Mission 3: Diplomacy, what’s that?
Location: Candy's Office
Timeline: Mission Day 8 at 0800
After a brief consultation with the station's computer, Phelan made his way to the office set aside for one Candy Templeton. The day had already been a busy one but he had found time to go through all the various reports filed on the two appearances of the creature who called himself Santa Claus. Interesting choice. Mythical figure from western cultures of old Earth. Also known as Father Christmas. Saint Nicholas. Saint Nick. Kris Kringle. Traditions involving family and gift-giving. He personally had never received a gift; Meridyn, his mother, had taught him to give to the poor rather than expect to receive, and of course, after her suicide, he had become one of the very poor himself. So, Santa Claus meant nothing to him nor would it to many of the beings on the station. Why then, choose a figure that not everyone would know, to deliver the message. Interesting.
He pressed the chime on her door and waited.
Candy had been preparing herself to go to Luna, so the chime on the place that she had been designated as an office was a bit of a surprise. She personally went to the door, curiosity getting the better of her. The buxom blonde smiled when she noticed someone brand new. Well, this would give her something new to play with. Putting on her best dumb blonde voice and expressing a more bubbly and empty-headed gaze, she greeted him, "Oh my Lord! Look at what the heavens have graced me with! Whatever can I do for you, sir?"
Phelan raised his index finger and said, "Before you go any further with what I'm certain is quite a theatrical performance, allow me to introduce myself. Phelan Zhaan, Chief of Security for the station, and an investigator by profession and inclination." He withdrew his finger and leaned forward slightly, his blue eye twinkling behind his glasses. "And yes, you're fairly well known around here. No less than two members of my staff saw fit to warn me when I told them where I was going."
Candy chuckled. "People here do seem to know how to take the fun out of life." She stood aside and asked Phelan, "Would you like to come in? I presume that this is not a social visit, given your demeanor."
"Yes, I would and it's not," Phelan said as he entered and stepped back, "a social visit, I mean. I was speaking to the station commander and she told me that you're going to be heading out soon, to speak with the miners. She's put me in charge of investigating the threat to the station posed by the improbable figure of Santa Claus that's appeared twice now."
"How very nice for you," Candy replied snidely. "So, you know that tomorrow is the deadline, right?"
Phelan studied her for a moment before answering. "I had thought, Miss Templeton, that our interests aligned. You want your story and I want to protect the station against a stated threat ... or at least, ascertain that the threat is credible. Have I erred in that assumption?"
"You have not. That is why I was on my way to Luna."
"Alright then," Phelan said. "I'd like to go with you. I need to know what's going on first-hand ... please. It's important."
"Come...with...me?" Candy asked hesitantly. She thought for several moments before giving a short laugh saying, "Usually when someone wants to come with me, they want something else. I don't perceive you to be that kind of person." She considered it a bit more and asked, "Why should I? Don't you have a station to protect? What's on Luna for you?"
"Maybe answers," Phelan said quietly. "Maybe a solution that doesn't put every life on the station at risk." He shrugged slightly. "At least that's what I think. That there's an answer on Luna and I'd like the chance to find it. Figure it all out."
"Oh, I agree that there's a solution on Luna somewhere. The problem as I see it is that by you being Starfleet is that you would scare that answer away," Candy replied thoughtfully. "Why don't you talk to the Ferengi Ambassador, he was pretty nonchalant about Santa."
"I can go in civilian clothes," Phelan said. As there had been no offer to sit down, they stood in the center of her office, facing each other. As security, he was used to standing for long periods of time and it didn't bother him particularly. More, he noted the behavior. The lack of social niceties. The attempt to shunt him off onto a different path. "And we are looking at the Ambassador. Thing is, there's more than me working security for the station." He smiled politely. "I can delegate."
Candy's gaze became more penetrating as she tried to ascertain the nature of Phelan. "Let's say for the sake of argument that I agree to this charade, how do I explain you? I don't usually take holos on my investigations. I have a reputation of working alone, not that I would be sure that the miners would know anything about it."
"You could blame it on someone higher up, an intern foisted upon you, a bodyguard because you've had death threats ...," Phelan said with a slight shrug of one shoulder. "There's always a way."
"I don't care about death threats. I've had more than I can remember. However, an intern might work. It would also explain if you somehow get separated, trying to make a name for yourself...." Candy smiled maliciously. "I think I like that. It would work if I 'lost' you, too."
Phelan nodded, taking note of the expression, cementing in his mind the idea that he couldn't trust her, wouldn't trust her. Still, he was not without game, as the saying went, and he could do a lot on his own. Had more than once. "Then let's go," he said, his expression guarded and neutral, as it would remain with her going forward. "I have to figure out what's going on. If lives are threatened by whatever's going on. I don't have a lot of time to waste at this point."
"Yes, you've delayed me far enough. So, find something and meet me at the transporter padd."
"I'll be there in twenty," Phelan said and exited her office, saving the eye roll for when he was walking away, his ground-eating strides carrying him toward the nearest turbolift where a carry-on bag, already prepared, waited in his office along with a change of clothes. Truth was, he dismissed her from his mind long before he hit the turbolift; she was a means to end just as, he suspected, to her, he was just an annoyance to get around and get over on. Didn't matter. His focus now was on the mission and finding out if the souls now under his care were in danger. That mattered.