Chapter 44
Clay lay in his bunk, desperate for the oblivion of sleep. It wouldn’t come. The parade of faces wouldn’t let him rest; the faces of those he had killed directly, and of those he had helped to kill.
He knew only a few were real faces, ones he had seen. The rest came from his fevered mind, but that didn’t make them any easier to ignore. The faces might be fake, the people they represented weren’t. And he had killed them, either directly or indirectly.
After the unexpected briefing he and the other pilots had flown the rest of the scheduled missions. Clay had killed in every battle. Mostly he’d killed other pilots, but every defender he killed made it easier for the fleet to carry out its s*******r.
His fleet. He’d made his decision. He had stayed quiet while others m
