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Wedge shook his head. “This is ridiculous. Percentages have no place in this.”

“If you don’t mind, sir”—Corran stood up and glared over at Bror—“I’m willing to let things be figured by percentages.”

“Go head, Mr. Horn.”

Corran folded his arms across his chest. “You want a real contest, Jace?”

The Thyferran raised his head and glared down at the shorter man. “It’s an easy offer to be made by the man in the lead.”

“I’m willing to make it even, and I’ll even concede this round to you—declaring you the best pilot until our next mission.” Corran opened his arms and rested his right hand on Gavin’s shoulder. “What I’m willing to do is average Gavin’s kills in with mine. The one he got at Chorax adds to my nine, then we split that in half. That puts us even at an average of five kills. You and I are both aces and now so is he.”

“Don’t do this, Corran.”

The small man winked down at Gavin. “I trust you, kid. You’ll do fine.”

“We start even?” the Thyferran asked.

Corran nodded. “We go straight kills from here on out, or average them, your choice.”

Bror raised a blond eyebrow. “You are still willing to average the kid’s kills in with yours?”

The Corellian nodded again and patted Gavin’s shoulder. “You willing to take the challenge?”

Wedge watched conflicting emotions ripple over Bror Jace’s face. He clearly wanted to go one-on-one with Corran, to prove he was better free and clear, yet the rules Corran was offering him played in his favor. Any kill Corran got would only count half. Unless Corran excelled—killing two for Bror’s one—or Gavin started on a tear, Bror would win easily. The difference between their skill levels was not significant enough to give Corran a real chance of winning.

Bror’s blue eyes thinned to arctic slits. “We’ll average things, just to keep Gavin in the game, but you and I can go head-to-head whenever I choose.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“And you and I, because we did have the most kills at Hensara, will share the best pilot crown until our next outing.”

Corran smiled. “Done.”

Wedge nodded once to Corran, then looked up at the Twi’lek. “So, by this settlement, Bror and Corran are co-best pilots, and Gavin has five kills, correct, Counselor?”

The Twi’lek nodded. “If you so agree, members of the tribunal.”

The three judges agreed and Nawara smiled. “It is done, then.”

“And the worst pilot is still apprenticed to the best pilot?”

Nawara nodded. “The worst pilot is still bound by that agreement.”

“Good.” Wedge stood and slapped the Twi’lek on the back. “Then since Gavin has five kills to his credit, that makes you, with only one kill, the worst pilot.”

Nawara’s pasty complexion became ghostlike. “No appeal?”

Wedge smiled. “To you there probably is not, but the idea of a lawyer getting the sentence instead of his client has some appeal to me.”

The Twi’lek frowned and caressed one of his brain tails. “Perhaps it is true that a lawyer who has himself as a client is a fool.”

“Which is why you’re a pilot now, Mr. Ven.” Wedge laughed lightly. “Consider your sentence suspended, at least for the duration of this celebration. Today we proved how good we can be—tomorrow we go back to training to make sure we know how we did what we did, so we can continue doing it in the future.”

Kirtan Loor scratched at the reddish raw patch of flesh behind his right ear. Rachuk roseola was a virus, he was told, that got to everyone who came to the world. Scratching it didn’t appear to make it worse, and nothing but time made it better. It annoyed him because he found it distracting, and at this late stage in his calculations, distraction was the last thing he needed.

He pored over the data from Hensara again, correlating figures and sensor tracks with known performance parameters for X-wings. All the ships in the squadron appeared to be operating within two standard deviations of the mean of Rebel specifications. This told him that the ships were in good repair, which meant the Rebels were expending considerable