[h3][right]Melech - The Trudger, Flying over Beck's Skiff, Jundland Wastes[/right][/h3]
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Forty-seven; That's how many new organics pinged on Melech's system. Of those, three had been identified as local fauna, a small group of reptiles sunning themselves on a rock. Given the time of day, they had likely been kept in the dark and then placed there as a distraction for radar-users. Sandmen were no strangers to technology, and it showed in their assessment of his ship. Unfortunately for them, this particular vessel was a lot more than it looked like. It had taken less than a second to identify and then dismiss the lizards, and within the next ten seconds he'd already located thirty of the hidden sandmen. All he had to do was have his droid plot a course to bring them alongside their targets long enough to take them out, then move to the next.

That was the plan, at least. As the ship pulled up alongside the first cluster, Melech told the mercenaries to be ready to fight over the ship's intercom. When they were all in position, one of them slammed the butt of his gun against the hatch control, jamming the button down flush with the panel. Melech saw the warning light flash inside his holo-field, informing him one of the ship's systems had been damaged.

Even as he'd begun disconnecting himself from the ship, he could hear the mercs cursing. The door had opened about thirty percent, allowing gunfire from outside to start ricocheting into the vessel. Then, it had abruptly shut. After a second, it would start to open, then slam closed once more. Melech had to grab his tools and head down himself, knowing the repair would take at least ten minutes, assuming the button was just jammed in place.

"Okay, who did it?" He asked, as they all stared at him. Before he could shout his own obscenities-a most choice selection, that encompassed the daily vocabulary of engineers from across a large percentage of the known regions of space-another shot fired into the cabin, bouncing off two walls before catching Melech directly in his calf. The one limb he had that was still made of muscle. Funnily enough, despite his career, Melech had never actually been shot before.

The string of profanity that proceeded was enough to render the collection of hardened killers wide-eyed. Once his still-organic leg had given out, his prosthetic had locked in place to brace his weight. As a result, Melech immediately lost his balance and toppled to his side, the cybernetic leg sticking straight out, stiff as a board, as he grabbed his injury. "Fuck! Beeps, raise the damn shield! Son of a Glorcknib, that hurt... Now, which one of you skunking cock-suckers broke my door?!" he yelled at them, after a very deep breath.