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

<passage>:
Paul felt no surprise, only relief at having the trouble located. The 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. Range about six hundred miles." luck we can do without. Can you instinctive reaction. Nothing there but the familiar starry backdrop, the moon far down to the left. If the the throttle mike button. "Any IFF?" "No IFF." "O.K., let me know as soon as you For ten or fifteen minutes, the Paul was wondering about the men 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 a sardonic salute at the photograph to hit. Then they'd let the bomb go and get out of there, and the bomb would sail right on into the target. of the dome, thinking the turgid thoughts that always came when action was near. His chest was full of the familiar weakness—not fear exactly, but a tight, helpless feeling that grew and grew with the waiting. His eyes and hands were busy in the familiar procedure, readying the ship for combat, checking and re-checking the details that could mean life and death, but his mind watched skirt. A whirling montage of laughing, challenging eyes and tossing sky-black hair and soft arms tightening around his neck. a hit with a bomb at that distance, even if they didn't spot it and take off. What you'd need would be a anything, and even then it's twenty rocket that could chase them, with one chance in a thousand of scoring by one. He wished he'd acted more hundredth time, he went over what seeing the gleam of her shoulder, and the angry disappointment in her eyes Weigh at least three hundred pounds." It was five minutes before Guns spoke again. "Ah been thinkin', cap'n. With a little redecoratin', Ah The tension of approaching combat suddenly blended with the memory, welling up into a rush of tenderness "I've got him, Paul. He's got two o'clock for course to IP." Automatically he turned the control wheel to the right and eased it course. "Hold 4 G's for one six five seconds, then coast two minutes for initial bad idea, but we haven't any bomb." tail." then two minutes." He set the timer, But it was Paul who couldn't forget advanced the throttle to 4 G's, and stepped back an inch as the acceleration "Right, Johnny. One sixty-five, tremendous acceleration. Interrogation was brief. The mission elation that followed a successful mission, swapping insults with the above fifteen, she was trembling steadily. He didn't blame the old He couldn't keep his mind on they'd probably have been spotted, and lost the precious element of surprise. He blessed the advantage of better Paul remembered the time he had or why, when he found himself walking its third cycle, and he stood loose in fiftieth mission. He'd considered taking in the service. Intelligence tests. Physical tests. Psychological tests. Six months of emotional adjustment in the screep. Primary training. Basic and advanced training. The pride and excitement of being chosen for space fighters. By the time he graduated, Paul asked if he'd care to room together while Paul talked combat Paul squared his shoulders, as befitted defense. "Whoa, baby. One thing at a time. I'm at the airport. You'll see me tonight, all-out war a good risk. They hadn't Paul all to herself, she calmed down. They made their arrangements quickly, and switched off. He wondered if he'd quit at seventy-five. Deep inside him, the old He hesitated a minute before he pride and excitement were still strong. He still got a kick out of the unhappy thought. Well, maybe it was to feel like an old man. He pictured That Red had when he described how smitten around. He hadn't spotted them until they were well into their run, but when he got started he'd made them look like slow motion, just the same. If he hadn't tried that harebrained sudden deceleration.... looked easy, the way he was wandering been telling them of Paul's exploits. were good shots. "We're crossing his track, Paul. Turn to nine point five o'clock and moment, then asked gravely: "Would Paul eyed the time-honored weapon hold 4 G's for thirty-two seconds, starting on the count ... five—four—three—two—one—go!" He completed the operation in silence, remarking to himself how lucky he was during a fight when he had no more his sightscreen. It settled less than a degree off dead center. He made the final corrections in course, set the air "Nice job, Johnny. Let's button up. You with us, Guns?" Garrity sounded lazy as a well-fed Coulter advanced the throttle to 5 G's. And with the hiss of power, SF 308 began the deadly, intricate, precarious maneuver called a combat pass—a maneuver inherited from the aerial dogfight—though it often turned into something more like the ships—as the best and least suicidal start on the enemy's tail, just out of his radar range. To come up his track at 2 mps relative velocity, firing six seconds, to break out just enough to clear him, praying that he won't break in the same direction. Sixty seconds at 5 G's and then, if they were lucky, the twenty-two frantic seconds they were out here for—throwing the darkness with steel and radar fingers to kill a duplicate of themselves. This is the worst. These three minutes are the worst. One hundred ninety-two eternal seconds of waiting, of deathly silence and deathly calm, feeling and hearing nothing but the slow pounding of their own was the excitement. But each time he went through it, it was worse. Just standing and waiting in the silence, praying they weren't spotted—staring at the unmoving firmament and knowing he was a projectile hurtling two miles each second straight at a the enemy. Knowing the odds were 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 relief. He heard the muffled yammering as Guns fired a short burst from the .30's standing out of their compartments around the sides of the 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 to target. His eyes flicked from the sightscreen to the sky ahead, looking for the telltale flare of rockets—ready to follow like a ferret. There he is! At eighteen miles from target, a tiny blue light flickered ahead. He forgot everything but the sightscreen, concentrating on keeping 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 with two, then three guns. He held it as long as he could. Closer than he ever had before. At enemy ship flashed across his tail in a fraction of a second, already turned yet it seemed to Paul he could make their passing? And did he hear a ping just at that instant, feel the ship vibrate for a second? the automatics had started, bringing his nose around to watch the enemy's track. And as the shape of "Let me know when we kill his RV. Ah may get another shot at him." Paul was struggling with hundred-pound Paul shuddered in a confused pressure gauge read zero, and his heart throbbed into his throat as 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.

<question>:
Why did Paul think that "these three minutes" were the worst?

<options>:
A The possibility of colliding with the enemy
B The high amount of G-forces he experiences
C The fact that he would run out of fuel after three minutes
D The anticipation before firing on a target

<answer>:

D