UNSC SPARTAN BRANCH
After Action Report
Filed by: Lieutenant Commander Leonidas-151, Spartan Branch
Date: January 8th, 2539
Location: Camp Curahee, Planet Onyx XF-063, Zeta Doradus IV System
Operation ID: Z67-RETRIEVAL-ALPHA
Subject: Incident Report – Zone 67 / Recovery Attempt: Team X-Ray
Summary:
On January 7th, at approximately 1700 hours, Alpha Company supervisory elements Team Wolf Pack reported the disappearance of Team X-Ray (Trainees: B048, B112, B135, B149, B324) during a combat simulation near the boundary of Zone 67, a designated restricted region on Onyx.
Myself (Leonidas-151) and Captain Kurt Ambrose (Kurt-051) were dispatched immediately to locate and recover the missing Spartan-III candidates. The following outlines the events and outcomes of the operation.
Zone 67 Observation and Contact:
Upon entering Zone 67, visual and environmental indicators confirmed engagement had occurred: UNSC-issue shell casings, disturbed foliage, and a beam impact path inconsistent with known Covenant plasma weaponry.
We tracked a trail to the edge of a canyon basin, where we made first contact with non-Covenant alien constructs—tripedal drone units with spherical sensor clusters and beam-based weapon systems. Five alien containment pods, each containing a member of Team X-Ray, were observed being relocated into a large alien structure integrated with the local terrain.
Attempts to engage resulted in hostilities from multiple drones, confirming autonomous threat assessment and aggressive territorial behavior.
Tactical Assessment:
Small arms fire was largely ineffective. Covenant-based weapons (specifically plasma pistols) displayed partial success in temporarily disabling flight systems via EMP discharge.
The drones utilize beam weaponry of unknown composition, capable of overloading MJOLNIR systems with concentrated fire.
The units respond to "Reclaimer" biometrics with hostility—suggesting a limited or corrupted recognition protocol, if not outright defense conditioning.
Destruction of a single drone required focused, combined force, including physical combat and explosive use.
Pod Analysis (Preliminary):
Recovered five alien pods; assumed containment vessels.
Vital signs of all five trainees within are stable; stasis state confirmed. No apparent signs of injury or distress.
Internal scans show biochemical processes suspended, but not cryogenic. The stasis appears to function via localized time manipulation or cellular arrest, though these are speculative assessments without further testing.
Pod composition is unknown. Exterior resists plasma, ballistic, and cutting tools.
No visible control interface. Interaction triggers no response from the drones—suggesting pods were meant for containment, not processing.
Strategic Recommendation:
Zone 67 is to be sealed indefinitely. No further trainee or personnel access until security and construct behavior are better understood.
The alien constructs have made no attempt to leave Zone 67. Containment assumed to be stable, for now.
Alien pods are transferred to Camp Curahee Research Division under armed guard and observational quarantine. Dr. Halsey will lead the initial analysis team.
Recommend assignment of ONI xenotechnologists and additional AI oversight to pod analysis.
Recommend psychological monitoring of all Alpha Company personnel, especially those aware of the incident.
Team X-Ray is to be listed as MIA – Contained, pending further breakthroughs on pod containment reversal or communication.
Conclusion:
The recovery of the trainees was successful, but the incident has exposed a previously unknown alien threat unrelated to the Covenant. Zone 67 may be a site of significant strategic or scientific value, but currently poses too high a risk for UNSC exploration.
We entered Zone 67 for five Spartans. We came back with five sealed enigmas. As of now, we don't know what we've touched—or what's watching us touch it.
End of Report.
/s/
Leonidas-151
Lt. Commander
UNSC Spartan Branch
__________________
May 21st, 2547
Sydney, Australia, Earth, Sol System
POV – News Station Host: Diana Ferrell
The newsroom is a sea of voices and motion—camera crews repositioning rigs, producers barking time checks, the hum of monitors feeding a dozen real-time broadcasts from across the globe. I can feel the tension building like static in the air. This isn't just a standard war update, or a morale fluff piece. Not today.
I adjust the collar of my slate-gray blazer, glancing at the reflection in the polished black paneling of the news desk. My hair's fine, makeup holding. I've done this a thousand times—but this isn't like any of those other times. This bulletin came straight from UNSC High Command. Not ONI, but the Admiralty itself.
