[I]“In other news, the Citadel Council has recently denied reports of a Prothean artifact being discovered in the Terminus systems, calling them ‘rumours spread by attention seeking treasure hunters.’ Recent actions by major organizations in the Terminus suggest otherwise - this reporter thinks the Artifact is very real, and the council doesn’t want us to have it. To all the organizations out there hunting the artifact, good for you. Its about time the council shared their toys with the rest of us.

I’m Toruk, and this is-”[/I] The vid screen was saying before it was suddenly cut off, a dark void filling the space the batarian reporter’s face once occupied. One of the perks of having a galaxy-spanning business was a wide selection of communication signals and packets to use at one’s leisure, and although the broadcast from Omega had happened a day and a half ago, Noveria time, the entire report was playing as if it were live, streaming from the packet that was purchased.

Vartarus Halios grunted in disapproval as his wife, Livia, set the remote just outside of his reach. [I]If only I had biotics like my cousin.[/I] the middle-aged turian thought, eying the sleek aluminum remote past his glass of fruit juice. He would have preferred a coffee, but Livia had insisted he cut back in fear of his cardiovascular health. It was maddening. 

“That will rot your brain, Var.” she cooed, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Vartarus reached up and offered an affectionate grasp of her arm, his face still betraying his annoyance. “And those magazines you refer to like a Valluvian Priest scripture that offer lifestyle advice is going to be the death of me. I was watching that.” He grunted, finishing off the class of cyan coloured liquid. At least it was slightly sweet and not nearly as bitter as the first attempt to wean him off his drink of choice.

He could practically hear his wife roll her eyes, the orbs rolling in her sockets like the whirling servos in a security mech. Unfortunately for Varartus, Livia was even more unflinching and uncompromising than the VI runtimes that made up much of Peak 37’s security forces. “Every time you get a report from Omega, the so-called journalism is sensationalist garbage. Of course they’re going to say there’s a Prothean Relic; they can’t use humans as tabloid fodder now that they’re driving back batarian interests.” Livia shook her head disapprovingly, deciding to change the subject. She knew how her husband was when he caught wind of something that was too good to be true. “You have a busy day ahead, don’t you?”

Vartarus smiled. “That I do, my love. My researchers say they might have had a couple big breakthroughs in a few of our more tricky procedures, like correcting the bone density issues some elcor experience after living off of a high gravity world for long periods of time and being able to reset a vorcha’s cellular structure so they can make more than one serious biological adaptation to harsh environments.” He said, looking at his watch. “And I’d better hurry along and get down to the labs. My chiefs don’t like to be kept waiting.” He said, rising up from the table and sliding his cutlery and dishes into the automated dishwasher and dryer’s chute. He walked over to his wife, rested his head affectionately against hers for a few fleeting moments before heading towards the door of their suite. As he threw on the white long coat over his shoulders, he turned back to his wife. “Oh, could you check with Marcius to see if he got my graduation present? It’s not every day your boy becomes a fighter pilot.” He said, grinning proudly. Livia shooed him off with a gesture. “Of course, dear. Now go see what the good doctors want.”

Fifteen minutes later, Halios entered the main hub of Peak 37’s infrastructure, the small village that offered trams and elevators to the four research terminals; Genetics, Pharmaceuticals, Biological, and under heavy security was the entranceway that was never disclosed to the average Halios Consortium employee that lead to the Blackout laboratories. Another passage lead to engineering, which kept the facility running, and another went to security, the hangers, and the warehouses. Anyone wishing to get into or out of the facility would need to follow that path. As he walked amongst the leafy trees and shrubs, kept alive and flourishing via engineering controls and life support systems, Halios took a moment to admire the “sky”, a metallic blue sheen with the occasional silver “cloud” floating by, not unlike the Bostra skies. Every month, the walls and ceiling changed to reflect the fair weather of the various homeworlds and colonies that Halios Consortium’s many employees hailed from. Except for festivals, the environment never reflected the harsh tundra that raged outside, the oppressive and depressing cold and cloud that prevented much of Noveria’s systems light from illuminating the surface for much of the year. Halios himself hoped that Bostra’s skies would show an aurora tonight; he was never too old to be caught up in the child-like wonder of the dancing lights. 

