Chapter 44: Plans and Preparations

“We need some new toys!” Mike yelled as he walked into the shuttle crew’s lounge. Berl’ahan, Tib Tibbets, and some of air group pilots sat at ease. Eric Stridehorn walked beside him.

“Toys? Damn, feller, don’t you got enough already? You ain’t even got the shiny dulled on that lovely new pinnace yet,” Tib yelled back at him.

“It’s a lovely pinnace, but it’s not much of a warhorse to be taking into the gritty desert, now is it,” Mike answered back. “Hey, Chuck, how about pouring me a cup of that coffee you’re hoarding back there in your Thermos. Thanks!”

“Tib, you can help me out here. Tell Berl’ahan what a jeep is, will you?”

“Sure. You take a ratty little sheet metal body, stick an under-powered four-cylinder gasoline engine in it, gear it way down low so inadequate power don’t matter that much, and then you stick a wheel under each corner. Oh, and you run a drive axle to each wheel. That’s a jeep. Am I right, Michael?” Tib grinned.

“Go stick it somewhere, Tib. You’re so damned old that all you can remember is that relic from the Korean War you got rusting in the barn down on your ranch! Hey, somebody younger than fifty, tell me what a jeep is?”

“Alright,” somebody shouted from the back. “It’s a rugged little all-terrain vehicle for hauling guys, their gear, and their weapons around in bad country. That work for you?”

“Give that man a donut! That’s pretty much it. Now, we’re gonna need a whole fleet of jeeps for this little desert exercise the Peacekeepers got coming up. Except it’s going to be the jeep equivalent of our shuttles. Does that give anybody any ideas? Get out your scratch tablets and start sketching out your thoughts. I’ll get you started. It needs to be driven or piloted by one man; it needs to carry five more guys and their gear, besides the pilot, so that’s six passengers total. It needs light armor, cloaking, and defenses. Since it can’t pull a trailer, maybe it needs a small tractor emitter that can pick up and carry a load. It needs to be fast in atmospheric flight. Forget orbital, it’s not meant to operate outside the atmosphere. And it has to land anywhere, maybe even on water. And take off again. Tough, handy, and reliable. This thing needs to survive getting the crap kicked out of it, and keep on running. Like the ‘watch people’ used to say, “It takes a lickin’ and keeps on tickin’!“ It doesn’t have to be pretty, but we don’t want it butt ugly, either.

“That’s gotta be our new jeep, guys. When you’re finished kickin’ around both the inside and outside requirements, send all your notes to Eric and Berl’ahan, here. They’ll put it together and give the design suggestion to our skunk works people. They’ll work their usual miracle. I need a couple hundred of these jeeps in six weeks or less, and a couple hundred six weeks after that. Oh ... and we need a new name. Some corporation owns that Jeep name, so we can’t use it. I like the name Llama but that’s just because I think llamas are cute, tough, and will spit in your eye if you abuse ‘em. Maybe you guys got a better name. I’ll talk to you all, later.”

“Our personal armor is good, but where we’re going, our guys will stew in their own sweat. We need cooling in the day, and warmth at night. The climate there is brutal. It needs to work for several days without replenishment; the Rangers might be on a long-term patrol. Build the armor into desert-service environmental suits. They have to be able to recharge, recycle, and replenish from their new support vehicles, the Llamas,” Michael asked of his research team. “So, coordinate with the Llama R&D team. Okay?”

“We need an internal water system. Can we steal an idea from the EVA spacesuits so body fluids are recycled into a small potable water pack? How about bio-monitoring and basic med-injection systems, if the Ranger gets into bad conditions? Some stimulus, antibacterial and viral protection, fever control, heat exhaustion, dehydration, injury ... you know, the basic med support stuff. Oh, and bleeding, plasma, anti-shock and small wound patching.

“Umm...

“Tell you what. Try to imagine that you and your best buddy have been in a hostile desert for the last six days. You’re lost and isolated. You’re running for your lives, hiding during the day and making tracks at night. Your communications gear got scrambled when you got ambushed. An enemy RPG — that’s an explosive grenade — knocked you two for a loop, but your armor held. Most of your suit systems survived, and you’re trying to traverse a hundred klicks of God’s worst wasteland to safety. You were both lightly wounded; the med systems worked, but you’re limping. Got the picture? Come up with a design that you’d want to wear, that will hold you together and keep you alive long enough to get you back to safety,” Michael suggested.

