Note: Check the updated last chapter to get the full last episode, since I've started posting the episodes as single chapters. I am in Season 2, so I've got a ton of episodes written by now.

Episode 4: Elimination Part 2

Act 1

Joshua gapped at the three in indignation. "I won't participate in this any longer!" he shouted, clenching his fists, "Return me to the my own timeline. I will not play this game any longer."

"The Child is so cute," Jombera chuckled.

"He has learned how deadly games can be," Kinnera smirked.

"I have learned," he growled, "and I will be part of it no longer!"

The third God smiled slyly, "But, there is only one more round to go! Will you be so rash and hasty as to deny yourself the opportunity to win or lose the game?"

"If I can save myself," Joshua glared, "Yes."

With that, he turned on his heel and walked away. To blazes with their fun! He had responsibilities. He knew that to stop playing the game would end it. He just needed to keep walking like a school boy from a bully.

"Foolish you would be," one of them called to him, "If continued on your course."

"Why?" he asked.

"The last four hundred players did so, and history was radically altered," Jombera called out, and Joshua stopped and turned to them.

"What do you mean?" he demanded, "I want answers!"

"We started the game during what you would call 320 B.C.," they recounted, and as they spoke, he saw through their minds eye, "With a young man named Alexander."

"He would have conquered all of Asia, and lived to have six sons. His Empire would have lasted, untarnished by Civil War, until 400 AD. But, Alexander deemed us evil, and fled after round two. He contracted a fever and died. A man who would have lived until he was 83, died when he was just over 30. An Empire which would ended the Chinese, and prevented the Mongols from rising never came about."

"In 44 B.C. we played with a young man named Gaius Julius. He was destined to rule until 12 A.D.," they informed him, "He would have pushed past Germania, captured the entire Britain Isle. The Roman Empire would have ended up stretching clear past India and into North America eventually. The Roman Empire would have survived until 1936, when Germany would have revolted under the leadership of a young Adolf Hitler. But, Gaius Julius walked away after Round 2, and he ended up being assassinated on the Ides of March, the day after he walked away."

"Since then, we have done it with Kahless the Forever, Joan of Arc, Napoleon, George Washington, Edwin Rommel, Hitler and Gary Mitchell, just to name a few. We have played with the Borg Queen, with Shinzon and Picard. Few have ever rolled to the end. Only six have passed the test. Simon Bolivar, George Washington, Jonathon Archer, Spock, Jean-Luc Picard and Sarek.

"Those that have walked away, have fallen before their time, lost everything. Because they tempt the Gods that deliver them from evil. That offer them the chance to go through long life. Fulfill the ends of their purposes. They all died soon after, or lost all their power and vain things."

"If you wish to live, and influence history itself in ways you know not, you must play!"

"Tell me one good personal reason I should remain," he demanded.

"Many of the things that you have experienced will happen if you do not finish the game," Kinnera warned, "If you do not roll, and survive the next round, the Dominion will conquer the Alpha Quadrant. The Borg shall assimilate 75 billion people. 95 habituated worlds shall be swept bare off all life. The Federation you cherish shall be no more, and the Klingons will succumb not to long past then. Every person play a major role in events, even if they are merely a child, they shape the entire course of history, by simply being."

So many would die if he did not play. How had he been so blind as not to see that? There was the old maxim, That if a grain of sand is moved, the whole course of time could be changed. How had he failed to realize it?

He closed his eyes and sighed. He held out his hand, and he felt them be rolled off into his hand. They seemed so heavy, and he cupped his hand, opened his eyes, and bounced them around a bit. He had to roll. But not only roll, but survive.

He looked down at the glass, and it transformed into Earth. His roll would have dire consequences on what would happen. He slowly lowered his arm, and one by one uncurled his fingers. Then, with the last finger, they rolled off.

Slowly they fell, and struck the ground. A skull. A skull. A skull. Three bad things were about to happen. And he could do nothing but survive.

I must survive. I must survive. I must survive.

Act 2

The ship rocked in concert with a loud explosion. Joshua tumbled out of his bed and fell hard on the floor. His eyes snapped awake, and he jumped up as the klaxons began to blare out, the lights flashing red. He rushed over to a comm panel and touching it, yelled, "Bridge, report!"

"500 Jem'Hadar attack fighters have dropped out of warp speed," a gravelly voice responded, "And more are coming in."

"On my way," he said, shutting off the comm.

