Kyle lay there in astral space, his back wracked with pain from the slashing by the cockroach spirit's legs. The pain was severe, but the injuries didn't feel life-threatening. His body, back in the Truman condoplex, had manifested the physical effects of the spirit's astral attack, but Kyle had the pain all to himself. The spirit itself was gone, destroyed. He turned his head to look at the two Knight Errant troopers.