Welcome to part two! I hope that the way I've worked through the events following Mass Effect 3 doesn't disappoint, and that you all enjoy.
He awoke with a jolt, his entire body feeling as though someone had hit him with a shock of electricity. His first breath was strained, and his chest felt like it was wrapped in steel bands. He tried to move his arms, and found himself bound. No – not bound – wrapped. His whole body was encased in large ribbons of something cold, moist, and smelling vaguely of salt – seaweed? Why was he wrapped in the encasings of the dead? He struggled to remember, but his last memory was of lying in the room at Huerta Memorial, with Kolyat, his son, and Shepard, the woman he loved, reciting the Prayer of Forgiveness. His perfect, eidetic memory recalled, unbidden, his last moments.
Kolyat recites the prayer, with Shepard joining him. Thane's eyes close; listening to the two people he loves most. He is glad that his last act will be to ask for forgiveness for Shepard, that he might intervene on her behalf with his gods. His mind begins to fog, he feels as though he is floating, and his chest no longer pains him.
Thane paused. Had he died, in that moment? If so, why was he alive now, and in so much pain? The electric shock sensation had continued, similar to the feeling one gets when circulation had been cut off to a limb and the feeling rushes back in, but ten times worse. He flexed his hands, which were crossed over his chest, and found his fingers, though stiff, could still articulate. He began to wriggle, writhing his way out from the seaweed bindings. It took some work, but he eventually got his hand free, and started to pull the large strands of kelp off of himself. It was a relief when he finally got his head free, and he could breathe fresh air again.
That's when he noticed it. Breathing was a relief. The past few months, no matter how much air he had taken in, he had still felt breathless, as his blood could not properly carry the oxygen that his body so desperately needed. Everything had become a struggle, from walking to speaking. Now, suddenly, he felt no such problem. Each breath he took was easy, unlaboured, and he didn't feel as though he was constantly asphyxiating. What had happened? How had he gone from lying near death in a hospital bed to wrapped in seaweed and apparently in good health? He had to find answers.
It was cold and dark, wherever he was, and as he struggled he found himself hitting walls on either side of him. Was he in an air duct? That didn't make sense. He quickly pieced together what was going on, however, once he got free enough to feel around himself. Not an air duct, he seemed to be in a morgue refrigeration unit. It took some time to twist himself, but eventually he was able to use his foot against the small latch on the inside of the door, pushing it down with his toes until the handle on the outside turned, and he was able to open the door and push himself free.
Pulling himself out, he continued to peel away the layers of kelp surrounding him, and then stood still to take in his surroundings. Wherever he was, it was dark, but that wasn't a problem for his Drell eyes, which saw through the darkness. What he saw added to his theory of having died. He was in a morgue on a Hanar ship, as best he could tell. He stood next to a large slab of a table, with a jar of seaweed in brine sitting next to him. It seemed as though his preparation had been hastily abandoned, though the reason was not evident. Pieces of kelp lay haphazardly on the table and floor, and the door to the room had been left open. He looked down at himself, comforted that his body appeared as it had the last time he looked, intact and covered in green scales. He was naked, but that wasn't really a problem to him. He looked around the room, intelligent eyes darting from place to place, until he found what he sought, a small chest with his name written on it. His most personal belongings should be in there, along with an outfit he had chosen to be laid to rest with, as was custom in the old Drell religion. He crossed the room carefully, and opened the chest, and felt his heart stutter for the briefest second. There, on top of his things, was a picture.
"Siha," he whispered, his fingers caressing the face of the woman in the frame. Of course the picture of Shepard was at the top of his possessions. He closed his eyes for a moment against the sudden pain he felt. The tingling was mostly gone, but this was a different sort of pain. He was now almost certain that he had died and, somehow, been brought back. As far as Shepard knew, he was still dead. If she felt for him even a fraction of what he felt for her, his death would have been hard for her.
Placing the photo down and continuing to look for clothing, he vowed to himself, "I will find you, Siha, and I will help you in your battles." As far as he was aware, the Reapers were still invading, threatening the existence of every sentient being in the galaxy, and Shepard would be at the front of the battle, trying both to win the war and protect everyone else in the process. His warrior angel was not one to give up, and she was far too hard on herself. All the more reason for him to find out what had happened. He pulled on the ceremonial tunic and pants that were his outfit of choice for the afterlife, and went to the door of the room.
