Author's notes:

Well, this one is winding down. It seems a lot of you expressed displeasure with the cliffie ending of the last chapter. Unfortunately, you see, I did not sign the Cliffhanger Non-Proliferation Treaty, so there isn't much that can be done for it.

PG: Glad you liked the suspense. Here's where you see if Marla survives.

Worker72: I'm not planning to add the Founders or the Dominion into this story; Section 31 is our designated bad guys. Perhaps in another story though; if it fits the idea.

JimHawkingJr: Glad you liked the chapter.

MistiWhiteSun: Glad you liked it, even with the cliffie.

JadziaKathryn: Kill you with suspense? If that were true Saavik would be dead long ago (she's followed me from my Hannibal fics.) Glad you like the POV switching; there are a few POV's I've been trying to show, and so that's why we swap now and then. The scenes in the last chapter worked best with Kilbourne's POV, so I stuck with it.

Bren: Glad you liked the cliffhanger. :) Hopefully this chapter will show up when I upload it.

Saavik: You may quote Scotty. As for the cliffie, here is the resolution.

Webster82: Will she or won't she? ;)

Katharina-B: Kill Ayala? Nah. Marla gets to stand up a little for herself; I thought it was a good idea for her. (And you and Saavik seem to be on the same wavelength.) Here is your awaited chapter.

Stoko: Yeah, that was a cliffhanger. Here's more. :)

This isn't how it's supposed to be, Kathryn Janeway thought.

Combat was something she knew all about. She wasn't afraid of combat. She'd even been in battles on a ship before, as well as between ships. She had her phaser rifle, and she was not afraid of fighting.

But this was the first time she had ever fought on a ship that was docked at a Federation space station. Within just a few hundred meters of this ship, people were going about their business. Other ships were being repaired. Quark was making money at his bar. Dr. Bashir was treating people. Yet here was a war zone, barely a heartbeat away.

Ayala had come under fire, but his time in the Maquis had served him well. He had wisely chosen to retreat, which the Maquis didn't like to do. She agreed with his decision; their enemy outgunned any one man. A contingent of security officers were fighting their way down towards him now. Janeway was with them.

The tactical situation wasn't perfect, but tactical situations rarely were. The bridge was in their hands. Section 31 currently held Engineering and the lower decks. Colonel Kira had helpfully dispatched the security forces aboard DS9 to the Grambyo, but they hadn't arrived yet. Besides, with the lower decks in enemy hands, they couldn't enter through the docking pylon. The first attempts had been driven off with heavy fire. Even transporting could be risky; DS9's security personnel had tried to beam into Engineering and failed. She couldn't worry about their fates now; she had her own problems.

She liked commanding from the front lines. Tuvok would've had a hissy fit if he knew, but there was something exhilarating in being right behind her troops. They knew she shared the same risks, and they respected her for it. All the same, it meant she was in the line of fire, so she had to be careful.

They'd lost contact with Gilmore and Seven in the lab. From the bridge, they could tell that someone had raised the lab's forcefields, and set them strong enough to block their combadge signals and prevent transporters from working. That was not good; Janeway would have much preferred to pluck her unarmed crewmen to safety and allow the heavily armed security teams to take their places.

They could only work with what they did know: there was no reason for Section 31 to raise them, therefore it had to be her people. They hadn't come back down, so her crewmen were probably still behind them. If Section 31 had gotten the two, they would have transported them off the ship. They hadn't, so they were probably still on board. Janeway knew the old saying about 'when you assume', but she didn't have anything better to go on.

The ship's Master Situation Display told her that the science lab was just over the warp core. The sound of phaser rifles and whatever sensor readings they could pick up told her that the science lab was currently behind enemy lines. Section 31 had some sort of personnel cloaking technology in addition to ship cloaking technology; the team on the bridge hadn't been able to pick up much of them. B'Elanna was on it; she knew all of the Maquis tricks to fool sensors, and if Section 31's tricks were based on those, she'd find a way around it.

Janeway hoped her engineer succeeded. She could use some help about now. Her own phaser rifle was heavy in her arms as she ducked around a corner, fired, and ducked back before the enemy could return fire. She knew there were officers under her who found humor in the large weapon – usually officers whose last names were the same as French cities – but in a battle situation, having the extra firepower was well worth it.

