Everyone hopes their future descendants will be men of honor and pride.  Here is a possible story of one of Speaker Polley's future cousins.  It's something that might happen, that might not happen.  But one never knows!  There are infinite possibilities!

Commander Moon did not actually like shore leave.  The tranquil beauty of Eldrometa did not give him the peace it gave others.  He preferred to rotate back to the fighter squadrons, serve as a relief pilot until the rest of his flight finished their month off, and returned to duty.  But this leave the Medical Officer had insisted he go planet side.
"I don't want any of your excuses, Lieutenant!" he had very bluntly commented. "You're not a machine, you need rest like anyone else..  This damn war has been going on for forty years. The Dawn ships will still be there for you to shoot at when you come back from leave.  I'll guarantee you the counter push won't begin THAT soon!"
So here he was, wandering the streets of Downtown, watching the hovers skip to and fro and not really wanting to do much of anything.  The hundredth young woman approached him.  "Hi, Commander!"  she cooed. "Just down?  Attached yet?"
"Bug off!" the Commander snapped. The woman made a sharp turn and headed in another direction.
"Cold fish!"  she warned another girl approaching.
The Commander continued on, found a small restaurant, and ordered a simple meal.  He had eaten most of it when he became aware that someone else had sat down at the table.  Thinking it was another girl he said "Bug off!"  without even looking up.
"Unfriendly, aren't we?"  came a male voice.
The Commander looked up to see an old man in a rather worn Speaker's robe sitting opposite him.  "I need you," he replied, "even less than I need a woman.  I mean no offense, sir, but please go someplace else!"
"I don't feel like going some place else!"  the old Speaker announced.  "I've come a long way.  "You're a very rude and unpleasant young man but I intend to finish my mission rather you like it or not. And your cooperation would certainly help."
"Mission?"' the Commander asked.  "What do you know about missions?  All you know how to do is say prayers.  All I know how to do is kill."
"I do far more than say prayers!" the old man answered, "And I know.  I know....very well."
He reached in his pocket and withdrew a battered pair of Commander's tags, mounted on a piece of ancient leather.  "I know," he repeated.  He put the tags back in his pocket, rose, and started to walk off.  Driven by his worst weakness, his curiosity, Commander Moon rose and followed.  Going back out on the great promenade they made their way to The Great Temple at its end.
"Do you ever find it strange," The Speaker asked, "that as we fled deserting even our capital planet, we just happen to find a world where the people have disappeared, where the buildings are still intact, where there are even great stores of usable food and metals there for the taking?"
"I am never to wonder about anything," the Commander answered, "I just want to fly, to keep my thrusters on full as much as I can and run from whatever's behind me."
The Speaker nodded.  "You can't run forever!"  he remarked.  "You can't run forever, James!"
The Commander stopped.  "All right," he said, "you know my name.  That damned Doctor set you on me, didn't he?"
"In a way," The Speaker answered, "but that doesn't matter.  Just come.  It won't take long."
They made their way through The Great Temple, to its rear.  The Speaker must have a lot of authority the Commander thought.  "We're going right into the Inner Sanctum and no one has even challenged us!"
They came to The Great Alabaster Wall and could go no further.
"What is it you're running from, Commander?"
The Commander just stood silent.  "Very well," The Speaker snapped.  He waved his hand and the alabaster wall became a scene of space, seen from the cockpit of a fighter over two hundred yards long, and one hundred wide, carrying within its tubes eight deadly missiles, and within its belly a single automatic cannon that would devastate anything within its range.  In its rear two hyper drive engines pushed it three hundred times the speed of light.  Hands could be seen manipulating controls, gauges all around gave a constant flow of information.  A targeting screen showed what the eyes could not see were ahead.
"Convoy acquired!"  a voice was saying, "Fighters have been drawn off.  You've got the run, Lieutenant!  Three freighters. Put them out!"
"On my way!"  a cold voice answered.
The dots on the screen grew larger and larger.
"In range!"  a mechanical voice announced.
"I'm going close," the human voice answered.
The dots grew bigger and bigger.  The fighter threw a full spread of missiles, the appropriate number went towards each ship.  He only saw the targets as he was beginning his turn to speed away to safety.
"Good Lord!"  the human voice cried.  "Those aren't freighters, they're passenger ships, colony vessels!"
He watched as enemy fire destroyed several of his missiles but one by one the vessels turned into fireballs, then,