A.N.: Alright, here it goes, my second Mass Effect M Fic. I love James, he is just so awesome, but….I'm a Shenko fan so I had to do something for my favorite muscle head. I hope you guys like Bree, as she's a little part of me.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Character from the Mass Effect Series, they belong to Bioware. Bree is my own creation though.

PS Any events of the game I'm sorry about, but I didn't want Shepard to die, and having all the technology break as it were was so sad and depressing so, here is how I saw the after months of the Mass Effect events.

Chapter 1: Just a Soldier

This hadn't been her plan at all. Even as she thought this, Gunnery Officer Brianna Dirce, stared at the newly commissioned Terminus V-1, unsure is she should even board the vessel. Her knees were like jelly, at most. Her heart was pounding. She gulped once.

"Come on, Officer." Her chief called, irritated with her slowness. Bree jolted at the yell, nodding and running over the docking bridge. "Sorry, sir, I'm sorry."

Her chief just rolled his eyes at her. "Try for some semblance of dignity, Dirce, it's just a ship."

He's wrong about that, she's a beauty, she thought, discreetly glancing at the Alliance ship's exterior. The beautiful lettering on her hull gleamed with a new polish, but it didn't fool Bree for a moment. This was a war ship, through and through.

Her chief didn't seem to think so. "You'd think that after the Reaper attack on Earth, and Commander Shepard ending the war, we wouldn't need useless cruisers like this one."

Bree wisely kept her mouth shut as they were admitted onto the airlock port. The machine's beeped, indicating that they should stay as still as possible while the scanners did their jobs.

"So," her chief said a slight sneer on his face. "We now report to the CO of the Terminus, Commander James Vega. Have you been made aware of this?"

"Yes, sir, I have," she answered. As you have informed me every day since we were assigned to the Terminus, she thought, resisting rolling her own eyes. The chief had taken every opportunity to complain about the assignment, calling the Commander a "war-hungry jarhead, with little to no brains". Bree, having never met the war hero, could not say anything to defend one of the saviors of Earth.

The doors opened, and a young female tech walked up to them. "Hello, you must be Gunnery Chief Jake Fredricks, and…."

"Officer Brianna Dirce," her chief said for her, brushing Bree aside. He walked on with the tech, leaving Bree to wait, floundering for something to do. Should she follow, should she stay here and wait? Confused, and just a little bit more pissed at her chief's conservative attitude towards her, Bree spotted a nearby empty computer chair, and promptly sat down with a huff. Five years she had served under that hypocritical bastard, and for five years she tolerated his blatant abuse of her talents. It was only by a fluke she made it out of soldier and into officer to begin with. Now, here she was serving under an extraordinary vessel, one of her hero's, and all she had to show for it was a meek attitude and a fear of being called up on insubordination. Staring at the red lighted screen, and intrigued by the various numbers being posted, Bree zoned off.

"Hey," a voice called from behind her. Bree jolted again, turning in the chair, to see a man glaring at her. "What the hell do you think you're doing? You're not supposed to be sitting there."

Bree, realizing she was once again about to be scolded for her actions, quickly leapt up and stepped aside, giving the chair a wide berth. "I'm sorry, sir, I didn't know anybody was using the chair."

He didn't look any more pleased. "Who are you anyway? Are you even supposed to be here? Get off the ship immediately!"

Great, she thought, lifted up her hands for peace. Just great. "Wait, I-"

"Do I have to find you're commanding officer to have you removed from the premises?"

Bree felt sweat pour down her back. This is a wonderful start to my new assignment, really. Trying to get a word in, she was interrupted by a hand grasping her shoulder.

"Relax, Officer Houston, I do believe this chica is one of us now."

Bree felt the light Hispanic voice all the way down to her toes, and was hard pressed to keep a shudder from escaping. A happy little ping went off in her head. The hand on her shoulder was firm, yet didn't hurt or bite. Turning her head, Bree was greeted with a large man with equally large shoulders. Gulping again, both from fear and a hint of lust, Bree stared into the light brown eyes of Commander James Vega. He was smiling, but there was a hint of steel underneath it as he glanced at the Officer before them. "It's okay, just go back to work for now."

"Yes, sir," the man said, giving Bree a quick glare, before sitting down to continue whatever work he was on. The Commander led her over to the CIC. There, arms crossed in contrition, was her chief. He was glaring at her. "I'm sorry, sir, the Officer was supposed to be following me to the armory, but apparently got separated from us. It won't happen again."

Bree cast her gaze downwards, feeling a blush spread over her cheeks in a combination of anger and embarrassment. How dare that pompous ass blame her for his own actions, he had no right at all. But of course, he did, as he was her higher-up.

"No, it's cool Chief Fredricks just a miscommunication on all our parts. Now, since we're all here, why don't we go to the shuttle bay to talk about your accommodations?"

