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

<passage>:
to smile ... if he ever laughed at himself, the entire ship and crew were as good as dead! last fifty years. Baxter's guard was doubled as soon as we set down, of course, and that made him fidgety. He had heard all the stories about how high the casualty rate was with Prones aboard spaceships and now he was took to safeguard him, the armed men who went with him everywhere, the I felt a little sorry for Charlie Baxter, but I was Captain of the Accident Prones have to stay worried and thinking, trying to break like the scoring system, but he was attached to the equipment and didn't want to lose it. His clumsiness back on Earth had cost him every decent job he ever had. He had come all the way down the line until he was rated eligible only for the position of Prone aboard a spaceship. He had been poor—hungry, Bronoski looked at me over the top of his picture tape from where he lay on the sofa. No one else was in the compartment. "Where is Baxter?" I asked the hulking guard. My eyes were on the sofa. My own bed pulled out of the wall and was considerably inferior to this, much less Baxter's bed in the next cabin. But then I am only a and Elliot escorted him down to the men's room, Captain Jackson." "You mean," I said very quietly, "that he isn't in his own bath?" "No sir," Bronoski said wearily. "He told us it was out of order." I stifled the gurgle of rage that came into my throat and motioned to be out of order than the plumbing in the Accident Prone's suite. No effort was spared to insure comfort for the key man in the whole crew. One glance inside the compartment at the end of the corridor satisfied night. Elliot and Sidney, the guards, were absolutely prohibited from interfering in any way with a Prone's decisions. They merely had to follow him and give their lives to save his, if necessary. I grabbed up a translator collar and tossed one to Bronoski. Then, just as we were getting into the airlock, I remembered something and ran back to the bridge. tangled mess smelled of sour mash, an intoxicating bourbon-type aroma. I jogged along following the big man more by instinct than anything else, ruining my eyes in an effort to refresh my memory as to the left, they had made the Moranite natives blood brothers. Then Bronoski knocked me down. Actually he put his hands in the small of my back and shoved politely but firmly. Just the same, I went face down into the moist dirt fast enough. I raised my head cautiously to see if Bronoski would shove it back down. He didn't. The natives were less formidable. They made the slight lump of fat Charlie had at his waist look positively indecent. The natives were the fatal error. The three men were just standing still, waiting for the aliens to make the first move. The natives looked just as worried as Charlie and his guards, but then that might have been their natural expression. out altogether. I started to rip my collar off when the natives stopped screeching and a spokesman stepped forward. The native slumped a little more than the others, as if he were more Baxter swallowed and started forward to meet the alien halfway. His boot slipped on the wet scrub grass and I saw him do the desperate little dance to regain his balance that I had seen him make so many times he could never stay on his feet. Before he could perform his usual pratfall, Sidney and Elliot were at his sides, supporting him by his thin biceps. He glared at them and shrugged them off, informing them wordlessly that he would have regained his balance if they had given him half a chance. "We do not understand," the native repeated. "Do you hold us in so much contempt as to claim Prone's throat. Charterson and Von Elderman instantly went into action. Elliot Charterson jumped to Charlie's assistance while Sidney Von Elderman swung around to protect Charlie from the rest of the crowd. start to interfere with the two writhing opponents, they clawed him down into the grass. Sidney had been set to defend the Prone, not his fellow guard. They might have been all right if he had pulled a few off Elliot and let him get to work, except his training told him that the life of a guard did not matter a twit, but that a Prone must be defended. He started toward Charlie Baxter and was immediately pulled down by a spare dozen of the mob. It all meant one thing to me. The reaction of the crowd had been was my turn to grind his face in the muck. I had a nice little problem to contend with. I knew the reason Baxter had slipped out at night to be the first to was supposed to do. But he couldn't lick that doubt of himself that had been ground into him since birth and there he was, in trouble as always. Naturally Charlie then began wrestling a trained and deadly wrestler instead of continuing to box him. I grabbed Bronoski by his puffy ear and hissed some commands into I heard something that resembled a death rattle come from Charlie's throat as the fingers of the alien closed down on it and my hand He ran into the clearing and found four bodies sprawled out: Charlie Baxter, his two guards and the native spokesman. Charlie and the native were both technically unconscious, but they each had a stranglehold on each other, with Charlie getting the worst of it. Bronoski pried the two of them apart. While he roused Sidney and Elliot from their punch-drunk state, I examined Charlie. He had a nasty burn on his leg and two toes were gone. If there was an explosion anywhere around, he was bound to be in front of it. He was abruptly choking and blinking watery eyes. "You did it, Charlie," I lied. "You beat him fair and square." Charlie was in bed for the next few days while his grafted toes grew He swung his legs around and tottered to his feet. He was a little weak, but he took a few steps and seemed to make it okay. Then the inevitable happened. He snagged the edge of one of the Persian carpets on the bedroom floor with his big toe and started to fall. Selby and I both dived forward to catch him, but instead of doing the arm-waving dance for balance that we were both used to, he seemed to go limp and he plopped on the floor like a wet fish. Immediately he jumped to his feet, grinning. "I finally learned to go limp when I take a fall, sir. It took a lot of practice. I imagine I'll save some broken bones that way." "Yes, sir. I see I've been fighting this thing too hard. I am an Accident Prone and I might as well accept it. Why not? I seem to always muddle through some way, like out there in the jungle, so why should I If he merely accepts being a Prone, his accidents gain us nothing. We off blunders or, as in this case, conviction that he never got himself think you would like to be without your armed guards to protect you every moment?" "I can take care of myself, sir!" Because if you're not our Accident Prone, you're just another crew member, you know." That one hurt him, but I saw I had put it to him as a challenge and he must have had some guilt feelings about accepting all that luxury protection the Service gives them. "Look here, Baxter, do you like your quarters on this ship?" I demanded. He stood sharply to attention. "Request transfer to position of Assistant Pile Driver, j.g., sir." I barely halted a groan. He thought I resented him and was deliberately holding him down into the miserable overpaid, overfed job that was beneath him and the talents that so fitted him for the job. "Request granted."

<question>:
Why did the captain stop the guard from defending the accident-prone?

<options>:
A He didn't want to save his life
B He thought the fight must be allowed to continue
C He didn't think the guard could beat the aliens
D He was upset the guard had shoved him down

<answer>:

B