Disclaimer: "Starcraft, "Starcraft: Brood War" and all related properties are owned by Blizzard Entertainment Inc.

Author's note: This is the sequel to "the last of all problems", and therefore I strongly advise you to read it first, or you won't understand some of the characters and their situations (and for those who have read it, don't be surprised to see new characters).

Prologue

It had been ten years since Arcturus Mengsk's death and the end of the war. Kerrigan's treatment had been a complete success, though she kept a key nerve cord to continue controlling her cerebrates, thus keeping the Swarm under control. Allied with the Protoss and the terrans, she signed an official peace treaty with them. In fact, peace was all that reigned during those ten years. But it will soon be troubled once more.

The last of all problems 2: the end of evolution

Chapter 1: A new threat

Private John Stippler looked at the two people on guard duty with him. He immersed himself in their company. Corporal Dave Moffy, a firebat, lit a cigar, with a slight frown on his face, while ghost agent Terry Lonk hastily spoke up. "I smell fear," he said, "I sense danger."

"Ah, shut up, asshole," Dave answered irritably, "Just play."

Each of them engaged in a little game of deceit and gamble called 'poker'.

"Watch it, Corporal." Terry snapped at him angrily, "I'm still your CO around here, in case you forgot."

"Who cares? You're still an asshole," John joked. He and Dave started to laugh.

Terry's smile disappeared. He didn't like having these two soldiers with him. They were utterly babyish and disrespectful to him. He already felt insulted that a decorated ghost like him would have to baby-sit two inferior and pathetic Dominion soldiers. For the next four weeks, he was stuck with them. Yet the last two days had him feeling like it was two years. This had to be his longest assignment yet. Terry's face was starting to redden, so he quickly changed the subject. "Anyway, what have you got?" He said to Dave.

The brown-eyed firebat smirked and showed his hand. "Three of a kind: all jacks," he declared confidently as he held his cigar in a hand and blew up a cloud of smoke in the air. "You know, I love two things: one, a good cigar and two, a good winning streak." he added as he referred to his five wins and the 300 credits he'd won so far.

Terry grimaced at him for a second. He tried not to cough, and even held his breath as Dave smoked. "Isn' t there a anti-smoking regulation in space, especially if someone is breathing in an artificial atmosphere?" he thought, scratching his head irritably. Then he focused on his cards and then he twisted his lips. "Ha!" he exclaimed, "I got four kings," he said as he slammed his deck on the table, "Beat that, you bunch of losers." he condescendingly added before he coughed and choked in the carbonised cloud. "What.a.about y..," he coughed and coughed, "you...Stippler?"

John chuckled silently, though the nicotine pollution didn't bother him. He checked the time. It was almost time for his resting shift, he noted. He opened his cards and smiled. "Straight flush," he declared and then gestured his hand. "Hand over the money, idiots." he teased.

Terry and Dave couldn't believe it, but they both had myriad reactions. Terry was angry, naturally when insulted, whereas, Dave was pleasantly surprised. He liked the look on Terry's face, squirming. Eventually, Dave handed over the wager to John in gritted teeth for losing 300 credits, yet he didn't lose anything because his winnings compensated it. If Terry was really feeling the pinch when he was the last to hand his DC card before John slid it into a machine, he didn't show it. When John gave him back his card, he saw a stream of cold sweat coming over Terry's forehead. It was unnerving as Terry held a pokerfaced look for a moment. Something was making him uneasy and agitated, emotions that rarely afflicted a ghost like Terry. The man finally wiped out the sweat and suddenly turned to John. "Stippler, go check the command room."

"What?"

"Now! Private!" Terry stated firmly as something in his face told John that he was serious.

"Yes, sir." he replied and then left, dumbfounded.

John ran his hand through the scanners before the command room's door opened and he entered. The room was filled with computers and security monitors. He read the monitors closely and checked the hourly logs. It was clear. Nothing to report and nothing seemed wrong so he turned his heel to exit, as he did that the alarm sounded. "What in the." He studied the wall- size screen and saw a red blink on southern end of the station layout. Adjutant, the station's artificial intelligence computer, magnified the image and three red dots blinked at the nearest air-lock compartment to the storage room.

"Shit!" John cursed and then he thought quickly. "Adjutant," he cried out," seal off all air-lock compartments, now!" Waiting not for a reply, he was gone.

A few moments later, Terry saw John running towards him down the segmented corridor.

