Hey, guys! So sorry for the wait. School is trying to steal my time and happiness, which doesn't really seem fair since I want both to write this story and get good grades. Blah. Thank you for those who followed and favorited and (especially) those who reviewed! I love you all! :)

This chapter deals with the introduction of my created characters. No canon Who people in this chapter, sorry.

I also realized that I neglected my disclaimer in my last chapter. I am a special kind of Derp. Doctor Who does not belong to me in any way, shape, or form. The only characters that were invented by me are Giorgios, Julius, and Myra.

The stifling, arid heat of Athens seemed to rise from every available surface in the classroom. Students, wearing uniform blazers and violently cursing the standard attire in their hazed minds, took tiresome notes amid the desert-esque atmosphere. The room was a large one, wide windows opening to the green exterior of the space. Wooden desks were arranged in orderly rows upon several levels. In each desk, a woozy boy sat, attentive to all but his lessons during the lecture.

At the front of the classroom, a thin, stern-faced man rattled off information in a monotone. He would occasionally gesture to the chalkboard behind him, the heat not seeming to bother him in an impeccable suit. The ruler's edge mustache would twitch angrily whenever he hit a note of passion in his grandiose speech, such as the waning interest in the funding of education (and therefore, professors) in Greece. Though the topic of the lecture was meant to be the unique travel of auditory wavelengths within the theoretical vacuum of space, he managed to find a way to tie in his concerns for the financial welfare of this particular university and its entire staff (particularly himself).

"We may safely postulate that the entirety of a high-frequency sound wave would not be capable of traveling within the expanse of deep space after passing through the atmosphere." He frowned, with all the look of a sudden epiphany. "Which may be tied into a similar concept, namely the travelling of sound from this university to the governmental financial offices. We have thousands of studies that support the latter evidence."

The next fifteen minutes passed in this manner, upon which the students began fidgeting, even in their torpor, as the end of the hour drew nearer. At one point, one student had the unnerving audacity to pull his pencil-bag from the floor and pack away his notes. As the jangling and rustling noise resounded through the classroom, all people, students and teacher alike, faced the noise.

"Ah, Master Demitri. So eager to leave?" The mentor's facial hair jumped in aggravation, having been on the brink of hitting a high (and voluminous) point in his lesson-turned-tirade. "What could possibly await you outside this room that makes you so anxious?"

The poor boy froze, a bottle of correction ink slowly beginning to drip onto his blue-and-white blazer. "S-so sorry, sir. Begging your pardon, Mister Spanos. It was almost the end of the lesson, wasn't it, sir?"

"Indeed. But I wasn't under the impression that I was paid next-to-nothing to watch you ignore the end of my lectures."

"Apologies, sir; I'm just a bit excited, sir."

A single eyebrow was raised at this. "Excited for what, pray tell?"

"Well, sir, my friend Christos' father has been going on about how he's been meeting with people of important stations, sir, and he reckons," Demitri's face broke into a slow grin as he turned to the other students around him, "he reckons he could get me and Christos passes for the Olympics, sir."

A sudden mass of murmurs and shocked exclamations arose from the surrounding desks. The Games had been the talk of the school for the past eight months, the revival of the Ancient Greek tradition seeming like something that would have jumped straight from their history texts. Passes were notoriously difficult to obtain for middle-class citizens, with some day-long permits selling for as much two thousand drachma. As the class continued to hum with awe of their friend, Professor Spanos looked irritatedly to the pendulum clock on the wall. Several seconds passed and there was little sign of the excitement fading. The teacher, rolling his eyes, rose from his chair and selected a rather heavy tome from a nearby bookshelf. Crossing to the front of the desk, he held his arms straight away from his body, suspending the book in midair. Several students realized what was about to transpire, and covered their ears.

The Professor let the book fall, parallel with the ground, and it hit the floor with a boom that was amplified by precisely thirteen times in the specially-designed lecture hall. While every one of the unprepared students yelled in shock at the unexpected noise and belatedly clamped their hands over the sides of their head, their teacher stood before his desk, arms crossed, entirely unfazed by the sound. He waited for the majority of the class to recover before speaking.

"While we are all very pleased for Master Demitri, I will remind you that there are merely two minutes until the end of class, and my lecture was not yet completed. You may thank your classmate for the essay I am assigning, to be turned in next class with your original assignment, on the theory of auditory propagation within a vacuum," he held up a hand at the angry outbursts from the levels of his audience. "I expect no less than seven pages from each of you."

Several boys in the first two rows turned to Demitri with wrathful looks.

"You and your stupid Olympics!"

"Sure, you'll be having fun at the Pana, but what about us, eh?"

