The party started early, shortly before sundown. Vent had showed up at the ceremonial hall just when the sky had started to change colours, a large package under his arm. When Oban asked him what it was in it, he just grinned.

"You'll find out at midnight!" he said, and dropped it on a table set out for gifts. By tradition, this would be the last birthday that Oban would receive preasents, possibly even celebrate. Everyone who came would try to bring a gift that would have something to do with their background, or their relationship with the birthday boy.

Oban picked up the package and turned it over in his hands. It was soft, and wrapped in brown paper, tied with twine that Vent had probably stolen from his job in the shipyards. Vent punched Oban in the arm while he played with it.

"Put it down before you rip the wrapping and spoil the surprise. You'll never know what I went through to get that, pup."

Oban did what he was told, resisting the urge to comment on the quality of wrapping materials. Vent worked hard, but there were no laws against the exploitation of his people outside of Outlander space, and he was very poor. Whatever was inside the paper would have taken all he had, maybe more.

"Thanks, Vent. I have no clue what it is."

"Well, that hurts, pup. You should know me well enough to guess."

"I'll get it if you give me a hint."

"Not a chance," Vent laughed. He walked off to help set up for Oban's First Night, and Oban sat on a chair watching. Another part of the tradition was that he wasn't allowed to help with his own party, but it was hard for him to watch as his friends and family worked. All his friends but one.

"Hey!" he called to Vent, "Where is Xannon?"

Vent shrugged, "Don't know, probably primping. She'll be here, don't worry."

"As long as her father lets her go consort with her lessers," Oban grumbled under his breath. That had been his only fear about the night. Her father was extremely controlling, and hated the fact that she even talked to people outside of the First Navy. Vent had nearly been kicked out of Zindi's First Night for exactly that reason, and Oban had barely managed to get in unchallenged. Oban was afraid that she wouldn't get to come.

The last red and gold decorations went up just as the final rays of sun were slipping below the horizion. The pirate's Ceremonial Hall had been turned from a grand but colourless building with huge amounts of floor space and high vaulted ceilings, to a massive ballroom adorned with the Sarr family colours. It was already full of people mingling and talking, and Oban could smell the food on the buffet tables. Vent's promise to get him smashed came back to his mind. He slipped around the edge of the room, politely accepting the hugs and kisses of the people who had come. Vent appeared at his shoulder, drink in hand.

"Wow," he heard Vent whisper in his ear. "This is a lot nicer than my First Night."

"What did you do?" Oban asked. Vent's face clouded over, a sure sign he didn't want to talk about it. His face brightened considerably when he glanced towards the door.

"Hey look, princess is here!" he called, and went to meet her. Oban followed.

Since it was an important occasion –and her style- Xannon was lavishly dressed in her royal colours of gold and purple. The ball gown that she was wearing draped over her body and flowed on elegantly, like some kind of angel. The gold clasps in her hair had purple adornments and matched the dress. Oban had seen it before during her First Night, it was the outfit she wore to all important proceedings.

"I'm glad you made it," Oban told her.

"Yeah, I figured daddy wasn't going to let you out, princess."

"Please, I wouldn't miss this for the Empire."

"Don't say that too loud," someone murmured from behind her. She smiled at them politely, which was her way of telling them to go die somewhere.

"I'm hungry," she decided, "let's eat."

"There's food at this thing?"

"Of course there is, Vent."

Vent went silent, and followed his friends to the table. It was slow going, as Oban was continually mobbed by people, most had been invited by his family and he didn't recognize. He had to put up with strangers telling him how much he had grown, and how happy they were for him, how much he was going to like his gift from them. A couple told him they were amazed to see he'd made it. Vent liked those people.

Under such a large amount of attention, Oban thought it was natural to feel uneasy, like someone was watching him. Of course someone was watching him, the whole room was watching him. Still, Oban felt like something was off. He glanced around, looking at all the faces and knowing he had no idea what kind of person was behind them.

Then he noticed a man, half hidden behind a pillar. He was watching Oban like everyone else, but the look in his eyes was far from the kindly ones he had been receiving previous. He was dressed all in black, and had it not been for his eyes, which seemed to be glowing yellow, he would have been almost impossible to see. Oban reached up to touch the bandana around his neck. The black piece of cloth, printed with a skull and crossbones, was the mark of a space pirate, no matter where you came from. Everyone at the party had one, except the man behind the pillar. Oban glanced over at Vent, who had somehow been managing to carry on a conversation with a nearby party goer.

"Hey, do you see that guy?" Oban asked.

"What guy?"

"Behind the pillar, right there. Don't you..." his voice trailed off. The man had disappeared. Xannon put a hand on his shoulder.

"Are you okay?" she asked, genuinely concerned by the confused, scared look on Oban's face. It took a few seconds for him to answer, by then he had managed to regain his composure, despite the foreboding feeling the man had given him.

