A/N: Now, it's been a long time, hasn't it? I've finally re-read this whole story and though the urge to burn it down and rewrite it from the ground up was nagging me every step of the way, I have convinced myself not to do it because I want to drive the plot forward and this will make for a good reference of how much I've improved in the last five years or so.

First, because it's been so long and because I wasn't all that great at conveying coherent characterization back then, let me re-introduce the cast. The ones with * next to their names are those who fit Halsey's genetic profile for the Spartan-IIs.

Chris-G051, our protagonist, outwardly silent most of the time and inwardly poking fun at just about any life or death situation because he just won't die. If there's gruesome shit about to happen, it'll happen to Chris, he's got the worse luck of any Spartans so far. Though he's skilled at just about everything, he has no leadership skills whatsoever and very little social awareness, but his team is always there to back him up and he has these lost-puppy eyes and adorable clumsiness that also gets random strangers to fight by his side.

*Trevor-G186, the big brother, already one of the oldest members of Orca, he has spent the least time in Cryo-sleep and the most time hanging around marines and crewmen, making him the most socially adjusted member of Team Orca, and the only one to drink and smoke. That mundane aspect is offset by the man being 251 centimeters tall… That's eight foot tree, out of armour. Not the tallest man in history, not even close when you consider all the Spartan-IIs out there, but big enough for his muscle mass to rival that of a jiralhanae, a Brute. Trevor is mostly harmless and as close to a pacifist as you can be when you've been a warrior for as long as you remember, but he's also very protective of his team and will beat you to death with your own skull if you threaten them.

*Iona-G117, if Trevor's the big brother, Iona's the big sister… Or more like president. Orca isn't a democracy, but Iona tries to find a middle ground between its colourful members and no one ever disputes her decision, except Bob, occasionally, but even he never openly challenges G117's authority, not because she's a tactical mastermind, which she is, but because everyone recognizes that Orca needs a leader and the only other candidates for the job are Chris and Fal; the former is as awkward as a newborn kitten and the latter suffers from occasional psychotic breaks. Not much is known about Iona, not even by her team mates, but it has been hinted she comes from a military family and knew about the Spartan program before being enlisted.

*Fal-G317, the daughter of an abusive father and only member of Orca to use a sword. Not just energy swords; Fal alternates between claymores, katanas, gladius and scimitars, her suit is unique as well, being an Hayabusa model, the first privately manufactured powered armour ever produced. Fal is the fastest member of Orca team and second fastest human being, after Kelly-087. Why she chose to wear an Hayabusa armour, which favours strength over speed, remains a mystery to her team mates, but the truth is that Fal likes the look and is fast enough to afford being slowed down a bit. Some think her stupid, being the team's CQB expert and not much of a tactician, but Fal still has the knowledge to argue quantum physics with Stephen Hawkins, perform a heart transplant and fix a Shaw-Fugikawa drive simultaneously… She just thinks all of this is utterly boring. Oh, and she painted her armour pure white, so it will get recolored by the blood of her enemies every mission.

Bob-123… Every member of Orca team is protective of the others, but Bob takes it to an all new level; hacking the bank account of Fal's abusive father and the UNSC requisition order so his team would get access to restricted gear instead of generic MJOLNIR suits and injuring Abejundio so she would not reveal Chris' possible Flood infestation, which is just what we see of him, because there's a lot more of it. Bob is Orca team's Black Operator, the puppeteer that kept them out of harm's way when their leader, too patriotic for her own good, would not question orders. He rarely speaks out directly against Iona, but goes to town when it comes to criticizing the chain of command. When not being a manipulative bastard, Bob is generally quite friendly and will offer some snarky remarks on the weather before mechanically drilling holes through the craniums of every hostiles unlucky enough not to be over the horizon. And that's only because the UNSC won't let him use the Hubble telescope to spot targets.

Abejundio-G225, unlike Fal, is not such a great fighter but knows enough about medicine, physics, engineering and philosophy to temporarily replace a Smart AI, if need be. Her only shortcoming when compared to artificial intelligence is that she needs to sleep. Abby is the anonymous author of hundreds of scientific articles, half a dozen musical plays and the only person to ever convert an obsolete cargo freighter into a functional stealth ship within hours. She spends so much time on her own, reading, writing and theorizing, that she sometimes seems like an outsider to the others. One moment she is quiet, professional and focused, the next she's singing a manga's theme song and hacking into public transport grids to re-organize the pathways and cause everyone on a colony to show up late for work. This instability and her low fighting skills make Orca reluctant to bring her on the line of fire, although she is marginally more reliable that ODSTs or marines.