"Seven pages!"

Demitri scowled back just as fiercely. "Isn't my fault! Didn't know he would, did I? If you lot could go to the Olympics, you'd do the same thi-"

The sharp ringing of the bell signaled the end of classes, as the University terminated learning for the afternoon. The students filed out the double-doors of the classroom, stopping just out of sight to make rude gestures in the general direction of their professor. The twenty-year old males vacated the campus for the end of the afternoon, several still hollering abuses at Demitri as he sprinted to where his friend Christos was waiting.

Professor Spanos, who knew very well what the students said about him, went back to his seat and adjusted several of the items on his desk, lining them up in organized rows. He scratched his mustache as he regarded his clearly arranged schedule for the next week. It was April the third, and there had been many strange folk about, visiting from other countries in preparation for the Games. This meant that he, Giorgios Spanos, had a great many meetings with 'intellectuals' from around the world in the upcoming days. He couldn't abide those conferences, mostly based upon a need to restrain himself from laughing in their imbecilic faces. If only they were privy to what he knew…

Sighing, he shook his head. No. There was no one he could tell. He straightened his tie and resolved to get several of the previous week's essays graded. What had he been thinking, assigning yet another project? Seven pages from forty-two students (Granted, only forty-two of his ninety six pupils.) would keep him from gaining any joy from life for the next three weeks. Though, classes were cancelled soon, in a sort of nationalistic 'holiday' for the Olympics. He wasn't going to see any of his students until the seventeenth, after his last class of the mid-semester the next day. But the class on the fourth was one of regular physics, instead of astrophysics such as he taught the third-years. Giorgios much preferred astrophysics to the 'normal' stuff. But better a dull class and then holiday, than a dull class and then forty-two essays four days later. He finished the essay he had been grading, marking a large 'Poor' with a flourish, and moved quickly to the next.

He sat like this for nearly an hour, marking over everything and berating his students' stupidity (Really, did none of them pay attention to his lectures?), before he was startled out of the trance by a knock on his desk. After smearing the blue ink on the 'L' of 'Fail', he indignantly looked up to see the round, grinning face of his colleague, Julius Kouros.

Julius was a larger man, clean-shaven with very red cheeks and a booming laugh. His hair was thinning, though he attempted to hide this fact by combing over the few strands he had and behaving as if he were the most attractive man in the cosmos. Giorgios found him well-intentioned (albeit a tad neurotic), but with the most dreadful habit of turning up whenever one wanted to work. Despite that, the two were fair friends.

"Good evening to you, Giorgios! How're the writings coming along? Couldn't be bothered to spend too much time on mine-marked 'em all 'Average'. You?"

"Astrophysics essays require significantly more scrutiny than Philosophy, Julius," Giorgios stated in a bored tone. "Especially since they announced that the Games will be taking place not five kilometers from here…"

"The Games, the Games! I take it you won't be attending? My oldest son has been clamoring to go."

"I have no interest in it, and Myra has yet to express an opinion."

"Ah, your niece! How is she?"

"The same as ever, really. Quiet, not much to say. I actually doubt that she'll have an interest in the Olympics. She seems to be becoming quite the junior intellectual."

"Just like her old uncle, eh?"

"I prefer to think of myself as an activist, actually. Not much time for books these days."

"Right, right. It's likely fortunate that I can't procure passes for the Olympics—the Drachmas aren't worth anything anymore, it seems—because I've been informed," Giorgios looked up at these words, and Julius glanced quickly to the door to ensure their solitude before resuming. "The next phase is to be initiated. He was able to procure the energy that we needed."

Giorgios rose from his seat, eyebrows lowered as he stared intensely at his colleague. "He has contacted you directly? When?"

"I assure you; even I was surprised at the message. Little more than two days ago."

"I'm sorry; I thought that I was the Astrophysicist at this university. We agreed—you, Markos, and I—that all further contacts would be brought directly to me! He'll be expecting us to have procured a subject by now!" Giorgios' mustache leaped in anger below livid eyes. Julius drew himself up to his full height of five-feet, seven inches, and responded curtly.

"Well, I assumed he would have contacted you, too, what with our schedules not letting us see each other! And my little Kostas' birthday was yesterday! Pardon me for putting my family before my work!"

"We've been over this, Julius; if the project is successful, we will be rewarded thirty times what could be offered in this miserable place," Giorgios hissed, gesturing angrily to the rows of empty seats. "If we fail, we lose everything!"

