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

<passage>:
Old Man had that look of intense glee on his face that meant someone was in for a very rough time. Since we were alone, it took no great feat of intelligence to figure it would be me. I talked first, bold attack slot onto his desk. “This is your contract,” he said. “It tells how and when you will work. A steel-and-vanadium-bound contract that you — Harry Harrison Transcriber’s Note building.” I slumped, defeated, waiting for the blow to land. The Old Man fondled “ What I looked at the blueprints he handed me and felt my eyes glaze with I’m a repairman, not an archeologist. This pile of junk is over 2000 years old. Just forget about it and build a new one.” The Old Man leaned over his desk, breathing into my face. “It expensive—and this relic is on one of the main routes. We have ships making fifteen-light-year detours now.” He leaned back, wiped his hands on his handkerchief and gave me Lecture Forty-four on Company Duty and My Troubles. “This department is officially called Maintenance and Repair, when an accident, and repairing the thing is never a matter of just plugging in a new part.” He was telling me —the guy who did the job while he sat back on his fat paycheck in an air-conditioned office. He rambled on. “How I wish that were all it took! I would have a could draw the money out.” I smiled, a little weakly, I’m afraid, as if I had never meant to keep that account a secret. His spies were getting more efficient every day. Walking down the hall, I tried to figure a way to transfer the money without his catching on—and knew at the same time he was figuring a way to outfigure me. It was all very depressing, so I stopped for a drink, then went on to By the time the ship was serviced, I had a course charted. The nearest measurements are a matter of relationship, not constant facts like the fixed universe. navigation—only it follows its own rules. The rules are complex and variable, but they are still rules that a navigator can follow. and the other trouble-shooters came in. We travel in well-stocked ships that carry a little bit of everything only one man to a ship because that is all it takes to operate the overly efficient repair machinery. Due to the very nature of our job, we spend most of our time just rocketing through normal space. After all, the navigator, using every beacon I could get an accurate fix on. The computer gave me a course with an estimated point-of-arrival as well as a built-in safety factor I never could eliminate from the machine. the ancient directions and finally located the right area. Staying outside the atmosphere, I sent a flying eye down to look things over. In this business, you learn early when and where to risk your own skin. The eye would be good enough for the preliminary survey. The old boys had enough brains to choose a traceable site for the powered the monstrosity. If the water was still there, the beacon was still there—inside the pyramid. The natives, who, of course, irritate the things who had built the pyramid. A great beginning for a job and one clearly designed to drive a stronger man than me to the bottle. Normally, a repairman stays away from native cultures. They are poison. Anthropologists may not mind being dissected for their science, but a repairman wants to make no sacrifices of any kind for his job. For this has to go on a planet with a culture, it is usually built in some inaccessible place. Why this beacon had been built within reach of the local claws, I had yet to find out. But that would come in time. The first thing to do was make contact. To make contact, you have to know the local language. And, for that , I had long before worked out a system that was morning, when the first wallowers arrived, I flipped on the recorder. After about five of the local days, I had a sea of native conversation in the memory bank of the machine translator and had tagged a few expressions. This is fairly easy to do when you have a machine memory to It gurgled out through the speaker in the local tongue and he turned around. When you get enough reference phrases like this in the memory bank, the MT brain takes over and starts filling in the missing pieces. As soon as the MT could give a running translation of any conversation it heard, I figured it was time to make a contact. I found him easily enough. He was the Centaurian version of a goat-boy—he herded a particularly loathsome form of local life in Goat-boy Grandson! This is your grandfather’s spirit speaking from religion. Goat-boy stopped as if he’d been shot. Before he could move, I pushed a switch and a handful of the local currency, wampum-type shells, treasury the night before. “Come back tomorrow and we will talk some more,” I called after the fleeing figure. I was pleased to had been out of touch with things since his death and Goat-boy happily filled him in. I learned all I needed to know of the history, past and recent, and it wasn’t nice. didn’t think much of them. They were a low type and confined to a distant continent. The idea that the race would develop and might reach this religion. A shiny metal temple out of which poured a constant stream of magic water—the reactor-cooling water pumped down from the atmosphere condenser on the roof. The radioactivity in the water didn’t hurt the natives. It caused mutations that bred true. A city was built around the temple and, through the centuries, the Diplomacy was called for. I sighed and dragged out the plastiflesh equipment. Working exactly like them, just something close, to soothe the native mind. It’s logical. If I were an ignorant aborigine of Earth and I ran into a Spican, who looks like a two-foot gob of dried shellac, I would immediately leave the scene. However, if the Spican was wearing a suit of plastiflesh that looked remotely humanoid, I would at least stay and talk to him. This was what I was aiming to do with the out-of-the-way dry spot where the amphibious natives would never go. A little before dawn, the eye hooked onto my shoulders and we sailed I drew up my scaly figure in a noble gesture and pointed toward the ceiling. “I come from your ancestors to help you. I am here to restore the Holy Waters.” This raised a buzz of conversation behind me, but got no rise out of the chief. He sank slowly into the water until only his eyes were showing. I will—” “Stop!” I thundered before he got so far in that he meeting of the shamans. It, of course, took place in the public bathtub and I had to join them there. We jawed and gurgled for about an hour and settled all the major points. I found out that they were new priests the previous ones had all been me. “Undoubtedly you know of the rule,” he said. “Because the old priests did pry and peer, it was ruled henceforth that only the old suitcase can be called smiling. He was also signaling to him an underpriest who carried a brazier of charcoal complete with red-hot irons. All I could do was stand and watch got back in gear. “Of course,” I said, “blinding is only right. But in the Holy of Holies, not now. I need my eyes to see and mend the Fount of Holy Waters. Once the iron.” He switches and that had caused the trouble. Rather , that had started the trouble. It wasn’t going to be ended ancestors!” I had the speaker on full volume and the vibration almost shook my head off. the surface. “What lack of courtesy!” I shouted. He made little bubbles in the water. “The ancestors are annoyed and have decided to forbid entrance to the Inner Temple forever though, out of kindness, ceremony!” The torture-master was too frightened to move, so I grabbed out his hot

<question>:
Why did the main character spend so much time with Goat-boy?

<options>:
A He needed time to think of a plan.
B He needed to continue learning the language.
C He needed an ally to infiltrate the community.
D He needed to understand the culture and current events.

<answer>:

D