Bork shrugged again.
"An egg has got to hatch," he said. "That's all there is to it. We
prophesied this, oh, two hundred years ago. The Satheri laughed. Now
they've stopped laughing, but they want to stop it. What happens to a
chick when it is stopped from hatching? Does it go on being a chick, or
does it die? It dies, of course. And we don't want to die. No, Dave
Hanson, we don't know what happens next--but we do know that we must go
through with it. I have nothing against you personally--but I can't let
you stop us. That's why we tried to kill you. If I could, I'd kill you
now, with the snetha-knife so they couldn't revive you."
Dave said reasonably, "You can't expect me to like it, you know. The
Satheri, at least, saved my life--" He stopped in confusion. Bork was
staring at him in hilarious incredulousness that broke into roars of
laughter.
"You mean ... Dave Hanson, do you believe everything they tell you?
Don't you know that the Satheri arranged to kill you first? They needed
a favorable death conjunction to bring you back to life; they got it--by
arranging an accident!"
Nema cried out in protest. "That's a lie!"
"Of course," Bork said mildly. "You always were on their side, little
sister. You were also usually a darned nuisance, fond as I was of you.
Come here."
He caught her and yanked a single hair out of her head. She screamed and
tried to claw him, then fought for the hair.
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