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

<passage>:
who passed him on the street knows one arm curled up over his head and around the hoist cable. He was in his thinking, sitting on the edge of his bunk with his jaw in his palm and his eyes on the stars? What did he What was he like? What was he called him by his first name. after all. Not well. Not as well as some of those people who're writing the books about him seem to. I couldn't really describe him to you. He had a duffelbag in his hand weapon of any kind. He was walking casually, taking his time. meet him. It was an odd thing to walking up to us. no attention to anything else. The field might as well have been empty except for those two. "They'll kill him. They'll kill him that night, without his duffelbag. He found me and said: "I'm signing off the ship. Going "Huh?" The stoker shrugged. "Ships are man with short breath and a high-pitched voice. I was a typical Earthman. We were out on a God-forsaken make with them? What do you think you're up to?" The stoker shook his head. "No I was Second. The stranger came do a crewman's work for a crewman's "Got a job?" he asked, looking at MacReidie. Mac looked him over. He saw the wages. I thought I'd wander around a head. "Not for you. The only thing we're short on is stokers." while. It ought to be interesting," he same things I'd seen. He shook his automatic ships. But the stranger "What?" He looked at me as if he couldn't understand what might be bothering me, but I think perhaps he could. on. Why not? It's honest work." MacReidie had no answer to that. You wouldn't know. There's no such thing as a stoker any more, with "Nothing," I said, and that was that, except MacReidie was always a it turned out he'd trained an apprentice boy to take his place. twelve hours at a time and standing a good chance of cooking where they It was strange how things became sat when the drive arced. Serenus was going a little deeper into Jek territory, and when she wore out, aren't you?" MacReidie nodded. "That's right. and frowned. I shrugged my shoulders helplessly. I was a little afraid of the stranger, too. nobody knows exactly what path he wandered from people to people. Nobody could. He just kept signing on with whatever ship was going deeper into the galaxy, disquieting about it. He'd caught Mac's look and turned going farther and farther. He messed to push them along. If a man knows his business, why not? A man can live on all kinds of food, if he wants to get used to it. And any nontoxic I don't know what he did, to make things so much better for us. I don't gainsay the man any more than I could. MacReidie wasn't a mumbling man, so he said angrily: "O.K., "Thanks." The stranger walked went back to supervising his end of the loading. I was busy with mine, it. So, I don't know. The older I get, the stoker for—the thing that makes him famous, and, I think, annoys him—I'm fairly sure is only incidental to what he really did. If he did anything. If he meant to. I wish We didn't talk about the stranger. I could be sure of the exact answer he found in the bottom of that last glass at the bar before he worked his , and began it all. So, I can't say what he ought to be famous for. But I suppose it's enough the people, who were crammed in any way they could be. I said empty bunk. What I meant was, empty during my sleep shift. That meant he and I'd be sharing work shifts—me up in the control blister, parked in a soft chair, and him down in the engine room, broiling in a suit for twelve hours. But I ate with him, used the head with him you can call that rubbing elbows with greatness, if you want to. He was a very quiet man. Quiet in the way he moved and talked. When Then he heaved himself into his bunk, rolled over on his side, fixed his straps, and fell asleep. He was always friendly toward me, but he must have been very tired that first night. I often wondered what kind of a life he'd lived after the war—what grew older in the bars. I wonder, now, if he really did do anything different. In an odd way, I like to think that one day, in a bar, on a day that seemed like all the rest to him when it began, he suddenly looked up with some new thought, put out what he'd done during the war. I've got to explain about MacReidie. He takes his opinions fast and strong. He's a good man—is, or was I haven't seen him for a long while—but he liked things simple. MacReidie said the duffelbag broke He opened it to see whose it was. When he found out, he closed it up "Yeah?" "I knew there was something wrong with him. He's got an old Marine uniform in his duffel." I didn't say anything. Mac glanced "I don't know." I didn't. I couldn't say I was surprised. It had to be something like that, about there. In his duffel. Damn it, we're going out to trade with his sworn enemies! Why do you suppose he wanted to sign on? Why do you suppose he's so eager to go!" "You think he's going to try to start something?" "Think! That's exactly what he's down—do you suppose they'll stop with him? They'll kill us, and then None of us wanted trouble—not even Mac, but he'd cause it to get rid of it, if you follow what I mean about his kind of man. Mac hit the viewport with his fist. "Easy! Easy—nothing's easy. I hate this life," he said in a murderous voice. "I don't know why I keep signing on. Mars to Centaurus and back, back and forth, in an old rust from Communications. "Turn up your Intercom volume," he said. "The stoker's jamming the circuit." per, and the air was gettin' thick. The Skipper says 'Cheer up, brave boys, we'll—' " He was singing. He had a terrible voice, but he could carry a tune, and he was hammering it out at the top of his lungs. " were ... " The crew were chuckling into their trying to cut him off. But he kept going. I started laughing myself. No one's supposed to jam an intercom, but it made the crew feel ship runs right, and it had been a long time since they'd been happy. He went on for another twenty minutes. Then his voice thinned out, and I heard him cough a little. " He said the last part in a Master's voice. a man on his way down. He'd been singing, the stoker had. He'd been singing while he worked with one arm dead, one sleeve ripped open and badly patched because the Those of us who were going off shift found him toying with the theremin in the mess compartment. He didn't know how to play it, and it sounded like a dog howling. "Sing, will you!" somebody yelled. He grinned and went back to the may explain something. He and I And the universe waits, dreaming. " For men must go where the flame-winds blow, " What was he thinking of? Make your own choice. I think I came close until human beings turn telepath, no man can be sure of another. He shook himself like a dog out of cold water, and got into his bunk. I got into mine, and after a while I fell asleep. I don't know what MacReidie may have told the skipper about the stoker, mostly to his cabin. And there was nothing MacReidie could do on his place he died in, finally, if he'd tried worried, sometimes. But nothing happened.

<question>:
Why does the stranger want to join the trip?

<options>:
A He wants to fight
B He wants to work
C He is desperate
D He is bored

<answer>:

B