(A/N): Please give me some input about how young Saren is presented, at least in terms of his pre-ME:Evolution personality. And how well am I portraying the connection between Saren and Fred? At this point, I felt maybe I could afford to make a few adjustments to what actually happened to Saren. I know he didn't know anything about the Reapers (just as a reminder, the Augs dub the Reapers "Harvesters", since they haven't been able to successfully translate anything Prothean using the term) before he is indoctrinated (same goes for the term "infected") by Sovereign (in case you didn't know, Nazara). But to quote a good friend of mine, Canon-Saren is simply too one dimensional, and I feel the same, which is why I'm slightly deviating from canon to give Saren more emotional weight. Anyways, be sure to leave a review as to what to improve, or PM me with personal questions concerning matters that I made unclear for me to make changes to. Also, please contact me with issues concerning this chapter in general, since I did mostly write this chapter late at night. Finally, happy late-night N7 day.

Chapter 14: The Enemy We Share

Towards the end of Saren's time over my watch, I decided it was time to test his skill against the shadowy forces of the Harvesters. I felt if he was to be another force against the machines, he needed to see the full extent of the threat before he can even come to stand in their wake on his own. However, I still wonder to this day if it was this very mission that drove him to madness almost thirty years from now.

March 22, 2156

08 hrs/10 min/22 sec

Specter Stealth Shuttle coms room, en route to the Horse Head Nebula

Hey Fredrick! How's training a Specter been? Max asked as soon as the com channel completely opened.

"Been nice and fun. Can't help but miss the Corps though," Fredrick answered with a light chuckle.

Yeah, I'll try to remember to take you something nice when you get back, consider it a "welcome home" gift. Anyways, what seems to be the problem? Max asked.

"You did send me that message this morning about the call from the Horse Head Nebula in the Strennus System?" Fredrick asked. When he woke, he found a message from Max saying, "Distress call from HH Neb, Stennus. Knowing you, I'd thought you'd want it."

We were expecting a trade cargo ship at 1345 hours a week ago, however they sidetracked to the Stennus System while they were at Pax for refueling. They said they were going to check a distress signal, but never checked back in afterwards. Best part of this little trip is that they were carrying a rather interesting package. I did pass by with a patrol sending messages down to the surface, but whatever they have for receiving messages is very damaged. We suspected the Harvester got through to them. Need to know anything else? Max explained.

"I think I find everything else out on my own. Thanks for the heads up. About time I took Saren out to hunt some infected and corrupted. He's a good kid, and he's going to be a big figure in the future if I get this right. Müller out," Fredrick said, ending the conversation.

Just then, Saren entered the coms room while eating an energy bar. "What'd your friend say about our next mission?" Saren asked.

"It's probably about time I explain what we Terrans have been working on for almost the last century. While it goes much deeper, it was about twenty cycles ago when an unknown faction we call the Harvesters contacted us. As far as we can deduce, they've been responsible for the extinction of the Protheans as well as every galaxy-wide civilization for every fifty thousand cycles. We did our best to tell the council, they weren't exactly readily believers of threats that weren't right at their doorstep. While we've also been preparing for everything they'll have, we have also been searching for something to prove their existence, lest we suffer the same fate as the Protheans," Fredrick explained with a grave tone. "Now, I know this is a lot to process in such a short time, so feel free to ask any questions while we are there."

"I see. Any idea what we'll be encountering?" Saren asked.

"A mix of various species brainwashed into doing the Harvesters' bidding, or corpses that have been contorted into abhorrent monstrosities. They may not have the best survival instinct, but they'll try their hardest to tear you limb from limb, so stay sharp," Fredrick answered. "There are a few cases where brainwashed are still capable of some recovery, and can have their conditions reversed given the right treatment. Those who have past a certain threshold, or have become biologically corrupted are beyond saving. Despite all we've done for such, there's nothing we could do but put them out of their misery."

14 hrs/31 min/13 sec

Xawin, one kilometer short of the target location

Fredrick knew very well that the traders and those who may or may not have captured them were all infected. What he didn't know was whether or not the traders were responding to a genuine distress call, so he was completely cautious about approaching the last known location of the trader ship. As per usual, he liked to keep a solid kilometer between the initial drop site and his mission destination. The two made their way through a wide mountain range instead of the open planes around the area for fear of being spotted.

