In Universe RP thread

Location - LV-742 Resource production planet.
http://avp.wikia.com/wiki/LV-742

Entry - Twenty years ago, this planet was the site of a small scale war between Humanity, Xenomorphs and Yautja. The resource value of this world is rated at "Three Earths". This rough term while clearly being unclear nonetheless points out the value that Humanity has for this planet. The continued growth of this region of space is directly linked to this world more so than any other. As such, United Earth Command (Military services of the United Earth Nations Organization UENO) considers this planet to be priority. Sixteen nations have troops represented here along with a dozen mega corporations. Though the planet has more than a hundred minor spaceport pads, the security of the planet requires all persons arriving to come through the main port of "Port Kadinsky". Any of the current fourteen million laborers plus the eight million more private contractors who travel to and from all require monitoring with the more than twenty thousand operating sites planet wide.

Port Kadinsky - population 1.5 million, currently under the watch of the Russian 415th Expeditionary Corps (60,000 total), German 11th and 24th Divisions (12,000 each) and Indian 75th Provisional Corps (80,000 total). The United States maintains two rotating divisions (20,000 each) of Marines on planet to maintain active patrols and rapid response units. An industrial mad house if there ever was one, the K-Port as its become known is a 24 hour a day bustle of activity. Ship port, planetary and stellar transit terminal as well as factory all in one never sleeping city. Not a moment passes without the radio traffic of security forces searching inch by inch the half mile long transports and cargo haulers. The blaring of work machines and their materials and masters. Or the constant ching ching of cash exchange that makes up the forty billion credits exchanged daily by stock brokers over the minerals being shipped off the stripped mine of a world. If the Mega Corporations and United Earth Colonial groups could have their way, LV-742 would be grown by a million people a week and there is nothing to say that it can't happen.

LC Carmichael shuffled off of the stinking pit that was his orbital transport into a stinking pit of traditional marine bureaucracy.  He hated the shuttles maybe more than he did the dropships; on a combat drop, at least, you had a good reason to be uncomfortable and to have every single bit of your kit stuffed into a 3-inch radius of your body.  On a non-combat transport, it seemed like you just had to deal with the same conditions out of spite.

Now that he was out of the shuttle, he felt like he hadn't left.  Lines of newly rotated meat meandered through claustrophobic aisles of files and computer servers as lines of used-up, departing soldiers wound in the opposite direction.  "Wire," as the few men called him who knew him well enough to call him anything, was less than elated to see the distinct lack of joy in their eyes at being relieved of a posting like LV-742.

The corporal at the desk was in no way interested in any conversation over the bare minimum necessary to confirm Carmichael's assignment - a fact which relieved Wire to no end.  The only looks he received from any of the other leathernecks were ones of simple curiousity, or derision, at his advanced body armor or non-standard kit; he didn't care enough to accost any one of them and announce the fact of him being a combat tech, and he certainly didn't feel like explaining why he wasn't attached to a combat engineering platoon.

"Wire" finally stowed his kit, after finding the barracks reserved for unassigned specialists, and headed out to see what the local camp following had to offer.  With his armor, longarm, and webbing stowed, he stood out far less than he had before; with his fatigue sleeves rolled up and his tattoos of a skull atop crossed lightning bolts on the right forearm and a streaking fireball on the other, he looked even more like a run-of-the-mill grunt.  As he passed what looked to be the typical "comfort parlor," a man in an older-style M56 harness who looked like nothing so much as Thor's nasty older brother came barreling out, scattering a knot of jarheads and civvies like a flock of disturbed pigeons.  "Shit," Wire thought, "the only thing wrong with the Corps is all the damned marines in it."

"Why here, why this place?"

Hult'ah gives a shrug, "it is hot, do you not feel it?"

"You say this every time elder, yet you do not share the reason!"

Elder. There it was. 

"Child of my second born, that is of no concern of yours. My Path is mine alone to walk, return to your ship, to your clan. We shall not see each other again."

"What will become of you?"

"It is of no matter." He places his hand on his companions shoulder briefly, and then disappears into the bush.

Stellar News Network

*Multiple attacks by aliens against Mikensy Mining Station.  Over two hundred persons known missing.

*Xenomorphs confirmed in area for the first time in twenty years.  Adding to an increasing number of attacks planet wide.

*UEC Naval Command deploys Carrier Group to system, eighty warships led by the Carriers HMS Glorious and HMS Lord Albron.

*Unidentified ship shot down by orbital defense network while attempting atmo escape.  Believed of alien design.

Hult'ah pauses as the death of his grand-daughters ship briefly illuminates the night sky.

The fifth. His fifth, and his his fifth loss.

That had not been said, but he was not deaf either. She had ever been his favourite though.

He shakes his head and resumes his march, taking to the trees.

As Hult'ah passes into the brush, his bio-mask lights up with heat blooms. Humans at distance, their lighting devices betraying their movements. "Come on lads, quick and quiet now. It has to be near here."