He was soon on the bridge, full clothed. He didn't take time to notice the bridge crew, for even as he walked on, two Federation starships, caught unawares, ruptured from intense enemy fire.

"Status," he ordered and the tactical officer, a Tholian female, reported, "Shields down to 77%, weapons up at maximum. No casualties as of yet."

"What's been the losses for the Fleet?" he asked, turning his attention toward the human helm officer.

"Seventeen of the Fleet has already been destroyed," he reported, "and the remaining 88 are attacking and being driven back."

Joshua looked out the view screen, and to his dismay saw thirteen Jem'Hadar fighters break off their attack on the USS Yorktown and began to swing towards them. He stepped up to the helm and navigation and said, "How well are you at flying through an asteroid field?"

They looked up at him and said, "Sir, that's suicide."

"Can you do it?" he demanded.

"I wouldn't recommend it," he shook his head, and Joshua nodded his head, "Set course for Jupiter. Do it!"

"What are you planning?" the first officer, a Vulcan asked.

"If we can get them to follow us," Joshua explained, "we will draw off their attack upon the fleet, reliving some of the pressure. Maybe more will follow us."

"Course laid in sir," the helm's officer sighed.

"Engage," Stubbs ordered and they blazed off, barely being missed by Jem'Hadar polaron beams.

They speed away, following in close pursuit. "Initiate Evasive Pattern Delta 5," the first officer ordered, and they swung back and forth to avoid disruptor fire. Faster they sped towards the ring surrounding Jupiter.

The ship shuddered as it was hit by a disruptor beam. "Shields down to 55%," tactical reported as another shot hit them.

"Steady as she goes," Joshua ordered, and they got closer and closer to the asteroids.

They were now close enough to the asteroid field that the computer started to shout warning of imminent doom. But, the helm found a small opening, and drove right through it. The opening closed behind them, and most of the Jem'Hadar crashed into the asteroids. The few that remained emptied their pay loads into the asteroid field. A few shots hit their target, along with a few asteroids.

"Attack pattern Gamma Six," Joshua ordered, and the ship was pointed upwards and at full impulse was shot up and twisted around onto the remaining four Jem'Hadar assault ships, who at once began suicidal runs.

"Fire!" Joshua shouted, and with that order they launched four proton torpedoes, which smashed into the enemy vessels, destroying them one by one in a fiery blaze of glory.

"Head for the main battle immediately," Joshua ordered, "All guns blazing. Situation report."

"The Fleet is down to seventeen vessels," the somber report came, "and those that remain are too badly damaged to escape."

"Full stop helm," he said.

"But sir-" the man protested, but Stubbs cut him off with a vicious, "Do it!"

"Full stop sir," the man sighed and they watched the ship stopped.

The entire bridge went silent, and Joshua looked out towards earth, and saw the swarms of enemy ships. Vast explosions, like suns going nova could be seen, and they could count the blue flashes of their own ships exploding. Very soon, the last one ruptured and was gone. Joshua had to think to breath, for so hard was it to imagine Earth had just fallen.

By now, 300 Attack ships were heading for them.

"How many enemy ships were destroyed?" he asked.

The answer did not make him happy. "Forty, Admiral," tactical replied, "And 15 of them were our kills."

"Is there any ships we can met up with?" Joshua asked.

"Ten total."

They had lost. Earth had been taken, with so little damage inflicted upon them. He could order a suicidal last stand, rushing in to the kill. But, he would have to save those that were still alive on his ship. His crew was all that remained of the Federation.

"Set a course for Andoria," he sighed.

"But sir," the navigation officer objected.

"We can't just leave without avenging our comrades deaths!"

"That's an order!" Joshua yelled, "Or is it your wish to be court-martialed for insubordination? Now get us out of here Warp 8!"

They set the course, and went away from the scenes of despair and destruction.

Act 3

Joshua's head hung down, his mind blank of all images and thoughts. He was zoned out from the life he had at the moment, blocking out those around him on the bridge. The day had been a disaster for the Federation. How could this have happened? It didn't seem plausible.

Perhaps it had something to do with those so called Gods. They were throwing him for loop after loop, giving him no rest, no break. The monsters, yes, they were monsters, had destroyed the Federation. All his friends were dead, his family was no more. All he had were those around him.

And that did not comfort him in the slightest.

"What's our ETA to Andoria?" he asked the helm.

