Pastmaster: Allies

It wasnt very often that The Historian was caught unawares, normally every contingency was planned for. Risks were evaluated and calculated, every angle calculated. Except this once. And now, there was only one course of action. Only one person who could possibly help Sons of History get out of the mess it had found itself in.

The Historian typed up the course of action that would be relayed, dialed a number and then allowed the computer to speak for him. That way, if the call was compromised there would be no voice to analyse and compare. All angles covered.

The person who recieved the call almost didnt believe what he was hearing, this was the one course of action that he would never have dared bring up. But to question the order would bring about his certain death.

"I will see to it at once Historian."

The call ended, another began seconds later. On a different phone. The old one had been fed to a blender, and then covered in petrol and set on fire. Covering all the angles.

CHAPTER ONE

Waking Jonathon Peter Davies up was normally an epic undertaking. It recquired music (at least three tracks), time, a long hot shower and of course a cup of tea.

Not this morning.

This morning Davies awoke instantly, no gentle awakening, easing from sleep to being awake. He was asleep, and then he was awake. Less than a seconds difference between the two.

Someone had knocked on his door.

Not the first of the two front doors that stopped entrance to his flat, but the door that led from his hallway to his bedroom.

Nobody else was supposed to be there.

He had no friends sleeping off the night before, no guy who had been thrown out by his girlfriend and needed a place to sleep. He and his pot plant were supposed to be the only living things in his flat. Hence the immediate awakening.

The intruder was dressed all in black, black trainers, black trousers, jumper and black balaclava. Davies couldnt see his eyes or hair or skin. No way to know if they were black.

Suprisingly, Davies after those first initial seconds of panic was calm. The man obviously didnt want to kill him. If that was the mans intention he would be dead by now. This guy wanted something. To send a message? 'We know where you live'. Pointless, he knew they knew that. THEY knew that he knew that they knew where he lived. 'Were still here'? He knew that. His day job was all about that fact. So why had he been denied the last 7 minutes of his eight hours of sleep?

"Sorry for the rude awakening, but we need to talk."

The guy produced what looked like a cup of tea, smelt like a cup of tea and moved like a cup of tea. Davies shot it a nasty look. It may well have tea in it. It would cover up the taste of whatever else was in it. Cyanide most likely. The guy gave it to him. Like a peace offering.

Davies placed it on his nightstand. Was this a defection? Did this guy want to swap sides?

"You know who I work for. I work directly for the top of this organisation. We have a problem, and it has been decided that you must help us resolve it."

Davies blinked twice. Looked around for a white rabbit with a pocket watch that was later for a very important date. Under the duvet he pinched himself. It hurt. He was awake.

"We were contacted by someone. She said she agreed with what we were doing. She wanted to re-create something that was past. The Amazons. We examined her proposal, agreed with what she was doing and the way she was going about it. We funded her. Supported her. Gave her people and resources. But she only wanted women. This was a female only project. No men. We thought it a little strange but we agreed."

Davies didnt move. There was a point to this. And he knew he wouldnt like it. He would have bet a years pay that he wouldnt like it. Ten years. Twenty.

"After a few months, we began to get suspicious, rumors reached us that she was experimenting on men, more specifically their ability to reproduce. Then more rumors reached us. Eventually we sent a team to 'remove' her but they couldn't find her. We still cant. She has taken our money and run. We need her found."

"So, you gave a woman a load of money, got back lots of rumors of her doing things to mens things, lost track of her and now you want me to track her down for you?I missed the part where this was my problem."

"I am here because we got confirmation of the rumors. She is building a biological weapon. Desinged to kill billions of people. We need her found. Quickly. We know she is almost finished and we know she is somewhere in the United Kingdom."

Davies couldnt take it all in. His mind had problems with the word 'billions' when it wasnt applied to his bank balance. Surely this was all some sort of really strange dream. Any second now Megan Fox would walk in and his alarm would go off when things were starting to get interesting.

The man in the balaclava kept talking.

"We just want her found. You find her, call us and we will deal with the problem. Our mess, we clean it up. No bad headlines for you. No genocide either."

Davies leaned forward.

"Thats not going to wash. We find this person, were going to want something in exchange for our work. What your proposing is all good for you. We dont work like that."

"You will be stopping a genocide which is your job anyway. You cant turn this down and you know it."

If looks could kill Davies would have had a problem with a corpse in his bedroom. The guy ignored it. Davies knew that he couldn't drop this. If this was a trap, he couldnt see an upside for them. Unless they wanted to distract him, but there were more efficent ways to do that. He had to take what he was being told as the truth. With salt. Lots of salt.

"Dont suppose you have a mobile number?"

The guy placed the file, a phone and a vial on top of the nearest thing he could reach. Davies dirty washing basking.

"The phone has one number on the memory card. Its active from seven minutes past until seventeen minutes past the hour. Every hour. One call only. The vial contains a sample of what is about to be unleashed upon the world. The file contains all that we are willing to let you see."

"Sanitised files are of no use to me."

"Their all your going to get. Good luck. I'm going to knock you out now. Youll wake up in about 15 minutes."

"Hold on a.."

Davies never finished the sentance, a dart had hit him in the shoulder before he started the sentance and by the end of it he was out cold. When he woke up, he was alone.

