I’d spent a fascinating seven months, examining and cataloguing the biologies of Romulus and Vulcan. All my observations, every report, every image, had been uploaded to the space station and forwarded to Bill and onward to Sol. Drones had quartered the system and identified every pocket of ore worth bothering with. I’d left an autofactory and drones, which would continue to refine raw resources, pending the arrival of colonists. Or aliens, or maybe another probe. With that thought in mind, I’d also supplied a squad of busters. The station AMI had a profile of Medeiros and orders to ram on sight.