I come from a very off family.
Sorry, let me introduce myself first. Name's Nick.
Though I look like I'm aging in my early thirties, I'm really only twenty-one. I know, shocker right? Is it the hair? Yeah that's the usual excuse people give me.
Anyway, 'bout my background, where I come, where I derive- well that's just it ain't it? I come from nowhere. No mans land.
I was born on a ship from a mother whose face I would never get to see.
At least my criminally induced father stuck around for a bit longer. Long enough to contribute unto me a basic education of several languages, literature, engineering, an understanding for the flight controls.
Then he too: up and gone. Nothing left from him except a couple of disheveled notebooks, a nice quantity of novels, his butler Brent, plenty of broken memories and an even more broken Eagle. Ironically the name Oathkeeper permanently burned onto the Eagle's left wing.

Look, I get the whole "don't let your bitter past get in the way of your glorious future" sort of bullcrap, but when your locked up with exactly zero credits, zero worth, and a frame shift drive that doesn't even work properly past the five light range, in a system populated with no more than literally 1700 people-.
Well... Heh. After spending the years scrounging for basic commodities, learning how to configure your own ship from the ground up, just so you can actually make the next closest star, you'd gain quite a few emotional memories over the years too.

Would I change any of it though? Of course not. I'm a very prideful person, and sure, over the years there's been nothing short of a train wreak at every turn, not to mention the constant feelings of loneliness, isolated, feeling unwanted.. Constantly being harassed by pirates and other bullies littering my home star.. But I've grown with it. Matured because of it. Learned how to embrace it and beat it. Kick its ass halfway across the solar system.
And when I was fifteen, I finally cranked that FSD throttle. Space contorted and warped around me, the memories of Popon vanished behind me, and the star greeted with it's yellow burn that lit the Anarchy of Krumine. And I smiled.

After that slight obstacle I tasked myself with learning how to actually defend myself. A few years in a retired bounty hunters pub, gaining what little knowledge I could wrestle out of the sharp toothed, sharper tongued veterans, I showed up to the nearest gaggle of pirates I could find and, well what do you know? I came out on top. A few more hunts and I realized that "hey, I'm not half bad at this."
Flash forward a few more years and here I am now.
I've earned enough money to pay for my Eagle's supplies, repairs, upgrades (though mostly I've tuned it up myself), and now I'm off to find my father. What I'll find, what'll result in, I don't know. Most people might not give a damn, but once again I find myself refusing to let go of the past. There are still questions that need answers.

And just like how the galaxy failed to keep its grip on me in Popon, nothing will stop me from getting what I want.