I don't even remember telling anyone.  It's not the kind of thing we're supposed to share.  I'm not sure if there's a rule against it, but we just don't.

I guess I must have let it slip at some point, because when I get back from the lab, my room is full of people.

"SURPRISE!!!"

Oh my god!

Abel jumps up and hugs me.

"Happy birthday, Ethos!"

Four other navigators are sitting on the floor, plus two on my fighter's bottom bunk and Deimos observing us all warily from my top bunk.  It's crowded, but Abel tells everyone to "Scoot over for the birthday boy!" as he daintily tiptoes through the middle of them and hops up on the dresser.

Mozart holds up a cone-shaped plastic thing with a string hanging off it, points it upwards, and yanks the string.

BANG!

EEEK!!

Confetti lands everywhere as most of us start laughing.  Deimos slides a knife back into his sleeve, fixing Mozart with a look that could make a statue flinch.  Mozart doesn't notice because Porthos is complaining to him about how annoying those things are.

Mozart grins and sets off another one.  Porthos jumps about a foot in the air.

"Quit it!" says Abel.  "You almost made him step on the cake!"


...


Suddenly everyone stops talking.  I stick my head out of the bathroom to see what's going on, and there's Praxis in the doorway with his mouth hanging open.  He stares at Abel for a couple seconds, then looks around at the rest of us like he has no idea what's going on.  Which, of course, he doesn't.

"Uh...what...the fuck?"

Everyone starts talking again at once.

"We're having a party for Ethos!"

"It's his birthday!"

"Didn't you know?!"

Praxis scowls.  "No, I didn't.  Can I just get to the bathroom?"

I hurry out and Porthos pulls Mozart out of the way.  Praxis goes in and shuts the door.

"Well, let's not all listen to him pee!" says Puck.  Loudly.

We laugh.  I try to restart conversation with "Abel, didn't you say something about cake?"

"Oh!  Yes!" says Abel, grinning.  He reaches under the bottom bunk and pulls out what looks like one of the artificial logs my family uses for our fireplace, except smaller and more squashed.

"We couldn't get frosting, but Deimos stole some sugar from the kitchen."

I look up at Deimos, who is still sitting on my top bunk with my blanket wrapped around him, eying the crowd of navigators suspiciously.  He gives me one of his little smiles.

In the momentary silence, I can hear a clatter and cursing from the bathroom.  What is my fighter even doing in there?

A moment later, he comes out, almost trips over Mozart again, awkwardly searches for places to put his big feet without stepping on anything or anyone, and makes for the dresser, which Abel is sitting on.

"Excuse me.  Can I just...get..."

I realize we're all staring at him again, which is pretty rude.

"That looks great, Abel!" I say.  "What kind of cake is it?"

"It's, um..."  Abel trails off as he jumps off the dresser to get out of Praxis's way.  Praxis opens a drawer on his side, nearly hitting Pollux in the head with it, then starts rummaging around.

"Uh, it's...I don't fucking know.  It's Ethos's birthday cake," says Porthos.  "The one and only.  Secret recipe that Abel and I totally DIDN'T just pull out of our asses as we went along.  Just fucking eat some already."

That man has the filthiest mouth of any navigator I've ever met, but it was really nice of him to help make me cake.

Abel hands me a fork.  I take a bite.  It's a bit odd but not bad.  Tough at the edges and a little gooey in the middle, but pretty good, actually.

"It's great!" I tell everyone.  "Thank you!"

Abel passes out forks and I put the cake plate in the center of the floor where almost everyone can reach, then hand a piece up to Deimos.

Praxis opens a different drawer, drops a pair of socks on Puck's head, mutters an apology, and keeps digging around.  I can't get away with checking out his butt with so many other people around, so I offer him a piece of cake instead.  That startles him for some reason.  He spins around and looks at me like he's never seen me before.

"Uh!  No.  No thanks.  Sorry.  I'll be out of here in a minute."

He tucks something under his arm and grabs his boots off the floor.  Porthos and Mozart move over to make a clear path to the bathroom.  Praxis goes back in there and shuts the door.

We all stay quiet for a moment, then go back to eating cake and chatting.

"Ethos," says Puck, "your fighter is so weird."

"Pffft! And yours is normal?" asks Pollux.

"I don't think fighters come in normal," says Abel.  "Oh!"

Praxis is back and he looks really irritated.  And of course we all stare at him again.

"Look, just get out of my fucking way one more time and then I'll be gone!" he snaps.

A clear path magically appears between the bathroom and the door.  Praxis stomps down it, then turns and tosses something at me.  It lands in my lap and he mutters, "Happy birthday, kid," as the door slides shut behind him.


...


He returns after I've cut the lights off.  He tries to be quiet, but I was awake anyway.  I hear and feel him lie down below me.

"Praxis?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for the soap."

"You're welcome."

"Where did you get it?"

"Won it.  Poker."

"Oh."

I think for a moment.

"I really like it."

"Good."

He flops over with a grunt and kicks around until he gets his blanket how he wants.  I wish I could tell him how it shakes my bunk when he does that, but that's nothing compared to when he has nightmares and starts fighting with air.  And it's not like he can help that, so there's no point in making him feel bad about it.

"Praxis?"

"Yeah?"

"Is the shirt part of the gift too?"

"Yeah, sure.  It's tight on me.  Keep the boot lace too if you want."

"Oh.  OK.  Thank you."

It's too long for my boots, but I can always cut a bit off.

"Praxis?"

"What, kid?"

He sounds a little annoyed.  Well, so am I.  I forget what I was going to ask and say, "I'm not a kid!"

Which sounds completely childish.

Praxis snorts.

"Yeah?  How old are you?  20?  21?"

Well, crap.

"Oh.  Um.  19."

There's the sound of sudden motion and a thump on the underside of my bunk.

"Ow, shit! Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously!  What, how old are you?"

He gives a little bark of laughter.

"What day is it in Europa Colony 4?"

What?

"If you don't want to tell me, you can just say so," I tell him.

"No, really, look it up."

Confused, I do.

"Um, it's May 20th.  Like it is here."

"Then I'm 26."

It takes a second for me to get it.

"Oh my god!  Happy birthday, Praxis!  Hang on, I have to give you something!"

As I climb down the ladder, he groans and puts a hand over his eyes.  Eye.

"Urgh.  No you don't.  Go to sleep!"

I ignore that and dig through the mess my guests left on the floor until I find a medium-sized square tin and open it.

Praxis is still complaining.

"Ethos, really, I don't need a gift.  Just let me slee...is that gingerbread?!"