It only took another ten minutes to clear the biometric scans and take the elevator down to the Blackout division, Halios’ identity and status as Chief Executive Officer made the entire facility accessible at his leisure. When the elevator doors opened, a laboratory sprawled out before him with white and stainless steel features across the board, safe for the various displays and occasional piece of furniture, plus whatever employees had brought into their offices. The turian made his way to a glass wall with an communications panel and toggled it. “Doctor Than, a minute of your time.” He said.

A volus looked up from a row of instruments and diagnostics equipment before wordlessly handing a data pad to his salarian assistant, who was dressed head to toe in a bioharzard suit. The volus stepped through the inner doors into a disinfection corridor, where powerful vents of gasses and light mists dispersed for the thirty second cycle. Thirty more seconds, the room was vented and Dr. Shiloh Than emerged through the sliding glass door and stood before his employer. 

It wasn’t necessary for the volus head of research to change into a quarantine suit of his own, given his sealed and pressurized suit more than fulfilled that obligation. However, one concession was made and the suit was in the same colour as the other researchers in their white and black medical garb with the red identification stripes. The volus looked up at his employer wordlessly, expecting a reason for the interruption. Dr. Than was a man who as amicable enough, provided he wasn’t preoccupied with something. It was hard to imagine the volus having a short attention span, although his mechanical breathing through the suit only heightened his sense of impatience.
“I was told that your team was approaching a couple big breaks.” Halios said, looking down at the volus expectantly. Dr. Than seemed to suck in an anticipatory breath, something the turian had learned to associate with excitement. He lead his employer to a set of unoccupied seats that brought the two closer to eye level. The volus was not a fan of being looked down on constantly. 

“Yes. Yes, I believe we have.” He said excitedly, passing a data pad over to Halios who took it expectantly. A video file was waiting to be opened and with a long finger, the turian activated it. He was rewarded with a several minute long clip of an elcor moving much faster than he had ever seen one move before. It almost looked like a hoax. Dr. Than explained. “Our experiments to reverse the bone density loss patient E-05 was suffering from had an unexpected side effect, one that could potentially be marketable. As you know, an elcor’s psychology is coloured by Dekuuna’s high gravity, as something as uneventful as a trip and fall could potentially be fatal. This is why even off world, they are ponderously slow. However, as you can see, the injections had an unexpected side effect of inhibiting the subject’s cautious nature. It is, in effect, fighting against hundreds of thousands of years of evolution. The implications for the elcor could be massive.” 

Halios pondered that for a moment. It almost certainly could be something that could be marketed as a boon, if for no other reason than any elcor seeking the treatment could find themselves on an equal playing field with other races. “Excellent work. Send me the full report and run the trials on more subjects to make sure that there aren’t adverse health effects.”

“I will need more.” Dr. Than replied evenly.

“And you’ll have them.” The turian handed the data pad back to the volus. “Keep me up to date if anything changed. Now you said the other department was close to reversing a vorcha’s permanent cellular adaptation?” he asked. 

“It worked. Subject VC-17’s tissues did revert back to a state more akin to their adolescent stage before a large off-world adaptation to harsh environments. Vital signs, however, flatlined within three hours. We need more vorcha.” The volus replied. “It’s still too early to consider this feasible.”

“Concurred. Very well, I will leave you to your work. Excellent findings, doctor. Your bonus is looking brighter by the day.” Halios said, rising from his seat and retiring to his office in the Blackout wing. A window to the blizzard outside made him wish he was back at the plaza several levels above. The turian sat at his desk and activated his terminal, ignoring the notifications flashing at him to address. The room was soundproofed and swept daily for bugs by a handpicked team of technicians, as well as his communications were encrypted with the best software credits could buy. He did not hesitate to reach out to his intended contact.

When the connection was established, he barely waited for the gruff voice answering to finish his suspicious greeting before stating, “Tell Bratin Bob'namon his medical supplier needs another special order. I will be waiting for his contact.” He said, before terminating the call. It was expensive to afford extranet packets that had one minute to five minute delays, and the instantaneous communication was reserved only for the most vital government agencies. But it was worth every credit.

Bratin was going to help make him a small fortune.