"Um, yes, I'm fine."

Vent leaned over to Xannon, "methinks he's got a head start on the man drinks."

"Methinks you're an idiot," Xannon snapped back.

"Now children, settle down," a deep voice rumbled like thunder from behind the group. Two heavy, well worn lupine hands fell on the shoulders of Vent and Xannon. "You wouldn't want to get into one of your fights and ruin Oban's night, would you?"

"No, sir," the two mumbled like school kids. The man that was holding them smiled and patted their shoulders.

"Very good. I trust you're having a good time, Obie?"

"Yep, thanks dad. Uh, dad?" His called stopped the lupine, who had been satisfied by his son's answer and was walking away.

"Yes?"

"You didn't invite anyone that wasn't a pirate, did you?"

"Of course not, it's against our laws, why?"

"… no reason."

Regen gave his son a strange look, but after a few seconds he just walked away. Oban watched him go, and decided that if it wasn't worrying his father, it shouldn't worry him.

The hours went on quickly. Before he knew it, eleven o'clock had come. He felt himself shiver when he looked at the clock. Only a few more precious minutes, and he would be out of his childhood forever. He paused for a second, watching the hands move around the face of the clock.

"Don't look so worried, Obie, being a grown up isn't so bad," Vent assured him.

"I know, it's just… eighteen years? Gone? It didn't seem so long."

"Yeah, well, the next eighteen years will go by just as quick, so don't waste any of it staring at clocks and sighing," he cautioned. Then he grabbed Oban's hand and half threw him into the arms of a pretty girl he had never seen before, who dragged him onto the dance floor. The music was loud, and Oban liked to dance, so he didn't object.

Twelve chimes of the gigantic clock at the top of the hall silenced all the proceedings. Oban looked at it again, then down to the line of people that had gathered in front of a large gothic style stained glass window. Oban trembled as he approached them. This was the beginning of the end to his ceremony. Slowly, he walked forward, his boots clicking loudly on the hardwood floor. He had never been much for attention, and he felt like throwing up when he realized that every single set of eyes were on him.

He climbed the stairs to the stage, stopping in front of the first person in line, Xannon. These were his Special Gift people. On the stage was everyone in his immediate family; his mother and father, and his seven siblings, in order of age. Before his family was Vent and Xannon. Since they were his best friends, they got the privilege of taking an active part in the ceremony. Xannon threw her arms around Oban again.

"I'm so proud of you, Obie," she whispered. As she pulled away, she slipped a small package into his hand. It was only the size of his palm, and wrapped in delicate gold paper. Oban turned it over in his hands. Xannon silently urged him on, and he ripped open the package.

Inside was a deep red box, tied with a purple ribbon. He pulled the ribbon open and lifted the lid, inside was a mirror. There was nothing particularly special about the mirror. He could see Xannon reflecting in it. He glanced behind him, and jumped a mile when he realized that she had not moved from her place in front of him. He looked down at the mirror. It was still reflecting as if she was standing behind him.

"How?"

"It's an artefact from the farthest regions of Boolie. It reflects the person you are thinking of at that moment. So if we get separated you'll still have us."

"Thank you," he said, slipping it into his breast pocket, next to his heart. She smiled, happy that her gift had been given such a special place.

Vent was next in line. The smile on his face looked a little strange, and Oban was pretty sure he was having doubts about the quality of his gift. He held it out, trying not to make it look too obvious he felt upstaged. Oban took the gift carefully.

"I've already done the feel-and-guess, so I'm just going to open it, okay?"

"It's yours, do what you want."

There was already a tiny rip in the paper, so Oban used that to get into it. It looked like cloth of some kind. Dark, but with a sheen that made it look shades lighter depending on what light it was under. Oban unfurled it slowly, as not to do any damage to whatever it could be. It reached to the floor, and was hemmed with gentle gold. So little he barely noticed it, but somehow it made the colour even more beautiful. He turned it around slowly. Heavy sleeves fell from the folds, and Oban realized that it was an extremely heavy coat. Pockets inside and out left room for anything the wearer could possibly need. It took him a moment to realize just what it was.

"Oh my god," he gasped in amazement, "a chill coat?"

Vent grinned authentically, glad to see Oban's amazed look. "Yep. It's the best one I could find. It'll keep the space chill off you, no matter how much it seeps into the ship you're in. You'll never freeze."

"Vent… Vent you can't give me this. This is… these coats are some of the most expensive items in Boolie." Oban held it up to show Vent exactly what he had given away, how amazing it was compared to the one that Vent wore then. It had been handmade by the wearer before coming to Inloya, was pitch black, and not nearly as ornate as the one he had given away. Still, he held his hand up against it.

