Saved only by a protective skin suit, I was found by a passing family of traders floating in wreckage from what appeared to be a type 7 transporter. I can only pontificate on my origins or family as although I was 5 years of age, I have no memory of my past before that point, possibly concussed and memory loss due to the missile strikes that likely were the demise of my surrounding guardians. I can only thank them and send those feelings of gratitude to the universe, and hope that they see my spirit fly on. I am Gamma, and I am Rage. My adopted family did everything they could to calm the demons born of my fury for the loss of my mysterious past at the hands of whatever coward split open the hull of that type 7. My Fury turned to Rage, but my rage turned to focus, and my focus turned to me being a self made billionaire though trade. I harvest no ill will, until a commander shows me their dark heart, and at that moment they are marked.