The Depths of Time by Roger MacBride Allen Page B

They weren ’ t alone anymore. “ Confirm signal, ” Koffield ordered.
    “ Rechecking—confirmed, ” Sentar said. “ That ’ s a Chrono-Patrol identity signal. ”
    “ Excellent. Good to have someone watching the back door. Send mirror-reply signal. ” A mirror reply was simply the received signal played backwards and beamed back to the sender. A mirror reply sent no new information, but served to confirm accurate receipt of the sender ’ s signal.
    “ Mirror reply sent, ” Sentar said.
    “ Very well, ” Koffield acknowledged. He returned to his command chair, determined to hide his sense of relief as thoroughly as he had hidden his worries and fears. He wanted to cheer out loud and announce it at once on the ship ’ s intercom, let the whole crew know there was something to celebrate. But he couldn ’ t. He dared not encourage them to get their hopes up, or let their guard down. Too much could still go wrong. The news would spread around the ship fast enough, and the crew would be glad to hear it. That way of getting the news would be far more appropriate than what would be touched off by a jubilant shipwide announcement. He sat back down with as much of an air of calm routine as he could manage. “ Lieutenant Sentar, log my order that the detection and comm officer is to alert me if and when we get a new signal from the downtime relay. If we get a ready-on-station signal, I want to know the moment it arrives. ”
    “ Understood, sir. I have logged the order. ”
    An incredibly complicated sequence of events had just concluded with the relief ship ’ s arrival, and the complex motions through time and space that had brought the relief ship to the downtime end of the Circum Central time-shaft as soon after the Standfast disaster as possible. It had taken centuries of travel time to make it happen, but the relief ship had arrived in under three weeks of objective time.
    And all that time and effort had been taken simply to allow the relief ship to send the least information possible. She had signaled her arrival, but it might well be some time before she signaled that she was on station and ready for duty. Whatever ship it was, she had merely reported herself to be in useful range of the downtime relay. She still needed to perform a series of navigation checks, secure from cruise mode, rig for patrol. It was possible, even likely, that she had not yet roused all of her crew from cryosleep.
    Koffield devoutly wished the on-station signal would come soon, before anything else could go wrong. He tried not to remind himself that wishing rarely made it so.
    The duty shifts rotated around through a normal day of ship ’ s routine, without any further contact from the downtime side of the wormhole. The Upholder watched and waited.
    The second alert came just over twenty-six hours later, at 1311 hours the next day.
    Chasov had just relieved Sentar at detection and comm duty when the traffic contact alert buzzed. Chasov turned pale for a second, then checked his boards and started analyzing the contact. “ Incoming traffic, sir, ” he reported.
    “ Very well, ” Koffield said coolly, as if this were normal routine and not a potential crisis. “ Keep me informed. Work the contact by the standard procedures. ” If the new downtime ship was not yet fully powered up, operational, and prepared for on-station duty, she might not be in position to receive clearances on the ships headed downtime. If they were a bit edgy or trigger-happy aboard the downtime ship, and were surprised by the convoy ships coming through, things could get messy indeed. And considering that the new ship was replacing a craft that had been reduced to subatomic particles, they might have good reason to be edgy.
    Standard operating procedure called for Chasov to summon Sentar back. Chasov did not have to wait long for Sentar to scramble back onto the bridge. But there was little for Sentar to do, other than watch Chasov work the contact and