At one of the peaks of the mountain they were climbing, they could see what looked like a small storage facility down towards the bottom of the valley, as well as the metallic husk of the freight ship. Outside were several guards of various races keeping guard. Surrounding the general area were a few anti-air guns, but they appeared to be unoperational.

"I don't get it. If your friend said the telecoms were destroyed, then why aren't the inhabitants of this camp doing anything about it? They're clearly still functional," Saren pointed out, seeing the damaged antennae near the camp.

"Remember, Harvester artifacts are capable of severely damaging neural tissue to the point where the victim is insane, and capable of being bent to their will. Physical contortions aren't necessarily a sign of infection," Fredrick countered.

"Alright, I'll take the approach from the front and you take the back," Saren responded.

"Woah, I'll take the front. I know you're a capable individual, and I'll trust you with my life any day, but you're still my student. Once you graduate from Specter training, then you can be as suicidal as you like," Fredrick interrupted, tugging Saren towards a direction towards the "rear" of the camp.

The two made their way towards opposite sides of the top level of the storage. The camp was a small building on the surface that would have rooted itself in the side of a small hill, with living units nearby. Towards the front of the entrance were several landing pads, a work dock, and various repair equipment. At the front was a platoon of Blood Pack troops, all wearing full gear to protect them from the cold of Xawin's environment.

Fredrick lept down and made for cover behind a crate. He was at the front and would mainly distract the main force while Saren picked them off from behind from the protection of the hill the building was planted into. Popping out of cover, Fredrick through a stun grenade, blinding the Blood Pack mercs exposed, and began to pick off those who hadn't been blinded. A high-powered thermal shot bounced off his barriers, causing him to retreat back to the cover of the crate he was behind. Another high-powered shot caught him off guard when it ripped right through the crate, and exited mere centimeters in front of his face. Following the tracer, he saw a guard tower from which the shot came from, before another crack shot from the shadows at the tower, causing the Turian to tumble over lifeless.

Fredrick brought back his attention to the other attackers as a Blood Pack Krogan begins to pellet what's left of his cover with shotgun rounds. Initiating his nanite shield, he bioticly charges into the Krogan, then knocks off the helmet with the butt of his rifle. As he realigns his rifle to deliver the killing shot, the Krogan turns to look at him, revealing the merc's distorted face. The clan marking on the crest still remained, but the plating and skin had become gray and decayed. The teeth had grown into fangs, and cracks of blue ran up and down the face, growing ever brighter as the beast howled back. Fredrick ended the merc's life before gunning down another Salarian and Turian. As he replaced his rifle battery, Saren finished the last of the guarding mercs on the surface.

Saren approached the Krogan Fredrick had downed earlier and took a long glance at the corrupted head. "Spirits, what could've done this?"

"This is mostly what I meant by corruption. However, it was more to resurrect dead bodies and use them as foot soldiers, or building blocks for tankier support troops." Almost to prove Fredrick's point, the front of the mining opened to reveal five gray, hulking, and blue glowing beasts. They had the general appearance of Batarians, but their bodily proportions were completely distorted. The back and stomach were bloated with growths, various parts of the body were covered in bone-like armor, and one arm was shrunken and shriveled while the other was transformed into a cannon-like weapon.

"Fuck! Get to cover!" The five began to slowly advance on the two lone warriors while sticking to cover.

"I thought you said these things weren't very smart!" Saren called out as he swiftly gunned down.

"I've only encountered Salarian and Asari versions of these things. Besides, these things barely have any protection," Fredrick answered as he gunned down another two. From cover, one of the creatures bent over and consumed one of it's fallen comrades, as the remains were reduced to a thick soup, causing additional organic plates to grow on afterward. "Goddammit, as if these things weren't annoying enough to fight," Fredrick responded as he put up a biotic barrier in front of him and Saren. Quickly advancing, the two quickly eliminated the remaining corrupted before making their way to the entrance of the facility.

"Shiiiiit, this reminds me so much of horror stories told back at the orphanage. Stuff about skeletal Turians with nothing but some of their plates and bones just loosely reanimated with some sort of dark energy. They would be described as bleeding blue light from their eyes and mouths like a glowing mist," Saren said as they passed by some of the other corpses.

"Well, Terran pop culture does have it's fair-share of horror stories based upon necromancy and other means of resurrecting the dead," Fredrick said, relating to Saren's brief description.

"But why so popular if we haven't encountered anything like them until now?" Saren asked.

