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

<passage>:
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Granthan's mission was the most vital of the war. It would mean instant victory—but for whom? I "What ya wanna go out there for? Nothing out there." buildings. "What's this?" "This is the place you ast for. That'll be a buck ten, mister." Gool—if I survived. Kayle of Aerospace Intelligence had assigned to me a few weeks before. "... you Psychodynamics people have been telling me the Gool may have some kind of long-range telehypnotic ability that might make it "This is war, Granthan. War against a vicious enemy who strike without warning and without mercy. You were sent out to investigate the "I'm sorry, Granthan. I can't let you land on Earth. I can't accept the risk." "What do I do now?" I stormed. "Go into orbit and eat pills and hope you think of something? I need a doctor!" he was doing 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. Maybe there was something in Kayle's suspicion. If the Gool were as resource. I could unlock the memories of my subconscious—and see again what had happened. I lay back, cleared my mind of extraneous thoughts, and concentrated on probing Gool mind, like a whispered touch deftly rearranging my buried trough! " intricate. I saw how the decoy pseudo-personality which I had concretized for the purpose in a hundred training sessions had fought against the intruding stimuli—then yielded under the relentless thrust of the alien probe. I watched as the Gool operator took over the motor centers, caused me to crawl through the choking smoke of the devastated 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 the last filament of your life-force! " followed the skillful Gool mind as it engraved its commands deep in my subconscious. Then the touch withdrew, erasing the scars of its Watching the Gool mind, I learned. and manipulating it, copying the Gool probe. Like planes of paper-thin crystal, the polyfinite aspects of reality shifted into focus, aligning themselves. Using the technique I had grasped from the Gool itself, I struck, obscene gelatinous immensity of the Gool spy as it spasmed in a frenzy I clamped down control. The Gool mind folded in on itself, gibbering. tracing patterns, scanning the flaccid Gool mind.... 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 white sound, plumbed the deepest recesses of hidden Gool thoughts, concepts of an alien mind. the diagrammed circuits of a strange machine. 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 a Gool robot. But what I have is too big to let you blow it up without a fight. Matter transmission! You know what that can mean to us. The concept is too complex to try to describe in words. You'll have to take 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. I might have saved my breath. "It smacks of mysticism. But I understand what the Gool have done to I leaned back and chewed the inside of my lip and thought unkind thoughts about Colonel Ausar Kayle. Then I settled down to solve the problem at hand. I closed my eyes, reached out—as the Gool mind had reached out to of defense. A few more minutes' grace would have helped. I'd play it dumb, and hope for a little luck. "Planetary, Z four-oh-two here. Say, I'm afraid I missed part of that, For an hour I rode the long orbit down, fending off attack after Kayle of Aerospace Intelligence." Kayle's face appeared. "Don't fight it, Granthan," he croaked. "You penetrated the planetary defenses—God knows how. I—" "Later," I snapped. "How about calling off your dogs now? And send somebody out here to pick me up, before I add sea-sickness to my other Kayle," I shouted. "I suppose you've got missiles on the way already. to carry out the schemes of the inhuman enemy, this in no way detracts I flipped the switch, sat gripping the couch, my stomach rising with 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.... through the cluster of minds. "— missile on course do right, baby. That's it, right in the slot. " detonated the remainder of the flight of six missiles. Then I withdrew. I would have a few minutes' stay of execution now. arm was yelling aloud for more of that nice dope that had been keeping it from realizing how bad it was. All things considered, I felt like a badly embalmed mummy—except that I was hungry. I had been a fool not to fill my pockets when I left the escape capsule in the shallows off Key Largo, but things had been happening too fast. carelessly. "When'd you git so all-fired hungry all of a sudden?" "Put it in a bag. Quick." original idea hadn't been his own. I drank the water first, ate a sandwich, then lit a cigarette and lay back. So far so good. The crates in the car were marked "U. S. Naval raid on the Delta National Labs

<question>:
What was the mission of the Gool?

<options>:
A Use control of Peter to ship them resources from Earth to sustain their people
B Expand their kind through the universe
C Take control of Earth and move their colony there
D Crumble Earth’s military resources

<answer>:

B