"6 hours, 13 minutes sir," the human replied.

He sighed and rose to his feet. "I'm going to my quarters. Number One, you have the bridge."

He walked up the slight rise in the floor to the turbo lift. The door slid open to allow him in, and he entered, the door sliding shut behind him. He closed his eyes and side, turning to face the door.

"Deck 15," he ordered and the turbo lift began it's descent to Deck 15.

"There have been two strikes already," he said to himself, "The Federation has all but been destroyed, and Earth captured. But, what is the third one? It was suppose to be near Earth, wasn't it?"

He opened his eyes as the turbo lift slowed and came to a stop. The door slid open and he walked out of the door into the corridor, which was strangely deserted. He looked around, before shrugging his shoulders. Most people were probably in their quarters, too shocked to do anything. He knew he was.

He had barely reached his quarters when the klaxons sounded forth again, following a violent shiver throughout the ship rocked as if it had been hit. He tapped his comlink and shouted, "Report!"

"We have accidentally collided with something," the Vulcan reported, "We took no damage."

"What was it?" he demanded, grabbing the wall to steady himself.

"Unknown sir," the Vulcan replied, "it was too small to be detected by our sensors."

"Too small to be sensed by the sensors and still have that much of a wallop?" Joshua asked not believing.

"Yes sir."

"Alright," he muttered, "Keep me informed. Stubbs out."

He sat in his chair next to his desk. How long would it be here? How long would this happen? Until he fell asleep? If that was what it would take to end this charade, he would do just that.

He stood up, and walked to his bed. He reached the foot of it, when a though occurred, and he ran over to his desk. If he remained true to himself, it would still be there. He ran to the other side, and pushed a small button. The drawer slid out and he found it still in there.

A small phaser. He would kill those gods if he could. With self assurance, he stood back up and went over to his bed. He sat down, kicking off his boots but leaving his uniform on. He would kill them. Only that would stop them.

He had barely laid down when his door burst open, thrown off it's hinges. "What the-" he exclaimed as he sat up, and one of the Gods walked into the room. The god held up his finger and shook both it and it's head at him in disapproval.

"Play nasty and we will," he threw his head back and laughed long and heartily, "You almost have us beaten Child Stubbs. If you reach Andoria, you will automatically win. But, the game is not over yet. One last trick up our sleeves."

He snapped his fingers and the room transformed and Joshua fell hard on the ground, his phaser melting away and being replaced by a short sword. Where was he now?

Joshua looked down at him, and saw his uniform had been replaced with a toga and tunic. He then looked at the ground around him, and where hard floor should have been, there was sand. His eyes drifted up and around, seeing rows upon rows, sloping upwards at an incline. Flags breezed in the distance.

This was one place he had never been or dared dream he would be. In the blood sands of the Coliseum. And in the stands were many people booing him. All of them omnipotent.

And up in the Emperor's box, was a man he had never seen or heard before. Sunlight shined behind him, giving him a glow. Dressed as an immortal Caesar himself.

"The Game never ends Human," the man sneered with a hatred and lust he had not shown in his entire existence, bending down over the edge of the box, "You were able to withstand your future it is true. You all but defeated the Gods of the Games indeed. But I am the 'Master Gamer' the greatest of all the Gods. How well can you do against your own past I wonder, you Mortal pig."

Act 4

Out of the many gates and levels came hordes of men. Some on horses, some on foot. Some rode out in chariots or ancient jeeps. And yet others rode in old automobiles and motor bikes. And yet more came out on animals he had only seen in pictures such as the extinct elephant and other exotic animals.

From all times of Earth's past there were soldiers. Amazonians, Roman Legionaries, Gladiators, British Royal Marines. Heavily armored Spartans and Macedonians phalanx warriors marched forth. He identified Arab Warriors wielding curved bladed scimitars, and Crusader knights on proud horses. Longbow men from old England, and crossbowmen of France. American Patriots wielding muskets and pirates much unto the likes of Blackbeard and Captain Kidd. Some were even Nazi soldiers carrying assault rifles. Even the deadly Cossacks were present.

There were even club wielding cavemen. Zulus carrying buffalo-skin shields. American Indians and Mayan Eagle Warriors. From every country and nationality they came from. Carrying armor from all times and weapons that he thought were simply absurd. But, he had no shield, and only a roman dagger in which to defend himself against machine guns and arrows.

"Let the games begin!" the god shouted and the crowds cheered in delight.

