Deathstalker 05 - Deathstalker Destiny

Recreated. She targeted and fired her guns over and over, delighting in her small victories, but she was deathly tired now, and she could feel the Sunstrider slowly dying around her. Even a ship rebuilt by the Maze could only take so much punishment.
    Hazel fought on. The odds against her were impossible to beat, just as she'd dreamed, but she wasn't going to let a little thing like that stop her. She was Hazel d'Ark, and today she earned her legend.
    The Dauntless was there too, blasting a path through the Recreated, shields flaring brilliantly as they tried to absorb or deflect the attacking energies.
    Many of the shields had already gone down, and the outer hull was open to space in half a dozen places. Interior seals preserved the ship's atmosphere, but every section lost weakened the ship still further. Captain Silence sat calmly in his command chair, issuing a steady stream of orders even as damage reports and crew losses came in from all over his ship. Since coming out of the Maze, his mind had expanded to fill his ship from stem to stern, knowing it as intimately as he knew his own body. He was the Dauntless now, and it was him.
    He studied the massing Recreated through his ship's sensors, and pushed aside despair with almost casual disdain. He never once thought of retreating. He was standing between Humanity and its Enemy, and that was all he'd ever really wanted. Another workstation suddenly went up in flames, and its occupant screamed as the flames consumed him. He was dead by the time damage control had
    put out the fire, but Silence had no time to mourn. That would be for later, if there was a later. He maintained his calm, steady stream of orders, holding his crew together by strength of will and force of personality. Despite the strain, and the impossible odds, none of them had broken, and Silence was very proud of them. He nursed the remaining power in the ship's engines, switching it from weapons to shields and back again, as needed, buying time for the Deathstalker, a man he'd once considered an enemy and a traitor, but who might now be Humanity's last and only hope.
    Out in open space. Carrion flew with his people, the Ashrai, darting back and forth in the darkness like a living star, burning so very brightly now. He struck at the monsters around him with his power lance, blasting apart unnatural flesh and bone with cold, intense fury. He was fast and deadly, and they couldn't touch him. Space couldn't harm him; he swam in it like a shark in a sunless sea. Where he looked, awful shapes exploded, and where he gestured, the Recreated were torn apart. But he was so small, and they were so large.
    Even the whole race of the Ashrai reborn was dwarfed by the Recreated.
    Carrion fought on, singing the song of the Ashrai, fighting beside them as he had once before, his voice joining with those of his people.
    "You have to go back, Owen," said the alien, and it didn't sound like Cathy anymore. "Back through the Pale Horizon, back through Space and Time. You can do this. You have the power within you. Your whole life has been leading up to this, to this moment, this decision; toward making you into a hero capable of performing this last deed for Humanity. You must run, and let the Recreated chase you. Hold their attention. Hold them close. Don't let them fall back, or consider giving up the chase. Keep them always on your tail, staying just ahead
    of them. Taunt them. Make them hate you. As you and they go further back in Time, the distance and the pursuit will drain the Recreated's, energy. That should give you the edge you need.
    "I won't lie to you. If they catch you, if you let them get too close, you'll die horribly. You don't have to do this. I can't make you. But it's the only way left to ensure Humanity's survival, and put everything right again."
    "That was all Giles ever wanted," said Owen. "But he chose the wrong way. So this is your great plan. I knew I wouldn't like it."
    "But you'll do it."
    "Of course I'll do it," said Owen. "I always do, don't I? I've always known my duty. Known what it means, to be a Deathstalker. Talk to me; whatever you are.
    How are we going to convince all the Recreated that they should give up their attack on the brink of victory, in order to chase me back through Time?"
    "The Maze and I will work together to make the Recreated think that you are the baby, trying to escape them by traveling back into the past. They'll pursue you rather than risk losing their power