Netahiln and Habithi's Story: Sabotage

When Netahiln found the first of Habithi's protective creations, it was an accident. A fortuitous, perfect accident. That was how she learned, first, what he was doing. She hadn't been able to probe his thoughts when he was away from the apartment for days before, but with irritation and fury at her own inadequacy she blamed it on her own ineptness or, even worse, his increased skill coming with age. He was almost a month old, then, after all, maybe he'd learned to put a shield between them....

But then, when she tried following him one morning after he slipped out-- she'd carefully kept that day free-- she'd found it. Really, unfortunately, she'd lost track of him-- but fortunately, she found, instead, his construct. She knew it was his; it reeked of him and his power, and he still seemed to have a love for spidery legs. She'd torn it limb from limb just because it was his, because he'd made it. It had been exquisite, and bloody, and so very, very cathartic. For several blissful moments afterwards, she hadn't felt angry. She'd felt... relaxed. Accomplished. Pleased.

It was to her delight, as she was cleaning the blood from her claws and fur a few moments later, that she discovered she could sense her traitor-bond again. It didn't take a genius to realize that, in killing his creature, she'd also removed his protection: it was not her own weakness, or his strength, that had hidden him from her. It was a guardian, that he'd created himself for the express purpose of shielding his mind from her.

That was when she started taking her mental training seriously.

Nehatiln hunted around for talented psionics and psionic teachers-- there were thousands of the former and dozens of the latter on the station. She even considered asking Gavin for help, but he was still new to telepathy, and she didn't really want to have to go crawling back to him if she didn't have to. Instead, she searched advertisements for trainers, followed up on rumors of people who trained but didn't advertise, and probed at minds of random passers-by just in case.

After tramping all over the station for two solid days, she had two teachers who she could afford, who would keep her training to themselves, and who she could not read-- which, of course, meant they were better than she was, which was what mattered. One of them had given her a splitting headache after catching her trying. That one had let him pay her-- a strong telepath he might have been, but he was also addicted to a pharmacy of drugs and needed credit to purchase them. The other required services in barter. They were all services she could provide, though they were admittedly almost entirely outside the law. As if she cared, as long as no one caught her. And no one did.

All that mattered was that she was learning something that Habithi wasn't, and something that she could use against him.

When Netahiln found the second of Habithi's protective creations, it had also been an accident. Another fortuitous, perfect accident-- but this time, it had been an accident that she had unknowingly caused herself. She knew she had been blocked out of his mind again, but she wasn't good enough, yet, to break through that protection, so she'd been alternating between searching the station desperately for any sign of his constructs, and morosely swilling down bad alcohol in various bars.

As she hadn't picked a fight in weeks and hadn't had a growth spurt in a while, Netahiln was welcome in most of the station's establishments. As she hadn't bothered insulting or demeaning anyone in almost as long, she didn't have many enemies left who cared enough to do anything about her. All her attention had been focused on her two bonds-- spying on them both from a distance, for very different reasons-- and taking enough occasional jobs to keep her magic honed and keep her out of the red with rent, food, and drink. She'd even managed to work up a few connections, completely on accident, simply by paying for drinks now and then and knocking a couple heads together when it was deserved for bothering someone.

It was one of those accidents that was her lucky one, for a friendly, grateful hawk anthro told her he'd seen a couple strange creatures-- strange even for Star City-- loitering around the premises of her dingy apartment. It was because of what he'd seen, and because of his unsolicited help, that she'd managed to finally track down the second construct and destroy it, too. She knew it was his immediately: that familiar reek, that spidery build, and that time she'd recognized the source of the blockage. That had felt even better than the first time she'd thwarted him.

That was when she started taking her social connections seriously.

When she wanted to, Netahiln could be friendly, could make someone think she liked them, could, with time and effort, make someone like her. What it took was putting aside her usual anger-- which, since it was so focused between two things lately, Habithi and herself, rather than diffusely focused out at anything and everything, wasn't as hard as it used to be-- and putting on a grin, listening rather than talking, and asking a question now and then. Her gruff demeanor and uncomplicated conversation was apparently fresh and attractive to some people. It wasn't even all that difficult, though she couldn't really say she enjoyed it. While she could be social, she didn't really like very many people, as themselves. She could actually only think of one, off-hand. Still, she could, and did, pretend.

It wasn't long into her campaign to make herself well-known to people who could help her out that she realized, in her drunken bar-brawling and angry fight-picking, she'd already made herself known among some of the other people who frequented such places. More people than she would have guessed already knew her name, and thought she was interesting enough to keep up a conversation with... or ask to do something for them. Doing favors was harder than just trying to be chummy, but getting people in her debt was important, too, she knew that-- especially when it gave her blackmail material. All that work was starting to pay off, too, as she found herself introduced to a few of the more useful personages in the underground, and already saw half a dozen ways to get on their good sides.

And Habithi wouldn't know a thing until it was too late for him to get involved, ruin her reputation, or even make connections, himself... if he found out at all.

