Leisuretreason

Posted on Tue Dec 30th, 2025 @ 10:46am by Ensign Kevin Mitchell

756 words; about a 4 minute read

Mission: Shore Leave on Risa
Location: Risian Beach
Timeline: While Kate and Ben are in their Quarters

Kevin Mitchell observed Kate and Ben disappearing into their hotel suite from his vantage point across the resort grounds. His PADD displayed their biometric signatures as he traversed the shoreline, the coarse sand shifting beneath his regulation-issue boots. Twin moons cast an eerie orange-blue luminescence across the bay where civilian swimmers provided convenient background activity for his surveillance operation.

A woman in tactical-grade evening attire positioned herself adjacent to his location. Mitchell transferred the encrypted PADD to her with practiced efficiency.

"Protocol dictates acknowledgment," the operative stated, her auburn hair partially concealing a subdermal communications implant as she adjusted her seating to optimize their coverage radius. Mitchell maintained his cover expression while executing a negative gesture.

"Operational parameters require minimal visibility. Washington personnel are present throughout the facility. Detection would compromise the mission."

The operative extracted a Horgan artifact—standard misdirection equipment—before executing the predetermined intimacy protocol, establishing physical contact across his lower extremities. Mitchell's discomfort remained evident despite recognizing the tactical necessity of their cover.

"Has the primary target indicated awareness? Has she detected Section-31 surveillance operations?"

"Negative. I've been excluded from her confidential interactions," Mitchell confirmed.

"Your failure to maintain proximity was a critical tactical error," the operative assessed while simulating romantic engagement. "Your position should be within that suite instead of observing while she interfaces with another intelligence asset."

"Target autonomy supersedes personal preference in field operations," Mitchell countered. "Intelligence transfer complete. Disengage and proceed to extraction."

"Alternative recreational activities could enhance our cover..." she proposed.

Mitchell executed a defensive maneuver against the operative, whose expression registered genuine surprise at this deviation from expected behavioral patterns. Her physical attributes suggested she rarely encountered resistance to her infiltration techniques—a vulnerability in her operational profile that Mitchell noted for subsequent mission reports.

The redheaded woman leaned forward over Kevin as far as she could without falling face first in the sand, her voice dropping to a pitch that wouldn't carry beyond the windswept dunes. "We need to secure her loyalty. Her dossier suggests she's drifting toward legitimate channels. Too valuable to lose to the daylight side of operations." She straightened, adjusting the microtransmitter disguised as tie around her string bikini on her hip. "Instead of leveraging her considerable talents against our adversaries, she's compromised by a romantic entanglement with a subordinate and accepting assignments that leave paper trails. Give her two options: recruitment, or full accountability for the Section-31 vessel that went dark in the Neutral Zone. I had personal connections to that captain."

Kevin's laughter cut through the night air like broken glass as he slumped back in the beach chair. The cold ocean wind whipped his blond hair across his face, silver in the moonlight. The distant crash of waves punctuated his fury.

"Stacy, she's my goddamn boss!" he snarled, knuckles whitening as he gripped the chair arms. "I serve on a ship with a Captain who'd space me without a second thought if he discovered I was working for you. I can't force Kate to 'come over to the dark side' with some ultimatum. I'd rot in the brig because—you know what? You're right about her. Kate's a straight shooter. No, she's more than that. She's a fucking girl scout with a moral compass that doesn't bend for anyone. If you want her so badly, you get her yourself. Now take your stolen intelligence reports, crawl back to your boss, and get the hell off my beach before I do something we'll both regret."

Stacy laughed and pulled her string bikini off, dropping her top to the beach as well.

“Oh do yo see anything you regret yet?”

Kevin's face hardened as he snatched the triangular scrap of fabric from the sand and thrust it against her bare torso with calculated force. His finger found the concealed transmitter, activating it with a decisive tap. Her eyes widened in horrified comprehension—in mere seconds, the molecular deconstruction would begin, and she'd rematerialize aboard the Section-31 vessel hovering in Risa's orbit. The mental image of her Operations Team's expressions as their commanding officer appeared before them in her birthday suit brought an irrepressible smirk to Kevin's face. Revenge, it seemed, was a dish best served without clothing.

Kevin's lips barely parted as he muttered, "Christ, I'd kill for a mojito right now," his eyes fixed on the thatched roof of the beachfront cantina as it’s metallic roof reflected the twin-Risian-moons down the shoreline. His information drop was done and that was his job. Now, he could relax and enjoy Risa.

 

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