Skip to product information
1 of 2

Freebird

Freebird

4.6 Star Rating!!!!

Regular price $2.99 USD
Regular price Sale price $2.99 USD
Sale Sold out
Shipping calculated at checkout.
  • Purchase Ebook/Audiobook Instantly
  • Receive Download Link from BookFunnel via Email
  • Send to your preferred eReader and start reading!

PAPERBACKS

  • Purchase Paperback
  • Receive confirmation of order
  • Paperbacks are shipped in 3-5 business days!

SYNOPSIS

Sebastian Archer hates VR, and not just because his mother died an addict in some chiphead hospice. Cruel fate gave him a talent for repairing the old jackpod machines seeding their way through the slums of San Francisco. At least it could finally net him enough crypto to blow town and start a new life...

But when a client brings him a First Gen device to restore, Bas meets its avatar hostess, Harper. It isn't long before he realizes that Harper may not be a program at all, but a real woman whose life could be very much in danger. Suddenly on the run, trying to escape the techno overlords from the Plaxis Corporation who want to shut down Harper—and anyone aware of her—for good, Bas tries to figure out how to outsmart an enemy that logs your every move and not only controls the board, but invented it. Until Harper and an unlikely ally teach him how to rewrite the rules of the game, that is...

Live forever or die reloading...

FREEBIRD is a stand-alone novella side story in the Enter the Kingdom series. Download and enter the kingdom now!

Book Preview

This couldn’t be the right place.
The walls: covered in graffiti. The windows: blacked out. The parking lot: cracked cement that had to predate the flooding. There was no way this was one of San Francisco’s “premiere hackdomes.” There was no way this place was even a bootleg joint. The building was ancient, falling apart. That it still had standing walls should be cited in the records.
Bas tapped his wrist, waking up his comque. The wrist-worn microcomputers and communication devices were so tiny, he sometimes misread the display. Nope, he was in the right place, 300 Post Street. He needed to stop stalling and go find the owner who’d sent the order through earlier in the day, even if the site did give off a post-apoc vibe that told him to get the hell out of here. A job was a job, and crypto didn’t grow on trees.
“Hello?” His knuckles picked up a layer of grime as he rapped on the door. “Someone called in an order for a NNIP repair?”
Scratches coming from inside the walls made Bas wonder if the rundown building had some sort of infestation. But as the door opened, the only thing he saw was dust swirling in the breeze and a hooded figure, face plate tinted, glaring at him through the swirling cloud. A lone figure stood expectantly, waiting. After a moment, Bas realized that the hood was further complimented below in the form of a full hazmat suit. What had he gotten himself into?
After a few more awkward seconds and a fit of coughing, Bas reached out with his business card. “Bas Archer, Royal Tech Restoration and Repairs. You scheduled a service call?”
Though from the look of the gutted walls, concrete slab floor with a huge crack down the middle, and stream of sunlight from a hole in the roof, Bas had to wonder if a contractor shouldn’t get in here first.
Hazmat Suit reached out tentatively, taking the rectangular piece of cardstock, turning it over to examine the back.
“It’s called a business card,” Bas said. “Used to be all the thing back in the day. Sort of reinforces the brand. You know, because we specialize in repairing, restoring, and rescuing older tech, we used an old tech way to spread the word about our—”
Hazmat Suit disappeared inside the building, leaving Bas alone. He guessed he was supposed to follow.
Immediately inside the brick wall was another, this one made of glass panels that started at the ground and went all the way to the roof. One panel bore evidence of some kind of misfortune, spiderwebbed from tip to top, but it still held in place. Through the distorted image on the other side, Hazmat Suit scurried to a set of long boards balanced between two workhorses and laid the business card down next to a photon drill.
Bas delicately stepped around the glass barrier. “I was told you had an old NNIP you wanted a quote to rebuild? Is this still an okay time? I can reschedule you later in the week if it isn’t.”
The silent man‘s gloved hand worked a release gauge on the hood’s side and disengaged the airlock. A hiss puffed out as Hazmat Suit pulled off his hood.
Or, as it now seemed, her hood.
Dark eyes, dark hair, dark skin…. Dark beauty. And a brilliant smile. A little too old for him? Maybe, but he could still appreciate what he was seeing. If Bas had been looking for a woman, he’d be looking at this one.
“Sorry for the horror movie tribute back there.” She whipped around and offered out a hand. “Nice to meet you, Bas. The name’s Talia, and I’m the proud new owner of the Stadium here.”
Bas shook her hand, finding rough heels in his palm. Talia was a worker, then. He respected that. There were far too many soft hands in the city these days, people who made their living off intangible things and wouldn’t know the satisfaction of a hard day’s labor if it bit them in the ass.
“The Stadium, huh?” He gave the ruins about them another assessing once-over. “No offense, but this is the smallest stadium I’ve ever seen.”
She grinned. Good sense of humor. Good.
“Don’t be fooled by what it looks like now,” Talia said. “She’s beaten up, but she’s got good bones. Not to mention, she’s got some serious secrets under the floorboards that will help make sure we have a big enough power supply.” Talia’s hands settled on her hips as she passed a wide glance across the room. “Yes, sir. Potential up the wazoo. Soon, this will be one of the best hackdomes in the city.”
“You planning on competing with the Ferries?” He shifted his weight, putting his toolbox down on what looked like a countertop. “Word to the wise: the old hag who runs that place is ruthless. You step on her business, she’s won’t like it, and you don’t look like the kind who would stand long in a fight.”
“Mama Corazon runs the Ferries for chipheads and illegal hackers.” Talia’s smile flatlined. “We won’t serve the same clientele. I’m only looking to fleece a few greens from college kids and techies the old-fashioned way: by serving them alcohol then legally charging them to VR battles when their judgement isn’t as brassy.”
Well, great, now he felt like a jerk. “Look, I didn’t mean anything by it. I only—”
Talia cut him off as she pulled the gloves off her hands and slapped them on the counter. “Want to look at that NNIP, then?”
She turned on her heel, and what could he do but follow in shamed silence? Just because he’d been an idiot didn’t mean he couldn’t cough up some professionalism.

View full details