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

have found the traitor’s ship and returned it to Azul military. Then he would be able to assist his father with the continuation of their nefarious plans.
     Councilman Johnson beamed with pride; his son was implementing a plan hatched long ago - the re-conquest of Earth. For too long he had been biding his time, surrounded by weaklings who were all too willing to live a peaceful existence. Councilman Johnson wanted power, and he was going to get it, thanks to Max Gunnarsson’s discovery of faster than light travel.
     “Son, I am pleased. Do not let me down. Maintain secure transmissions at all times, and immediately let me know Earth status once you have entered Sol system.”
     The screen went blank, and Lt. Johnson put the console back into the footlocker, pushing it back under the bed. He showered up and got ready for his duty cycle, and thought he perhaps had one more chance to get Jennie into his bed.
 
         In the forward section of the massive spacecraft, Rear Admiral Bagatelle stood on the bridge, overlooking the mad display of colors until it caused his eyes to ache.
     “Turn screen opaque,” he commanded. He knew they would arrive at Sol system in just a few hours, and as it was completely new to anyone from his planet, he didn’t know what to expect. He only knew the mission at hand. He had to capture or kill Maximilianus Gunnarsson, and reacquire the upstart’s vessel before anyone else did.
     Bagatelle had issues back home, and was constantly battling with the authorities over the proper course of action. His biggest headache was Councilman Len Johnson. He had long known that Councilman Johnson had coveted power. It was the man’s nature - he was always trying to lead discussions and operations on the Security Council. In fact, he even tried to take over military operations at one time, albeit in a very sideways manner. Knowing something was seriously up with Johnson’s son, who had been a last-minute placement on the Revolution, he was hoping that Lt. Escalante would at least keep an eye out on the man.
     He was very proud of her – all of her accomplishments, everything done alone and without help. She was the polar opposite of Johnson, who was born into a powerful family and had every luxury handed to him as he grew up. He was only in the military to satisfy a requirement anyway – anyone serving on the Security Council must have performed military service in a commissioned capacity.

     Jennie went about her duty schedule, but also intended to give Ryder a bit of a sideshow. Entering the flight deck, she crossed diagonally to the ops booth, weaving in-between Draeder attack fighters, which were all lined up in perfect formation. She knew that he would see her, so she walked a bit more slowly than usual, and put a tad more swing in her hips.
     Just a little, enough to be subtly sexy.
     Through the corner of her eye she saw Johnson and pretended not to see him, but she knew he was watching her. He was working on his Draeder, which was not unusual. Although this was generally the work of the myriad of techs on the flight deck area, he liked to take care of his own craft. He seemed to be quite protective of the general area around his ship, waving techs off who had offered assistance. Nevertheless, she sat down in the ops booth and started going through flight recordings to make sure that none of the Draeders had suffered equipment or system failures in the recent past.
     Moving on, she finished her work looking over the flight logs and moved on to her next duty station, which happened to be the surveillance level’s vid deck. Entering the large, expansive room full of screens, she nodded courteously to the lead tech, and then took out her list.
     “I’ll be going over footage in the editing bay. I am not to be disturbed.”
     The tech again nodded and said, “Aye-aye, Ma’am,” and obediently