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

<passage>:
Two men had died before Syme Rector's guns to give him the key to the ancient city of Kal-Jmar—a city of untold wealth, and of robots that made desires instant commands. crashed, illegally-armed ship would have told them that. But they didn't know that he was Syme Rector, the most-wanted and most-feared raider in the System. In that was his only advantage. the top of the ramp, and then followed. The man was waiting for him at the mouth of the ascending tunnel. Syme looked at him casually, without a flicker of expression, and started to walk on, but the other stepped into his path. He was quite "All right," the boy said quietly. "What is it?" "I don't understand," Syme said. "The game, the angle. You've been following me. Do you want trouble?" "Why, no," Syme told him bewilderedly. "I haven't been following you. I—" Syme murmured something and turned away, feeling the spaceman's eyes on the small of his back until he turned the corner. At the next intersection, and then followed again more cautiously. It was risky, but there was no other way. The signatures, the data, even the photograph on the card could be forged once Syme got his hands on it, but the identity card itself—that oblong of dark diamondite, boy strode into the entrance lobby, bought a ticket for the observation platform, and took the elevator. As soon as his car was out of sight in the transparent tube, Syme followed. He put a half-credit slug into the machine, took the punctured slip of plastic that came out. The ticket away. Except for him, the platform was empty. Syme loosened his slim, deadly energy pistol in its holster and padded catlike toward the silent figure. silent white pencil of flame, and the boy crumpled to the floor with a minute, charred hole in the white leather over his chest. Syme stooped over him swiftly, found a thick wallet and thrust it into his pocket without a second glance. Then he raised the body in his arms and thrust it over the parapet. It fell, and in the same instant Syme felt a violent tug at his wrist. Before he could move to stop himself, he was over the edge. Too late, Wordlessly, the man clasped thin fingers around his wrist. The other pulled, with much puffing and panting, and with his help Syme managed to get a leg over the edge and hoist his trembling body to safety. "Are you all right?" Syme looked at the man, nursing the tortured muscles of his arms. His wide open. My laundry is probably all over Lillis by now." They got off at the amusement level, three tiers down, and found a cafe around the corner. Syme wasn't worried about the man he had just killed. He had heard no second thud, so the body must have stayed on delicately-webbed feet and trailing long gauzy streamers of synthesilk after them. Syme watched them through narrowed lids, feeling the glow of culcha inside him. "I wanta go to Kal-Jmar," said Tate. Syme snapped to attention, every nerve tingling. An indefinable sense, a hunch that had served him well before, told him that something big was coming—something that promised adventure and loot for Syme Rector. "Why?" he asked softly. "Why to Kal-Jmar?" Harold Tate told him, and later, when Syme had taken him to his rooms, he showed him what was in his little black suitcase. Syme had been right it was big. Tate, a physicist, had stumbled on a field that seemed to be identical force that would break it down. And so he had made his first trip to Mars, and within twenty-four hours, by the blindest of chances, blurted out his secret to Syme Rector, the scourge of the spaceways, the man with a thousand credits Syme's smile was not tigerish now it was carefully, studiedly mild. For Tate was no longer drunk, and it was important that it should not was in and would bear the car's weight, and Syme started the car over the edge. head. Neither Syme nor Tate ever had a chance to test the efficiency of their When the smoky red dust had cleared away, they saw that the left tread of the sand car was crushed beyond all recognition. Syme was cursing slowly and steadily with a deep, seething anger. Tate said, "I guess we walk from here on." Then he looked up again and although some had the slim Benson energy guns—strictly forbidden to Martians. Syme stopped cursing and watched tensely. Tate said nothing, but he swallowed audibly. One Martian, who looked exactly like all the rest, stepped forward and spot long enough. "Come on," Syme said grimly. He rose and reached for a pressure suit, and Tate followed him. "What do you think they'll—" he began, and then stopped himself. "I "Yeah," said Syme, and opened the door. The air in the car whooshed into the near-vacuum outside, and he and Tate stepped out. Syme swore amazedly. "I thought you said they didn't speak Terrestrial," Tate said. Syme ignored him. thought you were taking it from equals or not." "Never mind that," Syme broke in impatiently. "What do you want with us?" The Martian looked at him appraisingly. "You already suspect. Unfortunately, you must die." It was a weird situation, Syme thought. His mind was racing, but as yet he could see no way out. He began to wonder, if he did, could he keep holding himself in check with an effort. "Will you tell us why?" Tate asked. "You were brought here for that purpose. It is part of our conception of justice. I will tell you and your—friend—anything you wish to Tate squatted down comfortably on the floor of the cavern, apparently unconcerned, but his hands were trembling slightly. "First why—" he began. looked at Tate again and aimed the energy gun. "You are a brave man," he said. "I am sorry." Syme saw all his hopes of treasure and glory go glimmering down the sights of the Martian's Benson gun, and suddenly the pent-up rage in him exploded. Too swiftly for his intention to be telegraphed, before It was like tangling with a draft horse. The Martian was astonishingly strong. Syme scrambled desperately for the gun, got it, but couldn't tear it out of the Martian's fingers. And all the time he could almost swerved to cut down on him. Still rolling, he fired at the holder of the weapon. The gun dropped and winked out on the floor. Syme jumped to his feet and faced his enemies, snarling like the trapped tiger he was. Another ray slashed at him, and he bent lithely to let it whistle over his head. Another, lower this time. He flipped formed an airtight patch. Only then did he turn, to see Tate flattened against the wall behind to save my own life. I—I halfway hoped they'd kill both of us." Syme glared at him and spat, too enraged to think of diplomacy. He but with his feral, tigerish head held high. He led the way, wordlessly, back to the wrecked sand car. Tate followed him with a hangdog, beaten air, as though he had just found something that shattered all his previous concepts of the verities in life, and didn't know what to do about it. Still silently, Syme refilled his oxygen tank, watched Tate do the same, and then picked up two spare tanks and the precious black suitcase and handed one of the tanks to Tate. Then he stumped around

<question>:
What is the relationship like between Syme and Tate?

<options>:
A They were friendly outlaws escaping the law together
B Syme was intrigued by Tate’s mission and joined on
C Tate came to Mars in search of Syme because of his reputation
D Syme knew of Tate and used him for his ticket back to Earth

<answer>:

B