"Ah ah, this is the First Night ceremony. To give back a gift during this is unforgivable."

Oban hesitated. This was true, he couldn't give the gift back, and he was sure Vent had chosen this gift for specifically that reason. He ran his hands over the fabric, and slowly, he threw it over his shoulders. It was much lighter than it looked, and it fell on his shoulders like a shadow.

"Thank you, Vent," he murmured, still struck by the magnitude of his friend's gift. Vent punched Oban lightly on the arm, having nothing really to say.

A slight whining noise from next to Vent took Oban's attention. Vent smiled, nodding him forward, towards his family. They were set up from youngest to oldest, that meant Oban's little, five year old sister Junie and her twin brother Quest was standing next to Vent. Oban kneeled down to accept the gift from them. They both had the same gift, a picture drawn of the family, looking like it was done in a kindergarten class room. It probably had been. Junie's had a winter landscape like that of Inloya, while Quest's had a lush green background. Interesting, since he had never actually seen one with his own eyes.

"They're so you'll remember us forever," Junie explained.

"No matter where you go," Quest added.

Oban laughed, and pulled the two into a hug.

"I'll never forget any of you. You're my family, and I love you."

Jordan came next. He was twelve years old, with grey eyes and pale, washed out fur. Oban remembered when Jordan had first come home. He had been a preemie baby, and very sickly. Oban had liked having a younger brother, and had spent a lot of time with him. He'd taught him to read and write, had helped with all his homework. A twinge of guilt went through him when he thought of the trip he was about to go on. He would miss helping him work.

Jordan's gift was a book, written in the mother tongue of the region of Boolie the Sarrs lived in. Upon further inspection, Oban realized that he had just been handed the book he had taught Jordan to read with. Oban ruffled the young boy's hair as thanks. Jordan tried to smile, but he didn't do it often, and it came out as more of a grimace.

The person next to Jordan half grabbed Oban's attention. Oban tried to hide his own grimace at Redd's impatience. The 19 year old, in a way, was more immature than the quiet Jordan. Oban offered Jordan one more smile, then walked on. Redd's gift was something pointless, and Oban slipped the bauble into his pocket with a nod and moved on. Isaac's gift was a little more interesting. The dark coloured wolf had always been a little eclectic. It was a carved wooden necklace with Oban's name in it.

"I carved it myself," Isaac said proudly.

"It's beautiful," Oban assured him, thanking his brother with a hug before slipping the necklace around his neck.

His timberwolf sister was next. Lacy was the oldest girl in the family, and was the sibling he was closest to. She was only four years older than Oban, but had taken care of him since he had come to the Sarr family. She was apprenticing to become a sharpshooter, something that Oban wanted to do someday as well. She smiled gently as he approached.

"Hey little brother," she said in her soft voice.

"Hey sis."

"You know how lucky you are that you made it to this stage alive?"

"I wouldn't have been able to do it without you."

Lacy laughed gently, then reached into her pocket and pulled out her gift. It looked a lot like Xannon's, but not so flashy. Inside was a golden compass pointing east.

"Um, okay I don't get it," Oban said. Lacy smiled a little wider.

"Notice it's pointing east and not north?

"Okay?"

"Do you know what's east of us and many thousand feet up?"

"The station?"

"Exactly. No matter where you are, this compass will point to the place your heart calls home."

"That's amazing," Oban breathed, feeling the magic in it ripple through his fingers.

"A lot of people went to great lengths to give you things you would remember forever, make sure you do."

"Always." He lingered with his sister for a few more seconds, not wanting to move on to his last brother. He would miss her more than anything, but he knew he needed to go. The majority of his family still thought of him as a boy. The trip would make him a man in their eyes, if nothing else.

Oban felt his body temperature drop as soon as he stepped under Mordecai's icy glare. The two locked eyes; this was a challenge that he wouldn't back down from again. Mordecai was the oldest and looked the most like his father out of all the other children, so he figured that made him better than everyone else. He and Oban had a running feud going on as long as either could remember. Mordecai didn't like Oban because he was the only child that hadn't inherited Regen's blue eyes, and thought of him like an outsider. A few brutal seconds passed, then Mordecai reached slowly into his pocket and produced a small black leather book.

"It's a picture album," he explained flatly. Oban politely leafed through it. In the front was a small picture of the whole family, followed by pictures of the parents and each child in order of age.

"Thank you," Oban murmured, and moved on. Mordecai did not stop him, in fact he seemed pleased to see him go.

"Oban!" His mother cried as soon as her turn came, throwing her arms around her 'little boy'. She was crying like she always did at times like this. "Oh I'm so proud of you! I was scared you wouldn't make it to tonight, with all you got into!"

"Why does that seem to be the theme around here? I didn't get into that much garbage," he said sheepishly, knowing that was only half true. She squeezed him even harder, until he could barely breathe.

