Max Arena (14 page)

Standing in the
centre of the circle, Max glanced at each of his opponents in turn.
They hesitated, watching him for a missed reaction, an instant of
weakness. Max looked down at the ground and froze, knowing the ploy
would bring them on. The five soldiers charged together.

With open palms
and only half strength blows, Max spun and lashed out, his
movements a blur, but clinically precise. A cacophony of slaps and
grunts accompanied the performance, the lopsided bout lasting only
a matter of seconds as first one, then another, a third and then
the last two men together flew outwards and to the ground in
varying states of consciousness.

Max rose from
his half crouch and turned to face the finish end of the course
where Elsa, the kids and Kris stood, the children jumping and
screaming. Max strode down to them and right past President
Bartholomew, who glared at him from beneath his hooded brow.

‘Wahoo!’ the
kids yelled as Max came up.

Elsa simply
beamed, wrapping her wide open arms around her husband, who gently
returned the embrace.

‘Will they be
okay?’ she asked, glancing out to the carnage on the lawn
behind.

‘They’ll be
fine,’ he replied. Looking across at Kris he asked, ‘How long?’

‘Just over
three minutes,’ she said. ‘Would’ve been quicker if you’d jogged
over the line.’

Max smiled.
‘Sorry. I won’t do it again,’ he said.

Kris nodded, a
faint smile lifting the corners of her mouth.

‘Max, the boss
wants me to get you all inside,’ Peter said, walking over. ‘Show’s
over.’

Max looked over
at the American Black Hawks and found Joe and Sheikh Abdullah in
conversation with a highly animated President Bartholomew. Off to
the side, the fifteen defeated soldiers were being led or carried
from the course towards the helicopters. Despite standing tall and
ripping through the opposition, Max suspected he had some bruised
ribs and a minor black eye from the glancing blow to the cheek, but
the injuries would be healed by tomorrow. They weren’t his biggest
concern.

Up until now he
had known exactly who his enemy is. Macktidas, but all of a sudden,
Max suspected he had just made a new enemy, right here on Earth and
this one might be even more dangerous than any alien foe he was
destined to meet in the arena. The President of the United
States.

Charles Ingot
the Third turned away from the computer screen on his desk to look
into space. As Chief of Staff for the President of the United
States he had seen many extraordinary things and come up against
many unfathomable challenges, but triumph had never failed him.
That’s why he was still top of the heap with everyone else snapping
at his heels, vying to knock him off. However, what he had just
seen had for the first time in a long time, caused him to
pause.

‘Tell me,
general,’ he said, ‘what do
you
think about Max? How good is
he?’

Sitting on the
opposite side of the desk, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs pulled
closed the screen of his own laptop to lean back in his chair.
Lacing his fingers together and resting his hands in his lap, he
pondered the question. The Chief of Staff turned to look at him,
raising an eyebrow at the silence.

‘What’s up,
Bob? It’s not like you to be gun shy?’ Ingot asked.

‘He’s good,’
Stratton replied. ‘Very good. I’ve never seen anyone carve their
way through fifteen soldiers as quick as he did and in that
fashion. He has natural combat skills and intuition, but it’s his
raw physicality that elevates him. His raw strength and power
coupled with his superior reflexes make him dangerous. However, I
can’t truly judge him until I see him handle a weapon and oppose a
foe equally as armed, but right now, there is every chance he is
one of the most formidable individuals I’ve ever seen.’

Ingot snuck a
quick look at the general’s massive panel of multi-coloured ribbons
on his left lapel. He knew he was in the presence of military
greatness. Not only was Stratton a four-star general and the
highest ranking officer in the United States military, but he was
also the most decorated soldier in American history. The feats this
man had achieved would reside in legend forever.

‘That’s a big
call from a man like you,’ the Chief of Staff answered.

The general
looked across the desk and nailed Ingot in his gaze, his clear blue
eyes as piercing as lasers.