"Here, take one," John shouted, tossing him a gauss rifle. He then tossed Dave one as well. "Sorry, man. I can't seem to find your 'Zippo'." he added as he slapped a clip into his canister rifle. Then he broke in with a nervous smile, "I think it's in the store room, Corporal." He blurted as his eyes fixed on checking his rifle and then turned to John.

"Stippler, What did the sensor pick up?"

"Three interlopers." said John.

"How did they come even within 100 clicks? Were their ships detected?" Terry ventured further, hoping to get more information.

"I don't know."

"What?" he cried out in disbelief, "Did you look at the security cam?"

"No."

"Okay. Did you at least report to the Mar Sara mission control?"

John didn't because he was just a private. A computer-dummy more like it; he didn't know how to and he wasn't going to admit that even now and risk court martial for it. So he said simply, "No, sir."

"What?" he barked. Terry was starting to get impatient. "What the freakin' hell were you doing there?" His eyes cast a furious look at John.

"Look, sir, they were already in the station when the alarm went off." he said lamely. "I don't think that matters right now." he added.

"It matters, you idiot," he chided him in an explosive voice. His face reddened and he realised that then he sighed. "Christ, we don't even know what we're up against." he said worriedly as he gazed pensively through the window with the planet's surface beyond it. "Anyway, did you seal the air- lock compartments?"

"Yes," answered John wearily.

"Good. That should hold them off - for a while." Terry finished and then turned to Dave instead. "Wait a sec. Where's cigar boy?" he said.

John cursed, "Damn it." He'd just remembered.

"What's the problem?"

"I think he's getting 'Zippo.'"

"So?"

"I think.that's were the section breach is." he declared, his eyes widened, looking at the Ghost operative.

"For Christ's sake, why didn't you say so?"

* * * *

For a long moment, Dave eyed every one of the shelves stacked with supply boxes, until finally he came across "Zippo", his firebat flame-thrower. He stared incredulously at it. "Who's the cow that stacked it up near the ceiling?" he grunted. So, he stacked a few boxes and climbed onto until it was high enough for him to stretch his body to reach for the heavy hellfire weapon. Suddenly, a thunderous explosion rocked the ship and the lights went out. At that moment, the room was in chaos. He heard objects crashing all over the background. It worried him. When the emergency light kicked in, Dave looked up, and the "Zippo" was in his face. He went down quickly and broke his left leg, but it didn't matter; he was already unconscious.

Seconds later, they arrived, Terry and John clad in just their Dominion personnel jackets. They caught first glimpse of the charred and twisted air- lock door. The intruders were inside. They were sure of it, yet they bravely entered inside the compartment, searching for Dave. It was a royal mess all about the place: boxes, food canisters littered all around the floor, yet Dave was nowhere to be seen, and neither were the intruders.

John swore he heard a footstep on his right so he deftly aimed, but there was nothing there except a huge pile of boxes and a flamethrower. "Wait a minute, Dave's Zippo." Terry muttered in surprise, pointing towards the rubble. Inspecting closer, he saw a finger underneath the rubble. "Dave!" he cried out.

Terry then turned to look and saw John straying from him. "John! What in the name of holy are you doing?" he hissed, "Get back here." His green eyes timely caught a blur just beyond the shelves. It was shifting towards John, fast. He quickly aimed at it but then his senses caught up with him again. Another blurry figure was coming at him too. His eyes shifted right in a split second - and confirmed it. "Damn." he cursed. When he wheeled back to John, he gasped. His marine friend was already down - face on the floor.

With a lightning fast reaction, Terry twisted his waist left and jumped to the doorway. His hand deftly slammed onto the door button just before he landed beyond the threshold. Thus the metallic compartment door sealed immediately, and just after it did that something hard impacted at it, leaving a dent on the door.

Eyes widened, Terry panted heavily. He suddenly felt the adrenaline rush again. Yet he got up and jammed the opening mechanism with the rifle butt -- sealing whatever it was inside. As he leaned his hand against the door in respite, a spark ignited behind his neck. As result, his muscles stiffened, and he lost consciousness. His legs gave away and he collapsed rigidly on the ground.

* * * *

Jim Raynor sat in his chair, happy. The last ten years had made him a joyful man: The now fully-treated Kerrigan and him were married and even had a child, there was a definite peace between the terrans, protoss and zerg, not to mention his new position, obtained on that fateful day ten years ago...

