Conqueror of the Stars — John B. Rosenman

“Enemy Class I Battlecruiser nine point seven-three klicks dead ahead,” Doc said. Christ, this gigantic monster was practically on top of them with enough armor and firepower for a small fleet. Even at a hundred thousand kilometers they'd be gobbled up.

“Shields up!” he ordered, but of course Dr. Glitch had already done that as well as activated the sound suppressors to discourage eavesdropping.

He slipped into the command chair and strapped himself in. “Fire!”

Even as he gave the order, he saw that Sky's ship had beaten their mighty adversary to the punch. Her missiles struck the Cen's force field amidships, only to explode outward in a blinding white glare. An instant later, Turtan's birds bashed them head on, likewise to little effect.

“Warheads coming in,” Doc warned. “I'm taking evasive action.”

Turtan saw the Cen missiles approach. Victory veered to the left, but the bastards were heat-seeking and hungry for movement, and they caught them right center. Their shield absorbed the blows and transferred their fury outward. Still, Turtan's body rocked, and he heard the bulkheads almost crack.

“They hit Sky's ship hard,” Doc said.

He couldn't worry about that. After all, it was a warship, and Cen technology was superior to humans'. The best thing he could do for both of them was find a way to beat the enemy.