There were celebrations, but none for her.

Voyager returned to the Alpha Quadrant to great fanfare. A war-weary Federation was most grateful to hoist the Voyager high as a trophy not stained by war and blood and death. There were antimatter fireworks and a hero's welcome for the brave captain and the loyal crew come home at last.

Not for her, though.

The Maqui crewmen had been arrested and were still being held pending the disposition of their cases. The Equinox crewmen had a more straightforward case. For two months she'd been confined to the Starfleet Justice Annex, Pre-Trial Division. She'd been separated from the other four Equinox crewmen. She didn't know if they were together or not.

She'd been debriefed and told her story honestly. All the loss they'd seen aboard Equinox, all the suffering and death and humiliation. She'd obeyed the order of her captain and faked out a mutinous first officer. If she hadn't done that, Voyager might have been destroyed.

It wasn't like she hadn't suffered, too. She hadn't slept well for months. At the Justice Annex – a fancy name for a prison – they'd given her tranquilizers. They helped, but only so far.

Today it had all come to an end. Her defense counsel had come to her and told her that a deal had been worked out. She would be allowed to resign from Starfleet, effective immediately. The alternative was a court-martial on countless charges of murder and violations of the Prime Directive. She didn't even know how many; it had scrolled past the display of the PADD and she hadn't bothered to find out. Marla, they'll let you walk if you resign from Starfleet immediately. You'd be a fool not to take this.

She wasn't a fool, and she had signed. Finally, once and for all, she was outcast.

Now what?

She was a good engineer. They said that civilian shipping was starting to get back on its feet. Perhaps she could get a post on a freighter somewhere. God knew she'd done more with less on Equinox. If not here, maybe there was a place for her somewhere out in this wide, wide universe. The Ferengi needed engineers, she'd heard. The idea made her chuckle bitterly. Work for a greedy guy with big ears for the rest of her life. Perhaps the Klingon Empire; there were merchants as well as warriors in the Empire. But on Earth, her name would always be synonomous with disgrace.

Marla Gilmore walked out of the Starfleet Justice Annex, a civilian for the first time in years. She wore plain civilian clothing and carried a plain civilian bag. The buildings of the Academy were not far away, and she turned to look at them sadly. Once, she'd been a fresh-faced cadet, eager to learn and make her stamp on the universe as part of Starfleet. It seemed like centuries ago. Now, they wouldn't even let her in the door.

It would've been easier if all the people around her weren't discussing Voyager and Captain Janeway and how great and wonderful the news was. Even after two months, it was the talk of the planet. She hadn't had the chance to read up on the Dominion War, but she knew it had hit the Federation hard. It was hungry for a hero. Her own battles had left their own scars, too. But she wasn't a hero and never would be.

It was a lot better than it could have been. She knew that. She could have been sent off to a penal colony somewhere. She could have been dishonorably discharged from Starfleet, like the rest of the Equinox crew. Even Janeway's statement to the Board of Inquiry had allowed that she'd been remorseful and had served aboard Voyager honorably. When the security teams had come for the Equinox crew, Janeway had been there. Marla could still remember the captain's face softening a bit as they fastened the manacles. The last words the captain had ever spoken to her echoed in her ears as she left the building.

"Good luck."

Funny thing to wish someone you'd just filed charges on.

Marla squared her shoulders, adjusting the small duffel bag containing the few things she owned, and strode out of the Justice Annex onto the street. She was alone now. Her Starfleet days were behind her. She was Marla Gilmore, murderer of aliens, former demoted ensign, and now a civilian member of society again.

She walked down the steps and walked down to the street corner. The Justice Annex had a recreation yard for its prisoners, and she could see some of them from the street. At least she was free; that was something. Some of her former crewmates were still in there – Maqui crewmen whose service wasn't outweighed by their prior crimes. Even Commander Chakotay was still there. Starfleet might be cheering the Voyager, but some of its crew had to answer for its actions.

Shuffling her feet, Marla continued down the street. There was something nice in being just a member of the crowd again. It was anonymous and quiet. No one glaring at her like they had on Voyager, no harsh whispers behind her back. No one knew the things she'd done on the other side of the galaxy.

There was a crowd up ahead, and Marla walked slowly around it, her past and her uncertain future weighing heavily on her mind. It wasn't until she got closer that she realized the crowd was surrounding the Woman of the Hour, Starfleet's only hero without bloody hands. Captain Kathryn Janeway of the USS Voyager.

The redheaded captain turned to face her, and Marla saw the usual signs she'd seen. The captain's face closed up into a glacial reserve. Now, like before, was a bit of softness she hadn't expected.

"Hello, Marla," Kathryn Janeway said.

"Hello, ma'am," Marla said quietly.