Army SpecWar Group 3, SPARTAN III Program, Gamma Company, Fifth Platoon, Orca Team, usually shortened as Orca or Team Orca, is a six member fireteam of what was believed to be sub-par Spartan recruits, considered either too mentally unstable or physically inferior to complete training, but they proved to be uniquely adept at working together, facing very little conflict and complementing each other's skills perfectly. Though its individual members were perceived to be unfit for the Headhunters and SpecWar duty, their success rate placed them, as a unit, well above most of Gamma Company. When Section II requested a dedicated team for propaganda and moral boosting purposes, Orca was the only team to fit the bill. They fought on highly mediatised battles, always with extensive support and the best gear available, that is, until the Covenant found Earth, at which point propaganda became rather irrelevant and Orca was requested, as one of the last Spartan team, for so many high-priority assignments HighCom had to hold a lottery to decide where the team would be sent.

Three years after the end of the Human/Covenant war, after much clean up operations and the Spartan IV program was created, all active Spartan IIIs were assimilated into the SIV before a government order forced all SPARTAN units prior to the fourth generation to be disbanded and banned from military service. Orca and all members of Gamma Company were not integrated into the fourth generation because unspecified psychological issues.

888888

The interrogator pulls her pistol and points it at me. In the corridor, two more Spartan-IVs are waiting for us, MA5s locked and loaded. I can see the bullets down all three barrels.

"Sergeant," goes the interrogator, "this is an official ONI assignment, the doctor is suspected of treason and theft of UNSC assets, we cannot allow her to leave this ship."

I turn around slowly, until I'm facing the interrogation cell. Farkas looks ready to shit herself, as does the interrogator. Iona dictates my answer word-for-word, "Until you have an arrest warrant and my client has proper legal representation, this official ONI assignment is, for all intents and purpose, an act of piracy, and I will respond with deadly force to any further attempts at holding us captive."

Then I turn around once again, facing the two IVs still guarding the door. "Don't get me wrong," I add, crossing my arms, "we don't want trouble with the UNSC, but if Farkas is half as smart as she seems and you people turn out to be Innies… I really don't want to see terrorist ships leave slipspace in the middle of major population centers. Tell your bosses to get their heads out of their asses and get the proper documentation, then we can safely turn her in and everyone gets what they want."

They hesitate. I see the interrogator lower her weapon, looking thoughtful although I know full well she's actually listening to instructions being whispered in her ear by the real boss.

One of the two Spartans outside stows his assault rifle, muttering "Fuck this!" as he steps forward, apparently intent to take me on in close combat. His pal tries to stop him, but gets brushed aside as the idiot basically makes my day.

He swings a right hook, going for my armoured face. The strike is fast and precise and I get just enough time to snicker before batting the arm away with an opened hand. In one fluid motion, I spin on the spot so that my back is scraping his chest plate, grab his wrist with my right hand and headbutt him. The next move is not as elaborate; I rear one foot under his center of mass back my left elbow into his guts three times in a split-second and, simultaneously backing away and pulling his arm down, throw him over my shoulder.

While the idiot is airborne, I debate breaking his arm, decide against it and instead twist so he lands face first, at which point my gauntlet-mounted plasma dagger flickers to life and I punch it into the floor right next to the IV's head.

"Chris!" Iona's mad at me, so I get off the Spartan and stand down. Surprisingly, there isn't a single gun aimed at my face right now. MJOLNIR armour changes all the rules, makes physical threats pointless, even more so when the wearer is a brainwashed motherfucker that could not give two shit about death even if he thought he could actually die.

They do call me Zombie.

Nobody does anything for a while, except the guy I just wacked; he sits up, trying to figure out what just happened. The urge to kick him in the face is strong, his helmet being in the perfect spot for it, but I fight it off and focus on keeping the situation together. We've won, we could slaughter everyone on board right now and all parties involved know that, except maybe the guy on the floor, but victory isn't always so simple.

What happens when the UNSC finds out about this? Because even Abby can't sweep a whole frigate under the rug… That's why I'm not just powering through these toy soldiers and why they're not opening fire at me. Iona, EVA and Abby are talking things through on the 'pylae, leaving me silent and motionless, same as everyone else, while we wait for something to happen.

We're all surprised when Bob uncloaks, sitting on the table with a chatter in his hand. He doesn't have his helmet on, so we all see him smile at the interrogator as he hands her the communication device as casually as if they were passing a joint. "Oi, someone wants to talk to you."

It all happens quickly; her shoulder slump as she holds the chatter to her helmet. Whoever's talking to her is both displeased and high-ranked, a dangerous combination… Seriously, how many time have you heard those three words? A dangerous combination. Look, after a thirty years' war, the insurrections and the UNSC's martial law, if something's not dangerous, then it's dead.