**Flashback (A long one)**

It was the day after Mengsk's death. Raynor was on a diplomatic meeting with Mengsk's generals.

Raynor spoke: "I don't give a damn about your apologies!!! Do you seriously think I'm gonna trust you?"

One of the generals, a blond-haired, severe-looking man, said: "But what do you propose? I don't think you want a war anymore than we do."

"I know that, but I won't sign a treaty with you. A treaty can be broken. No, here's what we're going to do: We'll implant one of my guys as the next Emperor. That way, we'll be sure there'll be no betrayal."

The generals scowled: "This is madness!" One of them said, "We'll never accept it. Who do you think you are?"

Raynor answered: "Someone who has bigger cards than you. Namely, the Protoss and the Zerg. Reconsider, 'gentlemen', or you'll regret it. You got 4 hours." Raynor then stood up and left the Conference Room.

Everyone was stunned. There was a brief moment of silence. The blond-haired general finally said, hesitantly: "Well, we don't have much choice."

The one at his left added: "I agree. We should avoid conflict in this matter - at all cost."

"But," another general said, "What proves to us that he really could get the Protoss and the Zerg to attack us? It could just be empty threats," he added. "for all we know, gentlemen." The general was then taken in surprise.

A loud and irritable voice snapped, "Do you really want to take that risk? Raynor's been with the Protoss since even before the Brood War. Not only that, but he's a rather, um, intimate friend of the Queen of Blades, from what I've heard. Not to mention that his leadership qualities are not to be ignored. There is no doubt in my mind that he's too dangerous to mess with." the blond-haired general stated firmly. Then, his hands clenched tightly together on the table, as if he was going to make an important announcement. He suddenly stood up from his seat. "Gentlemen," he started in a serious voice, his eyes looking at everyone. "Who among you agrees to accept Raynor's conditions?"

At this, everyone exchanged glances, giving this matter serious thought, until one of them finally let out. "If I may." The most senior general in the group said, "We should impose some conditions as well. I don't want to see an incompetent fool becoming emperor."

****

Kealer was waiting in a small hallway outside the Conference Room, his dark sweaty hair hiding his scarred face. Seeing Raynor come out, he said: "So, sir, how did it go?"

"Not good." Raynor said, shaking his head. "They want to sign a peace treaty, but I'm sure this is bullshit. Anyway, I'm gonna try to put some pressure on them, to force them to accept one of us as the next Emperor."

Kealer smiled: "And who exactly are you thinking about, sir?"

"Well, I didn't think about it much, to be honest. Maybe you, Kealer, or."

Kealer interrupted him: "you."

Raynor sighed: "Probably not. I'm not a good leader."

Kealer smiled: "Really, sir? Who led us since we ran away from Mengsk? Who got us to befriend the Protoss? Who did."

"Ah, okay, okay. I'll take this in consideration, Kealer. Let's just wait to see if those annoying aristocrats accept in the first place. I gave them four."

The Conference Room's door opened and a guard came out, saying: "Commander Jim Raynor?"

"Yeah, that's me." Raynor answered, coolly.

"The Dominion Military Consul wishes to speak to you again."

Kealer arched an eyebrow. "Wow! That was quick."

Raynor nodded and returned to the Conference Room, where the generals looked serious and tired. The blond-haired one said: "Commander Raynor, we have arrived at a decision."

"What is it?"

"We accept your idea on one condition."

"Condition? What condition?"

"That you would be the next Emperor of the Dominion, not just one of your incompetent subordinates."

"Oh, please. Why does everyone want me to be the leader? Can't I just retire in peace, for god's sake?"

"Well? Will you lead the Dominion?"

Raynor shrugged. He knew that he had leadership, but he wanted to retire. But even then, he did enjoy helping others, and he always hated corrupted governments. Now was the chance to create a good government, for a change. He said: "Bah, ok. If you want." Raynor said, causing relief among the generals. Maybe they wouldn't be in charge, but at least, they'd have a good leader.

**Flashback end**

Sure, Jim Raynor had been reluctant to accept, but he liked his position, now.

A knock on his door interrupted his thoughts.

"Come in." Raynor said. A guard came in, saying:

"Sir? There's Ambassador Kalis here to see you."

Raynor smiled. Kalis, a protoss warrior formerly part of Raynor's raiders, was now the first-ever Protoss Ambassador of the Dominion. He kept contact between the terran and Protoss, which was quite useful. Raynor said: "Send him in."