CHAPTER TWO

Davies was in work by 8.25 that morning. He wanted to do some legwork of his own before involving his team. However by 8.50 he knew that he was going to need their help. Which meant that PASTMASTER, a team created to destroy Sons of History was gonig to be working FOR SOH. Which would go down about as well as several lead ballons. With lead weights. On Jupiter.

As usual Davies second in command arrived puntucually at 8.47, five minutes after the bus had dropped her off and three minutes after she had cleared security. Her first duty was to make Davies and herself a cup of tea. She regarded this as a chore that had tp be done, not because she wanted to get in his good books but because he ahd saved her life and told her this was the way to pay it off. At 8.55 she knocked on the door and was buzzed in thirty seconds later.

"Morning John."

Davies looked up as if wondering where she had come from.She suppressed a smile, he often had that look when he was disturbed from a train of thought.

"Morning Bureau. Anything on the schedule for today?"

Bureau frowned slightly. This wasnt a question that was asked often. And when it was, it normally led to a lot of no good involving bullets, bombs or something else designed to cause harm or damage to the world.

"Just weekly calls from CIA and China. Your also due to call Greece and India."

"I need you to cancel everything. But first I need you to listen and tell me what you think."

Davies quickly filled in his second in command on his morning. Watching her eyes widen in horror when the 'b' word was used to describe casualtys. He knew she would react like that. Bureau loved all life and hated to see it damaged or taken. Strangely though, she didnt hate the fact that no-body knew her real name.

"I've been doing some digging and what i've found seems to back them up. Shes called Claire Gregory. Incredibly intelligent, single minded and ruthless. Shes published a few papers under the general theme that men are no longer needed for anything and are therefore irrelevant. Vegan. Lesbian of course. Drummed out of the scientific community for her views an the fact she couldnt get her head around 'ethics' when they got in her way."

Bureau repressed a smile. Davies also had a problem with the word 'ethics' when it got in his way. The difference was, he was on the side of the 'good' guys.

"Put a meeting together for the team, there's stuff in her history about Scotland, its thin but its a start. Give the RAF ashout, I want two fighters prepped and ready to go north of the border."

"Two fighters?"

"Sams coming with me."

Bureau left the room. Sam was an excellent choice if you wanted people to be removed from your life by removing them from theirs. And those two fighters wouldnt be going anywhere. A world of hurt was heading towards Scotland, the question was, would it be enough?

CHAPTER THREE

Mark Starbright didnt know where he was, what he was doing, or why he was doing it. And it was a state of affairs that he was vaguely unhappy with. He had been unemployed for three years and had been forced to live on the streets. There, he had been aproached by a woman who said she wanted to borrow him for some medical work. They wanted him to give them six weeks and in exchange they would give him five thousand pounds!!!

Out of desperation more than anything he had accepted their offer and found himself in a van with two other men and three women. They were all homless and knew each other vaguely from the shelters. There were bottles of water to drink if they were thirsty, sandwiches if they wre hungry and a gas in the air if they werent sleepy.

They had awoken in a nice, clean flat for want of a better word. There were showers, tv, food and drink in the fridge and even books if they were so inclined. A video had come on and a very polite lady had explined that they were taking part in an experiment to see what happened to humans if they were deprived of the outside world, most specificaly light.

She went on to explain that if at anypoint they wanted to leave, they could but they would forfit the five thousand pounds. This seemed fair and was accepted by all of them. Then, it was explained that they were not to have any contact with the outside world to avoid contaminating the test. They would be allowed to send letters (which went straight into a shredder) whenever they wished. They would at times be tested to see how they were fairing. Then, they were left to their own devices.

Of course, there was no such test. Mark and all the others had been infected with a gentically created virus with very specific abilities. Whilst it enhanced womens strength, speed, stamina and intelligence, it had the complete opposite effect on men. Reducing their ability to think, increacing their docility and completley removing their ability to have children.

And it was going well. Very well in fact.

Not that Mark knew any of this. In fact, after six weeks he no longer knew much of anything. He had previously been an intelligent person, and had tried to use the six weeks to read and improve himself slightly. Unfortunatley, books were once childs play were now hoplelssly beyond him.

Mark had a little over a day to live, then he would be killed and cremated to destroy any evidence he had even existed.

"His ability to reproduce is now at 0%, IQ is down 57% and reactions are down by 40%. He caught the virus quite easily and early on. We are now ready for the final phase."

Claire smiled at the underling. Her plan was close, so close to coming true. People thought that the world could be saved by tackling lots of problems on their own. They were wrong. THere was only one problem with the world. Men.

Violent, warlike, crude men. Obsessed with their genes carrying on for another generation regardless of the cost. Well, she would fix all that. Soon, men would be nothing but a memory and one that was quickly forgotten. In fourty years, the world would be full only of women, women who knew that things could be solved by the pen and not the sword. A paradise that was so close she could almost smell it.

CHAPTER FOUR

Davies sat in the fighter that he had borrowed (with some ill grace) from the RAF. He had ignored the fighter pilots attempts at conversation and was instead counting his problems. Normally he might have counted his blessings, of which he had many. But the threat of biological armageddon sort of outweighed the fact he had planned on take-away Chinese for dinner.

Most of his problems related to what to do when he got to Scotland. The file indicated that Claire Gregory was a rather proud Scot and insisted on doing as much of her work as possible up there.