Viktor Reich

[Chucc]

It was an ordinary day on Ronneburg. Ships came and went, pilots drank and fought in the bars. Viktor had managed to make a few extra bucks, cleaning ships for some of the regular pilots. He fixed minor body damage, could repair most communication devices that the fighters utilized. On a good week he made a few thousand credits, but it had been a great week.
Apparently there was some major offensive being prepared for. He wasn't really in the popular crowd, he was just some deck tech and go to guy for a good fix. He knew many of the pilots on a face to face level, but he didn't think any of them actuall remembered his name. The last week or so had brought in many of the squadrons from surrounding bases. The usually casual Ronneburg flight deck had been a swarm of activity. The influx of ships coming and going made for a boom in Viktors business.
This last couple weeks had brought him almost twenty thousand credits. He'd been busy night and day almost non-stop since the previous week. He decided to take his money and go hit the local card house. He was a fairly regular figure in the cards houses, he liked to play poker, and feeling lucky he sat down at a high stakes table. An hour or two into his game he's managed to turn his twenty thousand into over two hundred thousand credits. He takes a break and heads to the bar for a drink. Amazed to himself at the amazing luck he's having this night.
In the bar he meets a fellow that claims to know where some real betting goes on. The Races, the man explains is a group of racers that run their ships in the minefields of Omega 5 and Omega 41. They fly in the minefields, running a course with weapons free, no holds barred, race to the death. It's the first Viktor has heard of such a thing, and the possibility for huge winnings is right up the nights alley, he tells himself.
An hour later and Viktor finds himself approaching the minefield in Omega 41. Sirens blaring in the background, almost muted warning of Radiation, resonating from the Neutron Star in the center of the system. There are pilots from every walk of life in the crowds, from Hessian to Bretonians and Kusari men wearing their swords in the ornamental decor that is fancied there. Money flies back and forth, and lives are thrown away in the fields. Though many escape pods are recovered, a few never manage to get out, others simply are blown deeper in the fields, lost beyond help, until BOOM!
By the third race, Viktor has won on every race. his account now floats just a ways below the ten million mark. It seems that Viktor is almost psychic, picking each races Trifecta without err. The man with him also starts betting with Viktor, and they both manage to pull in credits at an amazing rate.
Such winning however, doesn't go unnoticed. Viktor has managed to call 5 races without err, and the people in charge are losing big money to him and his friend. One of the pit bosses is sent to investigate, and personally takes the next 5 races bets from Viktor. Seeing that Viktor truly is just picking the pilots seemingly at random, having no previous experience with the sport, the pit boss informs the organizers that he is just amazingly lucky.
By the end of the night, deep in the morning hours, Viktor managed to pull in a bit over FIFTY MILLION CREDITS. After paying his house percentage and his large bar tab, he walks away from the night with a cool Forty-Two Million Credits.
Instead of buying a small place and setting up a proper shop, like he had always dreamed. Viktor gets a wild idea and heads to a guy he knows that helps pilots replace their ships or get good used ones at a fair rate. After spending most of a day looking thru the options Viktor settles his eye on one of the "Heimdall" Hesian Gunboats. It is barely within his purchasing ability, but he figures it will pay for itself in the long run. He gives his friend the go ahead and makes the purchase.
The next day......

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Looking into returning, maybe.