Fire & Soul by Siobhan Crosslin Page A

silent for a few seconds before he replies. "Not a word, other than that he or she is arriving tonight."
    I nod and start replacing the armor panels. The adjunct just has to be able to get us home—we'll have an escort on the journey back to our home planet, no fighting required.
    It makes me sick some days, looking up into the severe parody of its face, knowing that another one of these days whatever kid they saddle us with is going to be carried out of the cockpit.
    Gods, Misa. I tried so hard to keep from drawing more power than she could give, but they came at our right flank and I had to pull power, I had to. She should never have been approved for space combat.
    Mikscn clears his throat. "Here, I'll take over. Go get something to eat."
    I make a face at that, but nod and start scaling down. "Damage isn't that bad," I say when I'm on the ground. "I got most of it fixed. Mostly we need to replace the plating, but that'll have to wait till we're home."
    Mikscn nods. "I'll run a diagnostic, see if there's anything our anam's going to need to look at."
    The Brudeah capitol planet, Eisen, caters generously to the Houses that are based off-world. House Bredan is old, expansive and wealthy—our home here is open and beautiful, all trees and sweet-smelling flowers, courtyards and fountains.
    I stride through the busy corridors, ignoring servants and nobles alike. They ignore me in turn—Mikscn and I are answerable only to Jheghda. I nod to a few pilots, and many stop to offer their condolences for burning out yet another anam. The souls of our adjuncts may be dispensable to the people that own us, but anams are precious to pilots. We literally cannot survive without them.
    In the mess hall, I finally relax. This place is for pilots and anams only, and no matter if I blame myself or Mikscn or Jheghda for the people we've killed, there is no judgment here.
    I get my food and make my way to one of the long tables in the middle of the room. The others part to let me sit down and I tuck into my food, only now realizing how hungry I am. Aiya, one of Mikscn and my mentors, strokes her fingers through her hair as she chats next to me and I let the quiet murmur of conversation vibrate through my skin.
    Keito, Aiya's fellow pilot and Mikscn and my other mentor, leans over the table to me. "A Vrah'di family bought Misa," he says, and I can't help the smile that breaks out over my face.
    "Yeah?" I ask, and he nods. It's not a guarantee, but if Misa wakes up, she'll be free—the Vrah'di are part of the Hegemony, where all forms of slavery are illegal, and several of their Houses have gotten into the habit of buying pilots or anams who are disabled. Most anams eventually recover from the physical and psychic trauma of being overloaded, if they're given enough time. It's just they're rarely given that long to recover, and they're generally considered useless afterwards. This is the best possible thing that could come of this situation.
    "Thank you for telling me," I say, and he gives me a brief smile before his attention shifts to something behind me.
    "You're new," he says, and as one the table goes quiet as everyone turns to look at the man behind us.
    "Just got off the ship," the man says warily. There's a lunch tray in his hands and a backpack over his shoulder. He's tall, lean, and breathtakingly beautiful.
    "Did you," Aiya drawls. Keito and their anam, Micca, stiffen. Aiya smirks. "You must be Jye."
    The man, Jye, frowns. "Yeah."
    Aiya nudges my shoulder. "I believe this belongs to you."
    It's not clear which one of us she's talking to at first, but then it hits me like a fist to the gut.
    This is the next anam I'm going to get killed.
    It isn't until I'm in the suite that I share with Mikscn—and will share with Jye—that I realize that maybe bolting from the mess like an idiot wasn't the best way to greet our new anam. It isn't until I'm being sick into the toilet that I realize I don't care.
    I jump when cool hands smooth my hair