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Politics of the Law

Posted on Thu May 7th, 2020 @ 4:13pm by Director Charles Robinson III

Episode: Dark Days Lay Ahead
Location: La Push, Washington & Paris, France
Timeline: Day 1 at 0645



[La Push, Washington - Robinson Household - 0645 am]


Charles stood, dressed only in his lounge pants, looking through the large whole wall window out over the flower beds, the lawn, and on to the sea itself just past the white picket fence he'd built last fall. He had a cup of coffee in his hand, the steam drifting lazily up, as the scent of the rich dark liquid filled the air. He felt the cool air brush against his bare torso as the air recyclers kicked on, and then heard Lidia walking up behind him.

"Good morning," she said, her voice still drowsy, as her arms wrapped around him and clasped across his muscular belly, her head coming to rest against his broad back.

Reaching up with his free hand he placed it on top of hers, squeezing gently, "Good morning."

"When do you leave?" she asked, and he could feel the warm breath of her words on his skin.

"I will be transporting out in about two hours. I have a meeting at 0930 with a Romulan security officer to discuss extradition," He replied, his deep, rich voice low and resonant.

"You want breakfast first?" Lidia asked, pulling away and starting for the kitchen a few feet away.

"What did you have in mind?" he asked, turning to follow her.

"How about eggs, and bacon, maybe a couple of buttery croissants?" she asked.

"That sounds wonderful," Charles said, coming up behind her and folding her in his arms, kissing her tenderly on the cheek. "Have it ready when I get out of the shower?" he asked.

She nodded, and he could see her smile out of the corner of his eye. She was still just as beautiful as she had been the day they'd married almost forty years ago. He doubted that would ever change for him.



[Federation Marshall's Service Building - 0900]


"Morning, Sir!" came the ever-cheerful voice of Charles' administrative assistant, Brad Talbot, his strong British accent still not having faded despite the fact that he'd gone from that part of the world for nearly two decades.

"Brad. Having a good morning so far?" Charles asked with a brief nod.

"Er, no, not really, sir..." Brad replied, and something in the way he said it made Charles turn around and look at him.

"How long?" He asked, a sudden sinking feeling in his gut.

"He arrived at just half-past eight," Brad admitted. "He's waiting in your office, and I'm fairly certain he's annoyed..."

Heaving a deep sigh Charles nodded, "Thank you, Brad, that will be all."

Entering his office, his suit buttoned smartly, and a warm smile on his face, Charles approached the desk, hand extended, "I am so sorry to keep you waiting, the scheduling must have gotten mixed up, I'm Charles Robinson, Director of the Federation Marshall's Service," he said.

The Romulan on the other side of the desk looked at his hand disdainfully and failed to move. "I expected this would be a simple matter, I didn't realize you were not even going to be in the office until almost time for our meeting. We run things quite differently than you do here, apparently," he said, sneering. It wasn't lost on Charles that the man hadn't even bothered to introduce himself.

"Yes, well, let's get to business then, shall we?" Charles asked, hoping to deflect the man before he could get any further into his tirade.

"Yes, let's," the Romulan said from the other side of the desk as Charles sank into his seat.

Charles pulled up the case information on his terminal. "So, it looks like the Romulan government is requesting full extradition of a Reman ex-pat, but it doesn't say why. They are also requesting that your agents be given full jurisdiction to track him down, inside the Federation, including privileges normally reserved for Federation law enforcement personnel. Is that correct?"

"Yes, it is correct," the Romulan on the other side of the desk replied.

Charles nodded, and then turned his body to fully face his guest, his arms resting on the tabletop as he leaned forward, clasping his hands before him. "I am sorry, but that's just not possible. We cannot grant such privileges to agents outside of our direct supervision. The risk of abuse is simply too great. If it were a joint operation that might be different, but what you are asking for would be too great a chance, the Federation Council would never approve it, and I, frankly, wouldn't even request it," he said.

The Romulan on the other side of the desk never even changed his facial expression, "Do you have a solution you would be willing to give, Director?"

"Yes, in fact, I do. Let us catch him. Give us all the relevant information and let our agents apprehend him. It's that simple. But we will not do that unless we know what he's guilty of," Charles replied.

The Romulan smiled, "Don't be a fool. He is wanted on charges by the Romulan government for crimes against the Romulan people. That is as much as you need to know. Our treaties with the Federation make that quite clear."

"The treaties do, yes, And the council will back you up on that, I admit. But I will not hunt down a member of a race I know for a fact is still demonized in your society, especially after the failed rebellion under Shinzon. If you want my help you will give full transparency, or you can go to the council yourself, over my objections. You might get what you want, you might not. But I can guarantee you if he's truly guilty, and he knows you've come to us, he's going to be trying to get as far from the Federation as he can get, as quickly as he can get there. You waste too much time and you won't need my help to find him, you'll need a miracle," Charles said, his voice carrying a certain ring of authority, and finality.

The Romulan stood, his fists clenched, his face a mask of barely concealed fury. "I will discuss this with my government. Expect an answer within the hour," he said, and then stalked out of the office.

When Brad entered the room, his face puzzled, and a little fearful, Charles laughed, involuntarily. "You know, I think if he could have, he'd have hit me..." He mused and then shook his head, still chuckling as Brad looked on in horror at the thought.

 

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