Star Wars_ X-Wing 01_ Rogue Squadron - Michael A. Stackpole [67]
Nawara remained almost completely upright as he wove his way through tables to where Wedge sat. “Forgive me, noble leaders, but we require your esteemed personages to act as a tribunal to adjudicate a question.” The Twi’lek pressed a hand to his own chest. “Owing to my legal background, I have been appointed a neutral advocate to present the cases to you.”
Wedge couldn’t keep a smile from his face. “Please proceed, Counselor.”
“Thank you, sir.” Nawara turned back toward the other pilots. “First we have the case of the worst pilot in the unit. May I present Gavin Darklighter, who won this award by virtue of the fact of not getting anything out there today.”
Easier to read than the scowl on Gavin’s face was the open relief on the faces of Lujayne Forge and Peshk Vri’syk. Wedge knew the award had to sting Gavin badly, but he was young. The rest of the squadron had been willing to cut him a lot of slack because of his youth, but that latitude would last only so long. In Wedge’s opinion Gavin wasn’t the worst pilot by far, but his lack of kills allowed his squadron mates to rib him a little.
Nawara gestured at Gavin. “The accused will stand.”
Gavin remained seated.
Bror Jace grabbed him by the shoulder of his flight suit and hauled him up out of his seat. “Here he is, the worst we have. Just like the TIE pilots, he got zero kills.”
The edge in Jace’s voice provoked a snarl from Gavin’s wingmate, Shiel. Color flooded Gavin’s face and muscles bunched at his jaw as he ground his teeth. Jace laughed and tugged on Gavin’s shoulder, like a puppeteer manipulating a marionette.
The Twi’lek, seemingly oblivious to Gavin’s discomfort, smiled at the tribunal. “We have determined there should be a punishment of some sort, to encourage an improvement in performance.”
Wedge turned his head to face the other two members of the tribunal. “Ideas, gentlemen?”
Tycho held a finger up. “Strikes me that apprenticing Gavin to the best pilot, having him run errands and the like for him, might provide the perfect situation for Gavin to learn how to be better.”
I like that, Tycho. Corran won’t be too hard on him and the added responsibility will give Corran something to think about other than your situation. Wedge nodded. “I think that is a good idea. Captain Afyon?”
“Sure. I know I’d love to have an aide to draft the performance reports for the Eridain.”
Captain Afyon’s suggestion brought a groan from the squadron, so Wedge catalogued the threat of report preparation for future disciplinary use. “I believe, Counselor, you have your judgment rendered.”
The Twi’lek bowed and straightened up slowly, then turned back to his compatriots. “Gavin Darklighter, you are sentenced to serve as aide to the best pilot in the squadron until such time as you are no longer judged the worst pilot.”
Bror smiled broadly and gave Gavin’s flight suit one last tug. “Good, you can start your service by getting me more lum.”
Wedge frowned. “How is it that you, Mr. Jace, are considered the best pilot? You only had five and Mr. Horn had six. If we average them over the last two engagements, then Mr. Horn has four and a half, with you, Mr. Qrygg, and me each at two and a half. You fare no better when we total them.”
Nawara smiled, flashing pointy peg-teeth. “You have hit upon the crux of the matter, sir. Mr. Jace argues that percentages tell the true story. He killed five of the six bombers he faced, meaning he downed eighty-five percent of the TIEs he engaged.”
Gavin sat down and snarled, “And they were big, lumbering bombers—no one could have missed them.”
The Twi’lek clucked at Gavin, then continued his explanation. “Mr. Horn, on the