Koko the Mighty Read Free

agents on our immediate tail. For this one to survive an emergency depressurization at that altitude, I mean, I thought we were in the clear. What matters now is the payout on my elimination looks permanent.”
    Flynn droops. Koko pats his arm.
    “I’m sorry, sweetie.”
    “Oh, sure. You’re sorry. Is that somehow supposed to make me feel better? Goddamn it, I really hate all this.”
    “I know, getting shot really hurts.”
    “No, not getting shot. I mean, that hurts, yeah, but I really hate all
this.
You and me, how when things start going good, everything just turns to shit.”
    “Can you stand?”
    “Did you miss my whole getting shot thing?”
    “I’m serious, Flynn. You need to get up. We’ve a chance of getting out of here, but it’s a slim one at best.”
    Flynn dabs at the blood-soaked towels secured with the kimono belt. Without being asked, several employees in the saloon rush over and, with some orchestration, get Flynn up on his feet. Somebody picks up Koko’s white walking cane and holds it out to her, but Koko waves it off. Even if she’s still recovering from the damages inflicted on her by Portia Delacompte, Koko is definitely of the mind that now is not the time to be relying on props.
    Flynn hops and Koko drapes one of his clammy arms across her shoulders. The two release specialists Koko sent to retrieve the backpacks from the pantry return while, outside the saloon, the electric motoring sounds of the cargo ute and terra-sled draw near.
    Flynn notices the backpacks. “What are those?”
    Koko shifts Flynn’s weight against her body and discomfort twangs down her leg. “Bug-out packs,” she explains. “A few thousand credits, minimal rations, a couple of side arms, NBC-protective suits, potable water, stuff like that.” Together they limp around the fallen bounty agent. “Here, watch your step.”
    Flynn looks over his shoulder. “Wait, we’re just going to leave her like that? But she could come after us. Shouldn’t we, like, do something?”
    Koko stops. “Oh, so you want me to kill her, is that it?”
    “Well, I know it sounds cold-blooded, but it seems sensible.”
    “Sensible? Oh, really? Hmm, maybe you want me to bite out one of her eyes for good measure while I’m at it.”
    “I didn’t say you had to go to extremes.”
    Koko resumes dragging Flynn forward, adding sarcastically, “You know, I seem to recall a short time ago a certain somebody complaining about how I should turn over a new leaf. Gee, how did he put it? Broaden my emotional capacities? Embrace my softer, gentler side?”
    “I was talking about with us. I mean—”
    “You know what, Flynn? I don’t want to hear it. Not now. If SI Security is on their way here that bounty agent is their problem, not ours. They’ll deal with her. Priority one for us is to get good and gone.”
    Flynn looks over his shoulder once more at the saloon’s main bar area and hesitates. Fleetingly Koko wonders if he’s stalling because he wants to take his chances with SI Security. Koko supposes she really can’t blame him for being freaked. Yeah, sure, he used to be a cop, but being hunted down on a dead woman’s orders, this sort of psycho scenario is in Koko’s wheelhouse, not his. As the traumatized saloon staff watch them leave, a few of the release specialists start to cry.
    “What about them?” Flynn asks.
    Koko knows who he means, but she keeps her mouth shut and her eyes fixed straight ahead. Before she met up with him in the Second Free Zone on
Alaungpaya
, Koko had fought her way out of a whole smorgasbord of hellacious situations and not once in all those times has looking back ever helped.
    “They’ll be fine,” Koko says. “Somebody will take over this joint. I mean, all the work we’ve done getting the saloon ready and all the promotions? The whole operation is practically turn-key.”
    She resumes getting Flynn out of the building with as little pain as possible. Passing through the batwings and