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

<passage>:
Nebula McCray found an ally—and a foe! thought, very much like the parts of a bullet-gun. "Herrell McCray, Herrell McCray, Herrell McCray, this is Jodrell Bank calling Herrell McCray...." And louder, blaring, then fading to normal volume as the AVC circuits panic and fear: " Jodrell Bank! Where are you? Help!" and a number of inconvenient sizes. McCray tripped over something Hatcher's second in command said: "He has got through the first McCray had no idea where he was, and no way to find out. but it was not the pain that disturbed Hatcher, seemed to be in pain "I know," Hatcher said, "but watch. Do you see? He is going straight toward her." Hatcher, who was not human, did not possess truly human emotions But the room itself was hard fact. McCray swore violently and out loud. he did feel amazement when he was amazed, and fear when there was but Starship Jodrell Bank to this damned, dark, dismal hole of a place where everything was out to hurt him and nothing explained what was going on. He cried aloud in exasperation: "If I could only see !" Hatcher knew that this was not a freak show, but a matter of life and "This new one, I cannot communicate with her, but I get—almost—a Hatcher hesitated. "No," he said at last. "The male is responding well. death. He said, musing: the female—" "But?" The woman's voice was at such close range that McCray's suit radio made Jodrell Bank McCray was hardly surprised at that , an explosion, himself knocked himself. He tried to reassure her as he searched for a way out of the out, brought here in a suit ... well, it was an explanation with more he had been close enough to shock McCray regarded it grimly. He went back in his memory with meticulous suit? It was slightly reassuring, McCray thought, to find that most of McCray was beginning to feel more confident. It was astonishing how a had happened to him, but what had happened to the ship? McCray grinned into the pink-lit darkness. The thought had somehow For before the light had gone, McCray had seen what had escaped moment of study, his chest. McCray could not see any part of his own body at all. Someone was watching Herrell McCray, with the clinical fascination antibiotic—and with the prayerful emotions of a starving, shipwrecked, sailor, watching the inward bobbing drift of a wave-born cask that may Hatcher was not exactly male, because his race had no true males it did have females and he was certainly not that. Hatcher did not in If Hatcher and McCray had somehow managed to strike up an acquaintance, they might have got along very well. Hatcher, like McCray, was an of his culture. Both enjoyed games—McCray baseball, poker and Hatcher's principal task at this moment was to run the "probe team" which had McCray under observation, and he was more than a little The probe team had had a shock. "Paranormal powers," muttered Hatcher's second in command, and the others mumbled agreement. Hatcher ordered silence, studying the watch McCray, and they would do their job and even more, not one of them could have looked away to save his life from the spectacle of Hatcher hurried through the halls of the great buried structure in Hatcher identified himself and gave a quick, concise report: about communicating with him, Hatcher? Any progress?" Still, Hatcher fretted. He wanted to get back. biophysical nuances of his enclosure —"and tried to guess his needs and we're frightening him half to death. We can't go faster. This creature is in no way similar to us, you know. He relies on paranormal forces—heat, light, kinetic energy—for his life. His chemistry is not ours, his processes of thought are not ours, his entire organism is closer to the inanimate rocks of a sea-bottom than to ourselves." "But in a "Have they secured a subject?" Hatcher demanded jealously. There was a moment's silence. Frozen, Hatcher could only wait. The again, each council member poised over his locus-point, his members Hatcher returned to his laboratory gloomily. they had a reputation for demanding results at any cost—even at the cost of destroying the only thing you had that would make results possible. be said that he was emotionally involved it was not pity or sympathy communication. Not even Hatcher had quite got over the revolting Hatcher did not want him destroyed. It had been difficult enough Hatcher checked through the members that he had left with the rest of took time to eat. In Hatcher's race this was accomplished in ways not Hatcher caught and poured into a disposal trough at the side of the reported—nothing new—and asked about Hatcher's appearance before the ages past, had almost destroyed Hatcher's people. Only by running and But it seemed that the Probe Teams themselves might be betraying their existence to their enemies— "Hatcher!" second in command, very excited. "What is it?" Hatcher demanded. Hatcher was patient At what passed among Hatcher's people for a viewing console an image Hatcher was startled. "Another one! And—is it a different species? Or Hatcher studied him frostily And then, in a completely different mood, "We may need him badly. We may be in the process of killing our first one now." Hatcher rose and shook himself, his mindless members floating away like The dark was absolute, but he remembered where the spacesuit had been For a second he thought he heard the far-off voice, quiet, calm and almost hopeless, that he had sensed hours before but then that was a very faint, an almost inaudible elfin hiss. McCray switched the light on and looked around. There seemed to be no amazement in its tone, "McCray, is that you? Where the devil are you He forgot smell, sound and temperature and leaped for the suit. "This is Herrell McCray," he cried. "I'm in a room of some sort, apparently "McCray!" cried the tiny voice in his ear. "Where are you? This is "I am answering, damn it," he roared. "What took you so long?" "Herrell McCray," droned the tiny voice in his ear, "Herrell McCray, acknowledge please. Herrell McCray, Herrell McCray...." McCray took a deep breath and thought. Something was wrong. Either they they had message implied McCray thumbed down the transmitter button and gave a concise report Hurriedly McCray scrambled into the suit. By the time he was sealed down he was coughing from the bottom of his lungs, deep, tearing rasps that pained him, uncontrollable. Chlorine or fluorine, one of them was in the air he had been breathing. He could not guess where it had come from but it was ripping his lungs out. He flushed the interior of the suit out with a reckless disregard for daring only shallow gasps that made him retch and gag. After a long in dense air, with conduction pouring energy in faster than the cooling coils could suck it out and hurl it away, it was the McCray had no way of knowing just how hot it was going to get. Nor, for that matter, had the suit been designed to operate in a corrosive McCray caught it up and headed for the door. It felt good in his do next all those questions could recede into the background of his mind while he swung the ax and battered his way out of this poisoned oven. Crash-clang! The double jolt ran up the shaft of the ax, through his McCray got the thin of the blade into the crack and pried it wide. McCray put the broad of his back against the broken door and pressed it as nearly closed as he could it might not keep the gas and heat out, but it would retard them. The room was again unlighted—at least to McCray's eyes. There was not

<question>:
What feeling did McCray and Hatcher both feel at least once during this article?

<options>:
A Alarm
B Excitement
C Confidence
D Rage

<answer>:

A