He suppressed an urge to spin around, instead turning casually to face Bob Smiley, his second-in-command. His hand slowly crept toward the butt of the stunner he carried. "As a matter of fact, Bob, I am," He replied in a casual tone. "I've had enough. I'm retiring. Consider yourself promoted to head Terror and admiral of the pirate fleet." Smiley resembled his name, though the smile was rarely genuine. John had seen the same smile on the big man's face as he tortured victims to reveal the hiding places of their valuables, and as he casually sank a knife blade into a woman's chest. Smiley was a heavyworlder, short and wide. On his squat frame, his large arms looked almost simian, reaching nearly to his knees. Since they had escaped slavery on Peltir IV together five years ago, Smiley had put on weight and added a paunch, but he was still a fast and deadly fighter, as John well knew. This time, though, the smile faded slightly as Smiley shook his head. "Now, that's real nice of ya, Captain, and I know I'll do the name proud.
