Captain's Log: We've received a Fleet-wide advisory that the USS Riyadh was reported overdue by Space Station K-7, and is presumed missing in the Donatu Sector. This normally wouldn't affect us, as we are currently patrolling the Kaleb Sector, and enroute to the Taugan Sector. However, I know that Lieutenant Marx left a fiancée on the Riyadh, so I'm going to have the despicable task of informing my helmsman that she's missing.
It's been close to two months since Praxis exploded, and the Klingon Empire is still officially declining humanitarian aid. There are rumors on the Captain's Bulletin Board that there maybe a chance at a lasting peace. If these rumors turn out to be true, so much the better; it give the Federation one less major threat.
"Lt. Marx," Captain Bowman said, as he stood, "would you join me in the Officer's Lounge."
"Aye sir," Marx replied. He slid out of his seat, was relieved by one of the crewmen, and joined the Captain for the short ride to Deck 3.
"Would you care for a drink, Lieutenant?" Bowman asked, as he motioned for his helmsman to take a seat. Marx declined. "Mr. Marx, I understand you have a fiancée on the Riyadh."
"Yes sir, I do," he replied, neutrally.
"Lieutenant," Bowman took a deep breath, before continuing. "The Riyadh is overdue for Space Station K-7. Starfleet is declaring her 'Presumed Missing'."
"So, there's still a possibility that she'll arrive at K-7?"
"Of course, Lieutenant. But, there's also the possibility that she won't. But you needn't worry. Several ships are already on their way to search for her."
"Sir, is there anyway we can get reassigned to the search?"
"No, Lieutenant. We still have our mission. And it's even more important now, since Praxis self-destructed."
"I see sir. I had to ask. Thank you sir, for bringing me this information."
"Lieutenant, I have one question. You don't have to answer if you don't want to, however, if there is even further bad news, I have to know who your fiancée is."
Marx licked his lips, nervous about revealing this tidbit of information. "Rei Satomi, sir."
"Thank you, Lieutenant. What's her…" Bowman paused, before fixing his helmsman a quizzical look. "Not Captain Rei Satomi?"
"Yes sir, I am engaged to the Riyadh's captain."
"Oh boy. Lieutenant, I can foresee that is going to be a big problem. Especially in the rarified air of the flag ranks. I mean, just look at what happened to Captain Kirk when he 'borrowed' the Enterprise to go rescue Captain Spock. Starfleet Command was ready to crucify him for not only for…acquiring his old ship, but destroying it as well. And you're engaged to not only a senior ranking officer, but the skipper of your former ship? Lieutenant, let me give a strong piece of advice. One of you will need to resign your commission for this marriage to actually fly."
"I know sir."
"Look, think this engagement of yours through, thoroughly. And hope that they find your fiancée's ship intact. Dismissed."
"Yes sir. Thank you sir." Marx stood, and left the lounge.
"God, that boy's screwed his career up but good," the Captain muttered, as he looked out the large floor to ceiling windows.
"Bridge to Captain."
"Go ahead, Lieutenant."
"Sir, priority message from Starfleet: 'All Beta Quadrant ships: Due to potential escalation of terror attacks, rendezvous at Gamma Hromi for possible contingency operations against the Klingon Empire.' Message repeats once more."
"Have navigation plot a course for Gamma Hromi, maximum warp."
"Aye sir," Lt. Rand replied, closing the communication. Bowman could feel the inertial dampeners lag as the ship heeled to port and accelerated to warp 9.
In his quarters, Marx sat in darkness, a lit candle providing little illumination, but what illumination there was showed an antique M-1911A1 .45 caliber pistol field stripped on the desk. Incense filled the air. "She's dead," he said, quietly. "She's dead…may the Gods protect whoever did this, because when I find them, they'll wish they hadn't done what they did." He quickly reassembled the cleaned and lubricated pistol and worked the action. The slide performed as flawlessly as it did when it was made, three hundred years ago.
00000
Donatu Sector
USS Victory, NCC-9754
"Captain, we're approaching the Riyadh's last known position," the helmsman reported.
"Very good. Begin full sensor and scanner sweep of the area. And implement search grid." The helmsman nodded, and began the laborious search for the missing starship.
"Captain," the science officer called, four days later, "Sensors are picking up debris half a light-year to starboard. It could be a portion of the Riyadh."
""Excellent. Helm, take your course from Mr. Iverson. Warp 5." The Victory banked gracefully to starboard, and shot into warp for a very quick jump to the debris cloud.
"Captain," Mr. Iverson called again, "debris is confirmed as coming from the Riyadh. It appears that the destruction of the ship is complete; there are no escape pods or shuttles present in the debris. I am also reading the ship's recorder marker."
"Very good. Beam it aboard, and let's go over the Riyadh's final moments."
"Aye sir." Out in the inky darkness of deep space, a golden shimmer appeared, then disappeared as quickly as it appeared, as the neutronium armored data recorder was transported out of the wreckage. "Recorder marker onboard, Captain."
"Very good then. Any data that's on that recorder will be too hot to handle via subspace. Signal Starfleet Command. Advise them that we've discovered the Riyadh's whereabouts, and are returning to Earth with her data recorder.
