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

<passage>:
held the secret that would make the uprising a success or failure. Yet he could make no move, could favor no side—his memory was gone—he remained undrawn. The tall, white-haired man—Stevens—smiled. "You're right, Duane," he said. "I could blast you, too. Nobody would win that way, so let's leave the guns where they are." The muscles twitched in Peter Duane's cheeks, but his voice, when it came, was controlled. "Don't think we're going to let this go," he my fair share of the proceeds. That's as far as it goes. I take no orders from him." A heavy-set man in blue appeared at the end of the connecting corridor. He was moving fast, but stopped short when he saw the two men. "Hey!" he said. "Change of course—get to your cabins." He seemed about to walk up to them, then reconsidered and hurried off. Neither man paid any attention. it, without threatening. A muted alarm bell sounded through the P.A. speakers, signaling a one-minute warning. The white-haired man cocked his eyebrow. "Not at all," he said. He took the measure of his slim, red-headed opponent. Taller, heavier, older, he was still no more uncompromisingly belligerent than Duane, standing there. "Not at all," he repeated. "Forget what I think," Stevens said, his voice clipped and angry. "I Duane stared at him a long second, then nodded abruptly. "I was right Already his hand was streaking toward the grip of his dis-gun, touching it, drawing it forth. But the white-haired man was faster. His arms swept up and pinioned Duane, holding him impotent. "Don't be a fool," he grated. "Duane—" The P.A. speaker rattled, blared something unintelligible. Neither man heard it. Duane lunged forward into the taller man's grip, sliding down to the floor. The white-haired man grappled furiously to keep his hold He was too late. Duane's was out and leveled at him. " gravity. The two men, locked together, floated weightlessly out to the center of the corridor. "Course change!" gasped white-haired Stevens. "Good God!" The ship had reached the midpoint of its flight. The bells had sounded, warning every soul on it to take shelter, to strap themselves in their pressure bunks against the deadly stress of acceleration as the ship battle against its own built-up acceleration. The corridor floor rose up with blinking speed to smite them— And the lights went out in a burst of crashing pain for Peter Duane. Someone was talking to him. Duane tried to force an eye open to see who it was, and failed. Something damp and clinging was all about his face, obscuring his vision. But the voice filtered in. stimulant, to help you throw off the shock of your—accident. You're all right, otherwise." Obediently he opened his mouth, and choked on a warm, tingly liquid. Duane screwed his eyes tight together and grimaced. When he opened "Duane, Duane," a man's heavy voice said. "That won't wash. Don't play dumb on me." "Duane?" he said. "Duane...." He swiveled his head and saw a dark, squat man frowning at him. "Who are you?" Peter asked. The dark man laughed. "Take your time, Duane," he said easily. "You'll The nurse, still eyeing Duane with an odd bewilderment, said: "I'll was fully dressed. He examined his clothing with interest—gray tunic, gray leather spaceman's boots. It was unfamiliar. He shook his head in further confusion, and the motion burst within his Andrias straightened, turned a darkly-suspicious look on Duane. "Don't bent closer, peered at Duane. "I almost think—" he began. "Duane here is resisting arrest," Andrias said. "Take him along. We'll something against me, save it. Wait till my head clears. I'm sure I can explain—" "Explain, hell." The dark man laughed. "If I wait, this ship will be Duane off without a word. Duane had thought the nurse, who seemed a while the two uniformed men shoved Duane into the back of the car, someone named Stevens. He tried to remember. Yes, there had been a white-haired man. And there had been an argument. Something to do with money, with a shipment of goods that Stevens had "League?" Duane asked, wrinkling his brow. He had heard something about a League once, yes. But it was all so nebulous.... The other guard stirred, leaned over. "Shut up," he said heavily. "You'll have plenty of chance for talking later." Duane sat down on a lumpy, sagging bed and buried his head in his That's why he'll pay for electron rifles with their weight in gold. " Duane could remember the scene clearly. Could almost see the sharp, and a drink from a thin-necked flagon of pale-yellow liquid fire. He and the white-haired man had gone out then, made their way by remembered the white-hot stars overhead, shining piercingly through the great transparent dome that kept the air in the sealed city of Darkside, as they stood at the entrance of the warehouse and spoke in low tones to the man who answered their summons. Then, inside. And they were looking at a huge chamber full of stacked fiber boxes—containing nothing but dehydrated dairy products and mining tools, by the stencils they bore. Duane had turned to the white-haired man with a puzzled question—and the man had laughed aloud. Duane got up, stared at his haggard face in the cracked mirror over gun-runner as well. Good lord—what am I not? " His reflection—white, drawn face made all the more pallid by the red hair that blazed over it—stared back at him. There was no answer "All right, Duane." The deep voice of a guard came to him as the door The trick failed to work. Duane had other things on his mind he walked the thirty-foot length of the room, designed to imbue him with a sense of his own unimportance, as steadily as he'd ever walked in the open air of his home planet. Duane said, without expression, "No." and there was a ragged thread of incomplete control to his voice as he spoke. the same goods!" That was a shot in the dark—and it missed the mark. Duane said, "You're ready, then...." But Andrias, unconscious already, tumbled back with Duane on top of Duane got up, retrieving the two heat guns, and stared at him. ," he thought. " I'm getting in a rut! " Duane stepped over the unconscious man and looked around the room. It familiar trivia most men accumulate. There was nothing, certainly, that would get him out of a building that so closely resembled a fortress. An idea bloomed in Duane's brain. He looked, then, at unconscious ," Duane thought. " Whatever they say, I'm not a killer! " But still he had to get out. How? would be getting impatient. Perhaps any minute he would tap the door, first timorously, then with heavier strokes. Duane's foot lashed out and the door slammed shut Duane took a deep breath and let the man drop to the floor. But he with the hard spikes of his boots. His agile fingers unfastened the long bell cord without causing it to ring and, bearing it, he dropped again to the floor.

<question>:
Why didn't Duane and Stevens go to the pressure bunks when they announced the course change?

<options>:
A They didn't hear the announcement because they were fighting.
B They each thought they had time to kill the other before the course change started.
C They thought they were skilled enough to weather the course change outside the bunks.
D They didn't think the heavy-set man in blue knew what he was talking about.

<answer>:

A