THE LAST FIREFLY

BY

CLAUDE L. PARISH

The mountain of loose metal and spaceship parts was eclipsed only by the compacted cubes of metal and spaceship parts. The daylight only lasted nine standard hours on Vega, but the sun that provided it was in a hurry to reveal it and, once revealed, leave it behind in vain pursuit of something lovely on this small orb.

Shells recognizable as ship hulls were laid out by size and salvage worthiness. No respect was given to color, grace or history. Vega was, after all, the Junk Planet.

There were the few that could be repaired, given time and concern. The most reliable was the Firefly Class transport/cargo ship. Little more than a cruiser, it inspired loyalty in those acquainted with the intricacies and inbuilt redundancies of the bug-like ship. It could pass by a fleet unnoticed, being unarmed. It could also be felled by one loose bolt, as had happened more than once.

It was a target for some with evil ends. Sometimes those without evil ends but not so honorable intent would utilize the versatile ship.

But, they all ended up here.

On Vega.

The Junk Planet.

At least the ones that had quit flying. Rumors abounded of the mythical Firefly darting through the system in the outer rings, leaving a storied wake.

Joshua had taken charge of the scrap yard just over ten standard years before. He made a decent living at his job. He knew a lot about what went where. And most importantly, he hated junk. Hated it with a passion some people reserve for an enemy sporting team.

But, he was his own boss and junk was a going business.

What couldn't be salvaged was scrapped. Metal recycling was as natural as breathing for some folk. Joshua just sat back and watched the commerce.

"Hey, boss! We got a big 'un!!" The foreman, Alex Huang sounded excited. He usually didn't, so Joshua hurried out of his office to see what was on fire.

With no fire in evidence, he looked skyward at the delivery ship set on hover above the central receiving docks.

"Yep. Big 'un,