"How did things go?"
Marla shrugged. "I resigned," she said, aware that the captain was allowing her to keep a small shred of dignity by not trumpeting who she was – along with a list of her crimes -- to the crowd.

The captain nodded. "If it means anything, I asked the Board of Inquiry to show leniency in your case," she said. "I wanted them to consider everything you did in the Equinox incident – good and bad."

That was news. Marla had always thought the captain hated her guts, to be honest. She'd never given her reason to think anything else aboard Voyager. There were days she'd thought the stupidest thing she'd ever done was to free Captain Ransom from Burke's mutiny.

"Thank you," Marla said.

"What are you going to do?"

Marla shrugged again. "I don't know," she said, aware she sounded like a forlorn orphan.

The captain sighed. "Well," she said, "we had to do something. You know that."

Marla nodded.

"If I can ever be of help to you, let me know. I have to cut this short; I have to be at the Justice Annex in ten minutes. Commander Chakotay's case is before the board just as yours was."

"All right," Marla breathed. "Good to see you, Captain."

The captain smiled tightly. "Good to see you. Good luck, Marla."

Then she was gone, a crowd following her and pushing Marla away like a sea. For a moment she felt completely alone. Abandoned. Outcast. Captain Janeway would go on to be a hero; all Marla had was a bag and a statement of resignation from Starfleet.

Feeling small and saddened, Marla Gilmore walked down the street for perhaps a hundred meters more. What to do? She had a sister on Earth, but the thought of seeing her sister was, at best, troublesome. There would be a lot of explanations. A lot of memories she didn't want to revisit. Perhaps she would do better to rent a traveler's cubicle – there were plenty in the city – and get a night's sleep. She could figure out what to do with her life in the morning.

There were aircars coming down to disgorge passengers now; she could hear their air cylinders hissing. It wasn't allowed around the Annex – too much risk of people trying to free their imprisoned confederates. She squared her shoulders again and walked along, wondering what to do with herself now.

Something black in front of her made her raise her eyes. A man stood there, calm and smiling. He was average; hard to describe. A handsome face that had no really distinguishing features. His hair was reddish-blond and cut sort of short. His eyes were fiercely blue, but the world was full of blue-eyed men. He stood two meters tall, more or less. His face was open and calm, but his eyes were cool, as unknown thoughts and calculations reeled away in the back of his head.

"Are you Marla Gilmore?" he asked. His voice was just as calm as his mien, and his bright blue eyes took her measure. He seemed official, even though he had no uniform. His clothing was neat, nondescript, and civilian, much like her own.

"Yes," she husked. "Why?"

"Do it," he barked, the words clipped and professional and addressed to someone other than her. It reminded her of Janeway for some reason. Then, suddenly, there were arms grasping hers. The bag was wrenched away from her. She felt people behind her, pressing her forward and to the left, where a cargo airvan waited. Its cargo bay hung open like a hungry maw.

"Hey!" Marla said. "What the hell--,"

The inexorable arms propelled her forward, far stronger than she. A hand clamped itself over her mouth. What the hell was going on? Who the hell were these people? What did they want with her? The man stepped aside so that those behind her could force her into the cargo bay of the airvan.

All this had come out of nowhere. Thirty seconds ago she'd been bemoaning her fate and wondering where she was going to go now. Now she was struggling for her life. Yet she couldn't budge her tormentors; all her pulling didn't get her so much as a centimeter either way.

Adrenalin poured itself into her veins. She wrenched right and left, then tried to go forward. But the cargo bay doors were already closing. The bay itself smelled like oil and ozone. It wasn't a good smell and she flinched.

The man removed a hypospray from his belt and pressed it to her defenseless neck. Gilmore twisted one last time, knowing it was useless already. She could see Captain Janeway barely a hundred meters away. She couldn't tell if the captain had seen her. She stared imploringly forward, hoping beyond hope that her eyes could transmit her plight, that someone would see. Would the captain even care?

Black-clad arms held her. The doors closed and the cargo bay turned black. Then the hypospray blurred her vision for a second, and then everything went black.

The man who had stopped her thirty seconds ago nodded, pleased. The removal had gone exactly according to plan. He liked things when they ran just so. He opened the door leading into the airvan's passenger compartment and gestured. The men behind him fed Marla Gilmore's limp form into the compartment with him. He took a moment to arrange her body on the seat. Pretty girl, he thought.

The driver had already cycled up the engines, and the airvan began to lift itself into the sky. The man reached forward and took a communicator off the console. It was larger than the standard combadge, and necessarily so. No Starfleet facility would be able to track this communicator; its inner workings were a most guarded secret. He flipped it open, the way one did with the old-fashioned communicators. A single chirp emitted from the communicator. No voice greeted him when he did so. It wasn't necessary.

"This is Benning," he said. "Tell Kilbourne that his package has been shipped."