He stood up, grabbing the dagger and bent low. He would take them all and most certainly die in the process. For death was the only result to be expected.

It began with the three cavemen rushing him, raising their clubs and stone-headed spears. He ran towards them, and quickly and deadly took them all out. One slice here, a stab there, a broken arm there. He quickly laid them all down, blood flicked onto his tunic and bare arms. He bent down and picked up the spear, and now felt a bit better. He now had at least a fighting chance.

They came at him, always three at a time. Next came the Spartans, and after some difficulty, he cut one's throat, gutted another one and the last he shoved his spear into him. He quickly took up the heavy shield of one of them, and was grateful for his exercise program. He would not be able to hold it up for long anyways until a lighter shield could come up.

Then the Romans came with their expert unity, followed by the Macedonians and their long spears. Then the Zulus like a black rain cloud and the Indians whooping and hollering. Then the Knights on their noble steeds and the Arabs like a wind of sand blown from the nostrils of Allah.

After the 28th kill, Joshua had managed to collect a Crusader shield, a long bladed Roman sword and a Spartan spear. He was running out of strength and he knew he needed something that had actual range. He looked around and saw a World War II Era American gangster with a Tommy gun. It wasn't the most advanced, but, it had the firepower he needed.

He jumped up onto one of the Indian steeds and drawing upon his experience on his Grandfather's ranch in Texas, he took the horse and pointing it straight to the gangsters car where he was sitting back, drove his heels into the horses flanks. The horse spurred forward, and a Confederate soldier jumped forward, ramming a charge down his long rifle barrel. Joshua threw the spear as hard as he could and he caught the man square between the chest and he fell backwards onto the ground.

At the same time, a Cowboy stepped forward and throwing his coat back, got ready to draw his guns. But the horse was too fast and Joshua swung downwards with his sword and the cowboy gurgled as he twirled around and fell on his face.

He was pretty much on top of the car now, and the gangster and his pals brought down their weapons to bear. But, Joshua was much faster, and soon he was on top of the men. He stabbed the first one clean through and used his shield to shove aside one of his partners pistols. He then used his sword to hook over his shield and stab down, pinning the man to the ground. The third and last man he threw aside the shield and drove head first into the man, who in his fall flung his arms back, squeezing the trigger, and seven other warriors running to his aide were mowed down. Joshua slammed his fist down on the mans head and the man went unconscious.

He took the gun out of the mans hands and began firing all around him, taking down anything that moved. As soon as he would run out of ammunition for one gun, he would jump to another gun, and empty it as well. Before long, he ran out of ammunition, but, he had also run out of enemies to kill. The entire length of the Coliseum was blanketed in the bodies of the dead soldiers.

He sighed a breath of relief. His hands were shaking and he could barely move anymore. Sweat poured down his face. It was finally over.

Then came a sound he really did not want to hear. The gates were opened and out rushed another wave of warriors, three times the amount he had just killed. Then, a massive warrior, who he recognized as the mythical hero called Achilles, ran forward and smashed his shield into Joshua's face. Joshua fell to the ground, blood oozing from a broken nose. He struggled to stand, but a leather sandaled foot smashed into his side and he felt a rib crack. He fell onto his side, but refusing to give up, grabbed hold of Achilles girdle, and began to drag himself up, trying with desperation to sink his fingernails deep into his flesh. But, even if he had still had the strength to do it, no one could hurt him except through his heel. Achilles kneed him in the gut and with his sword slashed his shoulder.

Joshua cried out as he fell, but upon landing on the ground, cut his hand on a dagger. Achilles pushed him onto his back with his foot, then placed it on his chest and began to push down, threatening to crush Joshua's chest in.

Stubbs with a last burst of energy clutched the dagger and stabbed into the heel, and twisted. Achilles leapt back, and Joshua forced himself to stand, and even as he stumbled, he kept swinging with his blade, doing nothing more then keeping Achilles away until, drained of blood, Achilles fell backwards. But, even as he fell, the rest advanced slowly, to finish Joshua off.

He couldn't even speak he was to weak, but he fell to his knees his eyes in utter defeat. He was doomed. And he knew it.

But then, almost as if a whisper in the dark, he heard the voice of a man he once knew, now bitter in his hatred of everything, back in the days of the Academy say, "You know what Stubbs? I dislike you. You are an arrogant son of a b-. And I will live long enough to dance on your grave."

