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

<passage>:
The man worth while couldn't be allowed to smile ... if he ever laughed at himself, the entire ship and crew were as good as dead! If there is anything I am afraid of, and there probably is, it is Charlie Baxter was like all of the other Prones, only worse. Moran III was sort of an unofficial test for him and he wanted to make good. We had blasted down in the black of night and were waiting for daylight to Baxter's guard was doubled as soon as we set down, of course, and lose—but we did not want him to stop worrying. The precautions we took to safeguard him, the armed men who went with him everywhere, the choice in any given situation. Then, because they are incapable of trusting themselves, they do exactly the opposite. I felt a little sorry for Charlie Baxter, but I was Captain of the Hilliard and my job was to keep him worried and trying. The worst thing that can happen is for a Prone to give up and let himself sink into the fate of being a Prone. He will wear the rut right down into a themselves, but by then, if they are real professionals with a career in the Service, they have framed the right attitude and they keep it. Baxter was a novice and very much of an amateur at the game. He didn't like the scoring system, but he was attached to the equipment and didn't want to lose it. His clumsiness back on Earth had cost him every decent job he ever had. He had come all the way down the line until he was rated eligible only cold, wet, poor—and now he had luxury of a kind almost no one had in our era. He was drunk with it, passionately in love with it. It would cease to be quite so important after a few years of regular food, clean clothes and a solid roof to keep out the rain. But right now I knew he would come precariously close to killing to keep it. Or to being killed. He was ready to work. "Where is Baxter?" I asked the hulking guard. My eyes were on the sofa. "No sir," Bronoski said wearily. "He told us it was out of order." were missing. Baxter had left the spaceship and gone off into an alien night. Elliot and Sidney, the guards, were absolutely prohibited from interfering in any way with a Prone's decisions. They merely had to follow him and give their lives to save his, if necessary. were Baxter, Elliot and Sidney in the middle of a curious mob of aliens. Charlie Baxter had got pretty thin on his starvation diet back on Earth. He had grown a slight pot belly on the good food he drew down as Prone, but he was a fairly nice-looking young fellow. He looked even looked unhappy—belligerently unhappy. I began to shake and at the same time to assure myself that I didn't have anything to worry about, that the precious Accident Prone would come out of it alive. After all, Elliot and Sidney were there to times he could never stay on his feet. Before he could perform his usual pratfall, Sidney and Elliot were at his sides, supporting him by his thin biceps. He glared at them and shrugged them off, informing them wordlessly that he would have regained his balance if they had given him half a chance. The other aliens didn't try to get to Baxter, but when they saw Elliot start to interfere with the two writhing opponents, they clawed him down into the grass. Sidney had been set to defend the Prone, not his off Elliot and let him get to work, except his training told him that the life of a guard did not matter a twit, but that a Prone must be defended. He started toward Charlie Baxter and was immediately pulled unholy, indecent and dastardly to interfere. I could fairly hear Bronoski's steel muscles preparing for battle as was my turn to grind his face in the muck. I had a nice little problem to contend with. I knew the reason Baxter had slipped out at night to be the first to greet the aliens. He was determined to be useful and necessary without fouling things up. I suppose Charlie had never felt valuable to anyone before in his life, but at the same time it hurt him to think that he was valuable only because he was a misfit. He had decided to take a positive approach. If he did things right, that would be as good proof of conditions as if he made the mistakes he was supposed to do. But he couldn't lick that doubt of himself that had been ground into him since birth and there he was, in trouble as always. Now maybe Bronoski and I could get him out ourselves by a direct approach, but Charlie would probably lose all self-confidence and sink down into accepting himself as an Accident Prone, a purely passive state. We couldn't have that. We had to have Charlie acting and thinking and therefore making mistakes whose bad examples we could profit by. I heard something that resembled a death rattle come from Charlie's throat as the fingers of the alien closed down on it and my hand I could have gone with them. There was undoubtedly an unhealthy amount of radiation hanging around. "Now!" I told Bronoski. Baxter, his two guards and the native spokesman. had a stranglehold on each other, with Charlie getting the worst of it. Bronoski pried the two of them apart. He was abruptly choking and blinking watery eyes. "You did it, Charlie," I lied. "You beat him fair and square." Charlie was in bed for the next few days while his grafted toes grew on, but he didn't seem to mind. We knew enough not to use the blood-brothers approach after fifty years and therefore it did not take us long to find out why we shouldn't. particularly cunning, the runts of the litter did not survive the first year and rarely more than one sibling ever saw adulthood. Charlie Baxter's original mistake had supplied us with the Rosetta Stone we needed. while you lay there, haven't you, Baxter?" "Yes, sir. I see I've been fighting this thing too hard. I am an Accident Prone and I might as well accept it. Why not? I seem to always muddle through some way, like out there in the jungle, so why should I worry or feel embarrassed ? I know I can't change it." I was beginning to do some worrying of my own. Things weren't working out the way they should. We were supposed to see that Prones kept developing a certain amount of doomed self-confidence, but they value lies in his active and constructive effort to do the right thing. If he merely accepts being a Prone, his accidents gain us nothing. We can't profit from mistakes that come about from resignation or laughing off blunders or, as in this case, conviction that he never got himself into anything he couldn't get himself out of. Because if you're not our Accident Prone, you're just another crew member, you know." That one hurt him, but I saw I had put it to him as a challenge and he must have had some guilt feelings about accepting all that luxury for being nothing more than he was. "I could fulfill the duties of an Baxter looked back at me steadily. "There are a lot of rumors about the He was right. We had started the rumors. We wanted the Prones alert, active and scheming to stay alive. More beneficial accidents that way. "Look here, Baxter, do you like your quarters on this ship?" I demanded. "But there I would have some chance of advancement . I don't want to Baxter's jaw thrust forward. "It must be pretty bad—but it isn't as I barely halted a groan. He thought I resented him and was deliberately holding him down into the miserable overpaid, overfed job that was beneath him and the talents that so fitted him for the job. "Request granted." He would learn. He had better. I started to sweat in a gush. He had

<question>:
Why did the captain lie to Baxter about how the fight ended?

<options>:
A He didn't want him to know he was so tough
B He didn't want him to know the danger in which he had been
C He had lost some body parts and was in shock
D He didn't want him to be depressed and give up

<answer>:

D