"Five minutes to air time, people. Let's get moving!" Kate Lockwell paced behind Admiral Matthew Horner as he stood at his podium. From the side of the makeshift stage, she shouted at a few people in the wings. "Tim! Where's Kallie with the other camera?"

"The replacement lens didn't come in. Wasn't a 'priority' shipment and didn't make it through customs. She knows a guy uptown, and she's going to borrow one. She'll be back in fifteen minutes."

"Fifteen?!"

"We'll start without her! It'll be fine. No one will notice we're down a camera."

"They'll notice if we're down two presidential debaters... Where're my challenger candidates?" Kate Lockwell stopped on her heel and put her hand on the shoulder of Horner's blue suit. "Well, if there's one thing that I can say for you military types, at least you're punctual, Mr. President." She winked at him, and before he could respond, she was gone. Horner leaned over the podium and looked into the "audience." In the makeshift broadcast room, there were about two-dozen seats, all of which were full, taken up by journalists from around the sector-Umoja, Moria, and even some of the outlying, unaligned colonies. All were there to see the baby steps of Tarsonis's new government as it transitioned from the Terran Dominion to the Terran Republic.

Horner reflected on the events that led up to this moment-and his interim presidency. After defeating Amon and negotiating peace with the zerg under Zagara, Valerian Mengsk had begun focusing on rebuilding Tarsonis and Korhal, and that's when the political shitstorm started. The Dominion needed the Umojan Protectorate's help, but they refused to acknowledge a "medieval monarchy spawned by a dictator" as a valid government even though it was constitutional. The Umojans also released more information about Valerian that was potentially damaging-that the labs run by Moebius Corp. had been more closely supervised by him than he had originally let on. Skygeirr Station was where his egregious abuses had occurred. Horner had asked him, man-to-man, what he actually knew. He had told him that he was only aware they were performing experiments on zerg and xel'naga tissues-he didn't know about the hybrid breeding program. But he did know about what they were doing to UED POW Vice Admiral Alexei Stukov. Valerian said that he willingly turned a blind eye to their torturous experiments because he thought it vital, at the time, to finding a way to neutralize Sara Kerrigan. Whether it was because he was UED or because he was infested and technically zerg, news reports focused on the hybrids and glossed over the torture of someone Raynor had considered a brilliant and decent man. If it bothered Valerian, it was hard to see, which made Horner watchful of him now, waiting for more of his father to emerge. The Umojan Protectorate had a point, Horner thought.

Valerian was forced to step down, and his cabinet named Horner as his interim successor until the Terran Republic could build its infrastructure enough to hold an election. The Umojan Protectorate began helping Tarsonis pick up the pieces of the coup against Arcturus Mengsk and the invasion by the Queen of Blades. It had been five years, and Horner was just now thinking that he had the hang of governing-and now he would have to publicly debate other candidates and run for the position to keep it for another five years. Even so, Horner had doubts about his leadership capabilities. Raynor should be up here-not me, he thought. But he knew that would never have worked. Jim Raynor had not wanted to lead even when he was with the Raiders. Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them, Horner thought, Valerian was the first, Raynor the second... But Valerian was disgraced and Raynor had vanished. Hopefully I'm the third... After Valerian stepped down and the smoke cleared, there weren't many other options.

Horner took a deep breath and thumbed again through his notes on the datapad in front of him. His main talking points were those of national security. They had been burned before by outside threats. Other than a few outlying factions, the protoss were their allies, but on the other hand, the zerg, even with Zagara leading them, could be fractured by a new leader-just as Abathur almost had done. Worse, if Horner had learned anything, it was the threat that could not be predicted that always ...bites you in the ass. Restructuring was also critical. The military needed its academies back online, and the education system-especially on Tarsonis-needed new buildings, updated materials, and a staff that was not praising the "glory of the Dominion." Trade deals with the Kel-Morians and the Umojan Protectorate to bring food and other resources to people who needed it were his other sticking points. Things we can all agree on, not too detailed, and enough to talk about but not enough to make me look like a boring, stuffed uniform-I hope.

Finally, one of the other candidates entered the studio. The journalists all stood at once, their cameras flashing as she strode in. He recognized her; It was Dr. Joan Slavens, a philosophy professor at Tarsonis City Colonial University, the largest and most prestigious public university on Tarsonis-before it was shut down by the Dominion. She had settled into being a nuisance via private broadcasts during the war. Horner had watched a few of them. Dr. Slavens was a good speaker, and she had the air of a rumpled intellectual with her barely-tamed blonde curls and wrinkled tweed jacket. She waved warmly to the journalists. This made him even more nervous. Dr. Slavens was a well-known personality and respected. She already had a following, and it would be easy for her to build a bloc of voters. He, on the other hand, had name recognition and was a war hero, but on the other he was a compatriot of the now-controversial Valerian Mengsk; his alliances could make someone's decision either way.

Dr. Slavens took her place at the podium next to Horner's and adjusted her microphone, tapping on it to test it. She put her hand over it and turned to Horner, giving him a rueful smile.

"Of course, Mr. Marinakis isn't here yet. I hope his freighters are timelier than he is."

"You have some experience with Marcos Marinakis?"

"Unfortunately, yes. He told me he would let me interview him for my vids a half a dozen times... He was a no-show on half of them and more than an hour late on the rest. We could be here a while. I mean, this only a presidential debate, after all. I'm sure his business brunch was much more pressing."

"Well, if he's much later, we'll have to start without him."

Marcos Marinakis was a shipping magnate-one of the few that wasn't Kel-Morian. He had a reputation of being loud and obnoxious but shrewd in business. Some people believed that would make him good at guiding the Republic, but Horner didn't really see him as a threat. Because of his manner and what inevitably comes out about anyone who runs a large company, he was by far a long shot.

Horner's thoughts were interrupted by a low rumble far in the distance. It shook the building, and a little bit of plaster rained from the ceiling.

"What the hell was that?" Lockwell said. Horner's security detail, two marines in street combat gear, came in from outside the room. The journalists began to fidget and whisper amongst themselves as their presence.

"Mr. President, we have reports of an attack on the outskirts of town heading inward to our position. We need to get you all to a secure location."

"Where?" Horner said, over the gasps and hushed talking of the journalists in the audience.

"The basement of this building is a nuclear bunker. We should be able to hide out there."

Horner sprang into action. "All right everyone, listen," Horner said into the microphone. "We're all going to do this quietly and without panicking. Please follow these gentlemen downstairs. Keep aware of your surroundings..." There was another rumble and the power went out. Horner shouted over the din of fighting and the journalists talking nervously among themselves, "And don't panic!"

The journalists filed out of the room with Horner taking up the rear. He paused to look out the window. Republic troops had began flooding into the streets, and before them, a nydus canal had opened. The infested crawled from its maw, waves of them flooding over abandoned hovercars and the makeshift barriers soldiers had constructed along the way. In the distance, a siege tank and a platoon of Terran Republic marines began firing at them, but were overwhelmed by the sea of flesh and poison almost instantly. With dread, Horner realized there could be only one person responsible: Stukov.

And there's the threat we didn't anticipate.