Lives of Future-Past (The Chronicles of Max Gunnarsson Book 1) by S.K. Benton

Max gathered himself and scooted his chair over closer to his strange new friend.
     “Draagh, what are we doing here, and where is here?”
     Draagh gave the young man a concerned look, and then plainly stated, “We are in what was called an IT department, in a building in Los Angeles, California, in the former United States of America. This had eventually turned into an underground operation, as the government banned the totality of electronic communications that were not explicitly approved by the censorship boards, all in the name of fairness and equality , of course.”
     Max noted the sarcasm in Draagh’s voice, and turned to the screen as the old sage continued.
     “This facility had archived exabytes of data from what was a free Internet, which had originally enabled mankind to learn and communicate on a scale unheard of in its history. Unfortunately, politicians were not fond of the fact that this sort of communication also exposed their crimes and weaknesses, so they banned it.”
     Max nodded slowly, watching Draagh navigate effortlessly through the archaic interface, using a small, handheld sliding device that he moved along a pad on the desk, occasionally pressing on a button on the device, which caused clicking sounds. When his new friend had finally found what he was looking for, he clicked what was called a link, and a small vid started to play. Max watched in horror as amateur vid footage showed the Vrol invasion on the ancient vid display (Azul technology had provided semi-transparent holographic vid displays for decades).  Black-colored, organic-looking ships were gliding through the air, the skin of the crafts undulating and shifting, as horrid creatures, resembling giant bats, exited from the larger vessels, as if they were smaller attackers themselves. In fact, they were the aerial attack troops, the Vrol having a flying warrior caste that did significant damage over the ground, while the organic-looking ships fought Earth fighters, themselves looking hopelessly outclassed and technologically backwards in comparison.
     Draagh gave Max a forlorn look and shook his head side to side. “This was the beginning of the invasion, Max. These are the creatures that destroyed this planet, without mercy, without hesitation or compunction. Now I already told you, yes, I already told you that the Vrol were nearly wiped out by Earth forces, but that only resulted in the amoeba infection being unleashed and virtually wiping out nearly every last man, woman and child, as well as much of the fauna - but do you know what is even more perverse than that, my son? The amoeba infection also killed the Vrol’s own troops. Yes, my boy. They massacred their own just to defeat the humans. So, once they arrive at a world there is nothing that can stop them. They simply bring death. They are death.”
     Max continued to stare at the screen, absolutely horrified at what he was watching.
     “But Draagh,” inquired Max, “why did you have to bring me here to show me this? Don’t you possess any technology like we do, such as a portable console?”
     Draagh solemnly nodded his head and responded,
 “Yes, my son. I could have simply conjured an infoscreen to show you all of this, but I felt it important for you to see from the eyes, the ears and the technology of your ancestors, so that you could understand the severity of this, and to truly believe what happened. Also, so you would realize that they must be eliminated, wherever they are encountered, wherever they exist. You see, Max, that alien race, the one that is heading toward Azul, is the Vrol.”
     Draagh shut off the computer and stared into the blackness of the paper-thin chip monitor upon which they had viewed the invasion vid. Pensive for but a moment, he looked at Max, who sat, practically in a state of shock, when he then turned away from the young man.
     Nearly unwilling to