During our senior year of training the Commandant had taken their entire class on a field trip to the warehouse district without explanation. We had toured building after building where only unbonded Somas were permitted to work. Man or woman, all their faces had held a certain haggard quality, their eyes weary and haunted.
Back on the transport the Commandant had addressed the trainees.
“Does anyone know why we held this trip?” he asked.
Blank faces stared back at him. No one volunteered an answer. They had been given no context for the trip, just ordered to show up.
“Finding and training to protect your Mageia should be the main priority of each and every one of you, something we’ve been drilling into your thick skulls for the last four years. Now that you are approaching graduation, I needed you to see what awaits you ifyoudon’tfind your Bonded,” the commandant said, his eyes gliding over his charges. “Every single one of the Somas in those buildings have been through the same training you have. They have served Illyria, and continue to serve, to the best of their ability, but they are missing the other half of their souls.”
He paused to allow his words to sink in.
“I didn’t bring you here to pity them. These are good men and women. Strong Somas. Some performed excellently during training, but regardless of their strength, their days are numbered. Without the other half of their souls… Well, most don’t live much past thirty or forty. Even more choose to end their lives in suicide runs by joining the Omada.”
It was well known that Somas who failed to Bond tended to die young, but I’d never heard it called out quite so plainly before. Nor had I been aware that the elite Omada members were actually suicide squads, though I realized I shouldn’t have been surprised. In Illyrian society the only thing worse for a Soma than failing to Bond was losing your Bonded. Omada gave them an opportunity to make their deaths meaningful.
Focusing back on the moment, I glanced around the auditorium. In many ways it was much like the school gymnasium from his youth. Bleachers lined the walls and could be pulled out to house spectators for athletic competitions. There hadn’t been much opportunity for leisure in the last several years, though. Everyone’s focus was on the war effort.
Leaders in the crowd were sorting Somas into lines based on their overall ratings. During the Touchpoint they would literally be touching hands with each of the new Mageia and the results between them would be recorded for evaluation. Strong matches would be encouraged to interact.
Dagan made as if to stay with me, but I pushed him towards the aisle where the four-star Somas were lining up.
Over the Ridge by Hugo First, I signed.
Dagan laughed.
Under the Stands by Seymore Butts? He signed back, and it was my turn to roll my eyes and force a smile.
Since they were kids, they had been coming up with made up book and author names to fit various occasions. Some of them were downright juvenile, but it was their thing.
You need to get in line, I signed.
Dagan looked torn, just like he always did since I had been ordered to be one of the last Somas at a Touchpoint. He was unhappy and felt like he was abandoning me to the end of the line. Only this time, he didn’t know I wouldn’t be participating at all.
I want to stay with you, he signed, but I saw his eyes flick unconsciously toward the group of Mageia being escorted to the front of the auditorium. As a four-star Soma, Dagan would be one of the first to be introduced to the new Mageia. With me being rated a Single Star Soma it would have been a long time before I had the chance to participate. As usual, though, I couldn’t ignore the hungry look in Dagan’s eyes as he looked at the stage. He, too, was feeling the pressure to find a Bonded.
If you don’t get over there and some douche steals your Mageia, I’ll kick your ass,I signed smiling.And you know I will!I added emphatically.
See you afterward?he asked, finally conceding.
I’ve got some errands to run after this. Catch you at dinner?
Dagan nodded, smiled and jogged off to go get in his own line. When his back was turned I let the fake smile fade from my face. I wanted his friend to find his Bonded, I truly did, but I also knew that when he did their lives would change forever. Dagan wouldn’t have time to spend with him then. He would be sent to one of the new training academies for newly Bonded pairs and I would be alone. Again.
I had almost gotten used to being alone, isolated. It wasn’t that the Illyrians hadn’t been kind to him. They had taken him in, raised him just as they would have one of their own who was orphaned, but Illyria had a problem: with so few Mageia, the lifespans of their Soma counterparts were significantly shortened. That meant that the population age skewed strongly toward the lower end of the spectrum. The war also contributed to the problem, as more and more adult Somas lost their lives in defense of their country. This was resulting in fewer Soma elders surviving. Much oftheir society and political structure was now being maintained by humans.
The orphanage he had been placed in had been run by a no-nonsense human woman, Helena Adamantia. Helena’s husband had been a Soma who had died protecting his Mageia. She had always made me feel welcome, but my communication challenges frustrated her.
After I’d been sent home for fighting—for the third time—she had sat me down and showed me books and videos on sign language that she had discovered in the archives. Together they had learned how to communicate using sign language. It was Helena who had encouraged him to pursue his Soma training.
“You have a gift,mikros alepou,”she’d said. She’d called me herlittle foxas long as he could remember. “And a responsibility to make the best use of it you can.”
A crowd of Somas entered behind him, jostling him in their excitement to join the link of Soma now lined up around the auditorium. I took the opportunity to circle around the auditorium to report to the Touchpoint Commander.
“Specialist Katastrofis reporting for duty, sir,” I said when I found the man seated at a nearby piled high with paperwork.
“Ah! Katastrofis!” the harried looking man said, barely looking up from his papers. I had to tilt my head to make out the words the man was saying.
“You’re on escort duty for any unmatched Mageia. Once the event is over, you will escort any unmatcheddiasothiketo the Tower Pavilion. Hopefully there won’t be many.”