The tall Protoss Zealot entered the room, a serious look in his eyes. He told Raynor mentally: "Emperor Raynor. I have an important matter to discuss with you."

Raynor raised an eyebrow, wondering what could be so important. Kalis continued: "Yesterday, an outpost around Aiur has been attacked."

Raynor answered, surprised: "Oh, you gotta be kidding me."

"What do you mean?"

"We lost contact with one of our outposts around Mar Sara, two days ago. When Kealer went there to investigate, he found one of the men on duty, badly injured. The two others just disappeared."

"I see. Who did it?"

"We don't know. Kealer found some unknown DNA sample on the ground. The science crew's analysing it now."

"D and A?"

"Oh, yeah. That's right. You don't know about that. Well, let's just say that DNA is found everywhere in your body, and it's unique to each individual. By DNA, we can know, among other things, what species you're from."

"Hmm.I forgot how resourceful you terrans could be."

"I'll take that as a compliment. Now, would you have information about the attackers on your side?"

"That's precisely why I came. An observer was there during the assault and survived, mainly because of its cloaking. I've been sent it and I have it with me. You should find the recorded images quite surprising.."

***

Dan Kealer, promoted to the rank of general, was the "supreme military commander of the Dominion", something he didn't care about one bit. Well, to be honest, he liked to be able to make his own rules, to avoid being court-martialled after taking part in cantina fights, and so many little things he never could have done before.

He went down the luxuriously decorated hallway, his worn-out firebat suit contrasting greatly with that of the other officers moving around. At the end of the hallway was the Conference room, which he entered, with a warm welcome from the guard. Kealer was really popular among his subordinates.

He entered the brightly lightened conference room, grinning at the exasperated faces of the other generals. He didn't like them one bit, and he always arrived late to piss them off.

"Ah, General Kealer. Finally, you've arrived." One of the generals said, glassy-eyed and sleepy.

Kealer answered: "Yeah. Sorry for being late. I took a bit more time than I thought taking care of my work." The other generals groaned and some looked at the ceiling, as if saying, "Why are we stuck with this moron?"

"Well," a blond-haired general said, "could you please relate what exactly happened?"

"Yeah, sure." Kealer cleared his throat and said: "Two days ago, at 1535 hours precisely, we lost contact with one of the orbital stations around Mar Sara, station 5565-codename star ray. At 1700 hours, I went there to investigate the situation, after multiple attempts at re-establishing the communication had failed. Upon my arrival, I saw that the station had been greatly damaged, and I found out that two of the three guards on duty, namely Private John Stippler and Lieutenant Terry Lonk, had disappeared. Here are their disciplinary files." He passed down copies of the two soldiers' files to the other generals. "As you can see, their disciplinary files show no evidence that they would have tried to desert after wrecking the station. Therefore, I think that the outpost has been attacked..."

"What happened to the third guard on duty?" A general asked, interrupting Kealer.

"Oh, yeah, I forgot about that. Well, I found the third guard, corporal Dave Moffy, unconscious and badly injured, but alive. He's currently in the military hospital in intensive treatment, but he should be all right. I asked the head medic to call me when Corporal Moffy would wake up. I'll need to ask him what happened. I also took a strange-looking liquid that looks like blood to the lab for analysis. The scientists told me that they'd have it analysed soon. But first of all, we have to reinforce the defence perimeter around Mar Sara."

"Of course. That would be essential. But I'd like to ask you something: Why have you, a highly ranked officer, investigated that area like a lowly private?" A dark-skinned, bald general asked.

"Someone had to do it, and I kind of like remembering my days as a firebat. Anyway. General Sarly," He said, looking at the dark-skinned general, "I want a full report of all the assaults done on our outposts in the last six months. This is very important, so don't mess up. General Meller," He said to the blond-haired general, "get a tech squad to retrieve the station's main computer. When that'll be done, try to find any and all information about the assault. I want to know what these things are and how they sneaked past our defences. This is a priority, so be sure not to mess up either. The rest of you, organize the different defensive layers. Determine yourselves the job divisions. This conference is adjourned." Kealer finished. He quickly got up and left the room. He looked at his watch and grinned. "He he. I'll be just in time for my poker game..."

End of the chapter

Author's note: So, how do you like it? Sorry for the wait. Read and review, please.