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.] The most dangerous is not the outlawed murderer, who only slays men, but the rebellious philosopher: for he destroys worlds. Darkness and the chill glitter of stars. Bo Jonsson crouched on a whirling speck of stone and waited for the man who was coming to kill him. off, with one long thin crag sticking into the sky like a grotesque bowsprit. There was no sound except the thudding of his own heart, the harsh rasp insulating material. He might be able to hear the footsteps of his murderer conducted through the ground. Stillness answered him. He gulped a heavy lungful of tainted air and rose. The other might be miles away yet, or perhaps very close, catfooting too softly to set up vibrations. A man could do that when The stars blazed with a cruel wintry brilliance, over him, around him, light-years to fall through emptiness before he reached one. He had been alone among them before he had almost thought them friends. Sometimes, on a long watch, a man found himself talking to Vega or Spica or dear old Beetle Juice, murmuring what was in him as if the remote sun could understand. But they didn't care, he saw that now. To them, he did not exist, and they would shine carelessly long after he was gone into night. He had never felt so alone as now, when another man was on the asteroid with him, hunting him down. it would have been heavy on Earth, but it was hardly enough to unscrew the stars and reset the machinery of a universe gone awry. He smiled stiffly at the thought. He wanted to laugh too, but checked himself for fear he wouldn't be able to stop. Let's face it , he told himself. You're scared. You're scared sweatless. He wondered if he had spoken it aloud. And if he found his enemy, he would probably die anyway. He looked about him. Nothing. No sound, no movement, nothing but the fields which had never known life. It was like being dead already. Bo Jonsson's tongue was dry and thick in his mouth. He wanted to find his enemy and give up, buy existence at whatever price it would Moreover, being dense clusters, they have attracted swarms of miners, genuinely private enterprise: the prospector, the mine owner, the rockhound dreaming of the day when his stake is big enough for him to start out on his own—a race of individualists, rough and noisy and jealous, but living under iron rules of hospitality and rescue. he didn't grate on Bo, they had been partners for several years now. one of Achilles' three live ecdysiasts with hungry eyes, and by some miracle found an empty booth. Bo squeezed his bulk into one side of the cubicle while Johnny, squinting through a reeking smoke-haze, dialed drinks. Bo was larger and heavier than most spacemen—he'd never have gotten his certificate before the ion drive came in—and was usually content to let others talk while he listened. A placid blond giant, with amiable blue eyes in a battered brown face, he did not consider himself bright, and always wanted to learn. "Because I am one at heart. Look, Bo, why don't you get over that Bo chuckled. The Company consisted of (a) the Bo shook his head and watched his partner move off, swift in the puny her, but Johnny had The Touch. He'd be bringing her back here in a few minutes. Bo sighed, feeling a bit lonesome. If he wasn't going to make a night of it, there was no point in drinking heavily. He had to make the final inspection of the ship tomorrow, and grudged the cost of anti-hangover tablets. Besides what he was putting back into the business, he was trying to build a private hoard some day, he'd retire and get married and build a house. He already had the site picked out, on Kullen overlooking the Sound, back on Earth. Man, but it was a long time since Johnny made some reply. Bo heaved up his form and strode toward the A spaceman, that. Knows how to handle himself in low-gee. It was the only clear thought which ran in the sudden storm of Bo's head. were the deeps of space and the cold stars. He could dimly see the tortured swirl of crystallization patterns in the smooth bareness. No place to hide his enemy was not there. He turned the thought over in a mind which seemed stiff and slow. By for outer space. No meteor gravel, that! Bo stood unmoving an instant, fighting the impulse to leap away. He was might get too tired at the critical moments. Bo knew he wouldn't be Bo didn't care the first day. He had taken Johnny out to Helmet Hill and laid him in the barren ground to wait, unchanging now, till Judgement Day. He felt empty then, drained of grief and hope alike, his main thought a dull dread of having to tell Johnny's father when Bo returned to the transient quarters and dialed Valeria McKittrick. got to get home. Can't you find somebody?" Bo shrugged, not caring much. "I'll circulate an ad if you want, but—" "Do so, please. Let me know." She switched off. labs for nothing. He knew she was still young, and that she had been on Achilles for about a year working on some special project and was now ready to go home. danced and laughed and flirted mildly, but even the dullest rockhound Since coming here, on commission from the Lunar lab, to bring her home, Bo Jonsson had given her an occasional wistful thought. He liked intelligent women, and he was getting tired of rootlessness. But of course it would be a catastrophe if he fell in love with her because drunk. It was all he could do for Johnny now, drink him a final wassail. Already his friend was cold under the stars. In the course of the evening he found himself weeping. a kip in the public barracks, was well fueled. Bo swallowed a tablet Bo had heard of it in the course of Bo understood that kind of loyalty. You couldn't travel space without Bo went at his share of the job doggedly, checking and re-checking before giving the problem to the machine Lundgard breezed through it and spent his time while waiting for Bo in swapping dirty limericks Bo relaxed against the thrust, thinking of Achilles falling away behind them. "So long," he whispered. "So long, Johnny." III In another minute, he would be knotted and screaming from the bends, and a couple of minutes later he would be dead. Bo clamped his teeth together, as if he would grip consciousness in his jaws. His hands felt cold and heavy, the hands of a stranger, as he fumbled for the supply pouch. It seemed to recede from him, down a hollow infinite corridor where echoes talked in a language he did not know. "Damn," he gasped. "Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn." were stars buzzing in his head, like cold white fireflies, buzzing and buzzing in the enormous ringing emptiness of his skull. Pain jagged through him, he felt his eardrums popping as pressure dropped. born again. Born, spewed out of an iron womb into a hollowness of stars and cold, to lie on naked rock while the enemy hunted him. Bo shuddered and wanted to scream again. Slowly he groped back toward awareness. His frostbitten back tingled hours worth left. Lundgard could kill him simply by waiting. It would be easy to die. He lay on his back, staring up at the stars and the spilling cloudy glory of the Milky Way. A warmth was creeping back into numbed hands and feet soon he would be warm all over, and sleepy. His eyelids felt heavy, strange that they should be so heavy on an asteroid. He wanted terribly to sleep.

<question>:
In his solitude, who did Bo consider more than once to be his companions?

<options>:
A The bugs that would come out after dark.
B The people he made up in his head.
C The stars.
D His lonely thoughts.

<answer>:

C