Anyway, dollop dollop! Glare at the blue girl as appropriate to keep her in line.

"You don't seem to like me very much," Arela says, leaning back and lacing her fingers into her head tentacles. "I'm going to list reasons that might happen. I fucked your mom. Conversely, you've ever met my mom. I killed someone I shouldn't have while doing some mercenary work. You're racist. I fucked your dad. Any of those hitting the mark?"

"You've fucked no one in my family line because we were all primitivist colonial yeomen," Teddy says while medi-gelling Zanna, with red flashes of chaotic death prophecy carefully shoved to one side of her mind. "To your main point, though, yes, your mother is currently fucking the hell out of the universe, although I haven't had the actual pleasure, yet." Smile? Gone before it can be caught.

"I am just straight-up bigoted against biotics, though, cards on the table." Said while fingers are actually physically inside of Zanna's wound, distributing gel: "Isn't that right, Shi?"

"I had noticed that," Zanna agrees. 

"I did think Belara was the likeliest on that list. The entire universe, though, that's ambitious even for her. What, did she figure out where the... Protheans... shit, she figured out what got the Protheans, didn't she."

Wink.

"Fuck. Do we also have that information, at least? Or are we, like the proverbial maiden in the varren den, fucked running?"

"I have the information. Did you know that the human brain is actually two fused lobes? I think that my brain would have arc-welded together on the spot if we weren't already built like that. Protheans can jump into space." Terentin sighs, which is unusual. There was just a volcano, that might have had an impact. "The short, brain-safe version is ravenous beasts from beyond all light want to eat everyone, and that a secret agent and your mom are helping them."

Suzanna gets the reassuring pat-pat of field medicine.

"Luckily I'm a better secret agent. Are you an estranged-enough daughter to save the universe?"

"Hell yes! Uh - also, to clarify, this info was put in your brain by some kind of Prothean device? Can I take a look?"

"Unfortunately, it got blown up."

"-oh, no, I meant at the Commander's brain. I have a lot of experience with - uh, English is kind of a terrible language for talking about telepathy - siaresela, melding-with-purpose, using a meld to communicate information or integrate traumatic memories or whatever, possibly both of those in this case. As opposed to sianolesa, melding in missionary position for the sole purpose of reproduction."

The commander is being propositioned, this is like step 20 and she thought they were both on step 4. She shakes her head fractionally like she has water in her ears.

"I'd rather wait until I'm not commanding a mission. I've been passing out way too much recently, I'm gonna hit my head eventually." Back on the Normandy, in private, where no one can see Terentin seize, such a thing can be arranged.

(Maybe Dr Chakwas can watch. As a safety measure!)

"Yeah, I should probably eat something first or I'm liable to pass out too."

They finish docking with the Normandy, and the doors hiss open. "Cool, good timing. I'm gonna go consume nutrients unless I need to debrief or something, in which case can I get an MRE?"

"I do literally run the place. We'll just pick you apart for intelligence later. Is it gross to eat and, ahem, commit intercourse in the same sitting or can we just have lunch in my office with my brain for dessert?"

"It really isn't purely or even mostly sexual, joking aside, there's a lot of melding involved in everything from childrearing to therapy to, like, low-key party games. But yes, that sounds great. I haven't had human food in an age."

"Still, food and hangups go together like yeast and grains. Thought I'd check."

Food... food always tastes so good after an explosion. Teddy is having fish, K'Bael is having whatever she wants.

Arela would love some fish. "Ooh, surimi. Asari never would have thought of surimi, we're too obsessed with aesthetics."

When they've had their respective meals, Arela stands up. "Ready, Commander?"

Teddy just orders "fish" from the cook and eats what shows up. It's good, and a lot warmer than what her guest is having.

Standing! Standing. "Yes." Always ready.  Obviously. Brain shit isn't weird at all, so this is fine. She kind of proffers her head.

Arela smiles reassuringly and takes Teddy's face between her hands. 

She closes her eyes. When she reopens them, they're solid black. "Embrace eternity!"

The vision is rushing through her again. It doesn't hurt this time, though. It doesn't feel like anything.

Then there's a twinge of pain, and the vision freezes in place. "Sorry!" Arela's voice says, echoing through her skull. "I have no idea how that ended up all the way over there. Fixed now. Resuming."

The vision continues. There's a couple more pause moments - one proprioceptory hallucination, half a dozen pain points, one notable incident that may have been a minor seizure ("fucking protheans - sorry sorry sorry!") - and then, after it's over, she runs the vision again.

It's... far more coherent this time. The Reapers are coming. Go to Ilos.

Also, she can feel the language settling into the appropriate place for languages to live in her brain, and the blueprints for whatever terrifying megastructure the beacon implanted her with settling into the appropriate place for blueprints. "I put it with your guns," Arela says. "I figured that'd be pretty safe."

Then... she feels better. Better than she has since that fucking beacon shoved its payload into her brainpan.

"D'you want me to do any other touch-up work while I'm in here?" Arela asks. "Or should I not push my luck?"

Her first "No–" comes out in Prothean. Ahem.

"...No, I'm good." She gently removes Arela's hands from her skull. "How into being kidnapped into my task force to arrest your mother and save the universe are you?" she asks, without withdrawing an inch from siaresela range.

"Extremely! Universe needs saving, I figure it's in my own self-interest to pitch in, y'know? Getting to arrest Mom is just a bonus."

Teddy can't quite square the circle of 'I find this woman pretty detestable' and 'she's been in my literal brain, hello' so she goes with 'overly gregarious lesbian shoulder-slap and roar of laughter'.

She grabs a bottle of port that she hid under a wastebasket, like she used to when she wasn't, you know, a Spectre. It's a good time to find out if it tastes worse now that it can't get her court-martialed.

Arela raises one tattooed-on eyebrow. "You really do have a fascinating brain," she says conversationally. "I think I'll take a raincheck on the drink until I'm more certain you're not trying to deaden my reflexes before you shoot me."

And she rises from her chair and pads sultrily out of the room.

"What, and ruin the fun?" Gulp. Tastes fine still. "See ya!"

What did she see in there? is a question for sober Teddy. Drunk Teddy is for incorporating all of that Prothean stuff now that it doesn't feel like razor blades.

No one stops her.

About ten hours later, a voice comes over the intercom. "Commander, we've got a call from the Council on the QEC. How long d'you want me to tell them to wait?"