She is an emotionless killer, a virama. Her mission—eliminate the traitors.
Seventeen knew no other existence but the Institute and its training program. Trained as an assassin since she was a toddler, she must now face the ultimate test—locate the traitors, Two and Four, and exterminate them.
For years, Seventeen has longed to escape the Institute, but a one-way ticket to Brevona was not her idea of freedom. To make matters worse, her targets were two of their own—Two, a young woman she considered family, and Four, a trainee from the male division. Sometimes you had to take what you could get, and a life outside the Institute was worth it, no matter the cost.
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Virama
Copyright © 2018 Taryn Jameson and Gabriella Bradley
ISBN: 978-1-4874-2211-0
Cover art by Martine Jardin
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.
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Virama
Veiled Eliminators Book 2
By
Taryn Jameson and Gabriella Bradley
Chapter One
Seventeen had just finished eating her dinner when the intercom pinged three times, and Schmidt’s annoying metallic computerized voice echoed through the mess hall.
“Seventeen, report to the director’s office immediately following dinner.”
“Sounds like it’s your turn,” Fifty-one spoke too loudly.
“Quiet, please. You know the rules.” Darren, one of the guards, walked by and tapped the table with his knuckles, sending Fifty-one a disapproving glare.
Directives, code of conduct, instructions, more rules, and tons of regulations. Seventeen was sick and tired of them. Her whole life had been made up of protocols and commands, day in, day out.
Taking her tray, Seventeen followed the other girls out of the mess hall, deposited the disposable and bio-degradable cutlery and dishes in the bin, then set her tray on the pile.
Hoping that it was really her turn to be sent out on an assignment, she hurried to Doctor Schultz’s office. The only time a recruit was called to his office was to be reprimanded or to be sent out on a mission. She hadn’t broken the rules, so it had to be an assignment. That meant she could finally leave the Institute and make a life on the outside in whatever country they were going to send her. Hopefully, they weren’t going to send her through the portal.
When Schultz had announced that the portal was operational, her number had not been called. Some of the other girls were going to be sent to alien worlds. She wondered about them often. Did they come back to Earth afterward and live in a city, or did they remain on whatever planet they’d been sent to?
Over the years, Seventeen noticed after a recruit left on assignment, that was it. It was as if they had disappeared forever—as if they had never existed. She was so curious about them. But they weren’t allowed to ask. Where were those girls now? Had they settled and were they living a normal life? Were they happy?
It was going to be difficult to adjust to real life, to live outside the confines of the Institute. From what she had learned, it was no paradise out there. Not unless you were wealthy.
From what little they were allowed to see of the news, conditions on Earth were getting worse every day. Too many were homeless, living on the streets—from young to old. There weren’t enough shelters to house them all, and rations were depleted. Church groups had begun soup distribution to help out, but there were just too many of the hungry. More than often, police had to intervene as large groups of homeless fought over the soup the volunteers handed out in small, cardboard cups. Hardly enough to feed one, but it would get a person through another day.
It was pathetic. The smog hanging over the cities caused the death of many that had weak lungs or compromised immune systems. Earth’s future looked bleak. She wished the Institute would allow the trainees to view more news, but they only permitted snippets and then only for the older recruits.
Her mind drifted back to the call for her to report to the director’s office. Dozens of questions plagued her. How were they going to pay her? Contact her for new assignments? Had they set up a place for her to live? To work from? Would she have weapons? A communications device? That’s what orientation is for. I can’t wait to get out of here.
Most of the women and girls probably felt the same, at least the older ones. She wouldn’t know. They weren’t allowed to mingle, to make friends, even talking to each other was forbidden. Day in and day out was spent training, learning, studying everything they needed to know about Earth, its people, its various countries, and about alien worlds, their cultures, their languages, and way of living.
After dinner, they always had to go to their rooms. Each trainee had a room of their own. If one could even call it that. It was more or less a small square cubicle with a tiny bathroom. Then there were the dormitories for toddlers and a nursery for the infants. Up to the age of six, they lived in the dorms, looked after by female attendants and nurses.
Seventeen vaguely remembered her dorm days. That’s when they were still allowed some play time with educational toys. Yet even then, friendships were frowned upon, and training began at the tender age of three. The mornings were spent in class, and in the afternoons it was physical training. At age six, they were allotted a room of their own, and began the rigorous training program she’d endured on a daily basis all these years.