‘Let’s be
clear, Mister Ingot,’ Stratton said. ‘What this man just did was
exceptional, maybe even extraordinary, but in my almost forty years
of soldiering, I have witnessed many extraordinary acts of physical
ability both on and off the field of battle. Yes, he took those men
apart, with minimal effort too, but now let’s get to the reality of
it. Would he perform equally as well in the heat of combat,
duelling a creature of absolutely unknown prowess in the intensity
of a life or death bout?’

The Chief of
Staff waited for the general to answer his own question, but he
didn’t. Reluctantly he succumb to the rhetorical response.

‘So, could
he?’

‘That remains
to be seen,’ the general replied evenly, ‘but right now, he might
be as good if not better than anyone we could place in that
position. What I would like to know, Mister Ingot, is what is
precisely on your mind here? I have provided intel for you and my
initial thoughts on the abilities of the subject, but before we
progress any further in this conversation, I would like to know
what your exact interest is here?’

Charles Ingot
the Third held the general’s gaze for as long as he could, but
ultimately looked away. Whilst his will had been hardened in the
corridors of political power, his colleague’s character had been
forged in the fires of battle and tempered like the steel anvil of
a blacksmith. It was pointless going head to head with him across
the table and besides, he needed the general on his side. He could
not afford to lose the man’s trust. The fate of the world rested on
the shoulders of this mystery man, this Maximilian Dyson and if he
was to contain or manage this man, he would need Stratton’s covert
forces and black operations skills.

There was also
the as yet unacknowledged opportunity beyond the arena. The impact
of an alien threat on the world had already begun to rapidly alter
the dynamics of international relationships. The world was changing
and if this Max actually defeated all comers in the arena, Max
would instantly become the most potent man on the planet. The
saviour of the world. The hero of mankind and if that eventuated,
then Charles absolutely needed to have control of this man because
victory in the arena would likely change the world forever and
Charles wanted to be in the right place at the right time to grab
control of that world.

‘My interest,
General,’ the Chief of Staff began, leaning forward and relocking
his gaze onto the senior soldier’s, ‘is exactly the same as your’s.
The continued safety and security of our United States of America
and right now, I don’t know if this Maximilian is friend or foe.
Yes, he can fight, but is he fighting for all of us or just
himself? His allegiances are unknown and until they are known, he
is dangerous and if the truth confirms him to be dangerous, then we
will need a mechanism for removing the threat and that’s where you
step up to the plate, General.’ Charles paused and leaned back. ‘Is
that precise enough for you?’

‘I’m a soldier,
Mister Ingot,’ General Stratton replied, his blue eyes shining like
tinged chrome. ‘I serve at the pleasure of the President and if he
commands me, I will obey.’ The general then paused and his gaze
firmed even harder. ‘However and let me be crystal clear on this,
you are
not
the President.’

8pm, 4
^th
July (later that night).
Sheikh Abdullah

‘How did the
American Army get out here in those choppers without us knowing
about it?’ Elsa asked, ‘and with the American president too?’

The staff had
just cleared the dessert bowls from the table inside the formal
dining room and left coffees and teas with the occupants. Elsa and
Max sat opposite Sheikh Abdullah with the Prime Minister on their
right at one end of the table and Kris on their left at the other
end.

‘There is a US
Army base about fifty kilometres south of here,’ Joe replied,
waving his hand. ‘It’s got a runway big enough to land the old
space shuttles. Seems like they can also land Airforce One there
without telling us. I’ve already asked Peter to get some radar
equipment in. We don’t want any more unwanted guests.’

‘The President
seemed pretty grumpy,’ Kris said.

‘He’s got a lot
on his mind,’ Joe answered.

‘Don’t we all?’
Kris added softly.

‘Yes, quite
right, Kris and no I won’t make excuses for him,’ Joe added,
wrapping his hands around his tea cup. ‘He’s normally quite
crotchety anyway, but today he was particularly venomous.’

A pause ensued.
Sheikh Abdullah raised his head and slid a silent gaze around the
table.

‘So, now it is
my turn,’ the Sheikh started as he sat back in his chair, folding
his hands in his lap, ’to firstly apologise for my unannounced
arrival this morning and to secondly, explain my presence. Elsa,
Kris, Max, it is my privilege to make your acquaintances and as Joe
indicated this morning, I am here to help. Through helping you, I
would also hope that we can become friends. This is going to be an
arduous time for us all and the more friends we can keep close, the
stronger we will be in facing our uncertain future.’

