[h3][color=f6989d]Yasaliah Josk: Pilot[/color][/h3]

Yasaliah had been silent to the rest of the crew ever since the fight with the Elnar. Turning off her end of the comms, she hummed a tune to herself, something she was just making up. Captain Raymond had given her the order to fly to the nearest committee report, and she had indeed followed his command. Dev did some bullshit with his gizmos and the Elnar blew up. Yasaliah was happy, though currently quite ignorant of the troubling events brewing deeper in the ship, not giving the strange tingle in her spine a second thought. With the co-ordinates set and no further disturbances detected, Yasaliah kicked off her boots, wriggling her toes and setting her bare feet on the console and leaned back in her comfortable pilots chair, undoing the various safety seat belts for her leisure.

Intending to catch up on some of the sleep she missed, Yasaliah closed her piercing blue eyes and tried to get some sleep. Still with her eyes closed, Yasaliah reached her pink finger up to her ear-piece and contacted the Captain.

[color=f6989d]"All clear, we're on our way,"[/color] She yawned briefly before turning off the comm. The Satasi pilot didn't know that Anderson was dead, nor did she know of the specifics of her precious cargo, but she didn't particularly care about either of those things. Tango-bot would do fine on it's own, and it would wake her up if it needed her skills. It didn't take long for Yasaliah to nod off, her arms crossed over her chest and her bare legs outstretched to the console, the teal line dot pattern running along it as it did the rest of her lightly dressed body.

The pilot would not bother to inquire about the ongoing events of the ship, as long as she got paid and fly the ship. That Elnar fight was the most she'd had in a long time, and she dreamt of it. 

Subconciously, she tried producing "fuck off" pheremones in hopes to get anyone to try and bother her to go away. They usually weren't very effective, apparently.