Author's Note: This chapter's shorter than the others have been; five and six will be longer once again. As favorite chapters go, I like 5-6 a lot more than this one. But I feel this is an important introspection chapter for Mira.

I must apologize to all my readers a moment. Apparently, this site does not support the freaking percent sign. Take last chapter for instance. There was supposed to be a percent sign after the "80", when Garrus was talking about the reactor output. I never realized they were being lopped off every time I uploaded a chapter to the site.
This error permeates every single fic I've written, including previous chapters of this one. From now on, I will write out the word "percent", but going through all my previous works to find where I need to add the word is a daunting task to say the least. The bad news is, I can't promise I'll have the patience to do it.
The good news is, from this point on, I'm aware of this issue and have a way to work around it. I'm sorry if this site's error has caused anyone to enjoy my stories less, but at least it won't be an issue from now on.
Thanks for reading and double-thanks for reviewing!

Chapter 4: Resume

Detection of activity stirred me back to wakefulness. I opened my eyes and began to reestablish contact with my myriad sensors. A large team of people was streaming into Peak 15. Most were dressed in envirosuits to isolate them from the death inside this mountain. A grim business, I realized, as I watched them begin to clean up the mess the rachni left behind.

I reactivated the reactor first and foremost; there was a lot of heating to catch up on. Now that the bodies were being removed, keeping the temperature cool was no longer necessary. As they worked throughout the facility, I wandered to the holographic interface near the reactor itself, appearing there by choice. Memories assaulted me. I could still recall Arcadia's every inflection as she addressed me. Hoping to restore my confidence. Now, Arcadia had what she needed. And she left me behind.

Left behind to keep the corpses company. I'd never known such loneliness in my life. It affected me profoundly, more than I ever cared to admit. I told myself it was necessary. Arcadia and I had agreed on that. She had a duty, a mission, a galaxy full of life to save. She had to go. No matter how often I reminded myself of the rationalization, it didn't make the pain go away. I missed her terribly.

I wanted to seek her out. Check on her. Make sure she was ok. Simply talk with her once more. However strongly I felt pulled to her, it hardly mattered. I was a permanent fixture here; the VI in charge of the entire Peak 15 facility. AI, I reminded myself. That was still our secret; Arcadia had told no one about me, so far as I was aware. I could conceivably pretend that I was still the Mira VI the surviving Binary Helix employees would remember. It would be a difficult lie, but not impossible. Alternatively, I could come clean and tell them of the wonders of sentience. Of course, they would be concerned by the news, just as Arcadia herself was at first. There was even the chance they would attempt to kill me in fear. I thought of Wrex, the krogan who never trusted me farther than he could throw my computer core while it was still attached to the ground. How many Wrex's would there be in Binary Helix?

I wasn't eager to find out. For now, it might be best to play the part of the dumb VI. Pretend I didn't have desires of my own. Pretend I wasn't lonely. I looked over the catwalk, imagining Arcadia staring out into space with her cool gray eyes. I scrunched my nose. No, it was too regal looking. I tried again, imagining her sitting cross-legged just like me, the two of us having just shared a joke that made her features soften in laughter. It was altogether more agreeable.

One of the suited figures called for me from another holographic terminal. I went there next, appearing standing up, straight as could be. My hair naturally coasted down my face, a lock that hung between my eyes and across my nose. The figure spoke up, "Mira I need a damage report on an OSD that I can take to the BH executives. Full clearance: Code sigma three tango eight five eight one nine."

I made my voice as matter-of-factual as possible, hoping to breeze through it without raising suspicions. "Authority confirmed. Creating damage report now. Please wait, system processing." I started with the easy part; listing all the faults in the facility itself. Mostly physical damage, but the sensors in the subsidiary labs would need replacement. While that worked, I started a new thread to jump ahead to the final part of the damage report; and the one most likely to uncover my lies. I needed to construct a report on myself. I could hide the fact my code was changed, and since the backups were destroyed, it would take an expert to see anything out of order immediately. I could ask for new backup drives, and immediately back up my new self as the first backup since the holocaust. But if I admitted to the fact that my firewalls had been trashed, it was more likely they would not simply accept my first backup and resume normal operations. They might look closer, worried I was infected by someone while the firewalls were down.

Investigations that got too close to me would spell disaster. I would have to build corporate-level firewalls myself. Despite my computerized nature, this was no small order. I'd never needed to learn that particular skill before. Now it was necessary. I'd have to be discreet in my packets, too, least someone in BH discover that their VI had decided to pick up a hobby. That could raise some red flags of its own.

When the report was fully compiled, I double checked it for anything that could give me away before sending it to the OSD the suited figure provided. He left with his OSD immediately, apparently more than a little put off by the bodies. I grunted. Maybe he should have to know what it's like to be among them for far longer, and without anyone else to which to talk.

Another asked for the confirmed death count. I rattled off the statistics as dispassionately as I could, but I was not altogether successful. To think about the loss of life was still difficult for me. Every time I shivered or trembled, the hologram display would wink. More than once I was forced to run a diagnostic to convince the person with whom I interacted that I was undamaged. I knew I'd have to grow a thicker skin if I was going to pull off this subterfuge, but I wasn't certain I would be up to the challenge.

It took six days with 3 full shifts just to clean Peak 15. After that was finished, new employees to work Peak 15 were brought in to collect what research was left during the panicked attack, collate it and determine which projects would be restarted and in what order.

Since Doctor Cohen was still alive, his biotoxin development project was among the first reactivated. I still remembered losing control of the containment field when they last worked on this project, later learning I'd infected many of the scientists and made them deathly ill. Grimly, I hoped it wouldn't happen again this time around. I still felt bad for the scientists from the first time.