"Still, you fought through so much. I love you. I wish I could have found you something better than what I did."

"I'm sure whatever it is will be amazing."

"You're so sweet. Well, you know how it's almost a tradition in our house that the new baby get a blanket all their own?"

Oban nodded, he remembered his own. It had been handmade and had carried it with him until he was almost double digits.

"Well, I thought that maybe someday you would travel away from here to make a family…"

"Yes, mum?"

"And what if your wife doesn't know how to make blankets. She'll need time to learn, right? So I figured, I'll make her the first one, so she doesn't have to worry!" She held out the neatly folded blanket for him to take. It was soft, and made of subdued colours. In each corner was a skull and crossbones, and the Sarr family crest on the middle.

"It's perfect. I'm sure the woman that I haven't met yet will appreciate it a lot."

Locké glanced down the line.

"Are you sure you haven't met her yet?"

"Mom!"

"I know, I know, a princess would swaddle her kit in something better than that rag I just gave you."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know sweetie, but you are so good together, and she is the princess…"

"Geez, he's barely a man and already you're trying to marry him off," Regen laughed, unable to keep himself quiet any longer. Locké blushed a little, and pressed the baby blanket to her son's chest. She nodded gently towards Regen, who put his arm around Oban and pulled him in.

"Well, I think I'll spare you the 'I'm glad you're not dead' thing, although I'm just as proud as everyone else. I think it's getting late, so I'll be quick about this. I have been waiting to give you this gift since I first laid eyes on you." He reached down to his belt. Clipped there was a blade. He unclipped it, sheath and all, and handed it to Oban, who pulled it out of the scabbard to inspect it reverently.

It was silver, brightening as it got close to its razor sharp point. Along the glinting blade was an inscription:

To my beloved child. Never forget whose blood runs in your veins, and whose name you carry. I am proud to pass on my legacy to you.

"What? How? Why? Shouldn't this have gone to Mordecai?"

"Oban, that blade is an heirloom. It was made by my father's grandfather, as a special gift. Not for the first born child, but for the child that needs it most. I have not been blind to the shunning by some of your siblings, and I know that you have often felt outside of our family. I want this to cement in your mind that you are our son, and we love you, no matter what."

Oban wanted to thank him, but he couldn't make the words. Instead he just allowed his father to pull him into a heavy hug.

"And by the way," he whispered into his son's ear, "try to be careful while out on your journey with your friends."

"You knew?!"

"Of course I knew, a journey is practically a rite of passage for youngsters like you. Just take care."

"I promise."

Regen took him by the shoulder, and led him to the edge of the stage. He raised his voice so that the whole crowd could here him.

"Do you, Oban Sarr, swear to uphold our laws, to keep our traditions and faith no matter where you go, and to do your duty as a man and place the welfare of your family before all else?"

"I swear it."

Regen beamed proudly. He turned to the crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he boomed into the room, "I give you a man!"

The whole room thundered with cheers. Oban bowed, pleased with himself. After the completion of the line, partygoers began to disperse. Two men in black armour showed up to pick up Xannon. She lingered as long as she could, but eventually she was pulled away. Vent didn't have anyone waiting for him, so he stayed sitting on the edge of the stage with Oban.

Oban was watching the crowd dwindled, looking out for the man in black. He was concentrating hard on each individual face.

"You okay, pup?"

"Yeah."

"You don't look okay."

Oban sighed and sat back.

"There was a man here tonight that wasn't a pirate."

"That's not possible," Vent asserted, "non-pirates aren't allowed to come, no exceptions."

"I don't care, I saw him, and he wasn't a pirate. No one knows anything about him, and its bothering me."

"Well then tell your dad."

"I did… kind of."

"Well if it didn't bother him, them I'm sure it's nothing. Christ, its 2:30. I might as well go prep the ship. Do you mind if I take off?"

"No, and thanks again for the gift."

"Well you'll need it where we're going." Vent jumped off the stage and walked the length of the room, disappearing into the night. Oban watched him go silently. After about half an hour, he picked himself up and decided it was time to go to bed. His family got the use of the hall for the night, including the bedrooms that were just off the main hall. The rest of his family had already retired, and it was time to follow their lead.

He shouldered off the two coats he had been wearing, which had suddenly become heavy, and carried it to the Midnight Suite. Every pirate that took mass at that hall had spent their First night sleeping in it. It was covered in dark blues and purple, and the bed was large enough for easily two people. Well, some chose to celebrate their First Night with… company. He dropped onto the bed, exhausted. The corners of his vision began to blur, and he was pleased to finally slip into the world of sleep.

A gunshot snapped him violently back into consciousness. A cry of pain sank fear into his heart.

"Dad!"