“It needs to be light-weight and non-binding, so avoid bulky, clumsy construction. Make it tough, flexible, fool-proof, and field serviceable. Something that will let you run a hundred-meter dash, and then wrestle a wolverine and come out on top. Simple, right? I’ll need a hundred prototype suits in six weeks, and five hundred Type-1, Mod-1 production suits in six weeks after that. My Rangers are going in harm’s way, in Hell’s own kitchen, fellows! So, I know you won’t let us down. Thanks! The beer and skittles for the next big party are on me and the guys!” Michael turned and exited the research compartment and whistled his way down the corridor back to his office. He left a team of Masi’shen research scientists staring after him with their mouths hanging open!

“Hey, Eric! Have somebody go find us a camel!”

“Sure thing, boss. You hungry?”

“No, you damned savage. We need to stun it!”

“Can we stun a camel?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I need somebody to find me a camel. So I can see whether or not we can stun the filthy thing!”

“Oh ... yeah, I get it. Some of those rebels ride camels, don’t they?”

“Yeah, and they carry AK-47s and RPGs. So ... we need to know.”

“Wait a minute! If we can’t stun the camel, at least we’ll knock the rider out of the saddle!”

“I guess, but imagine us getting run over by a stampede of pissed-off, spitting camels!”

“Okay, boss. I guess if we accidentally kill it, we can always grill it and eat it!”

“Smartass!”

“Out of a fleet of fifty-two shuttles, I’m thinking we want thirty-six assigned to this African mission. That should meet our base coverage, theatre patrol, response and recovery, mercy missions, ferrying relief supplies, and possible hostile aircraft intercept needs. For our crews, we’ll want the extended duty rotations, so that means a crew in flight, a crew on stand-by, and a crew resting. That’s a four-person crew; so we’ll need twelve flight, and six ground-support crew for each shuttle. That’s six hundred forty-eight people, just for our shuttle force,” Michael and Tib told General Mikelsen, who’d been chosen as overall commander of the Desert Peacekeeper mission.

“Understood. So each flight will carry a pilot, a co-pilot, and two deployable crewmembers for a normal patrol or service flight. Right?” Buzz asked.

“Right. And I’m ordering that a desert suit will be carried aboard for each occupant. Pilots don’t need to suit up unless they’re on a mission where they’ll land and exit the shuttle. But nobody ... and I mean absolutely nobody steps on dirt without wearing a desert suit! That is including ourselves and you, too, sir!”

“Good. So that means the two crew in the back should probably wear their suits in case the shuttle has to make a fast landing for some ground work, like picking up refugees or off-loading supplies.”

“Alright, our lunar support ship came through like gang-busters with our new Llama fleet. We had to make very few modifications on the first hundred prototype models, and they’re being upgraded to the new Mod-2 specs. We’ll have four hundred of the improved model ready when we deploy to Desert Base, and the revised hundred will follow shortly after,” Tib added.

“Great. Eric, how are we doing for desert refresher training with the Rangers? And how are we for manpower?” Michael asked.

Ranger Commander Eric Stridehorn smiled with a sly grin. “Are you referring to the Desert Fox brigade of the Peacekeeper Ranger force? If so, I’m proud to announce that we’ve had the best recruitment and training quarter in the history of the Force. We started with a little over six hundred-seventy men and women at the beginning of the quarter. We’ve recruited, screened, equipped, and run another seven hundred and twenty-five candidates through basic Ranger training. Of a total of fourteen hundred eager bodies, we sent twelve hundred into the southern Arizona desert for maneuvers and survival skills. By the way, when President Bronstein convinced his Army Spec-Ops people that our Rangers needed cover, they sent a detachment to work with us. And you and Jon’a-ren need to find a special way to thank the Tohono O’odham people of the Sonoran Desert. They were most helpful once they understood the purpose of our mission. The area was perfect for our needs.”