Ever woken up after being dead? No? Didn't think so. Don't recommend it. For some reason it ends up with a whole gaggle of people running after you because corpses aren't supposed to be up and about - who knew? Also comes with a distinct lack of memories of, well, anything and everything. Still know how to walk, run, fight. My name? Nothing. Home? Nada. Family? Zilch. Friends? Yeah, right. My brain's empty enough you could fill it with three people's lifetimes and still have room to spare. Right now all I have is a piece of metal speaking in my head that calls herself a Ghost, and all she keeps saying is "Get the hell out of here."

I'm inclined to agree with the thing, considering the aforementioned corpse chasers. Where is 'here', and why am I getting out of it? Well, 'here' is something called a citadel. The Citadel? Wasn't paying much attention at the time, I just need to get out of it. Off it? I crash through a glass display and land on my feet twenty metres down, the shards raining down like snowflakes. Whoops - guessing that was expensive. No time to ponder that, though, there are shouts blasting from the shop I just sprinted through.

A whole bunch of this way's and enhanced and one key cut her off at the checkpoint enter my ear canal. Checkpoint? Security? Maybe. So many unknown variables. Would be too many without the Ghost.

"Keep going down," she barks.

Right, down. I flip over the walkway's railing. That's a lot more glass than the display I just obliterated. Sliding down slanted windows is a smooth ride, until it isn't. Then it becomes a jagged plummet with spiky shards stabbing into your thighs and ass. Unpleasant. Also wouldn't recommend.

Uh oh, there's a hole here. "Jump it," the Ghost says.

"I figured that, thanks." With a leap I careen past the balcony of a cafe. A blue woman with tentacles on her head gasps and drops her tea all over herself. Wonder why she's blue? Back on the glass, too bumpy for my liking.

"What now?"

"Jump."

"Again?"

"Jump!"

At its insistence I throw myself from the jagged slide and plummet into a pile of haphazardly prepared stalls, pulling a whole row of them down. Can't catch a break with the property damage, can I?

"Alleyway dead ahead. Through there."

Leaping from the newly consecrated pile I slip into the alley. Darker. Better. Easier to blend into the shadows. Before I move from the alley's mouth a pair of the same bird-looking boys rush past, spurting into a radio and throwing around all sorts of hand movements. Good thing I didn't leave. It's surreptitiously easy to blend the shadows around me, like they're my very own cloak and I've stitched it all by myself.

"You're getting the hang of it already," the Ghost quips.

"Excuse me?"

"Nevermind. The junction up ahead leads directly to the tunnels that'll take you to the spaceport."

"Spaceport?"

"How else would we get out of here?"

I shrug to the air. "I don't know where this is."

"Space! Now, move it."

Ignoring the fact that I'm currently in space - suppose 'Citadel's' an appropriate name if I haven't even seen space itself this whole time - I sprint across the rubbish-decorated street to the other side, where a half-opened grate is there waiting for me. Ducking into it, I make sure to close it all up before crawling on. Don't want anybody trailing me. "Good job," the Ghost says. "Now, go straight, and keep going straight. When you see ships, we've got to the right place."

"Got it."

Pulling myself through these vents is easier than I expected. They're big, big enough to hold a solid crouch in. Are they even vents? I confess I don't know much about ventilation or heating in general. Guessing past-alive me wasn't much of an electrician. Is that the right title? Doesn't matter, focus on the mission. Need to get the hell out of here.

Turns out following a few kilometres of the exact same tunnel system, built in the exact same fashion isn't the most exciting adventure. I liked it when there were people with guns yelling at me. There was a risk there. Something fun. At this point I'd be okay with dropping out in the middle of a restaurant, shouting "I'm a wanted corpse," and then start mad dogging it for the closest exit. Hmm.

"Why did you stop?"

"How astute of you." It's true, I've just stopped in the middle of one of the million turns I've experienced three million times over already.

"Very funny, we need to keep moving, so why have you stopped?"

"This is boring."

The Ghost decides such a response deigns her appearing in the flesh, or metal I suppose. She's a children's drawing of a star with all the symmetrical points. Except for the fact every motion is preceded and followed by a series of complex mechanical motions whirring under the hood. Complicated little thing.

"Look," she begins. How stern. "If we don't get out of here as fast as possible, with as little commotion as possible, then we'll have no chance of escaping, and then everything's ruined."

"Why do we need to escape? The only reason they started chasing me was because you told me to start running because you said they'd chase me."

"A fine observation, but your circumstances aren't, shall we say, normal."

I nod, "Gathered that."

She ignores me. "And, if you went with them… Well, you'd be dead."

"I died once, what's a second time?"

"That second time would be a lot more permanent. Without me the first one would have been, too."

"Also gathered that."

The Ghost spins in place. "Only post-hoc."

"Yeah, yeah, smartass. Fine, if me going with them means me being dead forever and ever and ever, then fine. I'll keep moving."