Once in your room, you could not leave it again until morning. Lockdown happened ten minutes after dinner, and lights-out was at ten. Every recruit was to spend their evening hours studying all the languages spoken on Earth and other worlds, their lifestyles, and traditions. Every morning, right after class began at eight they were given an exam on what they’d been assigned to study the previous evening. Failure was not an option—the punishment was a week of kitchen duty, washing dishes. They were allowed half an hour of free time in the afternoon, which they could use to read a classic novel. She often compared it to a prison, from what she’d learned about the penal systems on Earth. At least the recruits had internet usage, but it was limited, and heavily monitored.
Seventeen had never known anything else but the Institute. From what little information she’d gleaned, she’d been a toddler when she came there. How? Was she an orphan? Deep down she wished she knew something about her origins, her parents. She was a young woman without a proper name, no family, and without history, without roots. She was just plain Seventeen.
She had been so deep in thought, she’d walked right by Schultz’s door. Stupid. She turned back, strode up to the door and taking a deep breath, knocked on it. It clicked and swung open. Forbidden territory. The girls were never allowed in this section of the
Institute without the proper escort.
Seventeen walked into the large, ultra-modern office that reeked of wealth. A stark difference to her little room with its metal cot, metal nightstand, one lonely chair, and only a tiny window near the ceiling.
“Come in, Seventeen. Take a seat.” Doctor Schultz motioned to one of the two chairs near his desk.
“Thank you, sir.”
He looked different in his tailored suit. He didn’t wear them often, usually only for assemblies. Most of the time he and Schmidt were in the lab or the surgical rooms where they wore white tights with a white fitted shirt that always looked like they were glued to their skin. They wore a cap, gloves, and disposable white gowns when they performed procedures. Schultz mostly performed the enhancement surgeries. Sometimes, his associate, Doctor Schmidt, assisted. There were other doctors on staff, each of them highly qualified in plastic surgery or cybernetic surgery. There were also qualified nurses to support them—both male and female.
She sank down on the proffered chair and waited. Schultz turned his back to her and looked out of the floor to ceiling window. He had a gorgeous view of the Alps, she noticed.
“You recall us recently naming several trainees to be sent through the portal on various missions?”
“Yes, sir.” She perked up in her chair, hoping that she’d finally have her chance to leave the Institute. Even though she hadn’t wanted a mission involving the portal, she had been disappointed that her number wasn’t called during the assembly.
“I’ve been told you have mastered the use of your cybernetic suit and wings to perfection. Are you comfortable wearing the outfit?”
“I am used to it now, sir.” She loved the freedom of soaring through the sky, and the suit was no hindrance. It fit her like a glove and flowed easily with her movements.
Schultz smiled, a look of approval crossing his features as he studied her. “Good. You are also a precise sharpshooter, I’ve heard.”
“Yes, sir.” She stopped herself from squirming in her seat. She hated those creepy green eyes and the way his gaze traveled over her body.
He walked to the sideboard, poured a glass of whiskey and took a drink, then turned his attention back to her. “You’ve all been told during your training that you will be working for our World Leaders as highly classified trained assassins. Are you prepared for your first mission?”
“Yes, sir.” Her heart pounded hard, and butterflies fluttered in her stomach. She took a deep breath to calm her excitement, lest Schultz notice it. Emotions weren’t allowed and to show them would bring her severe punishment. Luckily, he didn’t seem to have detected it.
“Two was sent on a mission to Brevona in the Alderan Galaxy. Four, from our male division next door, accompanied her. They completed their assignment successfully.”
“That is great, sir.” She almost smiled. They were never given information on their fellow trainees, and it was good to hear that Two and Four were successful.
He began pacing in front of the large picture window. His demeanor was normally calm and collected, but now he seemed agitated, almost angry. His anger never boded well for any of the trainees. “Yes. Except, what is not so great is that Two and Four have defected and joined a group of insurgents. They are traitors and have committed treason. It will be your task to find and eliminate them.”
Her heart sped up, her inward smile disappeared. Did she hear him correctly? Kill Two and Four? Why? Their mission was successful. “You are sending me to Brevona, sir?”
He turned and gazed at her with his prickly green eyes. Prickly? Cold, more like a snake’s eyes. No matter how much plastic surgery, hair enhancement, or his forever young injections he’d had, the man was creepy. He’d always given her the shivers, and that had not changed over the years. She’d never forgiven him or his buddy Schmidt for all the poking and prodding she’d endured, the enhancement surgeries, being treated like a guinea pig.
“Yes, you are going to Brevona. You will wear a new camouflage cybernetic suit. Your wings will make travel on that planet easier for you. From below, you will resemble a bird. When traveling on foot through forested regions, your camouflage suit will hide you well. Two and Four’s last known location was at the royal palace. Two was wearing a formal evening gown, and Four was dressed in uniform. Although I presume they will have acquired other clothing by now as well as a place to hide. They have been on the run for several weeks. We will send you to land close to the palace. Your search begins there.”