Tuvok was coordinating the defense of the upper decks; both his own security officers and whatever Deep Space Nine could get on the ship were ensuring that Section 31 could not get men into their territory. He was good at that. Unfortunately, so was Mr. Kilbourne; every Jefferies tube or graviton lift they'd tried had been choked off at one point or another. Section 31 personnel had driven off their attacks.

Decks one and two were under her control, and she could hold those indefinitely. Deck three was currently the battleground. She had to win that battle. Kathryn Janeway wanted to punch through the no-man's-land and get Starfleet officers in a beachhead on Deck Four. She didn't even need to seize all of Deck Three; all she needed was one goddam Jefferies tube. It wasn't lost on her that Kilbourne – or someone he trusted – was lurking below her with a cadre of Section 31agents, trying to get his men onto Deck Two and see what, if any, inroads he could make on her territory. Perhaps she ought to go back to the bridge and try from there; at least she might be able to better make a plan of attack. All the same, she wanted to see this through, and she wanted to get through to her trapped crewmen.

Ayala was roaming Deck Four, evading fire and looking for a way back to safety. There was something maddening in hearing him over the comms. She could hear him, scan him, talk with him...and she couldn't get to him. At any moment, a Section 31 agent could kill him.

She turned and saw Chakotay appearing around a bend. He held a phaser rifle and had a pack on his back. Her brow furrowed; he was supposed to be on the bridge. Still, perhaps he had an idea. Had he ever had to engage in deck-to-deck combat?

"Report," she said.

"I have an idea," he said. "It's not easy, but it might work."

"What is it?" she asked.

He shucked the pack off one arm and showed her its contents: several small cylindrical objects with triggers. They looked homemade and somehow malevolent. Even before he spoke, she knew these devices were meant to kill.

"Photonic grenades," he said. "B'Elanna was able to scramble these up once we got the parts beamed over. We used them in the Maquis sometimes. They're not pretty, but they do the job."

She took a moment to think. It wasn't a nice way of fighting, but sometimes you couldn't fight nice. She had three crewmen behind enemy lines. That wasn't a situation she wanted to be in.

"Do it," she ordered resolutely.

Tension made her hands flex on her rifle as he opened the hatch to the Jefferies tube. She felt her stomach clench as phaser bolts from below struck the walls beside his head. The metal cylinders clattered against the walls, then dropped down a bit. She held her breath for a few seconds, waiting.

She was expecting a loud explosion, her nerves twitching in anticipation. Instead, there were two hoarse coughs: Crump! Crump! They were felt more than heard; the deck shook under her feet. A moment or two more passed, and she bit her lip. There was no return fire.

"It's clear," Chakotay said hurriedly, and began to clamber down the ladder. She followed him, calmly issuing orders for some security officers to follow them and for others to stay behind and guard this one precious point of entry into Section 31's part of the ship.

She scrambled through the tube and stood up, glancing around at her new territory. Deck Four. There was no sign of the agents who had guarded this entry point; the photonic grenade hadn't simply killed them but vaporized them. Only a few scorch marks on the wall indicated they had ever been there. She felt her stomach clench at the thought, but reminded herself it was necessary. More security officers were coming through and she had to get out of their way lest she be bowled over; while she had the rank, they had the advantage of size and weight.

A shadow fell against the wall, and Janeway pointed her phaser rifle at it, her finger curling on the trigger. The figure raised its hands.

"It's me, captain! Ayala."

Janeway paused, just a few iotas of pressure away from firing. "Step forward so we can see you," she said sternly.

The figure stepped out into the hallway, rifle held high. It was Ayala, tall, dark, and professional. She sighed and let the rifle point at the ground.

"What can you tell us, Mr. Ayala?"

The former Maquis let out a breath slowly. "This deck is crawling with them," he said. "Gilmore and Seven are in the science lab. I think one of them raised force fields. There's at least ten of them all clustered around the lab, trying to get the fields down. I can't get too close."

Chakotay held up the bag of grenades. Janeway stopped. She knew what those would do to a large group of people at close range. At this point, it couldn't be helped. Would the science lab's force fields be enough to protect her crewmen? She hoped so.

"All right," she said.

"I did see Gilmore holding this...thing," Ayala said. "I'm not sure what it is."

"A weapon?"

