Iosif kept quiet for the most part, yet the presence of the Batarian in the bridge soon caught his notice and was enough by itself to elicit a contemptuous glare whilst the interloper spoke with the pilot about the engine. "Excuse me, ran some scans on the main engine. It's solid but it would be best to not to put it under much stress. Thought I should let you know." [i]No shit,[/i] Iosif thought, returning the batarian's subsequent glance towards him with a hard stare before they left the room.

[color=SteelBlue]"Fucking batarians,"[/color] he muttered, reaching around to scratch at the barcode tattooed into the back of his neck. He wondered whether or not their guest had noticed that particular marking on him, but thought nothing of it; if anything, it was a clear warning that he'd dealt with the four-eyed bastards before and would do so again if necessary. Not exactly subtle, but effective enough.

Back to the matter at hand; he found that his partner on the bridge, Dex, seemed about as decent a pilot as he expected - most Turians were - and was glad to be reassured of that, especially on a vessel as ragged as the [i]Borealis[/i]. Whilst she focussed on manoeuvring the vessel around Thail's orbit before pulling out of it, he made sure that everything else kept together and worked on tightening up the slack to a minimum to give Dex an easier time.

He jolted a little bit as he felt the ship escaping Thail's orbit, yet couldn't help but smile a little as they approached the relay.

“[color=007236]Approaching Mass Relay, engaging mass effect core. Preparing for relay jump.[/color]”

Damn, it felt [i]good[/i] to be back into the swing of things.

Hitting the Omega Nebula, Iosif shared the turian pilot's sentiments when she left off a sigh; this vessel was hardly shipshape, as his great-great-grandfather would've probably said, yet it had done its job for now. All they had to do was keep an eye on the fuel gauge and and manoeuvre the [i]Borealis[/i] through the dense asteroid field and they'd be good to go.

[i]"There she is,"[/i] he mused, taking in the front row view of the accursed station as it finally came into view. Somehow, he couldn't help but draw a twisted, ironic sense of nostalgia from the sight of that hellish glow; for all the shitty times that this place had brought, it also held that odd, fond memory of when his partnership had worked out, sans one backstabbing salarian bastard.  

“[color=007236]This is Dexureta of the [i]Borealis[/i] requesting permission to dock.[/color]” It was good to see she'd taken in his advice, judging by the comms hail with the Afterlife district's docking manager. "Permission granted, [i]Borealis.[/i] Dock at Bay A4." It'd be about as close to neutral ground that they'd get.

"[color=007236]Attention all crew, we have docked successfully at the horrifically dingy Afterlife District. To your left you can see some prostitute giving a batarian a blowjob in the alley, while off to the right you can see some gang members, looks like Blood Pack, shaking down a local for protection money. Please step lightly while exiting, you might just trip over a dead body.[/color]"

He couldn't help but quietly chuckle at Dex's in-flight commentary as they docked with the station, his gaze fixated on the console before him just in case anything popped up. Fortunately, nothing out of the ordinary showed up and he soon felt the [i]Borealis[/i] come to a halt and the docking clamps attach themselves to the ship. As he got ready to climb out of his seat, he found that Dex was beating him to it. "[color=007236]’m going to slip into my armour, gents. Meet you three in the hangar.[/color]"

"[color=SteelBlue]Yeah, see you.[/color]" Iosif nodded, climbing out of the co-pilot's seat with a grunt. He recalled leaving his gear in the cargo bay, having deigned not to waste time grabbing a bunk earlier on and instead headed down to grab his gear nad find a space in a quiet corner of the quarters from where he could equip himself. It didn't take him long to slip all his gear on; his armour, the reliable M-8 Avenger, his M-6 Carnifex, which always packed a punch and the M-3 Predator that he kept concealed on his person; always good for close encounters that went bad.

For good measure, he also made sure he had the portable welder on his person; aside from being an all-around reliable tool, he'd seen first-hand on Aratoht that these things were lethal if you were willing to apply them to less-than-constructive purposes. Something else that always came in handy on Omega.