When Netahiln found the third of Habithi's protective creations, it was through her own hard work, and that made it all the sweeter when she finally sank her teeth into its spine.

She recognized the block that had been put up between them almost immediately. Every day she dipped into his thoughts at least once, usually quite a bit more, to keep track of him and what he was doing. It had already come in handy more than once, knowing what he was going to do and subtly getting in the way. That afternoon, though, all her attempt brought up was a blank wall of nothingness.

She was almost disappointed in him. Habithi might have been smart-- of course he was smart; she'd followed his thought patterns enough that she knew he was probably quite a bit smarter than she was-- but really, he didn't seem particularly creative. The blockage it felt exactly the same as before, and after two months of training her mind and exploring what she could do with thoughts, it also felt clumsy. Strong, yes, and with the basic principles intact, but it was rough and simple and showed no higher mastery at all. Working by proxy, warping a telepathic mind and trying to show it what to do when he didn't really know, himself, was obviously inefficient. He could probably do a better job of protecting his mind himself, if he bothered to find a teacher.

But of course, he wouldn't. He'd just muddle along on his own, because he could never ask another person to show him a better way of doing things.

Maybe his hubris was his real failing, Netahiln mused as she set out, first, to ask around for oddities, disappearances, and the company being kept by a certain green-fire-glowing dragon. He didn't look for help from others that he couldn't command out of them, and certainly not that could better himself. Habithi was the son of a minor deity and a primal force of corruption, he was a Balechild, a Balespawn, and no one could resist his powers. That meant, in his own mind, that he never humbled himself to answer to anyone else-- not to learn, not to work, certainly not to help. He was, in a word, arrogant... and, thus, blind to opportunities Netahiln had no qualms taking advantage of.

Netahiln knew she could be an arrogant beast-- she had considered herself the top of the dragon-pack at the old apartment, after all, and had certainly considered herself better than everyone she came across, though even she had never been above a little work-- but she also knew that she wasn't being so arrogant lately. There didn't seem time, between spying on her bonds, doing enough odd jobs to pay the rent, practicing with her telepathy, and broadening her network of useful people-- which also required earning credit. She was very busy, these days. And even when she wasn't busy, whenever she found herself on the deck and level where the old apartment was, or caught sight of a familiar, achingly missed, but long-avoided face, and remembered that it was her own fault she'd been banished... it didn't really seem important, how much better she was than someone else.

All that was important, now, was Habithi and making sure he was as unhappy with his choice of bonds as she was.

Netahiln got a couple leads from her contacts, and from them, stalked the latest construct with her mind and her nose. When she found it, she watched it from the shadows, invisible, unscentable, and unsensable-- her stealth magic was being stretched and improved constantly, now that she actually had a use for it-- for several long minutes. Habithi had branched out a little: the thing no longer looked like a spider, really. It was more fleshy, and its pink-gray brain was visible beneath a sheath of clear glass-- enlarged, but misshapen. Habithi was still learning how his corruption skills worked, apparently... he wasn't particularly good at altering brain chemistry or make-up yet, to get the affects he wanted. Netahiln wondered just how much intelligence had been lost trying to dampen will and enhance psi; it seemed like a lot.

Within its warped shell, the creature followed Habithi loyally, thoughtlessly, protecting his mind from outside probings, readings, and influences with raw, unrefined psionic power. A few more months, a few more tricks, and Netahiln thought she could even slip past that "protection", because, technically, she was not "outside": she was bound to Habithi, to that very mind it was guarding. All she'd have to do was convince the guardian that her mind was a part of Habithi's, and not only would she be able to come and go in his thoughts without him knowing, she could have the admittedly dubious protection of that guardian, as well.

Should she wait that long? It would take a few more months to learn that kind of mental disguise, that kind of subtle insinuating of herself into something else... if not longer. Could she risk being locked out of her bond's mind for that long-- risk missing something important in his thoughts, something that she could sabotage? She'd already, without his knowledge, kept him away from potentially dangerous allies-- whether through words, threats, violence, and once even a very subtle mental suggestion that had worked far better than she'd hoped. If she didn't know who he was focusing on next, she couldn't get in his way. If she didn't know what he planned, he might get more of a foothold with someone or something than she could shake loose.

No. No, she couldn't wait. All she could do was hope that he continued wasting creations on her and not look beyond that for why she kept killing them off... and maybe she would be ready to actually use the next one, by the time he made one.

Besides, there was always the urge in her to destroy anything and everything that was important to Habithi, since that was what he'd done to her. This time, like the others, she didn't have enough reason to resist. She dropped her magic and leapt to the attack.

As she left her destruction behind her, Netahiln had to at least, in her own mind and with great bitterness, thank Habithi for one thing. Though she might never be as uncaring as he was, though she might never be as powerful or as feared, he had, all unwittingly, started her on the path to being exactly what he'd wanted. Exactly what she'd wanted, when she looked at him and envied him because he was all she'd ever wanted to be. What she'd thought she'd wanted to be.

Strong, crafty, full of hate, and utterly alone.