"Don't Judge A Book..."

Posted on Thu Jan 30th, 2020 @ 7:16am by Lieutenant Tate Sullivan Ph.D.
Edited on on Thu Jan 30th, 2020 @ 8:12am

Mission: MISSION 0 - History Speaks
Location: USS Challenger, Starfleet Criminal Investigative Service Flagship
Timeline: November, 2386
1434 words - 2.9 OF Standard Post Measure

*What the hell did I just do?* The thought rattled around the psychologist's mind like the quiet buzz of cicadas in summer, overwhelming at first, but relegated to the background the longer it remained. It was a psychological certainty the thought would eventually stop eliciting the same level of anxiety it did now, but the flip flopping of her stomach and the sweat at the nape of her neck were a testament to just how intense her feelings were.

As if to reinforce the validity of the question, she only had to look across the room and take note of the not so quiet "discussion" taking place in the boss' office between the boss and one of the psychologist's senior and more experienced male investigators. Though she couldn't quite make out the words between the two, she didn't need to. She was certain her esteemed colleague was pointing out all of the reasons she should not be allowed to interrogate the would- be terrorist: her lack of experience with interrogations, her almost pathological inability to be aggressive, and her tendency to approach others with sympathy and concern rather than threats and intimidation.

She couldn't deny any of it, and she'd be lying if, despite intense training and the approval of those who knew the job best, she said she believed she was perfectly suited for investigative and intelligence work. Dr. Tate Sullivan was an inexperienced interrogator, and she wasn't ashamed of that fact. The clinical and forensic psychologist had eagerly learned how to interrogate as she had eagerly learned how to do most things, but that didn't mean she was accustomed to, or even interested in doing it. Tate didn't interrogate, she interviewed. One method was designed to pull information from unwilling participants using manipulation and deception, and the other method was designed to elicit information from reluctant or hostile participants using facts and collaboration.

Dr. Tate Sullivan was not the sort to be aggressive, in either words or actions. She was not the sort to go nose to nose with someone in a show of dominance, even when doing so would resolve conflict more efficiently. Despite growing up knowing violence, it was also true she was not the best at physically defending herself with a phaser or in hand to hand combat. The threat of a physical confrontation was enough to churn her stomach, and though she was certain she could do whatever it took to defend herself if her life were truly in danger, this mental assurance was always followed up with a silent prayer that she would never have to prove it. Tate wasn't aggressive. Her words and her actions were rarely meant to cause harm. Tate was assertive. She was honest. Her words and actions were designed to make her needs known and to get her needs met. People often confused her tendency to clearly state what she wanted and expected from others as stupidity, as psychobabble. They were wrong.

She was the sort to approach others with sympathy and concern rather than threats and intimidation. Most people believed the reason for this was obvious, and while it was true the generally non-confrontational Tate could not pull off a bad cop approach given her abhorrence for aggression, Tate's reasons were far less personal. Her approach was never about compensating for what she couldn't do or what she didn't know, but rather what she could do and what she did know. It was true her work with victims had made her more equipped to get inside the minds of the victimized rather than the offenders, but it was equally true those who offend are often victimized first, if only in their own minds.

***

By the time she entered the room and faced the would-be terrorist, the interrogation had been going on for almost twelve hours straight. The only comfort for the men watching what was about to happen on the other side of the glass was their suspect had shut down completely and there was seemingly nothing to lose if the shrink (and in an equally derogatory sense in this case, the female), took a shot. These were the things Tate believed the men were telling themselves even as they offered insincere assurances of her competence and abilities and patted her on the back in a disingenuous show of collegial solidarity.

Sullivan pretended to appreciate the gesture, but ignored them for the most part. They weren't any more confident in this attempt to get the would- be terrorist to spill the plans of those higher up the chain than they were twelve hours ago. Twelve hours ago...a time when the method of attack had been to confront their suspect with the irrationality of the terrorist ideology, and to cajole compliance with offers of immunity and a new start. It was four hours ago when the defeatist attitude started to spread like a plague...when her colleagues became convinced it was impossible to elicit cooperation and information from those willing to be martyrs for a cause. Tate didn't disagree, but she didn't give up.

Resisting the urge to thumb the device in her pocket, the information it contained the result of listening to countless hours of seemingly useless chatter from their suspect's organization, gained through listening devices, Sullivan instead took the opportunity to appraise her subject. The dark clothed individual looked unremarkable at first glance, and as the head rose from the desk to meet Sullivan's eyes with a glare, the long light blonde curly strand of hair escaped its hoodie. Bright green eyes met Tate's blue ones, and as the two women looked each other up and down unashamedly, Tate noted for the third time the tiny tiger tattoo on their suspect's pale wrist.

Before the dark haired pale skinned psychologist could introduce herself, the young woman on the other side of the table laughed heartily. "I see. The men can't get me to roll, so they think sending *you* in will get me to talk?"

Tate's eyes widened in surprise before she could stop herself, and though she quickly schooled her features to something approaching neutrality at best and apathy at worst, Sullivan knew she'd been found out, all advantages lost. No doubt her male colleagues believed appealing to their suspect's feminine side would seem too obvious or even abusive coming from them, but coming from Tate, one of her own kind, it was almost meant to be.

Letting the heat wash over her features, Tate finally pulled the device from her pocket with its attached ear buds. "I'm not interested in what you have to say. I just want you to listen," Sullivan offered, nodding to the recorder. "Tigre had a lot to say."

All pretense of being disinterested faded from the blonde woman when she heard mention of her boss', also her lover's, moniker, and the suspect instinctively rubbed the tiger tattoo on her wrist. She took the recorder from Tate's hand and placed the ear bud in her ear. Sullivan directed her to press play.

Silently, Tate counted down in her head, reminding herself she wasn't being aggressive and hurtful, but assertive and honest.

3…
2…
1…

Tate watched as the color drained from the other woman's face as she knew it would. That's what happened when one heard one's partner making the same promises he had made to her to another woman.

***

After the shock had passed the other woman, a girl really, answered anything Tate asked. It was clear now to her and to others watching outside that any effort to appear surprised or bested had been feigned.

Amongst her colleagues, she heard them say she'd merely capitalized on the feelings of a woman scorned, a sentiment Tate sensed was meant to detract from her success. It didn't really count as true success if a woman merely capitalized on feelings that another woman could clearly understand, did it?

She explained with a shrug, "Maslow's theory of motivation states people are first motivated to meet their physiological needs, then their needs for safety, love and belonging, esteem, and finally, their full potential. A person can't reach full potential unless the previous needs are met. All I did was tell her the truth. That sense of unique love and belonging she believed she had was a lie. Once she realized that, no amount of esteem for herself or the cause mattered."

***

Sometimes appealing to one's natural need to be the victim was more effective than appealing to one's artificial desire to be the hero. Sometimes what lay on the surface could be useful in ways not at first apparent.