Disclaimer: This story is a work of fan fiction based on the concepts and settings inspired by SpaceX and its Mars mission endeavors. All characters, events, and scenarios depicted are entirely fictional and created for entertainment purposes only. The use of real-world entities, such as SpaceX, Elon Musk, or Starbase, is purely for creative inspiration and does not reflect any real events, individuals, or operations associated with these entities. No affiliation with or endorsement by SpaceX, Elon Musk, or any related organizations is implied or intended. The term "Citadel" and other original elements are products of the author's imagination and are not associated with any existing organizations or intellectual properties. This work is shared solely for the enjoyment of fans and readers.
P a r t 5
The Starbase debriefing room slowly emptied. The air was filled with questions, unasked. The soles of my boots scuffed against the polished concrete floor as I shuffled out with the team. My camera felt unusually heavy against my shoulder.
Amina caught my attention, she looked burdened, her lips compressed into a narrow line. Ji-hoon trailed behind her, his usual sparkling wit replaced by empty, hollow eyes. Dr. Patel lingered near the door, her med kit still clutched closely, as if she was preparing for another crisis to erupt at any moment.
Outside, the Starbase compound was a maze of white hangers, warehouses, and towering rocket scaffolds reflecting the sun. Once the familiarity of the open sky was above me it nearly made it seem like what just happened in the sim was a nightmare that would soon fade away. I had to keep reminding myself what just happened was real. Somewhere in the labyrinth we just exited, a hacker had expertly slipped through SpaceX’s defenses. Someone turned our carefully controlled simulation into a disastrous near-death experience. Sabotage. The word cloaked the entirety of my being like a layer of red dust.
Back in our dorms the team gathered in the common area, a room much larger than our personal pods, with low ceilings and utilitarian furniture. The droning from the air conditioning vents was the only sound for a long while. Our nervous systems were, undoubtedly, still rebalancing and our brains still processing what happened. Nobody wanted to break the silence but Amina finally did, verbalizing what I was thinking.
“This wasn’t just a glitch or freak accident,” she said, in almost a whisper. “Elon said it himself. Someone made this happen.”
Ji-hoon snorted, slumping into a chair. “Yeah, and they nearly turned us into popsicles to prove it. Who the hell hacks a harmless Mars sim? China? Russia? Some rogue Musk-hater with a grudge?”
Dr. Patel set her kit down carefully, her calm demeanor was beginning to fray around the edges. “It doesn’t matter who it was. What matters is they got into Colossus. That’s not just a server farm. Colossus is the neural network for the entire mission. The security was supposed to be impenetrable. If whoever the hell did this can breach that, they can breach anything.”
I dropped onto the couch, my mind replaying Elon’s words. Geopolitical factions. Was it a nation, corporation, maybe even disgruntled insiders who saw SpaceX’s Mars mission as a threat? But who would take it this far? To risk lives in a training exercise? My fingers twitched toward my camera, itching to document this moment, to possibly turn the camera on myself and document all the thoughts I was having, but I stopped myself. All I wanted to do was FaceTime Sam back in Brooklyn and spill the beans but the fear of the NDA loomed large. Elon’s warning wasn’t inconsequential. Leaking this could end my shot at Mars. Maybe at this point that would be a good thing?
“Evan,” Amina said, snapping me out of my thoughts. “You got it all recorded, didn’t you? The breach, the collapse—everything?”
I nodded, patting the camera. “Yeah. Every second. But I’m not sure I want to replay all that again just yet.”
Ji-hoon leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. “We should review it. That footage might give us some clues. Even if it’s just a glitch in the sim’s visuals. It might give us a tip about what we’re dealing with.”
Dr. Patel shook her head. “Even if it did, what with it? Hand it over to Torres? To Elon himself? We don’t even know who we can trust right now.”
The room fell silent again. Trust. Trust was the real casualty today. We’d trained as a unit, learned to move as one, but now doubt was creeping in like venom. Were we really dealing with an outside hacker? Or was someone closer at hand? Perhaps someone right here at Starbase. All who’s and the where’s aside, someone was playing a deeply insidious game.
That night, I struggled to drift off to sleep. The dorm’s thin mattress creaked as I tossed, my mind raced relentlessly. The footage called to me, a siren-song that I couldn’t ignore. As the clock struck 2 a.m. I finally conceded. Sliding out of bed, I powered up my laptop. The camera’s memory card clicked into the small slot on the side of the computer and soon the nightmare that took place in yesterday’s sim filled my screen.