That alone is enough to twist my stomach into knots.
"Going live in ten," the floor director shouts, fingers raised high for the countdown. I glance toward the teleprompter as the script flickers to life—pre-approved word for word. No room for improvisation. Not today.
The camera's red light clicks on. Five fingers up.
Five seconds.
I inhale slowly. This will change everything.
Four.
The din of the room dims as the crew goes still, watching.
Three.
My heart rate climbs—not from fear, but gravity. Like the whole galaxy just shifted weight onto my shoulders.
Two.
The studio lights flash, framing me in sterile brilliance.
One.
"Good evening, Sydney," I say with a poised calm, my posture composed, hands folded neatly atop the news desk. I let the silence linger for a second. Just enough to settle the room—and the audience watching from bunkers, homes, orbiting stations, and scattered colonies.
"This evening's announcement comes to us directly from the heart of UNSC High Command—here in Sydney, Earth." My tone is even, clipped, touched with just the right amount of solemnity. Not excitement. Not dread. Something between. Like delivering a verdict.
"The ongoing Human-Covenant War has taken its toll, but tonight we bring news not of another fallen colony, not of another glassed world…" A pause. Just long enough for the viewers to hold their breath.
"But of hope."
A subtle shift in my posture—chin slightly raised, eyes fixed into the lens like I'm speaking to each citizen personally.
"After years of classified operations and silent victories in the darkest corners of this war, the UNSC Spartan Branch has finally authorized the release of major developments. The Spartans—once a whisper, a rumor, a symbol, proven real– years ago. And they have delivered devastating blows to the Covenant war machine."
I pause to let that land. Because for many, this is confirmation of what they've only heard through static-filled comms or dying words.
"For decades, Spartan selection has been a closed and restricted process. Selecting candidates through a rigorous process. But as of today, that changes."
A subtle flare of intensity slips into my voice.
"The UNSC is officially announcing the opening of Spartan Branch enlistment. Volunteers—yes, volunteers—are now being accepted for evaluation and potential integration into future Spartan initiatives."
I nod slightly as the camera pushes in, slowly, subtly.
"Where once you had to be chosen, now you may choose. Choose to rise. Choose to fight. Choose to defend humanity."
I hold that look.
I shift the tablet slightly, the text scrolling upward as the final section of the prepared release comes into view. My expression softens—barely—but it's enough to signal the weight of what's about to follow.
"But before you rush to your nearest recruitment office, there are qualifications that must be met," I say, steady and clear. "This is not a call to arms for anyone. This is a call to excellence."
I hold up a hand, subtly—more for effect than necessity. "To be considered for the Spartan Branch, all volunteers must already be serving within a branch of the UNSC military. Colonial militias are not disqualified—but their personnel must first formally enlist in the UNSC before eligibility is evaluated."
I take a breath, a pause letting the gravity of each word sink in.
"From there, all applicants must either be part of the UNSC Special Forces, or meet one of the following exemptions:
A minimum of seven years of service in the UNSC Army, Marine Corps, or Air Force,
Or, in rare instances, an exemplary performance in recruitment—exceeding all physical and tactical aptitude benchmarks, and graduating basic training at the top of their class."
There's no room for interpretation. Only clarity.
"However, this path is not without sacrifice. Retirement will be indefinitely postponed. Those accepted will serve until permanent injury or well beyond the standard retirement age, supported by the enhancements and medical infrastructure provided to Spartan personnel. This is a commitment of body, mind, and spirit."
I lean forward slightly. "Understand—this is not merely enlistment. This is transformation."
The camera slowly zooms out as I continue.
"The Spartan Branch will consist of multiple operational divisions:
Frontline Mjolnir-equipped Spartans,
Covert MSPI-equipped Spartans,
ODST Titan Pilots trained for ground and orbital mech warfare,
UNSC Air Force Pilots specialized in Spartan combat aerospace operations,
And a dedicated Spartan Logistics Division, responsible for strategic support, tactical planning, and coordination—composed of those awaiting ODST Titan Pilot Training or Transformation, or just supporting their fellow Spartans in the field."
My voice lowers just slightly for the final line. Firm. Grounded.
"You will not walk into history. You will build it."
I hold my posture, the studio lights catching just enough in my eyes to make the moment personal.
"This has been Diana Ferrell, Sydney Unified Broadcast Network. Good night… and good luck."