Boris TibanDragging one leg, Boris Tiban staggered away from the humans’ base, toward the wall of crumbling cliffs they called the Spine. Like black teeth, the weathered rocks rose sheer and tall, a pile of sharp boulders like a festering geological scab.
In there Boris could find many places to hide, and heal.
His adin body, which had once seemed powerful enough to withstand any threat Mars or the human race could throw against him, now chanted an endless litany of pain. He tasted blood and metallic dust in his mouth.
His head pounded from the pressure of the lowlands and the thick air. His testicles and abdomen throbbed from where the dva madman had wounded him. Dr. Dycek herself had smashed him in the face with her bare hand, burned his forearm with the surgical laser. She was insane
