Jack knew the members of the first exploration group would be arriving shortly. The announcement had just been made; all of those in the First Exoplanet Exploration Division, or FEED, would be arriving because of it. Mainly military, he figured, but the factions weren't balanced. Mainly Euro-East and New Alliance; Sino-Russos don't like mixing with others, it seemed. 

They'd arrived over the first planet two weeks after they entered the wormhole. Since then, they'd managed to communicate properly back home. If he had any family worth going back to or talking to, he might of. But instead, he studied what little they knew of the planet they were dropping into- they had no idea if it had a toxic or poisonous atmosphere, though the plants on the ground were suspected to be carbon-based and oxygen/carbondioxide, though they weren't sure. 

The announcement was a recording he already had in the system- [i]"All personnel involved with the First Exoplanet Exploration Division report to Hangar C3 for departure."[/i]

There wasn't a set time limit, but when most of them arrived, he'd drop. His pilot- he already forgot their name- was already strapped in and firing up the engines. When they were ready, the dropship would be unceremoniously dropped- the floor beneath the dropship, at the moment, was nothing more than a shimmering enviroshield- something that allowed humans to walk on it, and kept the void of the space out and air in- and a single bay door. The blast doors had already retreated into the sides of the ship, as were the secondary blast doors, and the airlock doors.

Feeling a sudden bout of nervousness and a premonition of something BAD, he looked around at the hangar with new eyes, as if taking it in for the first- or last- time. It was cavernous, spanning four flight decks (each deck is 15 feet, 6'6" for each actual level for people to walk through, the rest being maintenance and mechanics), with cranes and catwalks and the like stretching throughout. The hangar stretched along the very bottom of the entire ship; it was long and narrow, with enough space for three dropships wingtip to wingtip for the width, and hundreds of feet from the front of the hangar to the rear. A bad design, if not for the many enviroshields maintaining individual flightgroup areas. 

It was just their time to drop, and he felt uncomfortable, for good reason. They may not come back alive, or at all. But he straightened up in his suit as the first member appeared at the door closest to the dropship; it seemed they were starting to trickle in. "Engine start authorized, Pilot. We'll have payload in no time."