"Thank you, and every second we spend arguing about who's good, who's bad, and who's dead, the less of a chance we have of getting out of here safely."

"Read you loud and clear, captain. Still, horrendously boring."

The Ghost vanishes back inside my head. "Trust me, you won't be bored much with the things we'll be doing."

The promise of less boring activities can only assuage for so long. Another kilometre, and my mind starts to wander again. "Don't I have to eat at some point? Haven't heard a tummy rumble this whole time. Would have thought outrunning authorities would be tough on the muscles."

"Oh, it is, but thankfully those biological worries are forgotten issues."

"And why is that?" Ooh, this section has a grate I can see through. A whole group of the blue-armours are coordinating something, huddled around a big orange thing one of the walking birds has around his arm. Guess they're still looking. Fun.

"In due time."

"You're a real tease."

"Comes with the job," the Ghost says with a smile I can hear.

Boredom's end comes in the form of another grate in the 'ceiling' of the tunnels. Popping it open's easy enough, and I come up inside the back of a restroom. Quaint. In the corner's a weird green insect looking thing. Gives me a dull stare with its bulging eyes before turning back to its terminal.

Peeking outside the restroom reveals exactly where we need to be. A whole row of ships are lined up, fastened in place to the Citadel's docking systems. Big, small, pristine, scraped to hell and back. Huge crates and containers litter the port, some locked up tight, but others have been left half unpacked, like the workers just upped and left halfway through their shift. How odd.

"Our ride's at the far end of the dock. A freighter, the only ship on the whole ward cleared for takeoff."

The security checkpoint to the dock has been militarised. A whole squadron of blue-armours stand at the ready, lethal looking rifles kitted out for a brawl. The only people roaming the dock itself are more of the blue-armours, patrolling, also with those rifles. Anybody who could be categorised as "civilian" is long gone.

"All this is because of me, isn't it?"

"Absolutely."

One of the blue-armours, a bird boy with an eyepiece sticks a finger in another blue's chest. "You haven't confirmed the restrooms?"

"Uh, n-no sir."

"Then get it done." Eyepiece is mad.

"Sir." The blue turns and jogs directly towards me. Uh oh.

I slip back towards the stalls. "What do I do?"

"Hide."

"Where?"

"One of the stalls."

I turn back and forth. Blue-armour's still coming. "He'll find me."

"No he won't."

"When we get dragged into prison I'm blaming you." I slide underneath one of the stall doors. Gross, by the way, and hop up on the top of the toilet. I have to bundle my cloak up to stop it from drooping below the door. Why the hell do I have a cloak anyway? Am I going to a Ren Fair?

Two clawed, armoured feet peek into view. Here we go. The first stall flies open at his request, and I'm stuck all the way in the last one. I start absentmindedly tapping my fingers on the toilet seat, and my feet begin to slip. I'm a spring being squashed down further and further with every stall he opens.

"Stay. Still," the Ghost says.

"Easy for you to say when you're floating in the ether."

My stall careens open. The energy bristles. Release me, it cries. Throw his head through the wall. But instead of ringing the alarm he looks back and forth, and moves on to the next stall. I'm stuck there, frozen like a naked man in the arctic, only nothing's shriveled up.

When he leaves I pull the Ghost back into reality myself. "What just happened?"

With a smug spin she says, "You turned invisible."

"Excuse me?"

"You didn't want to be seen, so you didn't. Simple as that."

"I can turn invisible?"

She gets right up in my face. "Precisely."

"And you didn't tell me sooner?"

She glances towards the exit. "We have a ride to catch, don't we?"

"Fine." My sigh could blow down a building.

With my newfound power I make it out of the restrooms without a hitch. The security checkpoint's still inundated with armed blue's, but half of them are just fiddling with their rifles or talking in hushed tones with one another. The other half don't even dare to move. If you told me they were statues or projections I'd believe you.

I hear Eyepiece before I see him. Peeking around the corner to the back of the port, where our freighter awaits, he's poking his finger at one of the blue women. "This entire dock is on full lockdown, Vasir. You and your ship are not leaving."

"Are you a Spectre?"

Eyepiece drops the finger. He seems to already know where the conversation's going. "No."

"Are you a Councilor?"

"No."

The blue woman - Vasir - smirks. "Then you have zero jurisdiction over me and my ship. Tell C-Sec to drop the lockdown or Irissa will be down here herself."

Eyepiece growls. "If you're harbouring-"

"Hang on. Are you accusing a Spectre? I know what you've done, what you helped to accomplish, Vakarian, but be careful where you run your mouth."

Eyepiece, or Vakarian, backs off. Hands balled into fists. Ouch. "You'll have your freighter ready for takeoff."

"Thank you," she says with a smile. Already I can tell she's a snake.

"That's whose ship we're getting on?"

"Absolutely."

"I wish you'd let me stay dead."