Just as he was halfway done gearing up, that same raspy, laboured voice that had sarcastically remarked about him in the bridge popped up over the comm-link and his own omni-tool.

"[code]Alright children, gather round and listen up. My name is Mirage and I will be your tour guide today on the lovely garden-world known as Omega.[/code]"

He'd noticed that the sarcasm hadn't changed. Humour wouldn't hurt, at least.

"[code]Pay attention, because Mirage is good and Mirage is wise. Using my extensive deductive capabilities -- and by listening in on your conversations -- I've compiled a list of everything we need to do here.
[/code]"

[i]That[/i] little snippet of information was handy; he made a mental note to make sure his omni-tool's security was up to spec and keep an eye on that one. Granted, he'd be working in the same space as the weakened turian, but he knew fully-well from experience that it was never wise to underestimate his type.

"[code]First off; parts. We all know this ship is a rustbucket. If you can tell the wrong end from the right end of a wrench, please take responsibility.[/code]"

That was true, at least. Depending on how things went, he considered that it might've been worth going along with the search party working on that front.

"[code]We also need food. One of the other levo-based lifeforms on this vessel, please tag along."[/code]

Whilst dextro-amino food wasn't exactly his concern, he wasn't unfamiliar with the concept of doing a little shopping for it every once in a while. Rael had always been rather specific about what he ate whenever Iosif had been out to grab provisions, especially given how he had to ensure that said food was properly decontaminated to accomodate the boastful quarian's needs. Still, there was a single quarian onboard and a whole bunch of turians present to ensure that said matter was covered.

"[code]We obviously also need fuel. Drono, you said something about weapon coolant? Whatever, it's on the list. Have fun.[/code]"

Fuel was definitely something to consider. Weapon coolant and other assets necessary for keeping the ship running too. He made a memo to look into the matter himself if nobody else would.

"[code]Also, in case any of you morons get shot, we need medical supplies.[/code]"

Well, Iosif wasn't a doctor, but he knew how to patch himself up in a tight situation. Losing an arm had taught him that a little medi-gel could mean the difference between life and death. But as for the specialist supplies, that was outside his field of expertise.

“[code]And last but not least, we need credits, which means we need work. Those of you with actual social skills, please apply. Check?[/code]”

There were plenty enough 'social' types on this ship to handle that front. Iosif wasn't exactly in the mood for haggling, either, so he opted to leave that to the others.

"[code]Check. Now, since we're all adults, I'm going to assume you know how to work together; that goes for the humans too. Form groups and distribute the responsibilities. I was born and raised on Omega, so if you have any questions about where you need to go, whisper. Once you've formed the squads, let me know so I can assign you completely randomly generated call-signs. Mirage out.[/code]"

Finished suiting up, Iosif did well to ensure that the barcode was covered up; whilst he wasn't planning on making an acquaintance with the likes of the four-eyed bastards who'd hauled him off to Aratoht, he figured it'd give him an easier time in the long run. Then, with that sorted, he headed down to the hangar to meet with the others only to find the krogan had paid a visit to the captain's quarters.

Arms folded, Iosif listened in quietly as the late Captain Luzami's recording was played out. Two wanted war criminals from the Skyllian Blitz, batarians if the names and circumstances were anything to go by. A feasible contract, by the sounds of it. Then, when it came down to introductions, he decided to be clear and concise.

"[color=SteelBlue]It's Sevchenko, Iosif Sevchenko. Like the rest, I've done my service with the Alliance as a pilot; gunships, shuttles, fighters; if it's lightweight and manoeuvrable I can get behind the cockpit without a problem. Bigger ships, I've got some experience with too; I'll be in the co-pilot's chair if I'm needed.[/color]" He glanced towards the batarian for a moment. "[color=SteelBlue]Can handle myself in a firefight, too. And know how to be resourceful when resources are scarce. Ask the foreman on Aratoht if you want a reference.[/color]" He opted not to mention much else for the time being, instead leaving them with that little remark. His gaze shifted over to Dex, whom he nodded towards. "[color=SteelBlue]I'll head with my pilot, Dex for the fuel. Make sure any other little things along the way get picked up whilst we're on it.[/color]"