View source for Wing Commander in Real Time - Day 4 - 1900 Mylon Time

== Novelization ==

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=== EPILOGUE ===

{{infobox Novel Header
|line1 = PLANET MYLON III
|line2 = DOWNING QUADRANT<BR>VEGA SECTOR
|line3 = NORTH HILLS COUNTY
|line4 = SANTYANA FARM
|line5 = MARCH 18, 2654<BR>1900 HOURS<BR>LOCAL TIME
}}	

::At thirty-three, few things delighted William Santyana more
::than spending a Sunday afternoon with his wife and
::three-year-old daughter. He stood on the back patio of his
::farmhouse, breathing in the wonderful aroma from the hot dogs
::and burgers cooking on his grill. He wondered just how many
::fathers out there were doing the same thing on a thousand
::other worlds, in a billion other backyards. Santyana let his gaze
::wander past the patio to a green carpet of corn that unfurled to
::the twilit horizon. Tiny flashes of light appeared in the violet
::haze that banded the sky, and he stared curiously at them a
::moment, then lifted the cover on his grill.

::"Will!" his wife cried from inside the house. "Just another
::minute, Pris. We don't want to eat 'em raw."

::"Get in here. Now!" Her horrified tone sent him racing
::toward the open patio door.

::Inside, he found her seated on the sofa, balancing little Lacey
::on her knee. The holoplayer was tuned to the news channel, and
::a life-sized holographic anchorman stood on their rug, pointing
::back to a computer-animated globe that showed dozens of red
::dots encircling it.

::"We're under attack," Pris said, visibly trembling. "Listen."

::"… And the planetary defense net has been shut down. MyGov
::officials have yet to respond. We do know that the ship is a
::Confederation-class carrier, now in low orbit, but any other
::insignia have been removed from her hull. She's already
::dispatched hundreds of fighters, bombers, and troopships. We
::go now to George Okoee, who's standing by at Blue Mountain
::Spaceport. Can you hear me, George?"

::The holovid switched to a wavering image of the young,
::teary-eyed reporter, hunkered down near a row of seats in a
::vast terminal. "Got you, Rick. Ladies and gentlemen, just
::outside this terminal, a wing of Confederation Broadswords is
::descending upon this, Mylon's largest spaceport. The people
::here are in a state of shock. We'd expect this from the Kilrathi.
::But from our own forces? Still, there's no confirmation yet on
::who's piloting those ships. A major evacuation is in progress,
::but estimates put the bombers at just a few minutes away.
::We've received word that two dozen more Broadswords are
::headed toward the Confed Strike Base in North Hills County.
::Wait. I think I can hear them…"

::"George, get out of there!" The anchorman's image returned.

::He placed a hand to the tiny receiver in his ear. "George?
::George!" He looked off-camera. "What's that?"

::Distant booming piped in through the farmhouse's open
::windows. Santyana looked beyond the patio door and saw a
::dozen pillars of black smoke fencing off the western sky. A
::humming noise came from the south, and he frowned even as it
::grew into a sudden, excruciating roar. Gale-force winds keened
::through the house. Pris and Lacey screamed as with burning
::eyes he fought his way to the door.

::A long shadow bled across the patio. He looked up as the
::menacing-looking troopship passed just three meters above his
::house. Shaped like an arrowhead, the craft pivoted and ignited
::retros, blasting up clumps of grass as it set down.

::He bolted back into house, already picturing himself and his
::family climbing into their beat-up hover and fleeing. "Pris!
::C'mon! C'mon! C'mon! We gotta go!"

::"Ohmygod," she said as he sprinted past her. "What's
::happening?"

::"Daddy?" Lacey called. "Daddy?"

::In the kitchen, he scooped up his driving card and turned to
::go when an amplified voice struck him motionless. "Mr.
::William Santyana. Please come out."

::"Will?" Pris cried. "They know you."

::He returned to the living room, and out of the corner of his
::eye he saw dark-clad figures lurking outside the windows. He
::stroked his wife's cheek, kissed his daughter, and muttered,
::"Stay here." With buckling knees, he moved toward the patio.
::Outside, two people dressed in fancy Confederation Space
::Force uniforms came forward, flanked by a half-dozen
::rifle-toting soldiers. Santyana figured the duo for officers. One
::of them, a trim woman about his age with moss-green eyes and a
::confident gait, raised a thick eyebrow and evaluated him with
::her glance. "Mr. Santyana?" she asked.

::"What the hell is this?"

::Her shoulder-length black hair whipped like smoke in the
::lingering thruster wash. "Are your wife and daughter still
::inside?"

::"What do you want?"

::The woman nodded to her troops, who jogged toward the
::house.

::"Pris! Run! Run!"

::"No, William," the woman said. "We're here to save you."

::"Are you people from the strike base? Wait a minute, even if
::you were, you wouldn't know my name."

::"Will!"

::He glanced back. Pris carried Lacey as two soldiers led them
::outside.

::"You're from that carrier, aren't you," Santyana said. "Why
::are you attacking us?"

::"Not you, William. Or your family. We're only killing the
::humans who live here."

::"Humans? Than what are you?"

::She reached under her uniform and withdrew a Pilgrim
::cross. "Do you know what this is?"

::He did. His parents had carried them, and they had died
::because of what those crosses represented. "You people…
::you're fanatics. What have you done?"

::"It's what we're going to do, William. We're taking back the
::stars. And you're going to help."

::"You mean I don't have a choice."

::"You couldn't choose your blood, no. And you'll never change
::who you are."

::The other officer, an old man whose hazel eyes seemed
::forever distant, spoke in the alluring lilt of some Border Worlds
::tribesman. "William. You're a fine man, a wonderful father.
::Amity here asked me to come out because I fought with your
::parents. We're bringing everybody home now. You need to
::come."

::"Home?" he asked incredulously. "This is my home."

::"Just leave us alone," Pris shouted. "We don't want any part
::of you Pilgrims."

::Amity tightened her lips and nodded. "I understand. But in a
::few hours, every living thing on this planet will be dead. Maybe
::you'd like to be a part of us—at least for now."

::Santyana looked to his wife, searching for an answer, but she
::seemed lost in a blur of fear. He faced Amity and sighed. "We'll
::come. But you'll never take the stars."

::She lifted a condescending grin. "We've been waiting nearly
::twenty years for this moment, William. We lost that war. We
::won't lose this one."
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