Isabella's videos (and their transcriptions, and their translations) are not instantly the topic of conversation in every household in the Federation over breakfast or its local equivalent, but they gain traction, and the Federation is still scrupulous enough not to send Starfleet to get her in the middle of the night for recording her opinions.

(Her opinions are limited here to the subject of her "repatriation" and to the Prime Directive. Her thoughts on genetic engineering are confined to the "polarbear" handle on long-dormant accounts on old, in some cases defunct, fora.)

It is a few months before she's invited to a speaking engagement by an activist club at a university on Viarat, a moon inhabited by predominantly human colonists but some Vulcans.

She accepts the honorarium, writes a speech, and (in the recovered Prometheus, which Renée has been holding for her) goes to Viarat, accompanied by her husband.

They get a hotel room; a liaison from the activist club shows her to where she's giving her speech, she gets as far as thanking them for inviting her and beginning to outline her planned topic before someone in the back row pulls a phaser pistol and squeezes off a burst that hits her in the sternum.

She collapses, exhaling all her air voicelessly. Someone next to the shooter tackles her and gets the phaser away.