Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.

<passage>:
reaction to the close call might not come till hours later. "This kind of weapons of history that wasn't used in the last war. That doesn't mean it won't be used in the next! "Got a bogey at three o'clock high. Johnson calculated to bring them in on the station on the "going away" the throttle mike button. "Any IFF?" "No IFF." "O.K., let me know as soon as you have his course." Coulter squashed out his cigar and began his cockpit interphone crackled with the gregariousness born of recent peril, and gradually the ship fell silent as each rocket—about 2 G's for sixty seconds—even if they had them. What a way to go home! He wondered what he'd do if it happened to him. Would he wait out his time, or just unlock his helmet. Guns' drawl broke into his reverie. He flipped his helmet closed, locked it, and opened it again. He tossed of the cockpit. "Wish us luck, sugar." He pressed the mike button again. "You got anything yet, Johnny?" Coulter scanned the full arch of Sylvia always came back first. Inviting that clinging, clinging white silk skirt. A whirling montage of laughing, challenging eyes and tossing sky-black even if they didn't spot it and take off. What you'd need would be a listened to the radio beside him. He wished—. He wished. "I've got him, Paul. He's got two point seven miles of RV on us. Take thirty degrees high on two point one o'clock for course to IP." Automatically he turned the control wheel to the right and eased it tail." "Right, Johnny. One sixty-five, then two minutes." He set the timer, advanced the throttle to 4 G's, and took him snugly into the cradle. The Return-To-Station-Fuel and Relative-Velocity-To-Station gauges did tremendous acceleration. Interrogation was brief. The mission had turned up nothing new. Their kill made eight against seven for Doc Miller's crew, and they made sure Miller and the boys heard about it. They were lightheaded with the elation that followed a successful they were coasting, sneaked triumphantly back up the dial. Mrs. RVS started to get jittery at in the anxiety-laden boredom that fighting men have always known. Wish the Red was coming in across devoted to his work. Coulter wasn't Paul remembered the time he had walked into the Muroc Base Officer's safety equipment, the Reds could accelerate longer and faster, and go farther out. You had to get the jump its third cycle, and he stood loose in the cradle as the power died. Sixty-two combat missions but the government says there's no war. writhed out of the small hatch and stepped to the ground. They drew a helijet at operations, and headed immediately buzzed like hornets, with accusations and threats, but nothing could be while they were on leave. He was quiet on the flight, as he had been on the way down, listening contentedly, pilot going on leave. They parked the helijet at Municipal Field and headed for the public the next time power changed hands, but he'd been hearing that one Paul all to herself, she calmed down. They made their arrangements quickly, and switched off. He hesitated a minute before he called her. She nearly cut him off when she Had a couple of close calls, those last two missions. That Red had looked easy, the way he was wandering around. He hadn't spotted them and agreed to come. He switched off, same. If he hadn't tried that harebrained sudden deceleration.... Coulter shook his head at the memory. And on the last mission they'd worship in his eyes. He hesitated a moment, then asked gravely: "Would you tell us how you kill a Red, sir?" Paul eyed the time-honored weapon that dangled from the youngster's the operation in silence, remarking to himself how lucky he was "I think next we're going to try a slingshot," he said. Coulter chuckled at the ad lib way THE END blindfolded. When they tangled with a Red, the Solter co-ordinates went out the hatch. They navigated by the enemy. There were times And using "right side up" as a basis for navigation. He chuckled fouling up the ships so they had to call the pilot's head "up." There was something comforting about it. something nagging at his mind all the time, as though the ships had been sabotaged. A couple of pilots had gone nuts in the "spindizzy," and remembering his own feelings as that was good enough for Coulter. "You've got him, Paul. We're dead on his tail, five hundred miles back, and matching velocity. Turn forty-two degrees right, and you're Coulter watched the pip move into locked his helmet. "Nice job, Johnny. Let's button up. You with us, Guns?" Garrity sounded lazy as a well-fed tiger. "Ah'm with yew, cap'n." Coulter advanced the throttle to 5 G's. And with the hiss of power, of deathly silence and deathly calm, feeling and hearing nothing but the slow pounding of their own heartbeats. Each time he got back, it praying they weren't spotted—staring at the unmoving firmament and knowing he was a projectile hurtling twenty to one against their scoring a kill ... unless they ran into him. At eighty-five seconds, he corrected slightly to center the pip. The momentary hiss of the rockets was a relief. He heard the muffled yammering as Guns fired a short burst from the .30's standing out of their ship. They were practically recoilless, but the burst drifted him forward against the cradle harness. And suddenly the waiting was over. The ship filled with vibration as Guns opened up. Twenty-five seconds There he is! At eighteen miles from target, a tiny blue light flickered ahead. He forgot everything but the the pip dead center. The guns hammered on. It seemed they'd been firing for centuries. At ten-mile range, the combat radar kicked the automatics in, turning the ship ninety degrees to her course in one and a half seconds. He heard the lee side They missed ramming by something enemy ship flashed across his tail in a fraction of a second, already turned around and heading up its own track, yet it seemed to Paul he could make out every detail—the bright red star, even the tortured face of the pilot. Was there something lopsided in the shape of that rocket plume, or was their passing? And did he hear a ping just at that instant, feel the ship vibrate for a second? He continued the turn in the direction the automatics had started, bringing his nose around to watch the the plume told him the other ship was still heading back toward Earth, he brought the throttle back up to his pass had given away. Guns spoke quietly to Johnson. "Let me know when we kill his RV. Ah may get another shot at him." And Johnny answered, hurt, "What do you think I'm doing down the plume was flaring unevenly, flickering red and orange along one side. Quietly and viciously, he was talking to himself. "Blow! Blow!" And she blew. Like a dirty ragged bit of fireworks, throwing tiny handfuls of sparks into the blackness. Something glowed red for a while, RVS registered about a mile per second away from station, and suddenly became aware that the red light was on for loss of air. The cabin pressure gauge read zero, and his heart throbbed into his throat as he pinging sound, just as they passed the enemy ship. He told Garrity to see if he could locate the loss, and any other damage, and was shortly startled by a low amazed whistle in his earphones. "If Ah wasn't lookin' at it, Ah wouldn't believe it. Musta been one

<question>:
What was the ping that Coulter heard?

<options>:
A The sound of the lopsided rocket plume in the Red ship
B The sound of an impact in the fuel tanks
C The sound of the cabin depressurizing
D The sound of the Red pilot killing his RV

<answer>:

B