The patient is a 44 year-old biotic Turian male by the name of Saren Arterius admitted to the Citadel Intensive Care Unit due to a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head. Patient was unconscious during time of entry and suffered from severe blood loss but responded well to transfusion treatments provided by an anonymous donor.
Mr. Arterius suffers from oculocutaneous albinism but has had a high rate of success with modern treatments and surgeries to increase vision and UV radiation protection. No known allergies to dextro-amino proteins.
It is expected that, after recovery, the patient will have damage to the occipital lobe and primary motor cortex, causing vision loss and the deterioration of fine motor skills.
The Alliance Council is covering all related medical fees.
###
The Asari nurse sighed as she disposed of her surgical gloves in the nearest biomedical waste receptacle. She had seen and worked on many patients in her three-hundred-year career, but never had she dealt with one as surly and ill-tempered as the one currently under her care.
The Asari nurse was named T'Nia Dalliri, and she had been transferred to the Citadel Intensive Care Unit from her place as the supervisor for the Center of Biotic Rehabilitation in order to supervise a Turian biotic that had just been admitted to the hospital. She missed her work at the Center, in all honesty, where she helped others develop their biotic powers and fitted them with the most up-to-date L3 biotic implants on the market.
Her patient was Saren Arterius and a former Spectre. He had been a common sight at the Center as a lecturer on the rarity that was Turian biotics. However, despite his contributions, he was a terrible patient to work with. T'Nia had worked as an assistant on one of his implant surgeries, and the Turian was unruly during his post-surgical recovery stages. Many of the nurses and hospital staff still had the facial scars to prove it.
"Ms. Dalliri, patient 49 in Ward 3 requests your assistance."
The Asari huffed at the voice over the intercom.
"Mr. Lowenk and his chronic hypochondria can wait. I'm in the middle of performing Mr. Arterius' post-surgical analysis."
While T'Nia didn't consider herself guilty of practicing blatant speciesism, she couldn't help but feel contempt towards some of the human race. Most of the patients in the Intensive Care Unit at the Citadel were C-Sec officers of the Turian and human variety. The majority were hard workers, of course, but others, particularly on the human side of things, were incredibly lazy and tried to get out of any work that might dirty their hands.
Michael Lowenk was one such case, admitted to the hospital every week with some new illness or another. While T'Nia preferred not to treat him and waste her energies that could be used elsewhere, a doctor had signed off on his condition, making whatever Lowenk thought he had legit—no doubt some work of friends in high places..
"What time should I let him know you'll be seeing him, then?"
"Thirty minutes, Nadeen. If he absolutely needs someone before then, the scholar-in-residence, Dr. Solus, may have some time for him. He volunteered to perform today's rounds."
It was a callous move to pass off her problem patient to their current resident scholar, but T'Nia had more important matters to attend to.
Turning her attention back to her workstation, the Asari nurse surveyed the array of implant chips spread out in front of her.
Saren, for all his physical and mental fortitude, was a delicate creature and an anomaly to what was normal Turian physiology—the hardware in front of her was a testament to such. What T'Nia had scattered before her was a number of UV protection dermal implants, ocular vision enhancements, burnt out L3 chips, Geth hardware, and an implant she had never seen before. Small and silver, it still gave off a faint blue glow, even when disconnected from its host.
By all accounts, T'Nia was not even supposed to be in possession of the chip. During the surgery, a C-Sec officer had literally "tagged and bagged" each chip and then carting them off before they could be properly examined. The staff was given the reason of "hazardous material that could cause respiratory problems when exposed to the open air," but T'Nia didn't believe that. This one she had snuck out of the operating room in the pocket of her surgical scrubs—a simple enough task due to the discreet nature of the implant.
Delicately picking the implant up with a pair of tweezers, she wondered where Saren had acquired such a device and who had performed the procedure. The implant had no connection points whatsoever and had seemed to be embedded in the Turian through the sheer force of will. It was a scientific feat she could only marvel at and she wondered why C-Sec didn't want them in the hospital's possession. Such technology could help with the development of future biotic implants and further research would surely benefit the rest of Citadel space.
T'Nia Dalliri would crack the secret of this tiny piece of circuitry and share her discovery with the rest of her colleagues back at the Center. After all, such was her specialty.
###
Nihlus Kryik was, at first glance, not what you'd expect of a model Spectre.
While calm under pressure and delivering his missions flawlessly, the highly-decorated Turian did not exude an uptight demeanor, nor did he flaunt his status. With a young face and a bell-like voice, the only hint that the Turian was of the elite was the silver arc affixed to his armor. Thus, entering the Citadel Hospital's Hemotology department without a large commotion was a simple task. Donating blood, on the other hand, proved to be a little more difficult.
"Hold still. Spectres do not squirm. Un-military. Late for rounds. Need you to cooperate so I can leave."
Nihlus' mandibles flared in mild irritation as he shot a glance at the needle Dr. Mordin Solus had wedged underneath the plates in forearm.
"You'll make sure I continue to remain anonymous?"
"Of course. Patient confidentiality remains first priority; Spectres even more so. You wish for the same recipient?"
"Until I can kill the bastard myself."
For the past week and a half, Nihlus had repeatedly donated blood for Saren's near-constant series of surgeries. Perhaps, were Nihlus a different person, he'd be offering up his blood for different reasons. But instead, it was for yet another mission, if not a more personal one.
"Ah yes, revenge. Common Turian trait. Heal the wounded only to kill them later. I understand."
Nihlus was pretty sure Mordin didn't understand the situation in the slightest, but he wasn't going to try to push the issue. Salarians couldn't be reasoned with. They lived in their own little logical world and couldn't accept their own errors. Not that he didn't think Mordin wasn't a good doctor by any means—he was really one of the best and the hospital was fortunate he was staying in residence—but it did not negate his species' defining traits.
"There. All done. Recommended you stay reclined for fifteen minutes. Need to go. Patients to attend to. Will make sure this gets to the correct personnel." Mordin gestured to the collection bag offhandedly as he pulled the needle from the Spectre's arm. "Replenish your blood sugars. Will be woozy if you don't."
The doctor left the room just as business-like as his orders.
Nihlus made sure Mordin was well out of the room before letting his head drop back down on the padded headrest of the patient recliner with a loud exhalation.
"Spirits, that stings."
Military though he was, Nihlus had a strong distaste towards needles of all kinds. He'd had an unfortunate incident with them during medical in-processing at base camp on Palaven when he first registered with the Turian military and he hadn't been fond of them since.
Since Saren's attack on the Citadel, the Council had ordered a tight hold on Nihlus' actions, and he occasionally saw Shepard unobtrusively watching him from a difference. He didn't begrudge Shepard her orders, but her keen eye was a waste of effort that could be expended elsewhere. It wasn't that Nihlus wasn't angry his former mentor's actions—he was beyond angry, to be sure, but he wasn't going to act upon it. At least, not without orders from the Council. Orders he now had.
Tapping twice on his omnitool, he pulled up his current assignment.
Victim: T'Nia Dalliri
Background: Body found brutally mauled. Forensic reports indicate teeth and claw marks' depth and length are from a fully-adult Turian male, approximately 40 years of age. No signs of a struggle. The victim was discovered in Intensive Care Unit Ward 5, currently occupied by patient former Spectre Saren Arterius. Victim's blood was also found dried on the patient's talons and mandibles with 48 hours of the incident. The Council has reason to suspect Arterius of the crime.
Objective: Interrogate and eliminate target.