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 intercom on Baxter's desk suddenly buzzed, and a bright red light Baxter picked it up and swiftly scanned its surface. A look of dismay overrode his erstwhile genial features. I had a horrible suspicion. "Not again?" I said softly. Baxter swore under his breath. Then he reached across the desktop and greatest mystery, Jery assumed that it was because of his mental time to pierce the maze of out-of-this-world double-dealing. For Jery end of the whole puzzle of THE SECRET MARTIANS—with Jery as the first Oddly enough, it worked out, and he now does nothing else. He says, "I'd like to say I do this for fulfillment, or for cash, or because it's my destiny however, the real reason (same as that expressed by Jean Kerr) is that this kind of stay-at-home self-employment lets me sleep late in the morning." 1 I was sitting at my desk, trying to decide how to tell the women of after six weeks in the hair, but that was the lab's fault, not mine. So I managed a weak smile toward the duo, and tried not to sweat too profusely. "Jery Delvin?" said the one on my left, a note of no-funny-business in his brusque baritone. "... Yes," I said, some terrified portion of my mind waiting masochistically for them to draw their collapsers and reduce me to a beside me. Marge, my secretary, stood wide-eyed as we passed through I be back?" I asked desperately, as we waited for the the golden bulk of their holstered collapsers. There was nothing for me to do but sweat it out and to try and enjoy the ride, wherever we were going. " You Baxter pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes for a moment, then sighed, grinned wryly, and waggled an index finger at an empty plastic contour chair. "I guess maybe you are at that, son. Sit down, sit down." I folded gingerly at knees and hips and slid back into the chair, pressing my perspiring palms against the sides of my pants to get rid of their uncomfortably slippery feel. "Thank you, sir." There was a silence, during which I breathed uneasily, and a bit too always reacts to an obvious cliche. Then, with something like a look of relief on his blunt face, he inches tall, brown hair, slate-gray eyes. Citizen. Honest, sober, civic-minded, slightly antisocial...." He looked at me, questioningly. "I'd rather not discuss that, sir, if you don't mind." my mind. Ruin my work." "I don't get you." "Just a bit," Baxter said. I took a deep breath and tried again. Baxter cleared his throat loudly. "I understand, at last. Hence your "No, I don't imagine it has...." Baxter was staring into some far-off Baxter looked me square in the eye. "Damned if I know!" Baxter shrugged, and his genial smile was a bit tightly stretched. Baxter eyed me balefully, then skimmed the brochure through the air in opposite side. "All it gives is my description, governmental status, and address!" "Uh-huh," Baxter grunted laconically. "It amuses you, does it?" The smile was still on his lips, but there was a grimness in the glitter of fist down on the desktop. "No one has an explanation! All we know is that the Brain always picks the right man." Baxter blinked, then lost some of his scowl. "Yes, of course " Baxter and back, with the broadly-smiling government picking up the enormous tab?" I detected a tinge of cynicism in his tone, but said nothing. "You sound disillusioned, sir," I interjected. He stared at me as though I'd just fallen in from the ceiling or somewhere. "Huh? Oh, yes, Delvin, isn't it? Sorry, I got carried away. Where was I?" I thought a second, then nodded. "They've been having such a good time that the government extended their trip by—Why are you shaking your head that way, sir?" and tired, and very much in keeping with his snowy hair. "You see, the Space Scouts have vanished." adult, especially an adult with a mind keen enough to get him into Interplanetary Security. We've limited the shifts to four hours per man per day. Otherwise, they'd all be gibbering by now!" Baxter shook his head. Baxter nodded. "Yes," said Baxter. "That's what bothers me." into nothingness, along with a good-sized swath of carpeting and six inches of concrete floor. go anywhere, do anything, commandeer anything I might need. All with no questions asked. Needless to say, I was feeling pretty chipper as I entered the hangar housing Phobos II . At the moment, I was the most influential human being in the known universe. yellow sunlight outside. He was tall, much taller than I, but he seemed nervous as hell. At least he was pacing back and forth amid a litter of half-smoked cigarette butts beside the gleaming tailfins of the spaceship, and a fuming butt was puckered into place in his mouth. thin golden chain from my neck, and for costume I wore a raven-black blouse and matching uniform trousers and boots. I must have looked quite sinister. I'm under six feet, but I'm angular and wiry. Thus, "Yes, sir!" he replied swiftly, at stiff attention. "I don't really have any details," I said, and waited for him to take his cue. As an afterthought, to help him talk, I added, "At ease, by the way, Anders." "Thank you, sir," he said, not actually loosening much in his rigid position, but his face looking happier. "See, I was supposed to pilot that fitted envelope-fashion over a foam rubber pad, and ran my finger over the surface of the pad. It came away just slightly gritty. "Uh-huh!" I said, smiling. Anders just stared at me. drinking. Otherwise, we'd all dehydrate, with no water to replace the water we lost." a dial there. "Full, sir. But that's because I didn't drink very much, and any sweating I did—which was a hell of a lot, in this case—was a source of new water for the tanks." "Uh-huh." I paused and considered. "I suppose the tubing for these last—interview with Chief Baxter. I had a slight inkling why the Brain "Strange," I remarked to Chief Baxter when I was seated once again in his office, opposite his newly replaced desk. "I hardly acted like myself out at that airfield. I was brusque, highhanded, austere, almost malevolent with the pilot. And I'm ordinarily on the shy side, as a matter of fact." "It's the Amnesty that does it," he said, gesturing toward the disc. It lay on his desk, now, along with the collapser. I felt, with the new information I'd garnered, that my work was done, and that the new data fed into the Brain would produce some other results, not involving me. I looked at the Amnesty, then nodded. "Kind of gets you, after awhile. about, the way people jump when they see it." "It is dangerous, of course, but it's vitally necessary. You're young, Baxter smiled. "No chance of that, Jery. We didn't leave it up to any such a situation!" I sank back into the contour chair, and glanced at my watch. Much too late to go back to work. I'd done a lot in one day, I reasoned. Well,

<question>:
How did Jery feel when going to Baxter's office the second time?

<options>:
A just as nervous and confused
B exhausted and worried
C excited to find out what happens next
D more comfortable and relaxed

<answer>:

D