Ayala shrugged. "Funny-looking one, if it is. It was cone-shaped and had a lot of holes. Silvery. I've never seen it before."

Janeway's eyes widened. "That's the--," she began.

A long, keening whine interrupted her.

Sweat was pouring down her back, and great patches of it were developing under her arms. She was nervous, but resolute. This was it: the last time paid for all. She would make her last time the right one. Marla Gilmore stood, holding the Ankari summoning device in both hands, aiming it at Kilbourne and his men as if it were a phaser rifle. A yellowish fissure began to come into existence above it.

She reached over with one hand to touch the console, lowering the force field that separated her from the men of Section 31. Seven would remain safely boxed in the corner Marla had put her in. There were at least ten men outside the lab, but they wouldn't be able to get in until all this was over.

"You fool!" Burke yelled. "They'll kill you, too!"

Marla knew that; if these aliens had a Ten Most-Wanted List, her name was definitely on it. But hopefully, somehow the aliens might know who their tormentors had been this time around. They might have a right to vengeance against her, but at least her death would have some meaning.

When she had first seen the mutagenic life-forms, they had left the fissure lazily, with the casual grace of aliens in no hurry. Not this time. Two of them flew from the fissure like arrows, determined to attack their attackers in the few seconds they had in this dimension. Seeing them brought fear: their teeth were bared and their arms outstretched for battle. Dimly, she could hear Seven yelling something.

Kilbourne dodged and rolled, firing his phaser. One alien dropped. The other swooped low in a deadly arc and attacked another man . For a split second, Marla could see him clearly in the dim light of the lab. Reddish hair, cut quite short. Handsome, rough-hewn features. Electric blue eyes. She'd seen him before: he had been the man back on Earth who had asked her her name and then started this whole thing.

Then the alien grabbed him in a deadly embrace. She stared helplessly, unable to avert her eyes. She'd seen this before. A puff of steam rose around his body, as if his soul was leaving it. And well it should have, if he had one: his body instantly dessicated under the alien's touch. That handsome face was transformed into a horribly dried mummy's in the space of less than a second.

"Benning is down!" Kilbourne cried, although it was far too late for the other man to hear. The alien swooped down again, and the false Max Burke shared the fate of the man he had posed as. The two bodies fell to the deck, their teeth bared horribly.

There was a faint Crump! Crump! Crump! from outside, but she paid it little heed. The forcefield was still up, so nothing else mattered. The first alien re-entered the fissure, and another took its place. Marla let the summoning device fall to the deck and backed up slowly until her back pressed the wall. The alien was trying to get to Kilbourne, but for an older man he was quick on his feet and good with a phaser; it had to dodge blasts that came uncomfortably close to her.

The alien turned then, and looked at her. Marla watched it, feeling her knees tremble and her entire body rack with shuddering. The creature had beady eyes, flat and staring. At first, they hadn't been sure the aliens were sentient. Now, she had no doubt. There was reason in those eyes: it was clearly trying to figure out the best way to get to her. She held up her hands in surrender.

Was there hate in those eyes, or simply revenge? Did this alien want her to suffer before it killed her? Would it simply do its duty, quickly and humanely? It didn't matter. She'd known her lifespan would be measured in seconds if not minutes when she activated the device. Whatever happened, it would be over quick.

Seven was yelling at her to lower the forcefields, but she could only stare at the creature, the alien, the Spirit of Good Fortune, staring helplessly at it like a mouse and a snake. Time seemed to slow down and stop. The creature hovered in the air, watching her with the selfsame deadly, hypnotic interest. Now it would begin a short, fast flight through the air; a predator's strike. After that, perhaps a second's pain, then nothingness.

"I know what you're going to do," she told it, her tone shaky. "If it means anything...I'm sorry." Then she raised her chin, closed her eyes, and tried to await the inevitable with some kind of dignity.

Something hit her then, hard, and pushed her to the ground. She let out a frightened cry, expecting a flash of deadly energy to course through her body. Instead, two voices spoke. One was male and close to her.

"Are you all right, Ensign?" it asked.

She opened her eyes slowly to see not an alien being bent on revenge, but the figure of Commander Chakotay hunched over her from where he had pushed her to the floor. For a moment, she stared at him in confusion, genuinely amazed to still be alive. For a moment her own voice floated to her ears: But, but we're the only humans in the Delta Quadrant. Then he would say That's what we used to think, and put a locator beacon on her neck and beam her back to Voyager.

