The Depths of Time by Roger MacBride Allen

captain, from noting patterns in the schedule of ships ’ arrivals. And one pattern in particular of ships in transit had stood out from the general flow of craft that came and went through the Circum Central Wormhole.
    Four times in a little more than a standard Earth year, at more or less regular intervals, a flotilla, a convoy, of five cargo ships had come through. Four times the same five ships had arrived on the same trajectory when headed downtime, and then on opposite trajectory when headed uptime. The ships all carried cargo modules on the outbound leg, and towed huge strap-on cryosleep chambers on the return trip. That in and of itself was unusual. Timeshaft-wormhole ships, dropships as they were often called, almost always traveled alone. Aside from that, five ships making four round-trips in less than an objective year represented a remarkable effort. Each trip involved dozens or even hundreds of years of wear and tear, measured in ship ’ s time, and meant crews kept in expensive, potentially hazardous cryosleep for nearly all of every journey. Someone was making an all-out effort. Judging from their trajectories, it was almost impossible to avoid the conclusion that the five ships were out of Thor ’ s Realm, and bound for Glister.
    Koffield had done several tours of duty in intelligence analysis before managing to draw command of the Upholder. He could not help but interpret what he was seeing. He knew that conditions on Glister had been deteriorating for years before he had drawn command of the Upholder. The news had been full of accounts of ambitious plans to reinvigorate Glister ’ s climate. There had been much discussion of the fact that any such effort would put a great strain on resources, because the great Oskar DeSilvo ’ s terraforming of Solace was not yet complete, and that project was still a net consumer of terra-forming material.
    The five ships that came and went told Koffield that the Glister Reinvigoration project had not succeeded. They were, he was certain, relief and rescue ships, bringing in yet more equipment, more supplies. He knew that much by watching them on their return trips, towing the jumbo-sized cryosleep modules. Nothing but supplies going in, nothing but people coming out. That could only mean things were bad and looking to get worse on Glister.
    And that fleet of five ships was due anytime. They might even be within normal detection range already—except the Upholder’s detection gear was barely functional even at restricted range.
    A great deal could depend on who, or what, arrived first. Koffield devoutly wished that both uptime and downtime relief ships would come before any other craft approached the timeshaft wormhole. He could use all the help he could get in dealing with the situation. Better still, let his relief face things on their own. He would be delighted to be ordered off station and to receive authorization to limp toward the nearest Chronologic Patrol repair yard.
    In the meantime, all he could do was prepare for attack, for battle, for further disaster. While so doing, he would continue praying most devoutly, to whatever gods might be available out in that middle of nowhere that was the Circum Central Wormhole Farm, for nothing at all to happen for as long as possible.
    And so things stood for the next nineteen standard days. The Upholder, while by no means in anything like good repair, held together, and little by little, the thousand small repairs that had to be made got done, each one a tiny lift to morale. Even if the detection systems would never be what they once were, unless or until the ship got to a repair yard, getting hot water back into the enlisted quarters plumbing loop could not help but be a major lift to the spirits.
    Space around the ship was utterly, endlessly empty. No word came through the signal portal from the downtime side of the wormhole. Either no relief had yet arrived, or else the relief ship was not able to communicate with