Mike entered Hangar Six, clipboard in hand, Cpl. Lopez and Specialist Sczruba hot on his heels.

“Big place,” Sczruba muttered, his eyes panning the massive space. Lopez gave a low whistle in agreement.

Nodding his agreement, Mike reached out and slapped both men on the back, then strolled further inside, ignoring the various pilots and mechanics who bustled about, hard at work. 

It was laid out almost identically to the hangars they’d already been through; 400 yards wide, 150 yards deep, with five bays for the team’s five mining ships nestled side by side, delineated by bright yellow safety lines painted on the ground. A larger bay stood at the far end, containing the massive recovery and rescue ship that would be sent out in case one of the mining pods came to harm.

Waving his two senior men over, Mike scanned his clipboard before pointing towards the door they’d just entered from.

“Pretty much the same score as the last five, gents,” he said, flipping through the pages until he reached the Emergency Procedures handout. “We secure this one the same way we would any of the others. It’s big, but there’s only two entrances, so as long as we have a clear field of fire and some cover, it shouldn’t be hard to keep somebody out.”

Not that he anticipated having to do so; the tactics and responses they were working on were for repelling boarders or putting down a mutiny. Neither of those seemed terribly likely, but his crew had to cover it. The Marine knew first hand that planning for every possible eventuality was key. In the outlandish event that his boys had to secure one of these hangars, he didn’t want them walking into it blind. 

“So, machine-gun and a rifle on the far door, the other three cover the near door,” Sczruba said, briefly removing his cover and running a hand over the bristles of his shaven head.

Lopez nodded. “Yup. Casualty collection point at the back, by the storage room.”

“And if we’re overrun?”

“Heavy suppressing fire. Commandeer a ship, boogy out the air-lock, then loop back into one of the other hangars and assault from another direction.”

“Good.” Mike said, nodding. “Last Stand actions?”

“Seal suits. Blow the door. Suck the whole bunch of ‘em into space, and hope we survive long enough to get picked up by the MPs.”

Nodding grimly, Mike gave both men a gallows smile. “Hopefully it won’t come to that.”

Glancing towards the offices, Mike caught a flash of strawberry-blonde hair and grinned broadly, slapping the clipboard into Lopez’s chest.

“Yes. Excellent. All of that. Keep doing...This stuff. I’ll be back.”

With that he spun on his heel and bee-lined towards the rear of the hangar, leaving his two (slightly perplexed) men to finish looking over the Emergency Procedures for Hangar Six. They’d already done it five times; he figured they could handle this one on their own.

Mike crossed the distance between the offices and the door at a rapid pace, slowing as he reached the young woman he’d spoken with earlier.

“Hey!” he said, beaming and giving her a small wave. “Pauline, right? You feeling any better?”