dusk was closing in and she was still over a mile from the boat. Maybe it was carelessness brought on by her rushing to get back or maybe it was fate that made her not notice the first dog. Suddenly, she found herself surrounded by a pack of the snarling beasts. Even though they were half-starved she knew they were more than a match for her. The shock of her situation froze her in place. The end was here. She closed her eyes and waited for it to happen, and then she heard a car horn.

The dogs scattered as the black sedan rolled up to her. A rear door opened and she could hear music playing from within. She cautiously walked up and peeked inside. The car was immaculately detailed, standing in stark contrast to the rubble and ruin around it. A dark haired man sat in the driver’s seat. He asked, “Do you need a ride?” without turning around. “Yes” she answered as she got inside. “I’m going to the……” “I know where you’re going,” he answered before she could tell him her destination.

“You should be more careful on Front street. It’s not as safe as it used to be,” he said. She didn’t know what to say. There was something about him. The way his car smelled like peppermint candy and danger, it made her feel safe and exhilarated at the same time. The way he seemed unaffected by everything that had happened stirred something deep inside her that she hadn’t felt before. He told stories and talked about different buildings as they drove past. “You sure know a lot about everything, were you some sort of child prodigy?” she teased. “I don’t have the sharpest mind but parts of me are genius,” he joked back. Mary could feel her ears turn red at his bluntness.

Suddenly, they were stopped, and the cruise ship sat hulking in the harbor in front of them. “I usually get paid up front but I made an exception for you,” he said as he turned around. For the first time Mary got a good look at his face, and she liked what she saw. She could feel his gaze penetrating deep inside her. His half-smile let her know that he saw everything. His confidence was overwhelming. She felt like a volcano ready to explode and spill her lava all over him. “All I have is some canned food, but maybe we could come to some sort of agreement. We’ve been cruising for a while now and have seen a lot of the island. Maybe I could give you some information or teach you something.” She pushed her hair back behind her ear and looked up at him. “Maybe you could teach me something.”

She sat silently as he climbed into the back of the car. She straddled his lap and kissed him deep, tasting his peppermint flavored lips. His hands crept slowly down her back like a child sneaking down the stairs to get a look at Santa on Christmas eve. She had never felt such a yearning for someone before. It was as excruciating as it was exquisite. She couldn’t help but contemplate their future as their bodies slowly moved together.

The world needed to be rebuilt. It needed strong people who weren’t afraid to live and love. She imagined where they would stay on Front street. She pictured them building a car seat out of debris they found along the beach, and working together to make a better life. She yearned for him to plant his grain in her fertile fields. Mercifully, her mind finally succumbed to the pleasure this stranger was so expertly coaxing from her body, and melted into him like one of his candies in his mouth.

“Are you seeing anyone? I mean, I don’t even know your name,” she said at they sat exhausted and content. “I see everything since the accident. My name is Mark. I think it’s time for you to get back on your boat, Mary.” he answered, as he climbed back into the driver’s seat. The shock of his sudden coldness hit her so hard that she didn’t even wonder how he knew her name. “Did I say something wrong? I….I…I’m sorry. I’ve just never felt like this before. I hardly know you, but can’t you feel this too? I think I love you,” she sobbed. He looked at her in the rear view mirror. “It’s not safe to love me Mary. Mark only loves two things: Mark and driving for Hailoha. I’m not someone you can love,” he said as the door opened by itself. He was wrong. Mary got out of the car that night but she left her heart in the backseat.

Love can make you do some regrettable things and Mary was starting to regret her obsession with Mark. It had been 6 months since that memorable night, but she hadn’t managed to go 6 seconds without thinking about him since. This was the 4th time that the boat had been close enough to Front street that she could sneak out at night and look for him. The sun was going to be up in an hour and she knew it would be the 4th time that she’d go back to her cold room with a raging, unfulfilled desire. No matter how hard she tried to quench the fire inside her, it would not be denied.

