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

<passage>:
CAPTAIN CHAOS By NELSON S. BOND The Callisto-bound Leo needed a cook. What it got was a piping-voiced Jonah who jinxed it straight into Chaos. [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] We picked up our new cook on Phobos. Not Phoebus or Phoebe I mean Phobos, Mars' inner moon. Our regular victual mangler came down with acute indigestion—tasted some of his own cooking, no doubt—when we were just one blast of a jet-tube out of Sand City spaceport. But since Leo our ailing grub-hurler off to a hospital, and the skipper said to me, "Mister Dugan," he said, "go out and find us a cook!" "Aye, sir!" I said, and went. Only it wasn't that easy. In those days, Phobos had only a handful at war with the Outer Planets, and no man in his right senses wanted to sign for a single-trip jump on a rickety old patrolship bound for nobody-knew-where. And, of course, cooks are dime-a-dozen when you don't need one, but when you've got to locate one in a hurry they're as a chef's services to the good old I.P.S., but my only response was a loud silence. So I went back to the ship. I said, "Sorry, sir. We're up against it. I can't seem to find a cook on the whole darned satellite." The skipper scowled at me from under a corduroy brow and fumed, "But we've got to have a cook, Dugan! We can't go on without one!" "In a pinch," I told him, " I might be able to boil a few pies, or scramble us a steak or something, Skipper." "Thanks, Dugan, but that won't do. On this trip the men must be fed regularly and well. Makeshift meals are O.Q. on an ordinary run, but Leo can't expect to win through the enemy cordon unless our men are in top physical condition. And that means a sound, regular diet. So we must find a cook, or—" "The search," interrupted an oddly high-pitched, but not unpleasant voice, "is over. Where's the galley?" I whirled, and so did the Old Man. Facing us was an outlandish little figure "W-who," he demanded dazedly, "might you be?" "I might be," retorted the little stranger, "lots of people. But I came here to be your new cook." O'Hara said, "The new—What's your name, mister?" "Andy," replied the newcomer. "Andy Laney." The Old Man's lip curled speculatively. "Well, Andy Laney," he said, "you don't look like much of a cook to me ." hastily. I said, "Excuse me, sir, shall I handle this?" Then, because the skipper was still struggling for words: "You," I said to the little fellow, "are a cook?" "One of the best!" he claimed complacently. cook—" The skipper's color subsided. So did he, grumbling. "Well, perhaps you're right, Dugan. All right, Slops, you're hired. The galley's "None of your business!" bellowed O'Hara in tones of thunderous outrage. "Get below instantly, or by the lavendar lakes of Luna I'll—" "If I were you," interrupted our diminutive new chef thoughtfully, "I'd " Mr. Dugan! " The Old Man's voice had an ominous ring to it, one I had seldom heard. I sprang to attention and saluted smartly. "Aye, sir?" "Take this—this culinary tactician out of my sight before I forget I'm an officer and a gentleman. And tell him that when I want advice I'll come down to the galley for it!" sternly. "The Old Man's one of the smartest space navigators who ever lifted gravs. He doesn't need the advice or suggestions of a cook." you've got to take what comes with it: orders! From now on, suppose you take care of the cooking and let the rest of us worry about the ship—Captain Slops!" Leo's the grim set of his jaw and the purposeful way he spat on his callused paws were mutely eloquent. Only one member of the crew was absent from the conclave. Our new call rose from the galley: "Soup's on! Come and get it!" Which we did. And whatever failings "Captain Slops" might have, he had not exaggerated when he called himself one of the best cooks in Leo a 'coon's age. Even the Old Man admitted that as, leaning back from the table, he patted the pleasant bulge due south of his belt buckle. He rang the bell that summoned Slops from the galley, and the little "Not only all right, Slops," wheezed Captain O'Hara, "but perfect! Accept my congratulations on a superb meal, my boy. Did you find everything O.Q. in the galley?" "Captain Slops" blushed like a stereo-struck school-gal, and fidgeted "So? Well, speak up, son, what is it? I'll get it fixed for you right away." The Old Man smiled archly. "Must have everything shipshape for a tip-top chef, what?" The young hash-slinger still hesitated bashfully. "But it's such a of firing charges, re-radiation, or other hazards accruent to heavy ordnance.'" Our little chef's face fell. "Now, that's too bad," he said discouragedly. "I was planning a special banquet for tomorrow, with roast marsh-duck and all the fixings, pinberry pie—but, oh, well!—if I have no incinerator—" the fixings, Slops?" Maybe I was mistaken, but for a moment I suspected I caught a queer glint in our little chef's eyes it passed quickly, and Captain Slops' soft voice was smooth as silk when he said: "Yes, Captain, all the fixings. I'll start cooking the meal as soon as the new incinerator is installed." h-hello, Lieutenant. I was just getting my new incinerator shipshape. Looks O.Q., eh?" "If you ask me," I said, "it looks downright lethal. The Old Man must old maid got flustered and said, 'Oh, I'm sorry! I must be in the wrong compartment—'" "If you don't mind, Mr. Dugan," interrupted the cook loudly, "I'm awfully busy. I don't have any time for—" "The prospector looked her over carefully for a couple of seconds pink and flustered. So there was one for the log-book! Not only did our emergency chef lack Leo and crew. In addition to being a most awful prude, he was a kill-joy. When just for a lark we begged him to boil us a pot of spaghetti, so we of some temper-softening tidbit, "you're right and I'm wrong, as you usually are. But I'm in command of the Leo , and you ain't. Now, run along like a good lad and bring me some more of this salad." afraid this is our last chance to change course—" "And for that," chuckled the Old Man, "Hooray! Pass them pancakes, son. "Keep your pants on, Slops!" Leo Leo voice of the Alliance commander. "Ahoy the Leo ! Calling the captain of the Leo Leo Leo Leo . It was then that Andy Laney, who had lingered in the galley doorway like a frozen figuring, broke into babbling incredulous speech. Leo

<question>:
Who or what is Leo?

<options>:
A The name of the planet the crew is attacking
B The name of the crew's ship
C The Skipper
D The new cook

<answer>:

B