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 man who had supplied the outfit was still asleep. I figured I'd done him a favor by taking it. I couldn't hope to pass for a It would mean instant victory—but for whom? "I'm a tourist," I said. "They told me before I left home not to miss He grunted, reached back and opened the door. I got in. He flipped his flag down, started up with a clash of gears and pulled out without tried my right leg, felt broken bone-ends grate with a sensation up Everest, but I reached it after a couple of years, and found the I touched his mind, planted a couple of false impressions and withdrew. "Thank YOU." He hesitated. "Maybe I oughta stick around. You know." As far as I knew, I was the first recorded survivor of contact with the I fumbled my way into a couch and tried to think. In my condition—with shouldn't have been able to fall out of bed, much less make the trip and how had I managed to dog that port shut? In an emergency a man was capable of great exertions. But running on a broken femur, handling heavy levers with charred fingers here—and it was time to get a call through to TSA headquarters. I flipped the switch and gave the emergency call-letters Col. Ausar Kayle of Aerospace Intelligence had assigned to me a few weeks before. "Granthan!" he burst out. "Where are the others? What happened out an answer—not with a fifteen-minute transmission lag. I plowed on: was sabotaged. So was —I think. I got out. I get his reaction to my report. I dozed off—and awoke with a start. the disaster. How does it happen that you alone survived?" have some kind of long-range telehypnotic ability that might make it possible for them to subvert a loyal man without his knowledge. You've the lifeboat, with no recollection of how you got there. warning and without mercy. You were sent out to investigate the know better than most the risk I'd be running if you were allowed to pass the patrol line. "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!" eye. I knew what he was thinking. He'd spare me the mental anguish of knowing what was coming. I couldn't really blame him what he thought was the right thing. And I'd have to go along and I tried to gather my wits and think my way through the situation. I was alone and injured, aboard a lifeboat that would be the focus of a my next meeting with my own kind. They couldn't take the chance that I was acting under Gool orders. I wasn't, of course. I was still the same Peter Granthan, their tampering—not at a conscious level. what had happened. The immense orderly confusion of the basic memory level lay before me. Abstracted from it, aloof and observant, the monitoring 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 hatch was open and I pulled myself through, forcing the broken leg. the lifeboat leaped clear of the disintegrating dreadnought—and the world-ending impact as I fell. lashed out again—fighting the invader. my subconscious. Then the touch withdrew, erasing the scars of its passage, to leave me unaware of its tampering—at a conscious level. discovered, worlds where food was free for the taking. Not sulphur 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 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 the fortress door to an unseen spy. Now that I was there, I would see what I could steal. I followed through its logic-sequence its lonely trans-Plutonian orbit, I had plucked the ultimate secret of "You've got to listen to me, Kayle," I shouted. "I know you think I'm Kayle came back—and his answer boiled down to "no." 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 I might have saved my breath. you well enough. I'm sorry." I leaned back and chewed the inside of my lip and thought unkind wild moment I thought Kayle had beaten me to the punch then I realized autopilot, at the same time running over my approach plan. The scout I blanked out the man's recollection of what had happened, caught his belated puzzlement as I broke contact. But I was clear of the DEW line now, rapidly approaching atmosphere. "Z four-oh-two," the speaker crackled. "This is planetary control. I am ninety-eight. Do not attempt re-entry. Repeat: do not attempt re-entry!" It hadn't taken Kayle long to see that I'd gotten past the outer line dumb, and hope for a little luck. "Four-oh-two, sheer off there! You're not cleared for re-entry!" It was time to disappear. I blanked off all transmission, hit the from his chair, crossed the darkened room and threw a switch. The radar disorientation as the escape capsule separated from the sinking I would have to risk calling Kayle now—but by voluntarily giving my badly in need of a pick-up. I flipped the sending key. 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 "I'm sorry, Granthan," Kayle said. "It's too late—even if I could take the chance you were right." A different face appeared on the screen. "Mr. Granthan, I am General Titus. On behalf of your country, and in the name of the President—who has been apprised of this tragic Although you failed, and have in fact been forced, against your will, "Stow that, you pompous idiot!" I barked. "I'm no spy!" "Goodbye, Granthan. Try to understand...." I flipped the switch, sat gripping the couch, my stomach rising with Men fell on him, dragged him back. "— fool, why did you blow it? I dropped the contact, found another, who leaped to the panel, I ducked back, closed my eyes, felt out for his mind. There was 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. I had barely made it to the fishing boat, whose owner I had coerced for groceries. He'd never believe he'd seen me. the farce. worried—at the moment. The watchman probably hadn't convinced anyone carelessly. "When'd you git so all-fired hungry all of a sudden?" I was discovering that it wasn't necessary to hold tight control over every move of a subject. Once given the impulse to act, he would original idea hadn't been his own. he was thinking I thanked him and got in. He gave me a glance and I pinched off his his thoughts. It was as though my mind, having learned the trick of

<question>:
Who made the mistake that allowed Peter to return to Earth?

<options>:
A There was no mistake
B The missile operator that miscalculated trajectory to Peter’s ship
C The mission’s control programming which auto-routed him home in the escape pod
D The operator of the security net around Earth

<answer>:

A