I was born on a Protected World. You’d think that would be a good thing, but in truth, not so much. You see, a Protected World is a sentry world. One located along the edge of human space, there to sound the alarm if there’s an alien invasion. A world that is marginally habitable, so unlikely to be a target, yet well connected to the rest of humanity, so able to sound the alarm.
And that’s the real problem. Marginally habitable worlds can’t support a significant population. And for the few of us that live here, it’s difficult to scrape out a living.

You might ask why anyone would want to live in such a place. I ask that question all the time. The short answer is that these worlds were given away to anyone that had the means to claim and settle them. A lot of adventurers couldn’t resist the opportunity. My grandfather, six generations back, was one of those people.
There are many stories about my ancestral grandfather. He was apparently quite a character, eccentric as well. Many of his sayings are built deeply into our culture, and most involve the number six. Spend a day in town and you’re likely to hear them. ‘Better to do one thing well than six things poorly.’ Or ‘better to have six good days than one good week.’
Of his many sayings, there’s the one my mother quotes all the time. ‘The sixth son of the sixth generation will stand above them all.’
Well, it turns out that I’m the sixth son of the sixth generation. My father, and all his forefathers, were first sons of first sons down the line from the great Jared Daan. I was my father’s sixth son. Sixth son of the sixth most direct connection to our founder. My parents gave me the name of my ancestor, Jared Daan. I’m the first to bear that name since the great man passed. My mother says I’m destined for greatness. I think that’s crazy talk. But my five brothers hate me for it.