The #71EEB8 shipyard orbited a mauve colored frozen planetoid, affectionately called Pink Eye. The 300 miles in diameter dusty snowball was the last celestial body at the edge of a system held in the sway of the Gastraddar sun. The station itself consisted of a docking port and a domed trading bazaar, both permanently attached to a gargantuan galaxy-class #71EEB8 deep space diplomatic freighter.

When Ozgold and Øregård materialized on the far end of the docking port, Mevner simply couldn't believe his eyes. The modern metropolis Redwing took him to with its neon electric lights, cars, and building reaching up to the sky did nothing to prepare him for a space station of this magnitude.

A crystal clear dome and several forcefields were all that separated him from stars and the breathtaking blackness of outer space. To his left, a distant sun rose over Pink Eye and to the right, filling a quarter of the horizon, was a massive colorful nebula shaped like a flower. The stupendous enormity of the cosmos unfolded before him. 

Outside spacecraft of varied sizes and materials moved about effortlessly in the void. Mevner understood the fundamental mechanics of the universe but had no idea technology of this level even existed. His mouth hung open to the utter grandeur of it all. 

"You're from here and you're worried about people seeing my magic?"

Øregård nodded toward the rising sun. "It's been too long since I've seen my star. Follow me." 

They passed through automatic opening doorways and entered the marketplace. Mevner had no way to comprehend the technologies available let alone grasp the symbolic languages on signs over the shops. Dancing digital lights and holographic images were hardly enough to pull his attention away from all the alien species; lizardmen, aquatics, furry bipedal mammals, blue-skinned humanoids, people with three eyes, mechanical robotoids, and terrifying giant insects. The wild variety of species were in the minority and walked with care among hordes of ogres or as they were known there; Gastraddars.

The bulky forest green warriors wore intimidating battle armor and carried vicious jagged weapons, men and women alike. Øregård with his dragon scale mail and sword of doom fit right in. Any one of them could've easily ground the wizard to dust under their steel boots.

They entered an office that looked like a bank. Inside everything was iridescent, pristine, and minimal. The employees looked exactly alike, every one of them a silver-skinned middle-aged male wearing matching seafoam green robes. Little blue and white striped bumblebees buzzed about the room occasionally landing to crawl across their bald shiny heads. 

"71s have the best ships. They're about your size, maybe you can trade for better clothes," suggested Øregård.

"Why are they all identical?"

"Clones. Genetic perfectionists." Øregård huffed at the concept and approached the central counter.

The #71EEB8 clone behind the counter immediately recognized him. 

"Øregård, you haven't been here in 147 rotations. How go your travels? What can we do for you?"

Øregård turned to Mevner and said, "I'm nothing special, they remember everything. They have profound intelligence."

He took off his helmet and slammed it on the counter. The clone was intrigued. He took a small device out of his pocket and sprayed it with a soft blue light. Then he passed the beam over Øregård. 

"Real crimson dragon. What are you looking to trade for it?"

"A ship."

"Is that all? Do you have a DNA sample?"

Øregård pulled a small corked jug out of his pocket and tossed it to the clone. He popped the top and scanned the dragon blood inside.

"How big is your crew?"

"Just me and the Wizard." He smacked Mevner in the arm. 

"For this sample and the helmet, we could supply you with a fully outfitted twin turret armored scout." 

The smile on Øregård's face said it was a good deal. "And my friend needs suitable clothing." 

"Indeed." The clone looked Mevner up and down. "May I?" he asked holding up his scanner. 

"Alright."

He scanned Mevner from head to toe. 

"The projectile weapon in your bag is not very useful around these parts. We enjoy collecting ancient artifacts and we'd be glad to upgrade you to a top of the line phaser pistol. Easy to use, thousand-year battery life, the equalizer among the stars." 

Mevner looked up at Øregård not knowing how to respond. Øregård nodded his head. 

Mevner took out his crossbow and quiver of bolts and set them on the counter. The clone took them and handed him an elegant silver pistol. 

"It will code to your hand. Just point and pull the trigger." 

Mevner picked up the weapon and looked at it somewhat confused. 

"It shoots fire and will kill whatever you point it at. Please use it carefully." 

