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

<passage>:
shelves to fill with space-slain warriors—and he would be among the living again. [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from . the laboratory where the shelves went up and down, numbered in scarlet, gown, staring at his fingers gloved in bone-white rubber feeling all Opening the star-port. Extending the retriever claw. Plucking some poor warrior's body out of the void. He didn't like it any more. Ten years is too long to go back and full-cargoed with a lot of warriors who didn't laugh or talk or smoke, who just lay on their shelves, all one hundred of them, waiting for a decent burial. "Number ninety-eight." Coming matter of fact and slow, Rice's voice another in galactic fury, to sidle up behind gutted wrecks of ships, salvaging any bodies still intact after the conflict. Two men. Rice and himself. Sharing a cozy morgue ship with a hundred other men who had forgotten, quite suddenly, however, to talk again. Ten years of it. Every hour of those ten years eating like maggots husk of his starved eyes and starved limbs. Starved for life. Starved for action. thousand bodies preceding it. Nothing unusual about a body with blood cooling in it. you don't hear anything in space but your own heart kicking your ribs. You see bodies, each in its own terrific orbit, given impetus by grinding collisions, tossed from mother ships and dancing head over feet forever and forever with no goal. Bits of flesh in ruptured space suits, mouths open for air that had never been there in a hundred billion centuries. And they kept dancing without music until you extended the retriever-claw and culled them into the air-lock. That was all the war-glory he got. Nothing but the stunned, shivering and who the next ones would be. delicately made as a fine white spider. Eyelids, closed, were faintly cluster of needle-tipped teeth glittered. The fragile body was enclosed completely in milk-pale syntha-silk, a holstered gun at the middle. "It's Lethla!" Rice retorted. Burnett said, "Lethla?" And then: "Oh, yes! Kriere's majordomo. That space, then Kriere's not far away from him!" Sam opened his thin lips and the words fell out all by themselves. "Look, Rice, you're new at this game. I've been at it ever since the Venus-Earth mess started. It's been see-sawing back and forth since the "As for Kriere—if he's anywhere around, he's smart. Every precaution is taken to protect that one." "But Lethla! His body must mean something!" "And if it does? Have we got guns aboard this morgue-ship? Are we a swept out past Earth in a new war concerning Io. That's out, Rice." Rice stood about three inches below Sam Burnett's six-foot-one. Jaw hard and determined, he stared at Sam, a funny light in his eyes. His Lethla. He's number ninety-eight. Shove me into shelf ninety-nine knew why. Involuntarily, Burnett moved forward. Lethla moved like a But what if the war catches up with you? What in hell would Lethla be wanting aboard a morgue ship? Lethla half-crouched in the midst of the smell of death and the inserted, hidden in the uniform, ending in thin globules of oxygen. He spoke. Triumph warmed his crystal-thin voice. "That's how I did it, Earthman." Lethla nodded. His milk-blue eyes dilated. "Very marvelously pared to an unbreakable thickness of one-thirtieth of an inch worn only on the Lethla showed his needle-like teeth. "I thought it might be. Where's "I will." One hand, blue-veined, on the ladder-rungs, Lethla paused. metal and glass and coils. The radio. Lethla came down. Like a breath of air on the rungs. He smiled. "That's better. Now. We can talk—" Rice said it, slow: "Interplanetary law declares it straight, Lethla! Get out! Only dead men belong here." Lethla's gun grip tightened. "More talk of that nature, and only dead Lethla's voice came next: "Rather unfortunately, yes. He's still alive, heading toward Venus at an orbital velocity of two thousand m.p.h., wearing one of these unexpectedly yesterday near Mars. We were forced to take to the life-boats, scattering, Kriere and I in one, the others sacrificing chrysali-helmets. It was the first time we had ever tried using them to trick anyone. We knew you wouldn't know we were alive until it was too late and we controlled your ship. We knew you picked up all bodies for brief exams, returning alien corpses to space later." Rice's voice was sullen. "A set-up for you, huh? Traveling under the Lethla bowed slightly. "Who would suspect a Morgue Rocket of providing "No tricks," said Lethla. Burnett scowled and smiled together. "No tricks. You'll have Kriere on Lethla danced up, turned, waved his gun. "Come on." On the way up, Burnett thought about it. About Lethla poised like knew whose body would come in through the star-port next. Number ninety-eight was Lethla. Number ninety-nine would be Kriere. what more proper than that Kriere and Lethla should fill them? But, he one hundred. And you never knew who it would be. He came out of the quick thoughts when he looped his long leg over the hole-rim, stepped up, faced Lethla in a cramped control room that slow pace. alive if they cooperated. But there were a lot of warriors sleeping on a lot of numbered shelves wet thin lips. Lethla exhaled softly. "Cooperation. I like it. You're wise, Earthman." being ripped, slaughtered, flung to the vacuum tides. Ten years of "There's your Ruler now, Lethla. Doing somersaults. Looks dead. A good Lethla with an intent scowl. Funny. This was the first and the last Kriere, the All-Mighty. At whose behest all space had quivered like eliminated. Now: Rice and Burnett against Lethla. Lethla favored Kriere would make odds impossible. Lethla had to be yanked off guard. Shocked, bewildered, where Lethla would send a bullet crashing into rib, sinew, the center of that silence. "Take controls, Rice. I'll manipulate the star-port." why— Kriere loomed bigger, a white spider delicately dancing on a web of . Kriere smiled. His hands came up. He knew he was about but for the first time it was a good sound. And out of the star-port, at Sam Burnett's easily fingered directions, slid the long claw-like mechanism that picked up bodies The claw glided toward Kriere without a sound, now, dream-like in its The metal claw cuddled Kriere in its shiny palm. Lethla watched. That was the only way to draw Lethla off guard. Fists made blunt flesh noises. Lethla went down, weaponless and them out: "Rice?" "Yeah, Sam?" Lethla—number ninety-nine is Kriere. Three thousand days of rolling Ninety-eight: Lethla. Ninety-nine: Kriere. And then he said softly: " One hundred. "

<question>:
Why are Lethla and Kriere compared to spiders?

<options>:
A To show how insignificant they are to Burnett
B To show that Burnett’s hatred of them is so intense that he dehumanizes them
C Because they have created a trap to ensnare Burnett and Rice
D Because they are an alien species with many limbs

<answer>:

C