The interrogator says two words, "Yes, sir…" and we're being led back to the 'pylae in a hurry, as though the doctor's about to explode or something. I try to apologise for being a bit of an asshole back there, but they slam the freighter's hatch behind me and run out of the hangar.

Alone in the airlock with Bob and Farkas, I turn to the former and explode, "What the fuck was that!?" Farkas stands between us, hyperventilating with both hands on her knees… Then Abby takes us to slipspace and the doc gets thrown against the ramp.

"Called in a few favours." Is all he tells me, leaning down to help the doc back to her feet.

Before I can question him further, Iona unlocks the inner hatch, just as clueless as I am, and asks the same question I just did, only with more class.

"Look," he says, raising his hands defensively, "they called me, 'kay? Army intelligence, HighCom, the bloody pope, I don't know who it was."

Iona and I trade a glance and she does the questioning from now on, "Called you? When?" We stay in the airlock, because Iona's standing in the way, looking angry, and I'm not going close to her when she's angry, it's unhealthy.

"After Astral. Classified ops, outside the regular UNSC hierarchy, too sensitive for Headhunters… Can't go into details, you know the drill." Bob's got that face he gets when playing poker and killing people; halfway between friendly and bored.

"So…" I clear my throat, realizing something, "There were no girlfriends? All these weekends, you were actually going on covert operations?" Iona fixes me with a glare. I never told her about Bob sneaking away from time to time because I did the same on occasion, to hit the nearest town, meet some people, gather intel on civilian life, have fun. Nothing wrong with it, is there?

He just shrugs, "Sorry, mate, I can neither confirm nor deny that…"

You know what scares me? He always went out dressed in civilian clothes, not in his armour. Whatever he was doing on these ops didn't involve killing covies, but it did require him to blend in a crowd.

We're Spartans, we don't let feelings get in the way, but Iona's obviously displeased at this revelation. Still, she steps out of the way, unreadable in her armour. Usually I can pick up little signs that tell me what my teammates are thinking, but Iona's not showing anything. She leaves the cargo hold without a word.

Farkas shuffles off as well, leaving me alone with Bob. His smile melts away when I pull off my helmet. "What?" He asks, as if it were ambiguous.

"Why didn't you tell us? Don't give me that classified crap, there's…" How to put that? "We don't hide anything from other Orcas! That's how it's always been!"

He shakes his head, "Nah-nanah! Don't feed me your bullocks about being part of a team and working together, mate, you more than anyone know sometimes you need to keep the others in the dark sometimes, for their sake, so piss off! I wasn't given a choice, a'right? Wouldn't have done any good for you to worry about me all the time."

Bob's been my friend for as long as I can remember, if he says he did what he thought best for everyone, then that's precisely what he did and to question him further would do nothing but strain our relationship. "I trust you." I finally say, with a short nod, "And the others will come around, but I've got to ask…"

He knows what I'm thinking and smiles, "That was a one-time deal, there's no guarantee my buddy's gonna help us out next time, so don't count on that."

Would have been nice to have some form of insurance… Hell, we don't even know if Bob's contact had enough weight to get ONI to back down for good or if they'll come back later. "Oh well," I step through the hatch and he follows me, "what are we eating tonight?"

"What? I dunno, who's cooking?"

He steps on the right elevator, the one that leads directly to the dormitories, but I shove him off, pointing to the other lift. "You are."

"What? Since when?" He looks at the elevator, then back at me. Bob hates cooking.

"Since five minutes ago, you know, when Iona found out I'd been covering up for you?" His wide eyed confusion is delicious to behold…

"Nuh-uh, I cooked yesterday, you can't make me do it twice in a row…"

"Bob," my voice is calm, my tone even, "if you don't get your ass in that kitchen and at the very least fix a sandwich for everyone, I will slap you like an abusive husband."

Resigned, he walks over to the left lift. "I want a divorce…" He mutters, quite audible to my augmented ears.

"Bitch, if you leave me I'll keep the kids and the house and you'll be out in the street with your stupid dog."

He snickers a bit at that, the two elevators rising simultaneously as he thinks about a comeback. "You've changed, Chris," He eventually calls, "What happened to the man I married, who would bring me high powered rifles and expensive scopes?"

As much as I'd like to have an in-character reply for that, my knowledge of abusive relationships doesn't go that far, so I just tell him to get his ass in the kitchen ASAP and not forget my beer.

The last thing I see of him before he climbs into Hydro is his gloved hand flipping me the bird.