Julius quickly ran his hand through his nonexistent hair, mussing the careful comb-over, "I'm aware, Giorgios! Of all of it! Been doubling my hours, haven't I? The wife's getting suspicious! Kids're growing up, and I'm missing it! You know what?" he glared back at his taller friend. "I have half a mind to drop this scheme, right here, right now!"

Giorgios held up a hand in warning, looking around frantically. "Don't say things like that! If he hears you…" he ran his hands down his face and shook his head. "Well, you might never see your children again. Being in this primary circle makes you aware of information that no one must know. And I understand how you feel, but we all must make sacrifices. Your children will benefit from this. You will never have to work again, and may watch them grow all you want, but it will take a bit of time to make that possible."

"Doesn't seem worth it, really. Sometimes."

"It will be. A small bit of sacrifice. Just trust me. Work before family, Julius. Just for a short time. Until we find a subject, which must happen quickly. He'll likely be expecting one by tomorrow if contact was two days ago…" Giorgios stared imploringly at Julius, who sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

"Uncle?"

The new voice, which emanated from the partially-shut double-doors, brought an abrupt end to the serious conversation. The two men turned to the speaker, who remained halfway hidden behind the entrance. Giorgios smiled thinly before calling out.

"Ah, Myra! What have I said about eavesdropping? Come out, now. There's a good girl."

A small child shuffled into the room. She was wearing a basic blue dress, nothing that suggested status, and her characteristically Greek features were still obscured by the slight remains of baby fat. She twisted one hand into the hem of her dress, a nervous habit.

"When is supper? Miss Andrea won't allow me into the kitchen."

Giorgios attempted a smile, and moved from his desk, before stooping to talk to the child. "Well then, tell Miss Andrea that she'll be hearing from me if she doesn't have supper out in a quarter hour," he stood and began guiding the small girl back to the door. "I'll be finished with work in a few moments. Go on to the dining hall."

The child nodded somberly as the door shut behind her. Giorgios shook his head as he walked back to Julius. "She's been like this for months, always quiet and shuffling about after classes end. Dreadfully hard to keep track of. I merely wish that I could find someone to care for her in my stead for a few days."

Julius cocked his head and raised a brow, seemingly pensive. Giorgios paused. "What is it?"

His friend gestured vaguely and replied in an airy tone. "Well, you seem to be inconvenienced by her, and I happen to know where she'll be a great benefit to much of society…particularly yourself."

"You've brought up the boarding school before, and I've told you that I'll not have her sent off to Normandy. I promised my brother—God rest his soul—that I would keep her in Greece until she comes of age."

"I wasn't thinking of Normandy, Giorgios."

Professor Spanos tilted his head slightly in confusion. "I'm not sure I know what you're saying, my friend."

Julius stared back without expression, though the waning sunlight cast sharp shadows across the planes of his face, looking almost sinister in the dying day. "What we discussed before the little girl's interruption. He's getting impatient—we need a subject—"

Giorgios started at Julius's words. "She's barely eight!"

"Is that not near enough to the ideal age we agreed upon?!"

"My brother would rise from his grave if he knew that you thought of using his only daughter as a lab rat for an otherworldly—"

"What choice do we have, Spanos?!"

The harsh words that suddenly tore from the rounded man stunned Giorgios into silence. Julius appeared mad, his eyes wide.

"If we don't obtain a subject by the start of the Olympics—yes, he did mention a deadline—he will kill us both, or worse. Do you want that to happen? Do you want that?!"

Giorgios winced and collapsed in his chair, covering his face with his hands. Julius crossed his arms and glared down at his friend, desperation etched in every line of his face.

"Julius, I understand your concerns, but I cannot willingly place my niece into a situation where she may not survive. Is there any other option? Do you not have any other friends with children?"

"The only children I know of are my own, and they are far below the age that he set for the procedure," Julius softened, his face relaxing. "You are wise to feel concerns for Myra's safety, but the conditions are godlike. The technology that he has brought us…she will not only survive, but be made better for the world. We must trust him."

"I still believe that we should think of other options. She is my family, however distant my brother and I may have been."

Julius shrugged, and turned to exit the classroom, pausing at the doors while imitating Giorgios' imperial tone. "A small bit of sacrifice. Work before family, Giorgios. Just for a short time."

His colleague's dress shoes tapped along the floor, fading into the distance. Spanos sat alone at his desk, head in his hands. Various waves of conflicting emotion washed over him. Guilt, fear, anger, and then, blessed apathy. What must happen would happen. No other subjects were available for the test, and he would likely die if Myra was not turned over. And if there was one thing Giorgios Spanos feared after watching his brother's last breath by his bedside, it was death. He shoved the grim thoughts aside, rose stiffly, and walked briskly to the dining hall to join his niece for supper.

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