"Surrender your forces."

That voice was female, stern, farther away from her. She craned her neck to look past Chakotay and saw the figure of Captain Kathryn Janeway, her rifle aimed directly at Kilbourne. The muzzle was a few inches away from his temple. Her eyes burned holes in the Section 31 command agent. She seemed deadly serious. Marla had no doubt that if the older man did not comply, Janeway would shoot him right then and there. Behind her, Ayala was calmly bringing Ransom into custody.

How had they gotten in? Was that phaser rifle enough to bring down force fields? It sure looked like it could; the thing was big enough to use against starbases. She could see the alien hovering over Chakotay's shoulder and fear bolted through her. She hadn't wanted to take anyone from Voyager with her; that was why she had raised another force field to box Seven in.

The alien looked at the newcomers as well. Chakotay turned to face it and held up an open hand, letting his phaser rifle lower to the ground. Marla started; if the alien killed Chakotay she didn't know what she would do.

"No," he said gently. "Not this time. We're taking care of it."

The alien looked at him for a moment more, then shifted its head to look at her with its beady, inhuman eyes. Anger, curiousity, contempt, distrust – she could see it all. She shrank away from it. Then, with a gesture of dismissal, it turned and flew back into its dimensional fissure, leaving the humans to the ship.

Kilbourne let out a frustrated sigh. "You don't know when to leave well enough alone, do you?" he asked quizzically.

"Surrender your forces and some of them will live. I'll hunt them all down if I have to. We have backup arriving from the station and photonic grenades being issued to my officers; I doubt you can say the same." She poked him with the rifle. "I'm not joking, Mr. Kilbourne."

The Section 31 commander deflated. "I need to take my communicator off my belt."

The muzzle of the rifle never wavered. Marla found herself wondering if he would actually do it, and if Janeway would even let him. Could a man like that be trusted? He'd managed to worm his way back from defeat before. All the same, Marla didn't know if she could pull the trigger, if it had been her behind the phaser rifle. She'd seen too much death to want to create any more.

"Proceed," Janeway said icily, making it quite clear that she'd vaporize half his skull if she suspected something.

He took a small device from his belt and opened it. For a moment, he cleared his throat and looked thoughtful. Then he raised it to his lips.

"All agents, stand down," he said disgustedly. "Repeat. All agents, stand down. We're not winning this one today. Kilbourne out."

Janeway did not lower the rifle an iota, but moved her finger away from the trigger. Marla still wondered if she would shoot. From the corner, Seven spoke.

"May I be released now?"

Marla smiled nervously. "Sure," she said, and rose shakily to her feet. Lowering the field around Seven was easy. Janeway looked each of her crewmen over in turn.

"Mr. Chakotay, get them back on Voyager. I only want armed security on this ship until the rest of the resistance is mopped up."

Chakotay nodded and gestured to her. Marla went along, not at all sorry to leave the lab. Seven followed her, watching the detained Section 31 agents with fascination. Marla found herself thinking of when the three had last been in the same room, when they'd ordered her to provide the codes to Equinox's enhanced warp device. You said you wanted to learn more about humanity. I guess we're not exactly prized examples. I'm sorry. Was there ever going to be a time that didn't weigh on her mind? Was the crew of Voyager really willing to accept her back into the fold, or was it like Noah suspected – that this amnesty existed only so long as she was useful in achieving another goal?

Seven's eyes met her own, and she flinched on reflex. Had the Borg drone's thoughts been anything like her own? Probably not: Seven had always been accepted immediately into Voyager's society. The beloved did not often think of the outcasts.

"Tell me," Seven said suddenly. "How long would it have taken you to reconstruct the enhanced warp device?"

"Seven, not now," Chakotay admonished.

Marla shuddered. "It's all right. I can answer it. To do the work...a week, perhaps ten days. You have to allow for shakedown."

"So if you had complied with their orders and reconstructed the device, it would be functional and in their possession now. And most probably being used in the commission of genocide."

Marla shrugged. "I'm glad it's not," she said.

"As am I. Once again, you've taught me a great deal."

The transporter beam clasped all three, returning them to Voyager.