"They're already dead, so there's absolutely no reason to justify killing them. Let's move, and see if we can find a way to find what caused this and present it to the council." The two entered the facility like they were entering the jaws of a sleeping Thresher Maw, waiting quietly for them to enter before closing its mouth and swallowing them.

Unlike the mine on Vecchio, the panels and infrastructure were all still intact with the exception of damaged equipment. The lights still worked, but were putting out a much dimmer glow, making seeing much more difficult to natural eyesight. Upon entering the front lobby, they were immediately attacked by a trio of corrupted mercs, which were actually each a pair of Vorcha and another species stitched together like leather sacks. They still retained most of their crimson armor, had bits of machinery intertwined with their rotting flesh, and whatever they had for weapons was fused into their melting arms. While they still had their shields and most of their armor, the fleshy sacks were quickly eradicated. The two continued to make their way to the internal barracks, not too far from the entrance and looked around. Saren found a journal of an unnamed merc by a bedside and brought it back to Fredrick to examine. The two began to quickly look over recent recordings to investigate the series of events leading up to the fall.

The first entry from within the last week made it pretty clear the journal belonged to a Turian. "We just recently brought in a haul using the fake distress signal. The ship was a bunch of scrap traders, so they had minimal defense, and moderate rewards. What was most intriguing was this heavily crate, with thick plates to… I dunno, block scans. We hacked the thing open to find this black obelisk, with lines of orange worming around the thing, almost like it was constantly burning on the inside. We plan on selling the survivor to slavery, but I can't help but wonder to whom they were selling it. They won't say a damn thing though."

The second entry from within the last week began to show signs of deterioration among the crew. "I knew that damn thing was trouble. All the guys are beginning to act weird. The heavies are aimlessly wandering around at night, some are saying they are seeing and hearing things, and the captain just spends ours at a time just staring at the rock. He says he's 'talking to it' and it's starting to put me on edge. He says we should keep quiet until we better understand it. I'm thinking I should just make for the gunship and get out of here."

The third entry from the last week began to show signs of deterioration from the writer. "I'm feeling weird. Time seems to pass slower or faster than it should, what is normal routine seems… confusing, and I was talking the other day with the new kid about a raid on some Salarians back on Omega who didn't pay rent, and he straight up tells me he remembers the same thing, when he was in no way recruited at the time to be there. I keep visiting the team medic, yet she keeps telling me I'm fine. Wh-what's happening to me?"

The fourth and final entry was from a little over twenty-four hours ago, and clearly displayed how the merc had completely surrendered his mind. "I… I understand now. They need us; they need us to help them. And in return, we'll live like kings, be able to retire young, not have to worry any more… All we need to do, is listen to their word…"

"What in Spirits name… his tones… was he being driven insane?" Saren asked.

"They all were. The artifact is most definitely of Harvester origin. The energy waves they produce are of an incredibly low frequency, and hard to detect. Within a certain range, they can affect the brain chemistry, causing the previously mentioned hallucinations. Slowly, the energy causes cellular decay, your neural patterns become irregular, you develop brain tumors, and your hormone glands become contorted, and either stop producing, or start producing something new, something to make sure you stay loyal. The rate at which complete infection can occur varies from mere hours to a few weeks from some studies we've produced," Fredrick explained.

"Huh, I almost feel sorry for the bastards," Saren spat bitterly. "How are we going to get it back without becoming infected ourselves? By the sounds of things, they didn't handle the packaging in a way that we could actually put it back on functionally."

"For now, we'll just have to clear the facility, get the shuttle, and return when we have a safer means of transportation." Another howl came from outside of the barracks followed by some scratching noises.

"They don't seem very keen about having house guests. What are you looking for?" Saren said when he noticed Fredrick ripping open the lockers.

"Crowd control. If it's anything I've learned from fighting these things, is that you should stay on the move and carry mostly weapons capable of leveling big groups in little time. In hindsight, I probably should've brought an MG-14," he replied. He punched open the dozenth locker and his smile instantly grew when his eyes landed on the M-51 Revenant battle rifle before him. Decent stopping power, high rate of fire, and good accuracy for those who can withstand the weight and recoil, the Revenant was beast to behold among law enforcers.

Fredrick plucked the machine up, shoved in a thermal clip, took a sack with spare clips, and turned to entrance of the barracks to prepare for the oncoming onslaught. What came through was actually nothing more than simple corrupted, corpses with some synthetic tissue, and just as fragile as such. Fredrick's biotics flared, and he released a shockwave, sending corpses tumbling to the sides before shattering on the walls like frozen meat. He charged out to meet the other corrupted waiting outside, and dashed to cover. Once more, it was the stretched Asari remains, howling like the wind, and using their biotics to close the distance.

