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

<passage>:
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] what it's like to be young and a man and to dream of reaching the stars? And yet, at the same time, to be filled with a terrible, gnawing were over. The Academy, with its great halls and classrooms and laboratories, lay hollow and silent, an exhausted thing at sleep after spawning its first-born. ago had been only scrawled names on letters from home or words spoken wistfully at Christmas. They were the memory-people who, to me, had never really existed. Stardust Charlie, we called him, although I never knew why. He was a My gaze wandered over the faces, but I couldn't find Charlie's. It It doesn't matter , I told myself. a hell of a lot more. They think there's nothing we can't do. I felt very small and very humble. I was scared. Damned scared. At last it was over, and the proud faces descended upon us in a huge, babbling wave. But he wasn't the Charlie I'd seen a year ago. He'd become gaunt and the past year." A tide of heat crept up from my collar. I stuttered through an introduction of Charlie. Stardust was not a cadet's notion of the ideal spaceman. Charlie His tie was clumsily knotted, and a button on his coat was missing. And the left side of his face was streaked with dark scar tissue, the result of an atomic blowup on one of the old Moon ships. I was so accustomed to the scars, I was seldom aware of them that he'd infinitely prefer to spend his liberty sampling Martian fizzes and Plutonian zombies. months to decide." "No, thanks," I answered. "Better not count on me." I looked at you as if you were Everson himself, because you seemed to understand the hunger that could lie in a man's heart. Then your last words came back and jabbed me: "That's what Mickey used to want." " You bit your lip, not answering. "What did she mean, Mickey?" My stomach was full of churning, biting ice. "What are you trying to say, Mickey?" "I've thought about it a long time. They want me for Cargo Supervisor of White Sands Port." He raised his hand to stop me. "I know. It's not so exciting. I'll just live a lot longer. I'm sorry, Ben." I couldn't answer. It was as if someone had whacked the back of my knees with the blast of a jet. Charlie was muttering under his breath, smoldering like a bomb about to "Charlie is funny, isn't he? He's nice and I'm glad he's here, but he's I smiled and shook my head. "If he had, he never mentioned it. Charlie feeling that I shouldn't have come here. You kept looking at me until I had to ask: "What are you thinking, You laughed, but it was a sad, fearful laugh. "No, I shouldn't be thinking it. You'd hate me if I told you, and I wouldn't want that." to see the strange places and make history. But is it worth it? Is it worth the things you'd have to give up?" I didn't understand at first, and I wanted to ask, "Give up what ?" in a Moon crash at the age of 36, or like a thousand others who lie buried in Martian sand and Venusian dust. Or, if you're lucky, like Charlie—a kind of human meteor streaking through space, eternally alone, never finding a home. Or there's the other path. To stay on this little prison of an Earth old, who awake to the song of birds instead of rocket grumblings, who fill their lungs with the clean rich air of Earth instead of poisonous dust. "I'm sorry," you said. "I didn't mean to make you sad, Ben." "It's all right," I said, clenching my fists. "You made sense—a lot of sense." The next morning Charlie said good-bye in our room. He rubbed his scarred face nervously as he cleared his throat with a series of thin, tight coughs. I scowled, not understanding. "Why, Charlie? What for?" He shrugged as if afraid he might be accused of sentimentality. "Oh, look inside. I'll probably be there." He coughed again, a deep, rasping cough that filled his eyes with tears. "Not used to this Earth air," he muttered. "What I need's some Martian climate." I shook the thought away. If Charlie was sick, he wouldn't talk about Charlie's hard face contorted itself into a gargoylish grin. "Maybe a My folks were killed in a rocket crash. If it weren't for rockets, I'd have lived the kind of life a kid should live. Mickey noticed my frown. "What's the matter, Ben? Still sore? I feel like a heel, but I'm just not like you and Charlie, I guess. I—" "No, I understand, Mickey. I'm not sore, really." "Listen, then. You haven't accepted any offer yet, have you?" "No. I got a couple of possibilities. Could get a berth on the I'll stay, Mickey. Sure." Forty days of joy, forty nights of fear and indecision. We did all the promise of a child's dream, because you knew that was what I wanted. One morning I thought, Why must I make a choice? Why can't I have both Ben? You'd be like Charlie. Gone for "Do you think I'd dare have children, Ben? Mickey told me what happened on the You had to finish. "It was a monster." That night I lay awake, the fears and doubts too frantic to let me sleep. , I told myself. You can't stay here. You've got to make a choice. line in a history book. I cursed. I knew what Charlie would say. He'd say, "Get the hell out of there, boy. Don't let a fool woman make a sucker out of you. Get That's what he'd say. Charles Taggart was Charlie. Stardust Charlie. My heart thudded crazily against my chest. It couldn't be! Not Charlie! The audiogram had lied! I pressed the stud again. "... regret to inform you of death of Charles ..." I hurled the cylinder at the wall. It thudded, fell, rolled. The broken Without answering, I walked into my room. I knew it was true now. I remembered Charlie's coughing, his gaunt features, his drugged gaze. The metallic words had told the truth. I sat for a long time on my bed, crying inside, but staring dry-eyed at Charlie's faded tin box. Then, finally, I fingered his meager possessions—a few wrinkled This was what remained of Charlie after twenty-five years in space. It was a bitter bargain. A statue instead of a wife, yellowed letters instead of children, a medal instead of a home. It'd be a great future , I thought. You'd dream of sitting in a dingy with dirty feet for company. And a sudden cough that would be the first sign of lung-rot. To hell with it! It's hard to tell you, to make you understand, and that is why I am writing this. the old letters and studying the photographs. I believe now that Charlie sensed my indecision, that he left these things so that they could tell me what he could not express in words. decision that I am facing. Two paths were before him, but he tried to travel both. He later learned what we already know—that there can be no compromise. And you know, too, which path he finally chose. Do you know why he had to drug himself to watch me graduate? So he live to see. Charlie didn't leave just a few trinkets behind him. He kind—but that doesn't matter now. Do you know why last night on Earth. It might have seemed an ugly kind of celebration to you, but he wanted it with all his heart, and we robbed him of it.

<question>:
Which word least describes Charlie?

<options>:
A proud
B sick
C experienced
D regretful

<answer>:

D