"Helm, set course for Earth; warp factor 9."
00000
"Captain, we are now entering the Hromi Cluster," Lt. Marx reported, as the ship penetrated the boundary of the cluster. "ETA to Gamma Hromi, forty-five minutes, present speed."
"Very well then, Mr. Marx. Steady as she goes." Captain Bowman turned his head towards Communications. "Lt. Rand, contact the Tuten. Advise Admiral Asimov that we're approaching the rendezvous point and will be there in forty five minutes."
"Aye sir." Lt. Rand paused for a moment. "Sir, Admiral Asimov welcomes us, and has ordered us to assume a position 10 thousand kilometers portside forward of the flagship. There will be a briefing when all vessels are in formation."
"Thank you, Lieutenant," Capt. Bowman said.
The Antietam entered the Gamma Hromi system on time, and slid into formation with the Hatfield-class command ship, USS Tuten. The ship was already flanked by a pair of dreadnoughts, and a pair of destroyers. A pair of self-propelled drydocks sat nearby, a hive of activity as a third destroyer and what appeared to be a Soyuz-class attack frigate sat nestled within their framework, undergoing maintenance. Tugs came and went, hauling in transport containers of various types, and leaving empty. Work Bees nestled the containers into some semblance of an Erector Set-like space station, containing multiple engine repair bays, shuttle, supply, starliner, station, medical, and Marine containers. There were even a couple of colonial transport containers attached. A pair of medical frigates and hospital ships hovered near the ersatz space station, while gunboats, corvettes and escort cruisers provided security.
"Captain," Lieutenant Rand called from her station, "I have Admiral Asimov hailing us."
"On screen, Lieutenant," Bowman ordered. The hive of activity on the main viewscreen was replaced the elderly Russian Admiral. "Admiral Asimov, this is an honor, sir."
"Captain, you know I'm not at all like Commodore Aubrey, at Starbase 10," he replied. "Welcome to Logistical Support Area Anaconda. You are authorized shore leave on the station. Try not to get involved with the Marines on the station. They are…trigger happy, right now.
"The rest of the fleet is three to four days out; briefings and squadron assignments will occur twenty four hours after the last ship pulls into formation."
"Understood, sir."
"Until the, enjoy the hospitality of the station; Asimov out." The screen returned to the view of the forward logistical support area.
Over the next few days, three more of the Antietam's sisters pulled into station around the command group, as did more three more destroyers, four Miranda-class frigates and three more Soyuz-class assault frigates. There were additional starships pulling into orbit around the station—a through-deck carrier, the Lobo, two through-deck cruisers, several battleships and battlecruisers; scores of cruisers of various classes, frigates, destroyers, troop transports, scouts, dreadnoughts, tugs, additional mobile drydocks, and supply ships. Space in the Gamma Hromi system was becoming rather crowded.
On the fifth day, the captains and executive officers met onboard the Tuten, in one of her conference rooms, for their initial briefing. Captain Bowman and Commander MacPherson took their assigned seats, and Admiral Asimov, not necessarily a stickler for pomp and ceremony in a potential war zone, began the briefing. "Ladies and gentlebeings, thank you for coming here. I regret to inform you that Gorkon, the Chancellor of the Klingon High Council was assassinated, and that Captain James Kirk and Commander Leonard McCoy were arrested and charged with his assassination." There were shocked looks from the assembled captains and first officers with the Admiral's statement. "Starfleet is, as of now, working on potential recovery scenarios, and this fleet may be assigned to any one of those operations. We may also be the first line of defense should the Klingon fleet sortie from Qo'nos.
"However, our primary mission is to prepare for any potential action. Over the next week, we are to run tactical simulations and drills until we can do our jobs in our sleep. The Federation has not been in an actual shooting war for over a hundred years, and fleet skirmishes are something sorely lacking. We are going to make up for that deficiency.
"Once we have completed our exercises, all ships will report to the drydocks for any repairs and refitting as needed. Ships will take on additional supplies for a possible extended duration campaign, and will refuel, regardless of how much deuterium or anti-matter you have onboard; you will have topped off tanks…"
The ship's intercom chose to interrupt at that point. "Admiral, we have a message from Starfleet Command, office of Admiral Cartwright."
"Go ahead, Lieutenant," Asimov said.
"Aye sir; message reads as follows: Operation: Retrieve is hereby canceled. Standby at Anaconda for further orders. Signed, Admiral Cartwright. Message ends, sir."
"Thank you, Lieutenant. Asimov out." The Admiral closed the channel. "Well, then, it seems our primary operation is scrubbed. However, we will continue to exercise in case force will be required.
"Ladies and gentlebeings, exercises will begin at precisely 0600 hours, tomorrow. Dismissed." The assembled captains and first officers stood, and left the briefing room to beam back to their own ships.
Information on the various other ships here, came from Jackill's STARFLEET REFERENCE MANUAL, Ships of the Fleet, Volumes 1 and 2. A very handy source for semi-canonical Starfleet vessels if you can still find it.