She was so lost fighting through her emotions again that she didn’t notice the bandits behind her until they spoke. “Look what we got here. Are you from that big boat in the harbor?” one asked through chipped teeth and cracked lips. Before she could answer a bright light appeared from behind her casting her shadow tall over the pair of thugs. She could see the terror in their faces. “Run, It’s him!” yelled her would-be attacker, and the pair ran off. Mary smiled as she turned around and saw a familiar looking car. The rear door opened and the smell of peppermint candy wafted out. “I told you that I’m not safe. We need to talk,” Mark said from inside. As Mary walked towards the car she thought, that’s funny, talking isn’t the first thing on my list.

Staff Captain Henrik’s Log of the MS Joy on 2/17/2051

6:00 am- Fair weather and calm seas. I have reviewed maintenance and inventory reports. The Joy is holding up well despite what we have been through. Food is almost gone. Water reserves are marginal. Fuel is low. Crew spirits continue to wane. I will put out another distress call this afternoon. I find the time before the authors wake pleasing. I miss Cruise Director Amy. She was an effective barrier to their nonsense.

7:00 am- Crew mess was unusually quiet today. We all know that we are most certainly doomed. I wait for someone to suggest that we end the cruise charade. Nobody has in the past 4 months since the accident and they don’t toady. I chew on what must be close to the last of the powdered eggs and wonder how many others might be left. The coffee is tolerable today, hopefully a good sign.

8:00 am- Complete my visual inspection of the ship. Meet with the station heads and make a plan for the day. We need to explore the Southern end of the island for fuel and water. Have had good luck there with the survivors. We need to find a boat that wasn’t so lucky. I believe it’s still too dangerous to dock. It won’t be long now. My least favorite part of the day. Soon I will endure a fresh round of complaints and ideas.

9:30 am- Mary is nothing if not consistent. Today they are upset that the buffets have ended. I maintain my composure as she tells me about how she was forced to eat beverage garnishes as a side dish with last nights meal. I try and imagine what would happen to a sailor who complained to his captain that he didn’t like his meal or that he didn’t appreciate being served a slice of fruit. I don’t blame them entirely. They can’t help it. As romance authors they live in a world that doesn’t resemble the one outside. I remind myself that they got onboard to live a dream and it’s turned into a nightmare. It is our job to help them get through this as well as we can. I noticeably grimace when she complains about the Amazing Dan not having any new card tricks. He remains the only entertainer to survive and stay onboard. Magic is for children and people who delight in being tricked. Nobody is as sick of Dan’s act as Dan.

11:00 am- Dark skies to the West. The wind has begun to pick up as well. The weather has been unpredictable since the fracture. Storms appear from nowhere, strange colored rain and lightning. The currents have shifted as well. We may have to put our trip to the South on hold and find some protection from the wind if it continues to build.

11:45 am– Despite numerous requests, Mary walks into the bridge and says she would, “Like to be put in a situation where she could get some fresh flowers in the next few days.” She says the deck chairs could use some sprucing up too. She continues to talk for the next 10 minutes about how the world will need love to properly heal itself. I stare at the horizon and nod my head at the appropriate times. She asks if we plan on showing a movie tonight or if we’re still rationing electricity. The movies provide much needed respite for the crew and I. I am determined to find more fuel.

1:00 pm- The winds remain but haven’t built and the sky is a dark steel color. The crew and I decided to skip lunch until we reach the next harbor. The weather looks good enough to try a run. Course is plotted and we head out while the authors eat.

1:30 pm- Something is wrong with the water. It is churning and bubbling in spots. Our speed has been reduced to 10 knots. Everyone is worried, but we’re too far into it now. The wind has picked up considerably and there is lightning in the distance. Waves continue to build. I sound the alarm and cut their repast short. I hope I live to hear their complaints this evening.

1:45 pm- Water seems thick, slowing us down considerably. We are at a crawl. Strange colored foam around the ship. We reverse to try and catch the current and put some distance between us and the storm. It is a mistake. The Joy lurches backwards and rises up a wave. I stare at the sky through the bridge window and worry for a moment that we might break in half. We slide down the wave and spin sideways. Everyone is thrown to the floor as the ship tilts. Wind blowing against us and hit broadside by a huge wave. The engines are still in reverse but we’re caught. We rise up as a gigantic swell forms beneath. I tell the bridge crew that it has been an honor to work with them as I watch the cliff-face quickly get closer.

