0800 hours, January 2nd, 2543 (UNSC military calendar)
Camp Currahee, Onyx, Zeta Doradus system

When John got off the Pelican, he was immediately greeted by the sight of over three hundred teenagers in dress uniform standing at attention. The Spartan Threes that he had been sent to train. The young men and women of the Spartan Three Program saluted their new trainers and stood in perfect evenly ordered rows on either side of the approach. It was an excellent display of military precision, and John immediately approved of it. These children definitely had potential.

Behind John, the wounded and crippled Spartan Twos moved down the Pelican's ramp, taking in the sights Onyx had to offer. The great forests, and the blackened mountains the world had been named after. The body language of the Spartans spoke volumes. They were the closest thing to elated that a Spartan could get. There was a future to the Spartan Program, and they could now help to shape it. Even in wheelchairs or forced to use crutches, the skills possessed by the Spartans would be of great use to the UNSC. The unwounded Spartans helped their wounded comrades down the ramp.

John glanced at the second Pelican, carrying the Spartan Twos that could no longer walk. He saw Linda using her neural interface to control the wheelchair she was sitting in. The most excellent human sniper alive may have suffered grievous wounds, but her mind was as sharp as ever. There were multiple other wheelchairs each with a Spartan, and a gurney carrying Fred, whose eyes hadn't fully regrown yet.

They may have been wounded. But there were still ways they could serve the UNSC. By putting their finely honed minds to work training the new Spartans.

The final ship to land wasn't a Pelican but was instead an Asari dropship. From it stepped Samara, as well as an Asari medical team pushing a large neutral buoyancy tank that contained Kelly. They had been sworn to secrecy, as they were the only ones who knew the procedure needed to revive the Spartan. Kirrahe and Zaeed stepped off next, who were having a heated argument over the ethics of converting ethanol into drinking alcohol. Sergeant Johnson suddenly jumped in between the two and began to loudly berate the two about the proper marine method of preparing moonshine.

"I felt the same when I first arrived." John head Kurt say from behind him. "When Alpha Company was ready to set out. I had never been so proud of anything, as that day."

Kurt's Spartan body language was profoundly off. Something was profoundly bothering the man, but John did not want to interfere. Kurt had seen nearly three hundred teenagers sent to their deaths, all of whom he had known and trained. John briefly thought about if that could affect him in the same way. But he doubted it. Kurt had always been unusually social for the Spartan, a weakness that was starting to gnaw at him.

"They have already been trained. But we can turn these" John motioned for the assembled trainees. "Into true Spartans."

"I don't know if I ever wanted you to share this Burden, John," Kurt said. "Having so many, you train and see grow up dying. It gnaws at you." Kurt looked around.

"Master Chief Petty Officer. I never thought I'd see you again." A voice from the past came from behind John. It was Franklin Mendez, the trainer of the Spartan Threes standing there. The man who'd given John enough stun-prodding as a child, that just seeing the man standing there made him feel the old prods. The drill sergeant was built like a substantial chunk of oak and had aged just as well. Seeing him was a welcome reminder of John's training on Reach. Of better times.

Mendez saluted John. "Master Chief, Sir. It is good to see you again. I want to get right to business. I need your opinion on a new training schedule. I was thinking about power armor and jetpack training."

John could get used to this. It felt like he was back home on Reach. The only thing missing was Doctor Halsey.

2030 hours, January 7th, 2543 (UNSC military calendar)
Ackerson's Office, Camp Currahee, Onyx, Zeta Doradus system

He had always preferred solid computers. Ackerson leaned into his custom-made chair, sipping from his bottle of Cognac as he worked away at the large suitcase-laptop. He'd refrained from fully transitioning to an Omni-Tool, and instead was happy with the specialized laptop, and the instrumentations and safeties that he'd built into the thing.

The room was dark, but still comfortable. With a soft light that illuminated his office. It was secretive, imposing, and just how he liked to work.

Ackerson typed away at the keyboard of his work-station, working on compiling the latest reports on the training of the Spartan Threes. The Spartan Twos were performing excellently and were quickly growing into their new role. He couldn't help but feel satisfied at the way he had taken Halsey's project and made them his own.

John was proving to be somewhat pliable. And was quickly reorganizing and improving the entire Spartan Three training schedule alongside Kurt. Zaeed, Kirrahe, and Samara were so far doing excellent work in subtly preparing the Spartans for Cerberus operations.

The Washouts were also proving quite useful. The sheer amount of military experience and knowledge that had been collected upon Onyx was surely unsurpassed in human history. He would create the best force of soldiers in human history, and all the while, using Halsey's pets to do so.

There was a soft beep as Ackerson received a message via the Comm Buoy. It was from Illusive his second in command. Ackerson opened the message. It was incredibly heavily encrypted, even for Illusive's usual transmissions. He would need his highest level decryption keys to find out what the message was. He groaned, then grabbed a cable on his station, before reaching for the back of his head and plugging the cable in. There was a brief feeling of nausea as Ackerson connected the implanted Black Box date crystal in his brain to the computer.

