In somewhat over half a million years he was able to sway flowers, move leaves against the wind, make small shrubs tremble. In less than half that time again he felled a huge tree and wrested ores from the earth. (An age of vulcanism had come and gone; the Atlantic coast was an igneous shelf, reptiles towered above the earth.) In another half million years he possessed the machines, raw materials and robot workers he needed. (The latter were designed to perform purely mechanical tasks, menial things he couldn't be bothered with. He had much to do. And ages were passing.) He saved time by enclosing his work area in a force field to protect the delicate machinery against the elements. In that respect he had bested the alien. Ixmal started the ultimate weapon. Occasionally he would halt work long enough to scan Callisto. He gloated, noting that his enemy was having difficulty procuring the necessary fissionable material. He had a Belgian Congo full. (What did that term mean? Somehow it was an expression from long ago. The Man he had been fond of had used it.) Ixmal's weapon rapidly took shape. Thanks to the ancient scientist's formula, he had merely to improve the warhead and construct its carrier--a rocket to blast Zale-3 from existence. (But eons were passing. Soft warm winds bathed his batholith and an occasional tyrannosaur paused to stare dumbly from the nearby swamp.) Psychband increased his irritation by calling attention to the formidable dimensions of this new animal. "Destroy them, Ixmal, before life gets too big." "Bah, they're mindless," he scoffed. "They're evolutionary toys--freaks from the mire." "So was Man," Psychband observed. "And Man is dust," Ixmal reminded. "Besides, I could destroy the very mountain with thought alone. Who dares give challenge?" Ixmal discovered that Zale-3 had solved his fissionable problem: he was using psychokinesis to haul ore from Jupiter's methane deeps. A startling thought struck him: Zale-3 wouldn't need a rocket carrier. Of course, he would power his warhead by mental force. Why hadn't he thought of that? The ages wasted when every second might prove vital. He'd have to hurry. * * * * * He ceased work, abandoning the half-completed rocket and concentrated on improving his psychokinetic techniques. (Dinosaurs disappeared, the earth trembled under the foot of the mammoth.) Ixmal momentarily was appalled to discover a strange man-form dwelling among distant crags. He was hulking, grotesque, but he walked erect--the first of his kind. But no time now. Ixmal tore trees from the earth and hurled them vast distances. He tumbled hills into valleys, held great crags suspended in the heavens, tore North and South America asunder; reshaped continents until, one day, he knew the mind force was his. He could reverse the very moon in its orbit! He concentrated on the bomb.