2:15 pm- The storm ends as abruptly as it began. Nothing normal. Damn veil. The Joy’s journey is finally over. She didn’t collide as much as merge with the shore. The bow is crushed, multiple holes in her sides. We end up resting against the cliff, keeping us from tipping over. I do the headcount myself after the crew tells me we only lost one. We will all miss the Amazing Dan in our own way.

4:00 pm- Mary seems determined to explore inland for help. After some discussion with the crew, it is agreed that we will join her and the others. She says, “A cruise ship full of romance authors surviving a global apocalypse and a collision with a cliff is not luck; it’s living proof of the power of love.” I’m convinced now that I’m making the right decision. They have no chance without us.

Henrik Rasmussen
Staff Captain

MS Joy

This is not the cruise experience that I paid for

Dear Cruise Director Amy

My husband and I chose to take a Dutchess author cruise because of your long history of “elegance on the sea” and so we would be “treated like royalty.” Your themed cruises are famous within the romance author circle. What better place to get the creative juices flowing than a romantic trip on the sea. I can’t talk highly enough about our experience for the first few days of our vacation. Then that terrible Tuesday came and the world changed for all of us, but to my surprise the level of service and luxury I experienced on your ship didn’t. For almost three months you’ve kept the team together and most of us safe, happy, and productive. However, this past week has seen some drastic changes that I feel need to get addressed.

When we all met the day after the fracture we agreed to keep the cruise going. We had lost almost all communication with the outside world and what little news we got wasn’t good. You promised that if we all agreed we would keep on cruising “until the propellers fell off”. I’m not delusional. I know that things are probably pretty bad on the mainland. I’ve certainly not seen anything encouraging when we’ve pulled into ports along the way, but we made an agreement that day. We have been living up to our end of that agreement and we need you and your staff to live up to yours.

Let’s start with The Amazing Dan. I appreciate that he was the only entertainer to decide to stay on the boat, I really do. I’ve always been a big fan of magic and illusions, but let’s be honest. Dan was never really amazing. At best he was surprising, and even that has become a stretch after watching the same act over 20 times. I can appreciate how hard it must be for him. All of his doves have died and Mrs. Simpson’s boyfriend threw most of his props overboard when he discovered their affair, but there are plenty of seagulls on the deck every morning and the Simpson’s are no longer a concern. Dan needs inspiration and I need to be at least astounded again.

That brings me to the Simpson’s room. After the pirate attack and their loss, we were told that their suite would be put up for bid. It’s been twelve days Amy and the room is still empty. What are we waiting for? I know that I would love a room upgrade and I suspect I’m not alone. While we’re on the subject of empty promises, the projector in the movie theater is still broken and the casino hours remain limited. I understand that you can’t accept credit cards right now and that the ATMs aren’t working but my husband loves his blackjack. On the first day, we were told that you had over 10 years in the hospitality business. I’m sorry, I don’t see it, and more importantly, I don’t feel it.

While we’re talking about people not doing their job, I understand why the dessert bar was discontinued. I think it was a good idea actually. If you can’t keep something up to standards it’s best to end it. What I can’t wrap my head around is why on Earth you thought it was a good idea to end the midnight buffet. Even after all this time, I know the pantry is still very full, and I often don’t care for the daily entree item at dinner. I know I’m not the only one. I’ve come to count on filling up at the midnight buffet in such instances and removing this option for me is unacceptable. If chef Steve thinks he’s going to get a good tip for preparing merely three meals and a snack, he has another thing coming.

Speaking of things, something needs to be done about the thing in the sun deck pool. I understand why you are hesitant to expend the resources necessary to drain the pool. Feeding whatever it is has become a daily ritual for many of us. I’ve spent many hours myself tossing leftover dinner scraps in the murky water and watching it thrash and swirl as it fed, but it’s getting bigger. This morning I saw part of its greenish flank as it heaved itself out of the pool and took a pelican that was standing along the edge. I’m afraid the ship’s unofficial mascot might now pose a danger to anyone who has had a few too many in order to sit through another hour of Dan’s show.

There’s a lot of work to do but I’m confident you’ll live up to my expectations. I need to feel the love Amy. We’re ready to be pampered again.

Mary and Walt Riggins