"But slapping him around like that isn't going to do any of us any good, and we need all the thinking we can get if we intend to pull ourselves out of this mess.
"So leave him alone, Videnski. Hear?"
My whispery voice didn't sound very authoritative, but a crisp, firm, commanding baritone does not authority make, any more than iron bars a cage.
"Yeah," he said apologetically. "I'm sorry, Oak. I sort of lost my head. It won't happen again."
I knelt down and took a look at Brentwood. He wasn't actually damaged much, but his face was going to be swollen and bruised. Somehow, I couldn't feel very sorry for him.
I got him to his feet. "Come on, Brentwood; let's go lie down for a while. You'll feel better."
"Yeah," he mumbled through thickening lips. "Thanks."
I got him into his bunk, closed the door on him, and came back to the lounge.
"Anybody dream up any solutions in his sleep?" I asked.
It was apparent that they hadn't. "Maybe Vivian has," Felder said. "She's still asleep."