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

<passage>:
Planet Stories Summer 1942. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that 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 we were rocketing under sealed orders, we couldn't turn back. So we laid the Leo down on Phobos' tiny cradle-field and bundled 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 of settlers, and most of them had good-paying jobs. Besides, we were 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 So I went back to the ship. I said, "Sorry, sir. We're up against it. I when you're running the blockade—" "We are to attempt to run the Outer Planets Alliance blockade at any "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 "Well," he repeated impatiently, "where is it?" "Vesta!" he piped in that curiously high-pitched and mellow voice. "Loft trajectory for Vesta! Then we're trying to run the Alliance blockade, Captain?" try to broach the blockade off Iris rather than Vesta. For one thing, their patrol line will be thinner there for another, you can come in through the Meteor Bog, using it as a cover." " Mr. Dugan! cubicle which was his proper headquarters. When I was turning to leave he said apologetically, "I didn't mean any harm, Mr. Dugan. I was just trying to help." lifted gravs. He doesn't need the advice or suggestions of a cook." "But I was raised in the Belt," said the little chap plaintively. "I know the Bog like a book. And I was right our safest course is ship—Captain Slops!" So we hit the spaceways for Vesta, and after a while the Old Man called up the crew and told them our destination, and if you think they were hen-house and said, "The blockade! Oboyoboy! Maybe we'll tangle with one of the Alliance ships, hey?" space. That meal, children, was a meal! When it comes to victuals I can destroy better than describe, but there was stuff and things and such-like, all smothered in gravy and so on, and huge quantities inconvenient and unsanitary. You see, I have to carry the waste down don't have aboard. After this jump is over I'll see what I can do." If that could be installed by the galley vent, I could use it as an incinerator." I said, "Hold everything, Slops! You can't do that! It's against placed only in gunnery embrasures insulated against the repercussions of firing charges, re-radiation, or other hazards accruent to heavy 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—" anything he dearly loved to exercise his molars on it was Venusian marsh-duck topped with a dessert of Martian pinberry pie. He said: "We-e-ell, now, Mr. Dugan, let's not be too technical. After all, that rule was put in the book only to prevent persons which shouldn't ought wants the cannon for, is it, son? So I don't see any harm in rigging up the old Nolan in the galley for incineration purposes. Did you say all the fixings, Slops?" So that was that. During the night watch two men of the crew lugged the ancient Nolan heat cannon from stores and I went below to check. I "Well, don't dump your cans when there are any ships within range," I of a joke I'd heard at a spacemans' smoker. "Speaking of being careful, did you hear the giggler about the old maid at the Martian baths? Well, it seems this perennial spinster wandered, by accident, into the men's shower room and met up with a brawny young prospector—" marsh-duck stuffed." "Plenty of time, Slops. Wait till you hear this it will kill you. The decade. I shrugged and went back to the control turret. All that, to make an elongated story brief, happened on the first day out of Mars. As any schoolchild knows, it's a full hundred million from the desert planet to the asteroid belt. In those days, there was no such device as a Velocity-Intensifier unit, and the Leo along at a mere 400,000 m.p.h. Which meant it would take us at least ten days, perhaps more, to reach that disputed region of space around Vesta, where the Federation outposts were sparse and the Alliance block began. That period of jetting was a mingled joy and pain in the britches. 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 could pour a cold worm's nest into Rick Bramble's bed, he shuddered and refused. "Certainly not!" he piped indignantly. "You must be out of your minds! to it. Worms—Ugh!" "Yeah!" snorted Johnny Wainwright disdainfully, "And ugh! he created enough of it! "It's a mistake to broach the blockade at Vesta," he argued over and over again. "I said keep your pants on. Sure, I know. And I've took precautions. sailing all the way to Callisto." "Don't be ridiculous, my boy. Why should there be?" "Well, for one thing," wrangled our pint-sized cook, "because rich ekalastron deposits were recently discovered on Vesta. For another, because Vesta's orbit is now going into aphelion stage, which will "Eka—Great balls of fire! Are you sure?" "Of course, I'm sure. I told you days ago that I was born and raised in "I know. But why didn't you tell me about Vesta before? I mean about "Why—why, because—" said Slops. "Because—" Wainwright on the bridge. "Johnny—that you? Listen, change traj quick! Set a new course through the Belt by way of Iris and the Bog, and hurry up, because—" What reason he planned to give I do not know, for he never finished that sentence. At that moment the spacesled in an ionic storm, rolled, quivered and slewed like a drunk on a freshly-waxed floor. The motion needed no explanation it was unmistakeable to any spacer who has ever hopped the blue. Our ship had been assaulted, the ship bucked and slithered again, this time with the hastily converted into an all-way, inter-ship communicating unit, came "Ahoy the "Stand by to admit a boarding party, Captain. It is futile to resist. "But—but if they take us prisoners," he questioned fearfully, "what will they do with us?" "A concentration camp somewhere. Perhaps on Vesta." "And the Leo "Who knows? Maybe they'll send it to Jupiter with a prize crew in right about the danger of the Vesta route, as we had learned to our

<question>:
Why did the ship try to travel via Vesta?

<options>:
A The cook said not to go that way
B The federation orders required it
C The captain decided on this path
D It was located in the bog

<answer>:

C