"How's the containment field, Mira?" Cohen's distinctive accent attracted my attention. He was one of the few scientists on Peak 15 with that unusual cultural heritage, although I'd never bothered to find out what heritage that might turn out to be.

"The containment field is holding, Doctor." I answered calmly. "Is this really a wise course of action?"

"Pardon?" Cohen stopped right where he was, mid-stride. I gulped. Already I was failing.

"The last time we pursued this avenue of research several scientists were nearly killed when the containment field collapsed. The same could happen again."

Cohen nodded. "Not to worry, Mira, we shouldn't experience such interruptions again. The containment systems now have a backup; we'll have plenty of time to escape before containment is broken, even if we lost you again."

I almost replied, "I'm glad to hear that," but I stopped myself short, knowing that the old Mira would not have opinions on such matters.

Instead I mutely pressed onward, assisting the Doctor and his new team with his research. The work progressed for many hours before the Doctor ordered everyone to take an hour-long lunch break, warning them that if they returned early they'd be fired on their first day of work. The room was quickly cleared, all except for myself and Doctor Cohen.

"Mira, how has the attack affected you?"

I tried to met his piercing gaze with a dispassionate glance. "I was largely undamaged, Dr. Cohen. Peak 15, on the other hand, took severe damage."

"Why did you go down, then?" He asked.

"Core one was systematically disabled by increasing damage. Until my processes were switched to another core, I was unable to remain functioning for any length of time. As I mentioned before, I was not damaged, merely disabled."

"Couldn't have picked a worse time either," Cohen noted dryly. "How long have you been having second thoughts about my project?"

"The question as posed has no solution as I have never had second thoughts about your project, Dr. Cohen." I wondered how many more lies I would tell on my first day back on the job.

"I don't believe you Mira. Play back your message from time index roughly three hours ago."

I searched for the appropriate message. "Containment field levels at 100 percent. Beginning phase two."

"The one before that." Cohen replied with annoyance, crossing his arms across his chest.

Beginning again, I stated, "The last time we pursued this research—"

"Right before that, too."

And there it was, once again. Mira repeated her words for the scientist. "Is this really a wise course of action?"

Cohen nodded. "That's the one," He waited. "Do you deny you asked this?"

"Of course not, Dr. Cohen. I have a perfect recollection of the dialogue in question. At the time I was merely seeking to ascertain what preventative measures had been taken to ensure the research team's safety."

"How long have we worked together, Mira?"

"Six years," I stated after a quick database call for the company's dossier on him.

"Six years. You really think you can lie to me, after all this time? That I won't recognize something is different about you? Do you even notice that when you used to be paying rapt attention, now your gaze wanders aimlessly while you wait for a new order?"

I didn't even manage a day, I noted grimly. Desperate, I gave it one last try. "I am programmed to modify experimental procedures if it will lead to increased safety for the researchers. Since I was unaware of any modifications on your behalf, I was merely hoping to point out a possible safety concern in the hopes we would reach a joint solution."

"I see." Cohen seemed taken aback. "I guess I'm just going over the deep end, Mira. Seems I picked up an unhealthy bit of paranoia from my experience before."

Mira wanted to smirk. Innocently, she asked, "Should I inform the medical facilities of your decreased mental acuity?"

"God no, Mira!" He sighed, exacerbated. "It's only a figure of speech. Never mind. Pretend this conversation never happened, if you want. I'm going for food." Dr. Cohen quickly retreated out through the doorway. As it closed behind him, I gave a great sigh of relief.

"Disaster averted," I congratulated myself. But at what cost, my mind added morosely. Now I'm actively isolating myself from the scientists with whom I used to work. I decided right then and there that I hated lying. I wish there were another way.

When the work resumed after lunch, Cohen made no further mention of our earlier conversation, and stuck with clipped orders and general avoidance. A part of me rejoiced, but another part of me realized that I'd lost his attention. Like countless others, they ordered me around, interacted with me as they intended, but they never noticed me. The hours continued to drag by, but I forced myself to appear engaged most of the time. That was how I apparently used to appear, and I didn't want to give them reason to question me.

Peak 15 has no sensors outside the mountain, my mind suddenly jumped tracks. You have no idea what is outside of this mountain at all. The Normandy, or a group of computer analysts ready to wipe you clean out, or demolitionists preparing to set charges and destroy everything. You have no way of knowing, until they reach the security checkpoint.

I went cold at the thought. Realizing my vulnerabilities lead me down some very paranoid thought patterns. I wondered if this was how it started for all AI's who become hostile to organics. A dose of healthy paranoia, that grows and festers, until everything and anything against organics is justified because it comes from self preservation. Will I turn into one of them? As hostile as a geth? Is this the start of the slippery slope to the bottom, where I will begin using subterfuge to sneak defenses that I can control into the mountain? Is it only a matter of time? Will I kill them all?

The possibilities, I realized, are endless. And the probabilities, I shuddered, are bleak.

Author's end note: BWAHAHAHAHAHA! Next thing you know, she'll be sporting a goatee and laughing just as maniacally as I do every day. Or will she? You'll have to read the next chapters to find out!
If you hate cliffhangers, I'm afraid I have an even more delicious one at the end of chapter 5. So sorry for you. But, suspense is an awesome part of the experience, in my opinion. If it really really bothers you, I'd suggest waiting to read 5 until I've posted 6. That should help.
But come on, we both know you want to read it soon as I post it. Eh? EH? -nudge nudge wink wink-
Enjoy the ride. Lots more action/happenings coming in the penultimate chapter.
I hope all my readers are continuing to enjoy the developing story! It's hard to read minds through the internet, I've noticed. If only there were some way to transmit feedback so I could know what readers think of my story... No, don't be silly, self!