He sat down, took out his knife, and slit the leg of his earthsuit just above the right knee, where the fangs had gone in. It didn’t look like much: two neat little punctures, the skin around them getting red and beginning to swell. He had a vague recollection that you were supposed to suck out the poison. Which might have been possible if it were lower on his leg, but only a contortionist could have got his lips onto this wound. He tried squeezing the area around the bite and got some blood to leak out of the holes but he hadn’t a clue whether that was going to help him.