"I quite agree, sir." And with that, they started to walk away. Bree was once again on the receiving end of being ignored. They mentioned her sure, in a passing glance, but again she was left behind. Unsure, once more, whether that included her or not, Bree stood there. It wasn't until they reached the elevator that Bree really felt ignored. Gritting her teeth, she let her arms hang by her sides and wait.

"Hey, chica, you coming or what?"

Bree's head whipped up to see the Commander, with his large arm holding the elevator open, staring at her with amused eyes. Blinking, as if she heard him wrong, Bree didn't move until he gave a 'come-on' gesture with his head. Still confused, she pointed at herself. He laughed. It was deep, but not loud, almost like a chuckle. There was that ping again.

"Yeah, you chica; get over here."

Bree rushed over to get into the elevator. As she ducked under his muscular arm, she caught a faint whiff of something that smelled faintly of musk. It was a good kind though, a manly smell. All the way in the elevator, Bree launched herself into the corner to keep out of the higher-up's way. James let the elevator close and turned to give her a glance.

"Maybe you do get distracted a lot."

Bree felt the blush rise on her face again, which she promptly hid behind the cloak of her auburn hair. She ran her fingers over the curled tangles and tried not to notice her superior officer's disapproving stare in her direction. Used to that feeling, she didn't bother to look up. It was quiet in the elevator as it made the short trip to the shuttle bay. The whole time, Bree was fully aware of the hulking male specimen in front of her, absently tapping his finger on his folded arms. Bree took in his appearance. He was huge, in stature and height, with a head of military short, spiked brown hair; with tattoos littering his arms and shoulders, peeking out over the onboard 'regs'. He was commanding alright, and Bree understood how this guy could have survived the Reaper invasion. Her perusal did not go unnoticed as her chief coughed loudly enough to bring her back from her lust filled thoughts. He was a prime example of the male species alright.

"Anyway, sir, I don't believe we've been properly introduced."

The Commander spared him a glance before walking off the opened elevator to the shuttle bay. "No, we haven't amigo, perhaps you might fill me in as I only have your entire file on hand."

As he walked away from them, Bree felt a smile grace her lips, even as her chief scowled. He wiped it away though, heading after him to the far corner of the shuttle bay. Bree took the chance to glance around, noticing that there was only two other people on this level, one of which was busy working at a terminal near a transport carrier. It was quiet, only the hum of the engine above and the whir of working tools could be heard, and the sound of footsteps and mumbled talking in the armory. Realizing she was left again, Bree rushed over to join her superiors. The chief was talking to the Commander.

"As you are aware, I work in quiet settings, and prefer not to be disturbed at any time. I ask that I be put in a quiet room with roommates who respect that quiet."

Commander Vega let one dark eyebrow lift at that statement and Bree couldn't help noticing the scar that ran just near his eye, over the eyebrow. Plus the one over his right cheek bone that stretched over his finely shaped nose. He had one on his bottom lip too, just in the corner where someone might nibble on it before drifting to tongue that perfect taut mouth….

Bree shook her head, and looked away even as he glanced at her. When she looked back, he was smiling at her, kindly though, with a hint to tell her he might know exactly what she was thinking. God, she hoped he didn't.

"And what about you, chica, what's your story?"

Bree tried not to take the nickname to heart, even though the sound of it sent those annoying shivers down her spine. "Well, my name is-"

"She's my assistant, as it were," Fredricks commented. Bree turned to glare at him briefly and almost spit venom before she remembered the thin line she was already on. So instead she gritted her teeth and kept silent. Commander Vega, though, didn't quite like that.

"Her file expressively states she's at an Officer ranking, with almost seven years training under her belt. I think, Gunnery Chief, she can speak for herself."

Fredricks looked instantly stunned, his face showing both rage and confusion. Nobody had so blatantly stripped him before. Bree hid her face, so neither saw the grin that appeared over her pink lips. Finally, she thought.

"So," Commander Vega continued, glancing back at Bree, before sitting on the table behind him. He crossed his arms, letting the muscles of his arms and chest bulge. Bree gulped again, feeling heat gather in her belly. Man, she thought, just man.

"Um, well, I'm Officer Brianna Dirce, sir. I've been assigned with Chief Fredricks on assignment to keep control and watch over the weapons used on this ship and with your team, as well as provide any needed tech support that is necessary, sir."

"Alright, Brianna Dirce-"

"Bree, sir."

There was a pause, and Bree heard Fredrick hiss between his teeth. She gulped at the confused look to pass over Commander Vega's face. It was replaced with a light smile. "Bree then. Do you have any preference to room and board?"

Bree hadn't really given it much thought, actually.

Your room, sir. Your bed, sir.

Bree mentally slapped herself silly, giving a look of supposed thinking. "Well, I guess anywhere the crew is, is fine. I don't expect any special treatment sir. I'm a soldier."

While she ignored her chief's second hiss of breath, she noticed a light spark in the Commander's eyes. "Yes you are chica. Yes you are."