An alien world... and the portal was a one-way trip.
“Sir, Brevona is a very large planet. How do I locate them? Two and Four have a huge head-start. They could be anywhere on that world.”
“Each trainee over the age of eighteen has been implanted with a microchip. You know this.” He sounded impatient.
“Yes, the memory eraser. Should any of us be caught and interrogated, we activate it, and it will wipe the memory from our minds of the mission and the target.”
“Exactly. It also contains a tracking chip. I will provide you with a device enabling you to track Two and Four’s movements and hopefully, their location. Remember, to activate your implant after completion of the mission, not just if you have been captured.”
Damn. I liked Two. Why did she turn rogue? It didn’t make sense.
“Sir, If I may ask a question?” Questioning an order was not tolerated and came with severe punishment, but she had to know. She waited for him to acknowledge her. When he nodded his head, she continued. “Why must I kill Two and Four? You said they completed their mission successfully.”
“Treason will not be tolerated and is punishable by death. You’ve all been taught that.”
They may have been taught that, but it didn’t make her feel any better about the situation, about killing two of their own.
“Yes, sir.”
“You will leave tomorrow morning. I will give you a disintegration phaser to take with you.”
She knew what those weapons did. It would turn a human, or an animal, into dust in seconds. “And after I complete my mission? How do I return to Earth, sir?”
“That is of later concern. At the risk of repeating myself, the portal is one-way only at this time.”
Later concern? Hell, she’d rather not get stuck on that planet after she completed her mission. “You will send a ship for me, sir?”
“After you have eliminated the targets, we will be in contact with you. Now go to your room, read up on Brevona, and refresh your memory of their language in case you need to speak to anyone. Though I highly advise you to steer clear of its population. Your cybernetic suit alone would alert people, never mind the wings. This is a highly covert operation.”
“When not in use, the wings are neatly folded into the container on my back, sir.”
“Yes, but the suit will still be foreign to them. I will see you after breakfast. Suit up first and then come to my office.”
She was dismissed.
Back in her room, Seventeen quickly showered—training had been vigorous that day. Naked, she flopped down on her bed, her hands under her head. Her hopes of a reasonably normal life had just been hacked to pieces. Not only that, she had to hunt down two of their own. Sure, she was a trained assassin, but it was one thing to kill a complete stranger, someone who was considered a threat, someone dangerous, a hardened criminal or terrorist, and another to annihilate two fellow recruits. That made her a cold-blooded killer. I hate that word. Searching her memorized dictionary for a more suitable word, she remembered one. Virama. It sounded a lot better than assassin or killer.
I can’t imagine why Two would have defected and become a traitor. Did Four influence her?
Pushing the thoughts into the deep recesses of her mind, she grabbed her tablet from the nightstand and began reading up on Brevona and its language.
After reading until lights-out, she finally shut down the tablet and pulled the covers up. It was never cold in her room,
but it felt good to snuggle under a blanket.
The questions wouldn’t leave her mind. So much didn’t add up. Schultz said they would contact her. How? Did they have operatives on Brevona? They must have. Otherwise, how would they know that Two and Four had defected? Maybe they didn’t show up at the pick-up point to return to Earth? Perhaps one of the contacts would get in touch with her. But, if she didn’t have a communication device, how? Schultz would probably give her one in the morning.
Chapter Two
Seventeen awoke with a start when the six o’clock alarm went off. Usually, she was up before that. Not this time. She glanced at the suit hanging on the hook on the back of her door, the rest of her gear neatly piled on the chair. Someone had come into her room during the night and delivered the new suit, harness, and wings. Schultz had told her to meet him at his office after breakfast, so she quickly pulled on her white sweat pants and top and headed out to the mess hall.
“Where is your assignment?” Fifty-one, who always sat next to her, whispered.
“Ssh. They’re sending me to Brevona.”
A guard walked by looking at them with suspicion. Seventeen quickly spooned her glue-like porridge into her mouth.
Fifty-one dropped her spoon and bent to pick it up. As she straightened close to Seventeen, “Oh my God, that’s an alien planet.” Her whisper was so soft, no one else could have heard it, but Seventeen, with her enhanced hearing, heard her loud and clear.
The guard swiveled and pinned his gaze on them. He walked to their table. “Is there a problem?”
“I dropped my spoon.” Fifty-one held the utensil up.
“Be more careful.” The guard continued on.
Seventeen had already concluded that something felt off with her mission. If she had no way of communicating, how would they know when she’d completed her mission? That Two and Four were eliminated?
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