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

<passage>:
Galaxy Science Fiction June 1963. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] "I'm a tourist," I said. "They told me before I left home not to miss an unpadded acceleration couch—the kind the Terrestrial Space Arm installs in seldom-used lifeboats. There were three more couches, but leisure moments, but at least the cabinet hadn't amputated. I wasn't complaining. As far as I knew, I was the first recorded survivor of contact with the and thinking with a cracked head were overdoing it. Still, I was was sabotaged. So was "How the hell do I know?" I yelled—or croaked. But Kayle's voice was warning and without mercy. You were sent out to investigate the possibility of—what's that term you use?—hyper-cortical invasion. You "I'm sorry, Granthan. I can't let you land on Earth. I can't accept "What do I do now?" I stormed. "Go into orbit and eat pills and hope pretend—right up until the warheads struck—that I didn't know I'd was alone and injured, aboard a lifeboat that would be the focus of a converging flight of missiles as soon as I approached within battery range of Earth. I had gotten clear of the Gool, but I wouldn't survive my next meeting with my own kind. They couldn't take the chance that I was acting under Gool orders. earlier. The thoughts I was having weren't brilliant, but they were mine, all mine.... But how could I be sure of that? Maybe there was something in Kayle's suspicion. If the Gool were as skillful as we thought, they would have left no overt indications of their tampering—not at a conscious level. wasn't just any casualty. I had been trained in the subtleties of the what had happened. I lay back, cleared my mind of extraneous thoughts, and concentrated on the trigger word that would key an auto-hypnotic sequence.... their limbo of sub-conceptualization. I penetrated deeper, broke through into the vividly hallucinatory third level, where images of mirror-bright immediacy clamored for attention. And deeper.... The immense orderly confusion of the basic memory level lay before me. Abstracted from it, aloof and observant, the monitoring personality-fraction scanned the pattern, searching the polydimensional continuum for evidence of an alien intrusion. And found it. As the eye instantaneously detects a flicker of motion amid an infinity voices—yet not voices, merely the shape of concepts, indescribably world-ending impact as I fell. At a level far below the conscious, the embattled pseudo-personality lashed out again—fighting the invader. " Impossible! Do you forget all my teachings? Cling, though you expend " Free from all distraction, at a level where comprehension and retention are instantaneous and total, my monitoring basic personality fraction The insinuating probe—a concept regarding which psychodynamicists had theorized—was no more than a pattern in emptiness.... Hesitantly, I felt for the immaterial fabric of the continuum, warping and manipulating it, copying the Gool probe. Like planes of paper-thin crystal, the polyfinite aspects of reality shifted into focus, aligning themselves. There was a soundless shriek. " stifling the outcry, invaded the fetid blackness and grappled the tracing patterns, scanning the flaccid Gool mind.... I saw a world of yellow seas lapping at endless shores of mud. There was a fuming pit, where liquid sulphur bubbled up from some inner source, filling an immense natural basin. The Gool clustered at its rim, feeding, each monstrous shape heaving against its neighbors for a more favorable position. I probed farther, saw the great cables of living nervous tissue that linked each eating organ with the brain-mass far underground. I traced the passages through which tendrils ran out to immense caverns where smaller creatures labored over strange devices. These, my host's memory told me, were the young of the Gool. Here they built the fleets that would transport the spawn to the new worlds the Prime Overlord had discovered, worlds where food was free for the taking. Not sulphur alone, but potassium, calcium, iron and all the metals—riches beyond belief in endless profusion. No longer would the Gool tribe cluster—those who remained of a once-great race—at a single feeding trough. They would spread out across a galaxy—and beyond. But not if I could help it. The Gool had evolved a plan—but they'd had a stroke of bad luck. In the past, they had managed to control a man here and there, among the fleets, far from home, but only at a superficial level. Enough, perhaps, to wreck a ship, but not the complete control needed to send a man back to Earth under Gool compulsion, to carry out complex sabotage. Then they had found me, alone, a sole survivor, free from the clutter of the other mind-fields. It had been their misfortune to pick a psychodynamicist. Instead of gaining a patient slave, they had opened the fortress door to an unseen spy. Now that I was there, I would see what I could steal. A timeless time passed. I wandered among patterns of white light and white sound, plumbed the deepest recesses of hidden Gool thoughts, fared along strange ways examining the shapes and colors of the concepts of an alien mind. I paused at last, scanning a multi-ordinal structure of pattern within pattern and, like a bomb-burst, its meaning exploded in my mind. From the vile nest deep under the dark surface of the Gool world in its lonely trans-Plutonian orbit, I had plucked the ultimate secret of their kind. Matter across space. "You've got to listen to me, Kayle," I shouted. "I know you think I'm my word for it. I can build it, though, using standard components, plus an infinite-area antenna and a moebius-wound coil—and a few other things...." for the trip with sessions on the encephaloscope, setting up the cross-networks of conditioned defensive responses, the shunt circuits to the decoy pseudo-personality, leaving my volitional ego free. I ego-complex. preparatory to picking up approach orbit...." The screen went on droning out instructions. I fed them into the miles distant, aboard the patrol vessel. There was a brief flurry of struggle "Z four-oh-two," the speaker crackled. "This is planetary control. I am It was time to disappear. I blanked off all transmission, hit the controls, following my evasive pattern. And again I reached out— A radar man at a site in the Pacific, fifteen thousand miles away, rose from his chair, crossed the darkened room and threw a switch. The radar screens blanked off.... For an hour I rode the long orbit down, fending off attack after attack. Then I was clear, skimming the surface of the ocean a few miles disorientation as the escape capsule separated from the sinking penetrated the planetary defenses—God knows how. I—" to carry out the schemes of the inhuman enemy, this in no way detracts each heave of the floating escape capsule. I had perhaps five minutes. The missiles would be from Canaveral. I closed my eyes, forced myself to relax, reached out.... I sensed the distant shore, the hot buzz of human minds at work in the cities. I followed the coastline, found the Missile Base, flicked through the cluster of minds. "— missile on course " I fingered my way through the man's mind and found the control centers. inconspicuously as possible. I didn't disturb the bandages. buildings in the distance, the corner of a platform. I closed my eyes and let my awareness stretch out. "— original idea hadn't been his own.

<question>:
What was not true about the aliens?

<options>:
A They ate iron
B They were large
C Their mouths were above their brains
D They lived all throughout the galaxy

<answer>:

D