Another pause
followed.

‘Well,’ Max
started, leaning back and placing his arm around the back of his
wife’s chair, ‘it’s like Peter said this morning. Any friend of
Joe’s is a friend of ours’, so welcome aboard I guess.’

‘That’s a
gracious notion, my friend,’ Sheikh Abdullah said, dipping his head
slightly, ‘and it is whole heartedly accepted, so thank you.
However, it remains appropriate that I now explain to you the
reason for my presence. In recent years, since assuming his office,
Prime Minister Tollsen and I have become fast friends and close
allies within the international diplomatic landscape and it is
right now, at this most dire time of need, that I feel compelled to
firm that friendship even further.’

Max smiled.
‘That’s a really long winded way of saying you’re both in
cahoots.’

Sheikh Abdullah
also smiled.

Joe chimed in.
‘You better be careful, Abdullah,’ he said. ‘It seems Max might be
immune to your silver tongue.’

‘You are right
as always, Joseph,’ Sheikh Abdullah added. ‘Max, your comment is a
timely reminder that friends always speak plainly with one another
and so, from now on, that is how I shall talk with all of you. I
appreciate your honesty.’

Max turned to
Elsa and squeezed her shoulders with his arm. ‘Well, before we all
go speaking plainly with each other, I think it’s only fair that I
let you know that Elsa here is the brains in the family. If you
need some thinking to be done or something clever to do, talk to
her. If you need something heavy picked up, I’m your man.’

Joe and Sheikh
Abdullah exchanged a quick glance.

‘Don’t sell
yourself too short, Max,’ Joe said, picking up his cup of tea and
holding it in front of his lips, the steam wafting over his face.
‘You handled POTUS quite magnificently this morning. Not many
people possess the courage to stand up to the leader of the free
world.’

‘Why do you
call him POTUS?’ Kris asked.

‘It is an
acronym for President of the United States,’ Joe answered. ‘So much
easier to say than President Bartholomew.’

Max shifted in
his seat and looked sideways at Joe. ‘I never bought into this
whole leader of the free world thing,’ he said. ‘I didn’t vote for
him and like Kris said, he just seems like a grumpy old man to
me.’

‘You’ve just
accurately described myself and most other diplomats on any given
day,’ Joe said, lowering his tea cup back down into his saucer,
‘except of course for all the grumpy old women. Let’s not
discriminate.’

‘Don’t sell
yourself
too short, Joe,’ Max returned. ‘I’ve never thought
of you like that.’

Joe looked
across at Max and held his eye for just a moment, accepting the
compliment. Joe then glanced again at Abdullah, who also
acknowledged the unspoken acknowledgement.

‘So, now if I
may boldly grasp everyone’s attention,’ Sheikh Abdullah said,
leaning forward and placing his hands carefully on the table in
front of him, one hand delicately placed flat on top of the other.
‘I will explain myself.’

The rest of the
table fell quiet.

‘Let me begin
by reiterating my promise to you all and then I will explain my
justification for being here,’ Sheikh Abdullah said, his tone
smooth and clear. ‘I have insisted to Joseph that I can be of the
utmost help in ensuring you are all afforded ample resources and
absolute safety to prepare Max for the arena and in so doing,
provide all of humanity its greatest opportunity to survive this
ordeal. I offer this aid openly, willingly and without
qualification. There are several reasons why I make this offer,
some of which I will retain for myself, though they are not in any
way sinister, but primarily my aid is for pure charity. We are
all
in danger. Our entire species is in the greatest of
peril and I find myself with the ability to help and as such, both
my personal morals and my religious beliefs demand that I provide
that assistance. So, I come humbly, but not all together passively,
to give to you all that is mine to give, including my energy and
effort and the energy and effort of my people. That aid can begin
now and will endure until the arena event has concluded. You may
refuse my aid, but I assure you, even then, I will continue in the
background to do what I can. I will not let this opportunity go
unaddressed. So, before I explain how I justify providing this aid,
does anyone wish to ask any questions of me?’