The storm’s red haze, Amina’s steadfast demeanor, Ji-hoon’s flickering scanner. It was all there, raw and uncut. I carefully scrubbed the footage, frame-by-traumatic-frame, pausing at the exact moment the tremors started. A crack opened in the simulator’s floor, and the habitat’s breach tore wider. Just then something strange caught my eye.
It was a faint flicker on the edge of the frame, near the control panel Ji-hoon had been working on. I zoomed in, enlarging the image. It wasn’t dust or a glitch. It was a string of code, briefly visible on the panel’s screen before it faded away. Lines of green text, scrolling too fast to read, but one word, ALL CAPS, stood out.
CITADEL
Although the word scrolled on the screen too quickly for the human eye to catch in real-time, I suspect someone had intended us to see it.
I froze. Citadel wasn’t part of the sim’s operating system or SpaceX’s nomenclature. At least, not any we’d been briefed on. My heart pounded as I searched the term in my mission files. Not one hit on Citadel. A quick websearch on my encrypted tablet pulled up only vague references, none tied to SpaceX or Colossus. Whatever Citadel was, it had no business being anywhere near our sim.
I copied the footage to a secure drive and hid it in a nested folder labeled, “B-Roll.” If anyone was watching, they’d think it was just superfluous footage. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d stumbled onto something incredibly dangerous. I suspected it was a small piece of that unbelievably chaotic world Elon had warned us about yesterday during our debrief.
The next morning, training resumed as if the events of yesterday had never happened. Torres was back, the color was back in his face along with a look of grim determination. He barked orders like the previous day’s catastrophe was just another routine drill. The sim was still offline, undergoing “maintenance,” so we were stuck in classroom sessions that were the antithesis of the excitement we experienced yesterday in the sim.
We sat through lectures on Martian geology and emergency triage procedures. Amina sat next to me, dutifully filling her notebook with meticulous diagrams, but I could tell her mind was elsewhere. Ji-hoon doodled absentmindedly, sketching what looked like quantum computer circuit patterns. Dr. Patel remained quiet, her eyes scanning the room as if searching for random clues of the threat.
During a break, I pulled Amina aside in the hallway, away from the security cameras that seemed to watch our every move. “I found something very strange,” I whispered, glancing over my shoulder. “In yesterday’s footage. A word—Citadel. It flashed across the control panel for a millisecond right before the sim went awry.”
Her eyes widened. “Citadel? What does that even mean? Have you told anyone?”
“I have no idea. Not yet. I don’t know who to trust.”
She nodded. “Keep it that way. We must dig deeper. If someone’s targeting Colossus, they’re targeting the mission. We need to find out why.”
Before I could respond, Torres’ voice boomed down the hall making us both jump. “Walsh! Khalid! Break’s over. Move it!”
We exchanged a glance, a silent pact formed between us at that moment. Whatever Citadel was, we were determined to find it. But as we filed back into the classroom, a new thought ate away at me. As dangerous as this was, it seemed like a warning. How much further was the hacker willing to go?
That afternoon, a new directive came from Elon himself, delivered via a terse email to the entire team. All personnel are to report any suspicious activity immediately. Enhanced security protocols are in effect. No unauthorized access to simulators or Colossus systems. Attached was a schedule for one-on-one debriefs with Torres and a cybersecurity team flown in from Hawthorne. My slot was tomorrow morning.
As I read the email, my secure drive burned a metaphorical hole in my pocket. The footage, the word Citadel, the questions piling up. I was in way over my head. I longed for all the wonderful, familiar things from my old life back in New York—working aimlessly on mediocre screenplays, the attention, drinking too much coffee, strolling down to the hotdog cart when the craving struck.
The world I now found myself in felt like a completely different physical incarnation. A dangerously raw and unforgiving one. My first instinct? To find a way to hi-jack up this opportunity, get kicked out, and return to the coziness of my Brooklyn bubble. But I wasn't ready to give up just yet. If I’d learned anything in my last decade it was that change wasn’t comfortable or easy.
One thing was perfectly clear. I must surrender to this change. This Mars mission wasn’t just about surviving the red planet. It was about focusing on the here and now. The mission was about surviving the many nefarious shadows that exist right here on our very own damned and beloved third rock from the sun.
To be continued…
