Excerpt

Just Business by Chris Kennedy

I tried not to move. Moving caused pain. Not the "Oops, I stubbed my toe" kind, but the "Oh, my God, will you shoot me now and end it all?" sort. Strangely, my right arm didn't hurt, but everything else did.

Not moving helped. It didn't make everything stop hurting, but it kept it from hurting as much. After a few moments, I became aware of the beeping of the heart monitor. We've gone to the stars, and yet medical technology still needed one of these to make sure we hadn't died yet. So I was in a hospital.

Damnit, I probably wasn't going to get my wish and die, then. That being the case, I opened my eyes.

"I wondered when you were going to rejoin us," the man in the white coat standing by my bed said. That tradition had persisted to the stars, too.

"I feel like I was in a shuttle crash, Doc," I said. My mouth felt cottony, and I barely had a voice. He leaned over, holding a glass of water with a straw. That helped. A little.

"I'm not surprised," the doctor said. "You were in a shuttle crash."

Scenes flashed past my eyes. Missiles hitting the craft, and the pilots struggling to do everything they could to avoid the fighter following us. The fighter flying away, out of missiles. Most of the damaged wing falling off on final approach, and the shuttle crashing anyway. A sense of rolling. Then…nothing.

"Oh, yeah."

"You're lucky to be alive, Miss…"

"Jones, Sally Jones." There was no need for him to know my real name.

"Yes, well, you are lucky to be alive, Miss Jones." His emphasis on my last name and the look in his eyes indicated he didn't believe me. Too bad. "I'm sorry about your arm. There was nothing we could do."

What?

I ripped the sheet off, shock and horror already scrambling my guts. There, where my right arm should be, was nothing. I screamed, loud and long. Over and over, until the darkness claimed me.

* * *

The doc was back at my bedside again when I woke up. He raised an eyebrow. "Are you going to be okay, or do I need to sedate you again?"

My world's falling apart, and he asks if I'm okay? Men. I blinked back a tear that threatened to fall. It's not like I could wipe it away with my non-existent hand. "I'm not going to start screaming again," I said, "if that's what you mean. My throat hurts too much." I feel like I gargled barbwire strips. "But okay? Not likely." I was never the prettiest girl growing up, although one time I'd heard two guys talking, and one had said I was "pretty enough." Whatever that meant. But missing an arm? The entire thing? I was fairly sure I'd fallen from the ranks of "pretty enough." I didn't have any idea how far.

"You're still alive, which is more than I can say for everyone else in the shuttle. All your cargo, too, for that matter." James and Cassie gone? Damnit. They were good pilots, and better friends.

I sighed. "They're the lucky ones," I muttered.

"What?"

Louder I said, "They're the lucky ones. How do I go on living like—" I looked down to where my right arm wasn't, "—like this?"

"Everybody's different, and their reasons for living are just as varied." The doctor shrugged. "It just so happens that I was out for a walk when your shuttle came in. It was easy to see, shot to shit and trailing smoke the way it was." He paused. "Now, I don't know who put you in that position, but most people who land on out-of-the way airstrips on backwater planets probably aren't doing so for the convenience, but for the lack of customs control."

I didn't say anything—I didn't even blink—and he shrugged again. "That said, it's pretty obvious someone wanted you dead, but failed in their mission. So, you can either lay there in bed until they get around to finishing the job, or you can quit your whining, ask what your options are, and get back to living. Maybe go thank your adversary for doing such a shitty job killing you."

"Thank him?" My mind was fuzzy, and everything was moving too quickly. Why would I want to thank him?

The doctor's eyebrows rose. "Maybe with a bullet?"

"Sorry. Too much sedative, Doc." Damnit, but he had a point. James would certainly have avenged me. I sighed. I needed to do this. For them. But I would need a clear head if I was going to pull this off. "In fact, turn it off. I promise not to scream anymore."

"It's going to hurt. Probably quite a bit."

"I need to be able to think."

He nodded and fiddled with the equipment attached to my body.

Turns out he'd underestimated how much it was going to hurt. A lot.

* * * * *