Simulation

Posted on Thu Jul 23rd, 2026 @ 6:12pm by Lieutenant JG Sienna Brooks
Edited on on Fri Jul 24th, 2026 @ 6:41pm

945 words; about a 5 minute read

Sienna was nervous over heading to Taurus II. Considering the past history that the Federation had had with them, her mind was turning all sorts of scenerios that could happen. This felt like they were walking into a trap, or to something bad and she could not shake that feeling. She knew if she did not do something she was going to be good to no one.

She decided to run a simulation program, hoping that would help with her anxiety. Sienna knew she had to be one hundred percent on her game if she wanted to be help to anyone. After looking through a few of the computers stored programs she chose one and started it. Everything flickered and then she was somewhere else.

The room was bathed in a low, ambient crimson light—a simulated "ghost mode" meant to mimic the compromised sensory conditions of an enemy facility. The program had been articulately planned for the holodeck simulation.

Sienna Brooks stood frozen in the shadows of an artificial corridor, breathing slow and measured through her nose. She reached up, absently tucking a loose strand of long blond hair behind her ear. Her striking gray eyes, sharp and analytical, scanned the corridor ahead. Infiltration wasn't just a job for Sienna; it was an art form, and in Starfleet Intelligence, if you weren't constantly sharpening your edge, you were as good as caught.

Today’s scenario: exfiltrate a encrypted datapad from a simulated Orion black site without triggering a single physical or digital silent alarm.

She melted out of the darkness, her steps completely soundless against the deck plating. Reaching the heavy blast door, she didn't draw a phaser—she pulled a compact, custom-modified optronic bypass kit from her tactical belt. Her long fingers worked with practiced precision, tracing the wiring sub-channels behind the access panel.

Three seconds to trace the relay. Two seconds to bridge the current.

Click. The door unlatched with a whisper, sliding open just wide enough for her slender frame to slip through.
Inside, two holographic guards patrolled a intersecting crossway. Sienna dropped into a low crouch behind a bank of server stacks. She timed their sweep cycles—a six-second window between the primary guard turning east and the secondary guard checking the security monitor. She moved on second three, darting across the open floor like a phantom, staying well below their visual cones.

She reached the central terminal, slotted her access spike, and pulled the target data in 4.2 seconds. Mission accomplished.
Sienna tapped her wrist tricom, signaling the end of the simulation. The oppressive red glow faded, replaced by the crisp, bright white lights of the Scharnhorst’s holodeck. The simulated corridor dissolved into the black-and-yellow grid.
She leaned against the control console, letting out a long breath as the tactical telemetry popped up on the interface display.

Sienna sat at her desk and analyzed her performance in the simulation: She tapped the interface, pulling up her movement logs to review the run with a critical eye.

Corner Clearance: She had cleared the initial corridor junction half a second slower than her personal best. She’d hesitated slightly on the blind turn, relying too much on her passive tricorder sweep rather than physical spatial awareness. Next time, trust the visual check earlier.

Bypass Execution: While the optronic bypass was clean, her hand placement left her elbow exposed outside the door frame for roughly two seconds. In a real-world scenario with thermal sensors, that slip-up would have flagged an anomaly.

Exfiltration Route: Crossing the open deck on second three worked, but it was risky. She could have routed around the overhead maintenance catwalks instead—it would have added forty seconds to her time, but reduced her exposure risk to absolute zero.

"Precision over speed, Brooks," she murmured to herself, wiping a fine sheen of sweat from her forehead. "Don't get cocky."

She powered down the console and unclipped her gear, letting the adrenaline of the simulation slowly drain away. In some ways this had made her feel better. Though she had made some errors, she felt more grounded and less anxious, but the concern of what they could be headed into and what could happen to the away team was something she couldn't let go of.

For a moment, she wondered if she should talk to someone, maybe the counselor but she shrugged it off. Sienna was certain everyone else in the crew was dealing with the same emotions, she could handle it. What she needed to do was what helped in the past when she was struggling. Focus her mind on something that made her feel happy, that could pull her away from these thoughts, make her feel more grounded and not dwell on what might never come to pass.

Her mind drifted back to Roman and their first date, him taking her to the "sweet spot". A faint smile touched her lips, breaking her usual stoic intelligence officer demeanor. Their first date had been... unexpectedly perfect. For someone who spent her life dissecting motives and reading people for threats, being around Roman felt remarkably effortless. No games, no operational paranoia—just genuine laughter, warm eyes, and a conversation that had made hours feel like minutes.
Sienna pulled her long blond hair back into a loose ponytail, her gray eyes softening as she locked up her training kit. She couldn't remember the last time she’d felt this light after a grueling session in the holodeck. Crossing the threshold out onto the corridor decks of the Scharnhorst, her thoughts stayed firmly on Roman, along with a quiet, eager anticipation for the next time her communicator would chime with his name.

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