The verdict was, of course, death. They executed Harrel Critten on the morning of the 270th day with blasts from six stunners supplied with full power. It was witnessed by a great crowd in the assembly hall. A detail from the ship's crew disposed of his body through a chute. It was all duly recorded in Keith Ellason's notebooks. Dying is easy for a Nilly. Especially if it's arranged for beforehand, which it always is. The Weblor II was only one day out of orbit when Captain Branson sent for Ellason and introduced him to the executed man. "Hello," Critten said, grinning from ear to ear. "I figured as much," Ellason said. "I've been doing a lot of thinking." "You're perhaps a little too good as an observer," Branson said. "Or maybe it was because you really weren't one of the colonists. But no matter, Critten did a good job. He was trained by an old friend of mine for this job, Gelthorpe Nill. Nill used to be in counter-espionage when there were wars." "You were excellent," Ellason said. "Can't say I enjoyed the role," said Critten, "but I think it saved lives." "Let me get this straight. Interstellar thought that it was idleness and boredom that caused the killings on the Weblor I, so they had you trained to be a scapegoat. Is that right?" Critten nodded. "When great numbers are being transported, they are apt to magnify each little event because so little happens. It was my job to see that they directed none of their venom against each other or the crew, only toward me." Branson smiled. "It made the time pass quickly and interestingly for the passengers." "To say nothing of me," Critten said. "And you, Mr. Ellason, were along to observe it all," Captain Branson put in. "Interstellar wanted an accurate picture of this. If it worked, they told me they'd use it on other trips to Antheon." Ellason nodded. "No time for brooding, for differences of opinion on small matters. Just time to hate Mr. Critten. Unanimously." "Probably," Critten said, "you are wondering about the execution."
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