"Keep your distance! They will attempt to impale you on their claws!" Fredrick yelled over the sound of the Revenant pelting the once graceful women with a storm of thermal rounds. Unfortunately, clip size wasn't kept in mind when the weapon was designed, and he suddenly had to reload only shortly after reducing the first corrupted Asari to a gray pulp.

Saren quickly sniped a corrupted Asari that got too close to Fredrick while he was still reloading and put a round through the head of the third. "How many times have you encountered these things before?" Saren asked as he shot another Batarian/Salarian molded creature.

"Just short of a dozen times. The Harvesters have yet to make a serious push with these things." The two managed to keep going as they gunned down wave after wave of the dark creatures. Fortunately, the main generator was still functional and kept the shelves of stolen goods and contraband yet to be shipped. The two made it down a stairwell before eventually making their way down to the lowest storage level. The two were shocked to behold the sight before them.

The center of the room had been cleared out, shelves had been moved aside, and the artifact was placed right in the center of the space. Just as the journal log had suggested, the crate had been torn open like a present on Christmas and thrown aside to reveal the black and orange obelisk inside. Gradually, the object began to "grow" chrome tendrils onto the ground and area around it like a fungus, fusing to whatever it touched. The area appeared to serve as an alter, where the tendrils had grown spikes, and victims still remained impaled on the towers reaching upward.

"Great, just how are we going to get it out now?" Fredrick muttered. Clearing the base of corrupted was one thing, uprooting a synthetic-organic compound that was capable of driving those who got too close insane was another.

"Look out! Heavies!" Saren yelled, ramming into Fredrick and tumbling into cover just as rockets screamed across the room and detonated where they were previously. Just as the rockets exploded, a film grain covered his eyes, some of the colors became off tune, and sounds became echoic. Saren began to clench his head in some imaginary pain. "What in Spirit's name is happening?" he screamed.

"Stay with me dammit! We're leaving!" Fredrick responded, dragging himself and Saren back to the stairwell, while using his biotics to divert the next pair of incoming missiles. With the effects slightly subsiding at a greater range, and with the cover of the entrance, Fredrick got on his knees and injected Saren with additional nanites. "Saren! Stay with me! Can you understand me?" He'd already come this far, and wasn't going to lose Saren.

Saren shook himself like he was suffering from a concussion from an artillery shell. "Ugh… my head…" he groaned painfully.

"Don't worry, the effects will subside. Just focus on me, and try to ignore the hallucinations." Suddenly another two explosions shook them from outside, snapping Saren to attention.

"What are they doing? They'll bring down the whole building!" Saren exclaimed.

"I don't think they have any intention of letting us get away with that artifact," Fredrick said nervously as the whole compound began to waver.

The two got up and began to make their way back up through the storage facility. Piece by piece, bit of the facility began to collapse around the two, occasionally crushing remaining corrupted on their way out. On occasion, either would use their weapons or biotics to strike down any who got in between them and the exit. As they both exited the storage facility as the main archway collapsed, only the film grain subsided.

"Are you alright Saren? The nanites should be repairing any damage the artifact should've done," Fredrick said to his panting protégé.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Give me a moment before we make our way back to the ship, alright?" Saren answered, sitting on the landing pad and catching his breath.

Just then, Nazara's voice rang in Fredrick's ears. "If you won't secede to the inevitable, perhaps he will. How long do you think it'll take for him to turn?"

Fredrick only grunted in frustration. "Unlikely. I've done everything to prepare Saren for the likes of you. Even if I fall in the field, he'll still take up the mantle to lead this Galaxy to stop you. He's more resilient than you believe."

"Don't count on it," Nazara teased before the film grain dissipated.

The two were now alone, tired, and gradually making their way back to their shuttle. Their lead destroyed and well over a hundred were dead, but Saren now knew the truth and had the firsthand experience to believe it. It may take a while for everyone to believe, but Fredrick genuinely began to believe he wasn't capable of leading the Galaxy to defeat the Harvesters. He may have paved the way for others, and he may eventually be the spearhead for the Augs. But if the Galactic Community is to succeed, it needed to be unified under a single figure, someone to give them the hope he couldn't. If anything, it is what he wanted to establish Saren as, regardless of how others may see him.