Blank Slate Ch.21: Thanatonaut

Table of Contents https://www.bungie.net/en/Forum/Post/225386550/0/0 THIS CHAPTER IS A CROSSOVER WITH Delta B1 by Cyborg4281 https://www.bungie.net/en/Forum/Post/224417569/0/0, where appearances are made by characters that link Keis to Delta. There will be more. Enjoy. ______________________________________ Guardians only ever remember two things about the lives they had before they died and became Guardians. The first is their name. The second is how they died. Only how they died. Not why or what was happening around them. An example Blanc gave me was if someone drowned. They wouldn't remember if it was in a bathtub or the ocean. They wouldn't know if they had been pushed in, or if they tripped. They only know they drowned. I died from the collective damage of multiple wounds. Explosives, shrapnel, and energy bolts. But, a Guardian can ascertain some things. I was revived on the beach, next to a destroyed city. Because of this, and how I died, I know that I most likely died in the battle that destroyed the city. But I may be incorrect. "Are you sure you want to do this, Keis?" Blanc asked again. I nodded. Guardians did't need to sleep, but they were still able to do so. When they did, they occasionally had dreams and nightmares. No one had ever remembered a dream, but most could swear that they involved their past lives. Some Warlocks, who called themselves thanatonauts, died and came back with insight. They were scattered and obscure visions and memories, but they weren't forgotten like the dreams. Some thanatonauts had visions relating to the Light and the Darkness. Most of them caused concern, conflict, and doubt. I was only interested in the memories, though. "Really?" Blanc pressed, "Some of those thanatonauts had some rather corrupt visions. I don't want you thinking the Darkness is good or anything." "I'll be fine, Blanc," I assured her. Exos only got mind wipes after experiencing trauma. So why did I have fifty-one? So much seemed familiar to me. The Vex, the occasional sight during a firefight, and other supposedly random things. Déjà vu was something I had grown used to, but I wanted answers. So I sat in the back of the Tower's hangar, out of sight, ready to shoot myself in the head with a charged particle beam. Blanc stood by to revive me. And to fire the beam again, if needed. "Remind me to make notes when I'm done," I told Blanc, "For posterity." She sighed and bobbed up and down in a nodding motion. I counted down, "Three, two, one." [i]We are in a ditch. Another explosion sprays dirt and rocks onto us. Energy bolts dart overhead. "We have to retreat," a voice grunts, "Pack up, Keis-33. There's nothing else we can do." I turn and look down the ditch. Most of the other Exos are running back to the extraction point. The rest stay where they were, dead or too damaged to walk. I run past them. Another battle lost.[/i] Blanc revived me, and I snapped back to reality with a gasp. "Blanc, shoot me again," I ordered. [i]We are in a room. Equipment is scattered across tables and tucked in corners. "You saw something in the Vex confluxes, Keis-6?" a thin Arabic man with black hair and brown eyes addresses me, his lab coat swishing as he enters the room. I bow formally and greet, "Dr. Fahri Sayyed." Flashes of faces and places. "Yes, those alternate timelines are a mind-bender," A scientist grunts, sitting down in front of me. "Places I can't describe, too many to tell. Wars. Different wars. Different people and places," I list cryptically. "Wars?" The scientist inquires. More faces flash by. Conversations. "We made the Exos for surviving, not war," Dr. Sayyed argues. "But we are good at it," I inform, "I have fought my own kind, others, dark creatures, the very Vex you made me to understand." "Other Exos?!" Dr. Sayyed shouts, knocking his chair down as he stands, "The Vex?! Why would you have to fight any of them?!" "I can't remember why," I drift. Images of vast wildernesses. A woman studies her clipboard. "Keis-12. You've experienced an unusual amount of trauma in the confluxes. The mind wipes seem to be negatively affecting-" The sound of gunfire. Dr. Sayyed grabs my shoulders, "Keis, you have to focus!"[/i] I returned to the present. What had I been through? "Again," I commanded. [i]We are surrounded by hills. The sky is black without stars. All I can hear is the wind. I feel a tug, or a tear, at how peaceful it seems. I step over corpses. There was no peace. Only death. The ridge explodes in a fiery inferno and the sound of gunfire starts once more.[/i] "Again, Blanc," I demanded. [i]A young man enters the room, and his eyes widen in shock when he sees me. "You didn't tell me you were working on Exos!" he exclaimed. I fall into a pit. War waits at the bottom. Dr. Sayyed continues, "Keis-18, this is my son, Yazan." "Why haven't you militarized them?" Yazan questions. "Why would I do that?" Dr. Sayyed asks, baffled. "They'd be good for it," Yazan mutters, "We'd be able to fight off anything..." "I know your views, son," Dr. Sayyed warns, "The Exos were made for the pursuit of knowledge and life. Not war. And most certainly not to attack the Traveler!" Yazan puts up his hands innocently, "I didn't mean it like that. I'm not one of those extremists from The Defense. They're the ones who would-" Flashes of war and dying Exos.[/i] I was revived once again. "He stole the blueprints," I moaned. "What?" Blanc asked. "Again," I instructed, too caught up in the patches of memory to answer. [i]Flashes of war. Battle after battle. Nothing was clear. Just bodies and gunfire. Pain. More flashes. Explosions. More bodies. Loss. Another battle. Loss. A familiar beach. Loss. Dead Exos. Loss. I fall into the sand. Loss...[/i] Ghosts had faint neural links with their Guardians. [i]Blanc, bring me back,[/i] I thought. Sensing what I wanted, she complied. I sat up, putting a hand to my head. "What did you see?" Blanc inquired. "Memories," I replied, "Mostly fragments of conversations. Nothing seemed important..." "Really?" Blanc pressed. "It's a mess of images and sounds. I'm still trying to process it," I sighed, standing up. "You can think about it while we're with the others," Blanc suggested. I nodded, and headed for the courtyard. Quintel, Welkine-2, Natalie, and Ilya wanted to take me down into the City again. Over the years, as I occasionally went on patrols with them or visited the wall, it had become clear that they liked finding excuses for revelry. Now they were insisting on taking me somewhere to celebrate my one hundred and sixty-fifth birthday. "Blanc," I confided, "I think I should start spending more time with them. That may incline them to stop dragging me out on these excursions." "That sounds great," Blanc giggled, seeming to think I had said something funny, "Maybe you could start hugging people, too, like Ilya." "Maybe," I sighed, "But I prefer Natalie's method of greeting." "What's that?" Blanc inquired. "I don't fully understand it," I explained, "But everyone seems to accept Natalie trying to punch me as a proper greeting." Blanc started to laugh.