The clone's device beeped. He looked down and read the results. Then he called two other clones over in a bizarre language. They all spoke simultaneously in heated debate before the clerk addressed Mevner again. 

"You're silver ring is very interesting to us. It has microcellular bio-regenerative capabilities does it not? 

"It heals. If that's what you mean?"

If you would let us copy its technology we'd be willing to...." He thought for a long moment staring forward lost in deep silent contemplation, then looked to Øregård. 

"Could you handle a grav-shifter?"

Øregård's eyes bulged out of his head and he puffed out his chest. "Of course!" 

"Allow us to reverse engineer your ring and we'd upgrade our ship offer to a Dodecahedron three-deck cruiser."

"Yes!" Øregård grabbed the wizard by both shoulders. "Tell him, YES!!!" 

Mevner looked at the Melock's ring on his finger. He spun the band around. 

"Will it damage the ring?" 

"I can assure you completely of its safety and it will never leave your sight. We can gather all the information we need right here." 

Mevner slid the ring off and handed it to the clone. The two others returned with a square device, placed the ring inside, and scanned it with ultraviolet light. A third clone approached carrying a green jumpsuit, a pair of boots, and a helmet with a bubble of glass on one side. 

"While you wait, we'd like to offer you this flight suit. It will sustain your body in any environment and has a temperature tolerance of three hundred degrees. We can adjust the biological recycler to your physical makeup. Judging by your projected life expectancy we're confident in a lifetime guarantee." 

"Thanks?" 

Mevner changed into the comfortable and warm #71 jumpsuit. He'd been freezing since he arrived. The boots gave him a balance he'd never experienced and made him feel far more at ease in the odd gravimetric environment of the station.

The clones finished scanning the ring, returned it, and led them to an empty docking port. Outside the dome, an angled orb of a ship floated up. The giant 12-sided dice pulsed in myriad colors as it pulled into the dock and one of its pentagon sides opened. Two clones in flight suits just like Mevner's walked out as the clerk led Øregård and Mevner up the ramp.

The flight deck had a three large throne type seats that were clearly out of place. Øregård sat down in the center one and dragged a large metal table full of lights in front of him. The clerk stood to his side and gestured Mevner into the throne to the right. He felt like a child sitting in it. 

"We thought you would like these Gastraddar chairs. The ship is 17,000 rotations old and runs on a traditional manual interface computer. It has been disconnected from our neural network and can move freely at your will. It has minimal defenses and a fully functioning gravdrive."

Øregård narrowed his eyes and mashed the chunky buttons of the interface table. 

"Do you have any questions?" 

"No."

"Would you like to register a call sign?" 

"The Dragon Slayer." Øregård smirked, worked the controls, and the whole room pulsed red. 

"Very well, if there is nothing else." The clerk turned and exited the ship. 

Mevner looked over to Øregård. "What's next?"

"Enlarge the skull." Øregård placed the dragon's shrunken head on the floor before the huge window that looked out into space. 

Mevner waved a hand, spoke the return chant, and the room filled with bone and horns. 

"I'm glad they didn't ask for the amulet or I would have said no," said Mevner.

"I told you they don't know magic. Now, hold on."

The ship ripped out of the station and tore across the system in minutes. A fleet of massive battlecruisers met them above the planet. After a brief looking glass discussion, they guided them to the planet's surface and the castle of the king. The armored fortress dwarfed any imaginable castle Mevner could even dream of.

They walked down an endless golden carpet to the cheers and roars of ogres pounding swords on an iron floor. The dragon's skull was carried behind the two slayers who were the first to convince the #71s to give a Gastraddar one of their ships. The hulking ogre King wore golden armor and a tremendous horned helmet. His gray-black hair hung long down his chest in two thick braids. He smiled with great approval as Øregård approached and looked with deep concern at Mevner.

"No unworthy outsiders may enter the Hall of the King!" He raised a wide barrelled chunky blaster and fired a death ray.

Ozgold lifted an arm in a reflexive defense and the laser beam was absorbed into his hand. A tiny nearly unnoticeable sparkle of a rainbow swirled around his ringed finger. 

That was the day the word Wizard was added to the Gastraddar language, meaning one who cannot be killed.