"Araqiel." Ackerson commanded, and a flaming demonic skull appeared on a holographic projector on his desk. "Speed up the decryption if you will." Ackerson's personal AI was a secret known only to him, and his most prized possession. He was also a formidable weapon against his opponents.

Araqiel reached into the Black Box implanted in Ackerson's head, using the quantum-computing based encryption keys inside. The Skull flickered as it processed the request. Araqiel spoke with an evil grating voice "Yes, Colonel. This will take but a- Correction, this will take longer than usual." The demonic voice lessened, changing to one of concern. "Illusive has been compromised. He is laying low until he manages to shake off pursuers. He claims other Cerberus operatives have been compromised. All agents inserted into Beta-Five."

"Who is pursuing him?" Ackerson asked, a note of worry in his voice. He had never known Illusive to be this concerned, or this endangered. Whatever was going on, it sent a dark chill down his spine. "How bad is the damage. Have we been discovered?"

"We have not. Our agents took their cyanide tablets upon being discovered." Araqiel flickered out of existence for five seconds, then returned. "He doesn't know what is pursuing him. He is heading to Eden Prime to hide out." There was another pause. "I decrypted the message. It appears to be medical data." Araqiel stopped, the demonic skull's fires dimming, and his voice losing the distortion. "I… I am so sorry, Ackerson. I… Just look."

The message appeared on the screen. Ackerson's eyes went wide in horror.

"NO!" Ackerson wailed.

Half hour later, Ackerson was still recovering from the revelation, when the door slid open, revealing a Spartan on the other side who stepped inside, giving Ackerson a curt salute.

Ackerson stood up, drying off the tears, and to make himself presentable. There was little time. He had to move quickly. "Spartan. You're just in time. Get the Master Chief. We need to-" Ackerson noted the lack of markings on the Spartan's armor.

There was a blast of static as all wireless connections out of the room were instantly cut. Cameras shut down, while listening devices shorted out. Araqiel shut down at the electronic warfare.

The Spartan aimed a Hard Sound Pistol at him. Ackerson felt a sickening and nauseating headache as the highly focused sound waves burst blood vessels in his brain. Ackerson collapsed, his head slamming into the desk.

The Spartan walked towards him, stepping over his fallen body, grabbing the back of his head and pulling him up by his hair. The Spartan reached for a pouch on his chest, taking out a small cable with a spike at the end of it. Ackerson tried to yell for help, but the Spartan let go of his hair and put an armoured hand across his mouth, silencing the scream. Ackerson reached for his pistol in vain, but the Spartan merely put a hand around his shoulder and crushed it with his bare hands.

"It won't work." Ackerson spat blood when the Spartan reached for something that Ackerson couldn't see. He couldn't see any serial numbers or identification on the Spartan. "Tell that-" he was muzzled again. The Spartan kept him in a vice-like grip.

Ackerson squirmed and tried to break free, sending out mental command after mental command, ordering Araqiel to go into hard storage. The AI would be transferred via a hidden cable to a secure location. He'd have to hope someone in Cerberus found the hidden data crystal, and that the person in question was the right one. He sent a mental command to his laptop via his neural implant. Cerberus had to be safeguarded. Ackerson ordered a full wipe of his computer. There was a hiss as the station burst into flames.

There was a brief spike of pain as the spiked was jabbed into the back of his skull. Ackerson could hear the drilling inside his own head as the device burrowed towards his neural implants. The data projected onto the inside of Ackerson's irises exploded into static as the device hacked into his interface. Ackerson ordered the Black Box implant that contained his deepest secrets to wipe itself, knowing doing so would quite literally blow up his own head.

Nothing happened. There was no detonation, no darkness as his brain was consumed by the explosive inside the Black Box. Ackerson couldn't command the Black Box. Brain bleeding. Can't think. Can't find the Black Box. Ackerson strained himself, but no command travelled through the slurry that was the part of his brain surrounding the implant.

The Hard Sound gun had cut the connections. He realized, just the drilling stopped. The information his implants displayed on his Iris raced through every file stored on his black box. There was a brief moment of resistance as Ackerson saw the individual encryption of the files was intact, and without Araqiel, they couldn't be opened. He just prayed Illusive could find his way to Onyx.

He felt a brief moment of pent up release when the drilling ended, and the cable was pulled out of his skull. Attached to it was The priceless lump of fake brain-matter that contained the nail-sized Black Box.

The Spartan crouched down in front of Ackerson, looking right at him for what felt like an eternity to Ackerson, even as his brain broke apart in his head. The Spartan grabbed Ackerson by the throat and pulled him right up to his faceplate. There was a horrific crunching noise as his throat and spine were crushed with a single hand.

Ackerson spat on the Spartan's faceplate, and died.