Ever the assassin, he couldn't help but stop and listen at the door. The room had been abandoned hastily, and for all he knew this ship was under siege. All of his senses on high alert, he peeked out around the corner, wishing silently that he had a gun. The outer room, too, was empty, a datapad sitting on a table, still on. He slid around the door frame, silent as always, and crept closer to read what was written there,
It was a news flash bulletin: Since recent cessation of Reaper hostilities, Sol system remains cut off from neighbors. Thane couldn't believe what he was reading The Reapers had retreated? Why? Had Shepard been successful? The news article spoke only of the fate of ships in the Sol relay, and emergency measures being put into effect to sustain a large fleet in a small area. He had to find out what was going on. He walked quickly to the door of the outer room, and was about to open it when he caught his reflection in the mirror across from the entranceway. He halted immediately, and turned to get a better look at himself.
While his overall features, shape, and coloring were the same that they had always been – green scales with the occasional black spot, large black eyes with dark green irises, spiky ridges over his brow, body lithe and lean – when the light caught his skin at the right angle, he could see that he was different. A network of tiny connections ran under his skin, much like the network in a computer. This pattern seemed to continue under the entirety of his skin, and his irises glowed ever so slightly. What had happened to him? He looked like he was part cybernetic. Was this how he was alive? Had someone done to him what had been done to bring back Shepard? Why? If he had been full of questions before this discovery, it was nothing to how he felt now. He turned away from his reflection and opened the door, and was met with a very odd sight.
In the corridor of the ship, four Hanar were standing, communicating with vivid flashes of light and color. Thane had, fortunately, had surgery to allow him to see the full range of Hanar communication. They, too, were covered in this subtle, sub-dermal pattern of circuitry. Upon Thane's exit from the room, all three Hanar turned to face him.
"Apologies for interrupting," he said, "But this one would know what has happened." He was careful to observe all of the appropriate conventions of politeness when speaking with Hanar.
This one accepts the Drell's apology, one Hanar answered, using the same method of communication as it had been before, The Reapers are no longer attacking. The one called Shepard activated the Crucible. All species have been… changed. Thane wasn't sure what to say. Changed how? What had this Crucible done? Where was Shepard now? One of the other Hanar spoke before he could formulate another question,
This one would ask, was the Drell not the one we had been preparing for return to Kahje and burial before this ship was called to assist with the Crucible? Is the Drell's name Thane Krios? Thane nodded, too stunned to speak. So he had been dead. What was going on? He needed to find Shepard and the Normandy. The Hanar continued, It seems the change has altered the Drell's physiology sufficiently to resuscitate the Drell. Thane would have loved to ask more about what was going on, but he knew that communicating with the Hanar would be a long and arduous process, and right now he wanted the fast, succinct answers that Joker or Garrus could provide.
"Apologies, but this one humbly requests the use of this ship's communications array," Thane said, "This one would communicate with the vessel known as Normandy." The Hanar nodded their acknowledgement, and directed Thane towards a wall console. He approached, and realised that he didn't have his Omni-tool with him. It was not something that would have been kept on the body after death. He turned to ask for assistance, but the panel lit up as he approached it, and the most amazing thing happened.
Without any need for a tool to interface with the communications array, Thane found himself merging with the ship's computer. There was no accurate way to describe what was happening. He was still himself, but he suddenly had access to all unrestricted ship's systems. Directing himself to communications, he called up the Normandy's frequency, and sent out a hail.
"This is Thane Krios, calling the Normandy. Joker? EDI? Is there anybody there?" He waited one minute, then two, then five, before receiving a message back, not from the Normandy, but from Admiral Hackett.
"This is Admiral Hackett. Is this the Thane Krios who helped Shepard bring down the Collectors?" Thane spoke to the affirmative, "Grab a shuttle to the SSV Hong Kong. I'd like to speak with you."
"Of course Admiral, I'll be there as soon as possible," Thane said.
"Good," replied the admiral, "Hackett out."