GARIBALDI
01 August 3068Grant’s Station Tango, Nuevo Roma
Tomans, Lyran Alliance
The tacos looked fabulous. Garibaldi leaned down to put his nose just above them and inhaled deeply. The smell of garlic, ginger, soy, and chile mixed with the powerful scent of succulent meat to make his mouth water. No longer able to corral his anticipation, Vincenzo greedily scooped up the first taco and took a bite. Pure bliss. His sources were clearly correct. This was the best bulgogi taco truck in town, and with a beautiful view of the beach. Vincenzo’s love of purely Italian food was legendary, but never let it be said that he was a culinary elitist. As he settled in to his work, Garibaldi thought to himself, mercenary work doesn’t seem so bad. A nice gig like this was a welcome change from the hounding press on Solaris VII.
“You stuffing your face again, Meatball?”
Vincenzo turned to see DJ’s smiling face. He was clothed only in a bathing suit, muscles glistening beneath sand and sweat. Garibaldi would have given a sharp response, except for the fact that his mouth at that particular moment was indeed stuffed.
By the time he finally washed down the taco with a cold beer, he had decided to shift tact and educate the poor uncultured young man. “This, my good friend, is a bulgogi taco, a unique food item blending the culinary traditions of several different peoples into an absolutely sublime-“
“Shit, man. I know what a taco is. I am from Cerillos, remember?” DJ interrupted. “But what is all that stuff inside it? Thats not the way they make ‘em back home.”
Seeing the futility of his mission, Garibaldi simply waved a dismissive hand and returned to his original project, delicately scooping up taco numero dos.
Cruz continued on, undaunted. “Pretty sweet assignment, huh? Supposed to be garrison duty, but it sure feels like R&R.”
Just at that moment, the PDAs of both mechwarriors crackled on as if to correct Cruz. Monk’s voice could be heard loud and clear. “Its the real thing this time folks. We have Green Ghosts inbound. I need all personnel back to HQ immediately. Prepare to mount up.”
Cruz and Garibaldi looked at each other for a second and then Cruz bolted into action. “Come on, Meatball. I’ll give you ride on my hoverbike.”
Garibaldi looked down with longing at this final taco. Then he stuffed it into his mouth in one bite and ran after Cruz.
“Locust on your rear, Meatball!”
Instantly, Garibaldi turned and swiveled his Onslaught in an attempt to bring his harrasser under his guns. But it was to no avail, the more maneuverable Locust continued to circle around to his vulnerable rear.
Suddenly a wave of blue fire hit the Locust followed by a Gauss shell that tore through its center torso. The Locust dropped to the pavement and slid haphazardly into the side of a building. It did not get up.
“Thanks, Playboy.” Garibaldi voiced over the comm. He looked down at the Locust. Locust IIC, he corrected himself. Most importantly, it wasn’t a Green Ghost. Just as the Monkeys had moved to intercept the Green Ghosts, two stars of Jade Falcon mechs had combat dropped into Nuevo Roma, apparently looking to pick a fight with anyone and everyone. Vincenzo was more than happy to show them the way to the Green Ghosts, except the problem was that the Monkeys were caught right in the middle. Garibaldi felt sweat dripping down the back of his cooling vest. Things did not look good.
“We are getting sandwiched here, people. I think it is time we make introductions.” Apparently Taharqa had the same idea as Vincenzo. “On three, I want everyone to move at full speed into the southern end of the Green Ghost line. Push past the line, and lead the birds in behind you. 1 … 2 … 3!”
Garibaldi pushed his 75-ton mech forward at full throttle, maintaining control as he took a sharp left. As he entered an intersection, a Green Ghost Griffin came into view. He raised the LBX autocannon on his arm and prepared to fire.
“Meatball! On your right!” Vincenzo looked at this 360 display just in time to see a Falcon Summoner at nearly point blank range. Then blue lightning bathed his mech. Warning lights went off everywhere. Ammunition explosion, he thought. Then sudden horrible pain in his head, and blackness.
it was the bass that brought him back. He was having a wonderful dream about a loverly opera performance, Verdi’s La Traviata, he thought although such details are always murky in dreams. Then the bass started, completely jarring and ruining a lovely solo.
He opened his eyes slowly to adjust to the light. Everything seemed a little out of focus. He was lying in a bed and seated next to him was DJ (or possibly two DJs), listening intently to something on his headphones, the bass all that was perceptible to Vincenzo. He groaned.
DJ looked up. “You are awake! How you feeling? You took some shot there! Everything alright? You missed one hell of a fight!”
Garibaldi finally found his voice. “DJ, slow the frak down.”
“Oh, sorry. That Summoner that blindsided you managed to cook off a couple of your ammo bins. Put you out of the action. Don’t worry though, Hawkeye took care of him. Taharqa’s plan worked brilliantly. We led the Birds right into the Ghosts and they ripped each other apart. We just picked apart the stragglers. Taharqa offered hegira to the remaining Falcons. You believe that shit? Hegira! Oh, hey, they were concerned about your eyesight from all of the feedback. How many fingers am I holding up?”
Vincenzo’s stomach growled loudly. He brushed DJ’s hand away (two fingers? four fingers?). “Forget all that. I am starving. You remember that taco truck we visited…”