Riker shook his head in
amazement.
“Vale, any options occur to you?”
The security chief thought for a moment, eyes straining at her station. “Without additional firepower, we’re right now sitting in the potential crossfire. Too many ships, spread out in a classic pattern, and everyone’s hot to shoot first. We’re out of luck, sir.”
Riker nodded in agreement and continued to pace the bridge. Walking eased some of the strain, but not enough of it. The standoff was growing tenser and the addition of more Deltan vessels spoiled any hope of a diplomatic solution. Starfleet had not responded to his last communiqué and the Diplomatic Corps was equally nonresponsive. He did not have the authority to contact the Deltan homeworld directly and he wasn’t even sure if he should bother. Oliv was determined to gain possession of this dead rock, for whatever good it would do the Deltan people.
He wasn’t sure what to do next: make popcorn to watch the inevitable fight or pray for Q to turn up.