this is not captain mission writing, he is an imposter. this is captain missing. the mission routine is getting old and frustrating. what was that all about? 
writing reports?
the mission sub program is now inactive, we have it in a containment field. what would it write anyway, whimsical musings, stuff for the bird, lizards and the fish. who really wants to hear about his tiger grass and the surf conditions.
captain missing is much more exciting, has more to say about the world. captain missing has seen it all, been everywhere and knows everything, well almost. 
his reports are creative and written in that kick ass attitude you love, no political correctness, no fucking around here. 
captain missing is a bit like that guy conrad writes about, he's lost up the jungle, gone rouge. only rumours filter back in tribal tales and explorer antidotes in steamy whisky stinking bars in the tropics. 
one particular unverified story was told by a drunken doctor in rangoon. he was banned from a number of pubs and hotels, lived doing backdoor ops in a shed on the outskirts of town. when he was cashed up the doctor visited madame slings opium den for a few days release. it was during such lost week, in a haze of opium and oppressive heat the doctor encountered missing.
'i didn't see him come in, just saw his shape, wrapped up in that big coat, he's big, but tall to, he wears those big boots so it's hard to tell really but when he did stand out he blocked out the window and therefore the natural light. the window was only opened for one hour in the mornings, just to clear the air and smoke away. madame fling is quite particular about light, it's usually always dark inside. i remember him standing up above me, the shape of eternity, and i remember he sat across from me sipping tea on a big mass of cushions. 
he nodded at me, acknowledged my presence and offered to fill my cup. i saw his hand, specifically the rings. one was a moonstone, one was a pentangle, one was an amethyst the other was a chaos star. 
we sipped and he told me he had been in the jungle for two years, living with the voodoo people, a tribe i had never heard about. i listened as he spoke, telling me his strange story but i was also under the influence of opium and slipping in and out of dream states so i cannot be certain if i heard him correctly but this is what i remember.
the captain hitched a ride on a small motor boat. he adopted the identity of a ethno- biologist researching rubber plants for petro chemical company back in australia called mandox. of course the only research he had committed to was the search for the vast halo, a legend amongst psychonuats. the vast halo is a vividly purple small flower that only grows in circles of 12. the story goes only the voodoo tribe know where they grow and how to use them without death or permanent brain damage. the vast halo circle was only known by the shaman of the tribe so accessibility was difficult for mission, it meant infiltration and ordeal. so for almost fifteen months captain missing learnt the initiation of the voodoo shaman. 
the voodoo shaman was called loco, gentle and wise and very patient. his daughter was called agwe and missing and her seemed to connect on many levels but discipline was essential in mastering his apprenticeship, commitment to the mission at any cost. loco took missing under his wing and showed him the arts of voodoo sorcery and power, introduced him to the deities, the plants and systems of magick voodoo culture is imbued with. finally it was time to take the vast halo.
loco led missing through the jungle, it was dense and thick, teeming with hidden life and power. they travelled further than mission had ever gone before, deep into the unknown territory. five days and five nights later they arrived at a cliffs edge. loco led missing towards the edge, pointing down into a sea of mist. 
then he stepped off. 
missing followed. he leapt off and fell.
through the fog nothing was visible, but as he descended he came through to the clear blue skies, and below him a pristine lake. the obscured lake. the water was cold, refreshing, and beautiful. missing laughed with joy, he splashed around and then began to seek out loco. there he was emerging from the water, at the shoreline. missing followed. 
they sat in silence on the white sands until their clothes were dry. shaking sand off they began to make a fire, 'we have to await the night and the moon,' loco whispered. 
for a few hours missing enjoyed the peace, resting as he watched the flames jumping, and the moon begin to rise over the mountain. it was  full and the lake was illuminated by its silver light. eventually loco pointed at the surface of the lake. 
it was difficult to see but something was breaking through the water, whatever it was was improbable. missing stood to observe. gradually he saw it was a plant, not one but many. they were waterlilies. massive leaves floating upon the surface and there upon a short stem the purple flower of the vast halo. there were twelve of them.
they swam out, clambering upon the surface of the leaf. it supported both their weights, and offered a stable platform. 
anticipating loco would cut down the flower to ingest mission drew his knife but loco beckoned for him to put it away. he grabbed the stem and began to bend it down, while at the same time opening his mouth towards missing. 
inside the flower was a volume of what looked like water but it was purple, the colour reflected by the plant, 'this is what we drink captain.'
missing took a drink, it was sublime. not foul tasting at all.
loco drunk some while mission bent a flower towards the old shaman.  
then they sat down together upon the leaf. mission noticed all the leaves spread out so as they touched or could be stepped upon. the flowers all grew upwards and out like a three dimensional mandela. 
they were indeed vast and in the moonlight surreal as if from a fairytale story, the stars sparkling with untapped magick and the strange jungle sounds echoed across the dark water translated into a cacophony of living sound, life.
'what happened, what was revealed?' the doctor asked missing who had sunk into a reverie of sorts, his eyelids closed as the opium took hold.
missing smiled wryly.
'everything changed.'

is that it?
the doctor pushed missing for more but the man seemed to be lost in some colourful dream, freed from pain.

'is that it? it's not much of a story, it sounds like the old mission.'
'yes, yes it is.'
the howling plant spirits seared through his body, those obsidian eyes opened as if revealing the alpha and omega, his mind was everywhere, nowhere. it soared through the galaxies, tributaries of consciousness seeking out the dark matter. 
i get mission now, it makes it more interesting. he's an everywhere and nowhere man. 

captain missing filed his reports, captain mission filed his. one wrote their way out, the other in. in the end there was no difference. the destination was the same.