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

<passage>:
smouldering leaves.... victims borne into [116] this Valley Dor by the mysterious Iss. Kimmy shifted the heavy Martian pistol into his left hand and checked his harness. A soft smile touched his lips. He was well armed there was nothing he had to fear from the Plant Men. His bare feet turned Kimball tried to see him in the black gloom. He hadn’t been asleep. It Oddly enough, he wasn’t tired. He wasn’t excited, either. And that was much stranger. He stood up and opened the window to look out into the desert night. Overhead the stars were brilliant and cold. Mars gleamed russet-colored against the sable sky. He smiled, remembering again. So long a road, he thought, from then to now. “You’re a lonely man, Colonel Kimball——” “Too much imagination could be bad for this job.” How could you sit there with pentothal in your veins and wires running out of your head and tell them about the still waters of Korus, or the pennons flying from the twin towers of Greater Helium or the way the tiny, slanting sun gleamed at dawn through the rigging of a flyer? Kimball snapped on a light and looked at his watch. 0310. Zero minus one that madrone, Kimmy thought. Was that a Plant Man? The thick white trunk and the grasping, blood-sucking arms—— The radium pistol’s weight made his wrist ache, but he clung to it tightly, knowing that he [117] could never cope with a Plant Man with a sword attack the white Therns and their Plant Men. the phonograph was very, very faint. Above him, the great vault of the sky was changing from pink to gray to dusty blue. A bright star was breaking through the curtain of fading light. He knew it was Venus, the Evening Star. But let it be Earth, he thought. And instead of white, let it be the color of an emerald. He paused in midstream, letting the warm water riffle around his feet. Looking up at the green beacon of his home planet, he thought: I’ve left all that behind me. It was never really what I wanted. Mars is where I belong. With my friends, Tars Tarkas the great Green Jeddak, and Carter, the Warlord, and all the beautiful brave people. Cliffs while the Plant Men gathered to attack the poor pilgrims Iss had brought to this cursed valley. Kimball stood now in the bright glare of the briefing shack, a strange figure in blood-colored plastic. The representatives of the press had been handed the mimeographed releases by the PRO and now they sat in silence, studying the red figure of the man who was to ride the rocket. They were thinking: Why him? Out of all the scores of applicants—because there are always applicants for a sure-death Kimball listened, only half aware of what was being said. He watched the On the dais nearby, listening to the PRO, but watching Kimball, sat Steinhart, the team analyst. Kimball returned his steady gaze thinking: They start out burning with desire to cure the human mind and end with aim. What could Steinhart know of longing? No, he thought, I’m not being fair. Steinhart was only doing his job. The big clock on the back wall of the briefing shack said three Kimball looked around the room at the pale faces, the open mouths. What ferroconcrete. command car with Kimball. Chance or design? Kimball wondered. The Kimball thought: He’s pale skinned and very blond. What is it that he reminds me of? Shouldn’t there be a diadem on his forehead? He smiled vaguely into the rumbling night. That’s what it was. Odd that he should have forgotten. How many rocket pilots, he wondered, were weaned on wore yellow wings and a circlet of gold with some fantastic jewel on Kimball had had to give them up because of the flight. Kimball caught “I didn’t try to kill the assignment for you, Kim,” the Kimball said: “I talked too much.” Kimball shrugged. “It didn’t work. She was a fine girl—but she what did she Kimball, swathed in plastic, a fantastic figure not of earth, watched gulf. “What will you do?” “You know the answers as well as I,” the Colonel said impatiently. “Set up the camp and wait for the next rocket. If it “In two years,” the plastic figure said. Didn’t he know that clinically. Natural under the circumstances? Or neurosis building up already? “Our tests showed you to be a schizoid—well-compensated, of course. You know there’s no such thing as a symptoms are an overly active imagination and in some cases an inability Kimball turned to regard the psych child.” Kimball was watching the sky again. about the psychology of space-flight, Kim——” Silence. The rumble of the tires on the packed sand of the road, the murmur of the command car’s engine, spinning oilily, and lit by tiny finally. “Happy to be the first man to try for the planets——” Kimball nodded absently, wishing the man would be quiet. Mars, a dull rusty point of light low on the horizon, seemed to beckon. They topped the last hillock and dropped down into the lighted bowl of the launching site. The rocket towered, winged and monstrously checkered in white and orange, against the first flickerings of the false dawn. “Kimm-eeeee—” “Where is that little brat, anyway?” him——” “Playing with that old faucet—” Mimicry. “‘My rad-ium pis-tol——’” “Cracked—just cracked. Oh, where IS he, anyway? Kimmm-eee, you AN-swer!” Something died in him. It wasn’t a faucet, it WAS a radium pistol. He looked at his sisters with dismay. They weren’t really his sisters. They were Therns, with their yellow hair and their pale skins. He and John Carter and Tars Tarkas had fought them many times, piling their bodies for barricades and weaving a flashing pattern of skillful swords in the shifting light of the two moons. [121] “Kimmmm—eeee Mom’s going to be mad at you! Answer us!” If only Tars Tarkas would come now. If only the great Green Jeddak would come splashing across the stream on his huge thoat, his two swords clashing—— “Kimmy! You come down here this instant!” He lay like an embryo in the viscera of the ship, protected and quite alone. The plastic sac contained him, fed him and the rocket, silent now, coursed through the airless deep like a questing thought. Time was measured by the ticking of the telemeters and the timers, but Kimball as he remembered them through the eyes of a nine-year-old—— ” And his sisters: “ Playing with his wooden swords and his radium pistol and never wanting to take his nose out of those awful books—— ” heat of the summer nights and the thick longing in his throat for red Mars. And Steinhart: “ What is reality, Kimmy? There was skill in his hands. He righted the rocket, balanced it. Began the tricky task of landing. It took all of his talent, all of his training. Ponderously, the ship settled into the iron sand slowly, the Kimball stood in the control room, his heart pounding. Slowly, the ports lashed supplies. His hands were clawing desperately at the dogs of the Strange monstrous men on fantastic war-mounts, long spears and fluttering pennons. Huge golden chariots with scythes flashing on the circling hubs and armored giants, the figments of a long remembered dream—— Kimmm-eee! Kimmmm-eeeee! The voice was thin and distant on the icy wind. Kimball knew that voice.

<question>:
What does young Kimball use as a weapon?

<options>:
A A radium pistol
B A book
C A faucet
D A Martian pistol

<answer>:

C