"Let's make a wager of that shall we?" he had said all those years ago, "First one who dies, the other person gets to dance on their grave."

And at the thought of that a deranged smile played across his face and he said to the memory of a friend who did not even survive most likely anymore, "Not today Mr. Tryke."

He reached for the Chinese sword in front of him and struggled to stand. Even as he failed, he kept at it. He refused to say die.

"Halt!" the God said, springing to his feet, "Be gone!"

With that, everything around Joshua vanished and he suddenly was all alone with the Gods. He was back in the small dark room with them, the weapons gone, and so was the bodies. He then realized the wounds were gone, and although extremely tired, he could stand and talk. They nodded to him and said, "You are a most peculiar creature Child Stubbs. You defeated everything we threw at you."

"Why did you stop that last attack?" he demanded, "You could have killed me and been done with it."

"You will one day learn why," Kinnera smiled, "As all great men do."

"He's finally waking up Doctor," he heard as he opened his eyes and took in the sight of his sickbay on the Invincible.

"Oh good," Sarah King said, walking to him from her small office.

He looked up at her and frowned. Was it all a dream?

"How are you feeling Joshua?" she asked him, as he slowly raised himself.

He looked at her and after a moment's consideration said, "I really don't know. I just don't know."

Act 5

"Captain," Nathaniel said as he sat across the table, "That's one wild story I must admit."

Joshua grabbed the bishop from the lowest level on the 3-D chess board and moved it up to the top level. He had spent nearly an hour explaining the whole story to Trust, and even as he spoke, it just seemed so unreal. As if it had been all for nothing.

"I know it must sound that way," he said, removing a pawn that he had captured and holding it, looking at it, "But, it is true. You have to believe me."

"I do."

Joshua raised an eyebrow and looked at him. He was taken aback by the surprisingly conviction of what he had just heard.

"Then you do not think I am crazy?" he asked.

"Heck no," Trust shook his head, "I had a similar experience such as that when I was serving on DS9."

Stubbs raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"The Dominion was winning the war," Trust started, his eyes slowly dimming as he was drawn inwards into his own thoughts, "The Dominion had taken DS9, nearly a sixth of the Alpha Quadrant had fallen. I was onboard the Defiant when the plan for Operation Return was put into affect. We had just broken through the enemy lines. Ships blew up all around us. We alone made it past the Cardassian-Dominion lines. But, the enemy had just finished destroying the minefield, and thousands of Jem'Hadar attack fighters were on their way. We had no time to await reinforcements. Our only hope was to go into the wormhole and hope our sacrifice was enough to stop them."

"I read the report afterwards," Joshua nodded, "Terrible business."

"You don't know all of it," Trust glanced at him.

"Yeah I do," Joshua shrugged.

"No," Trust retorted sharply, "You don't. No one except for those who served on board knows what happened while in there. Waves of them. Ship after ship. So many that they looked like black paint being dragged across a floor, creating midnight in their path. We all knew we were going to die."

"We had no way to win," Trust clenched his fist at the memory, "But, at the last moment, we all had, in some small way, a glimpse of the wormhole aliens the Bajorans call the prophets. They called us each by name, taking the forms of those we had known and loved, and told us not to worry. Sisko got a more in-depth conversation, but that was enough for us. The enemy was gone."

"Now," Trust said, squirming uneasily in his seat, "I can't say I believe in God or anything, but, at that moment, I knew something bigger then us is out there to protect us. I can't explain it in words, but, it is there. Just there."

Joshua looked at his first officer in a new light. He had never known Trust to be a poet, and he certainly was no saint. But, at that moment, Nathaniel Trust had spoken as if he truly believed what he had spoken.

"Well," he said, fingering the pawn, "We are all pawns in the great scheme of things. I think I'll retire. It's been a long day."

"Alright," Trust said, "We should be to Bajor in seven hours."

"Sounds good," he nodded, standing and beginning the walk out of Plus Hall, the recreational center and bar on the ship.

His doors opened as he pushed the door pad, and he stepped in, looking around at the bed. He didn't even get out of his uniform, he just dragged himself to the bed and flopped down upon it belly down, greeting the comfort he felt. He closed his eyes and slid his face towards the nightstand. He opened his eyes for a brief second and hesitated.

He propped himself up and reached out towards the table and grabbed the small item on it. In his hand, he held a ring of golden band and a red stone.