He stirred, freeing his thoughts from the latest somnolent stage. He projected receptors over the earth, idly noting that the last mountain range had become worn stumps. In places the ocean had swept in to form a vast inland sea rimmed by shallow swamps; new life forms moved. He tested for intelligent thought: there was none. The warm seas swarmed with fish; shallow swamps teemed with great-toothed terror creatures engaging in the endless slaughter of harmless prey. A myriad of amphibians had evolved, making tentative forays from the warm seas. Great ferns had reappeared. Dozens of varieties dotted the lowland plains and protruded from the swamps. A forest crept to the very base of the batholith. He turned his attention to the sun, reassured to find that the ultimate nova still was some five billion years in the future. Perhaps by then he could evolve some means whereby he could recreate himself on the single planet he detected circling Aldebaran. (Yes, he'd have to think about that. Ah, well, he had eons of time.) * * * * * Night came and he sent exploratory receptors toward the planets. Mercury still blazed on the sunward side, unchanged. A peculiar metallic life form still clung to the edge of existence along the twilight border. Venus suffered under hot swirling gases, a world where not even the smallest creature stirred. Just furnace winds, burning sands, grotesque rocks. But beyond the earth, forty million miles away in empty space, something occurred which hadn't occurred in almost seven hundred million years. Ixmal sensed _Intelligent Thought_! He withdrew his receptors without thinking (his first pure reflex), waiting fearfully until Psychband adjusted him to the situation. Then, cautiously, he projected cautious thoughts into the void. "_Who are you? Who are you? Identify._" Silence. Somewhere in the great vault above something lurked. An _Intelligence_. He must find it, must test it. It was more than a challenge; it was a threat. Its very silence was ominous. "_Who are you? Who are you? You must identify!_" Silence. Ixmal divided the heavens into cubes and began systematically exploring each one. Why had the other _thought_ been roaming space? What had been its origin? In less than ninety thousand years (another age of vulcanism had arrived and earth mountains were building anew) he located the thought a second time, placing it as in space cube 97,685-KL-5. This time, prepared, he grasped it, holding it captive while he tried to analyze its origin and component parent, vexed when he failed. "_Who are you?_" Ixmal persisted. "_I demand to know. Who are you?_" Ages passed. "_Identify. Identify. Imperative that you identify._" "_Zale-3._" The answer caught Ixmal by surprise, and he consulted Psychband. "Careful--the alien wouldn't reveal himself unless he felt secure," Psychband warned.